#I'm not afraid of anything that would hurt me and wouldn't be able to recognise anything I AM afraid of that COULD hurt me

[pinkiepiebones]

Dear Zombie,

Robbie here.

How fortuitous. I was just about to write to you unprompted, when there you go, prompting for prompts.

The truth is, I've been... I've been a little down lately. Mike tells me I shouldn't be afraid to share my feelings with friends. (Rebecca says I need to punch something 😆. Classic.)

Anyway. You were surprised I've read the Spiral. It happened sorta by accident? The first volume was in a pocket of one of my, um, ... one of Dracula's dinner guests, shall we say? I needed to take my mind off things, so I picked it up, and then, then I just had to know what happens next. So I went back to the poor kid's house and, um, borrowed the rest of her collection. So now when I hear anyone mention spiraling, that's what I think of.

Don't apologize for making "feelings happen." Being able to feel things is a privilege I treasure. It's just that I was numb for so long, I'm not well equipped still working on getting better about processing my emotions.

Ah, but I digress. Your prompt: tell me about the end of my honeymoon. Tell me about the first time Dracula hurt me.

Perhaps a good cry is what I need to start feeling better.

Sincerely,

Your friend,

Robbie

I really don't wanna hurt you, man. Goodness knows you've endured more than your share of hurt over the decades. But, if it's really what you want.

-

Good times end. It is the nature of things. How are we able to recognise that there were indeed good times without having bad times to compare?

Silly you. You really thought it would last.

At first, being in the castle was... strange. You remembered getting there, pulling out the paperwork. The drink tasted funny. Your last conscious thought was 'the rich sure have some strong alcohol!' You woke up in the guest room's bed much later, the cheery fire burnt out, sunlight pressing slivers of itself through little gaps in the drapery on the windows. Your pocket watch had stopped. You scramble out of the luxurious bedding and wander the castle with all the grace of a newborn fawn, but can't find your host until the evening. He apologises for the drink he gave you and tells you some story about why he sleeps in the day, something about the Great War. And you believe him, of course. Why wouldn't you?

The Count is genial and friendly and you keep your eyes on anything but him because you can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. You want to get the paperwork signed and you want to head home, but the Count, without you speaking these thoughts, he says "are you sure?"

The Count is a mind reader or some other manner of witchcraft practitioner, you reckon. He touches your face with a tenderness that feels different from the way your wife does it. You lean in to it. You could almost swear by the way the pad of his index finger presses against your temple that he is indeed peering inside your head, prying apart the wrinkles of your brain. You feel something dug up from the corners of your mind, memories long buried in crypts of shame.

When he kisses you something inside you breaks. You cry and have to apologise for it but the Count smoothes a hand over your hair, his eyes so soft and reassuring.

"Stay here, with me, Mister Renfield. Be my assistant."

And you agree, of course. Why wouldn't you?

Little touches, light scrapes of claw-like fingernails. Scales falling from your eyes. Everything feels new. You had been plodding through life as if in a haze, doing what was expected of you. Here, in the castle, the expectations are simply- Stay. You adapt to his schedule; the nights are yours and his. He takes you places and you blush, feeling more like some virginal debutante being paraded by her affianced. The Count likes showing you off. He teaches you how to dance. In the high society, you think, either a man dancing with a man is more acceptable, or the Count is simply a man of such status that none would dare rebuke him for being with you.

Being with you.

Dracula and Renfield.

The first time he takes you to bed you weep with joy and relief and maybe a little shock when he bites your neck. But even in that there is a tenderness you never knew before. He holds you close after and whispers things in a language you don't know but somehow understand.

The night he offers to promote you, you silly thing, you are already so in love with him. You can admit it to yourself, finally- yes, you are in love. Guilt and shame have a different tactic now, they stab at you with thoughts of your wife and daughter. So you're able to keep enough wits about you to ensure that, whatever this promotion is, your pay will go to your family as it has been. The Count is so magnanimous and gracious that he extends the payment plan- your daughter will never have to work a day in her adult life.

You've done right by them. Now you can do right by yourself.

"Yes."

You agree to the promotion- The Count says he will make you a "familiar." You're not sure what that means, but your trust him, of course. Why wouldn't you?

You drink his blood as he commands and it burns all the way down and tastes bitter as rotten fruit. And it does something to you. Your eyes roll back and your nervous system twists around inside every fiber of your being. Hallways in your mind straighten out and useless memories are papered over. It makes you better. You sit at the Count's feet like a loyal hound and he scratches your scalp with his claws. You know things now. Vampire. The Count is your Master now yes. Vampire. You will find him food now yes. Master. Master master master master

The first time he takes you to bed as his familiar you keep up with his stamina. There's something more animalistic this time, in both of you, but you swear the tenderness is there, too. He still holds you after he licks the blood from your chest and neck.

But.

You're new to this, this "familiar" thing. It's as though you're learning how to be alive all over again. Unlike becoming a lawyer there is no school nor education nor books that can tell you how to do this work right. You try, damn it. You bring back several bodies of a higher class, assuming their blood will be to his liking. It is not. He does not like that you killed the prey.

Before you can say anything, he strikes you. Hard. His claws rip your face. You stumble, back to the wall, hot blood pouring down your face, seeping in to your shirt. He's never done that before. Even in the throes of passion he's never raised his hand to you like this. Master grabs you by the throat and lifts you up with him as he levitates.

His claws dig into your skin. Break your skin.

"Do not fail me again, servant" he hisses.

He squeezes. Your panicked panting stops as he crushes your windpipe and he drops you to the floor. The back of your skull cracks on the stone floor and your vision fails. Your brain is babbling nonsense as it loses bloodflow and oxygen. As your body spasms, as your nerves fire desperately, Master looms over you, his face drawn with concern and pity.

"I hate that you make me do this," Master sighs. He licks your blood from his fingers. "You need to learn quickly if you are going to continue in this position, 'kay?"

You think you nod. May have just been an involuntary twitch.

Master slashes his palm open and straddles your crumpled body and gently caresses your throat, his blood mending what has been destroyed.

"You know I care for you," he coos.

You believe him, of course. Why wouldn't you?

#Robbie's journal

[themultifandomgal]

Chris Argent- Kates Back

Reader is 18+ by the way

"What the hell" YN's eyes widen when she walks into the Hales loft. She drops her bag on the floor staring at the now young Derek. YN's eyes dart up to Peter

"YN we need your help"

"I can see, how.. what... who..." YN splutters not being able to find the right words

"So errm your not going to believe this, but... Kates back" YN just stares at Peter

"Your kidding right? But you killed her, I watched you kill her" the door to the loft opens and in walks Chris and Allison

"Well I'm afraid she's back and not just a hunter"

"Peter what do you mean?" YN says with gritted teeth

"Well shes now a were-Jaguar and now is making berserkers" Chris walks over to where YN is standing and stands next to her. It's hard for them both to not hold hands or be wrapped in each others arms, but no one knows they're dating

"She wanted to make Derek forget what she is and what she's done. She wanted him to trust her so she can use him to make her master her own shifts" Peter finish off

"Ok right so what do you need me to do?" YN sighs

"While we're figuring this out we need you and Allison to go and protect Scott. Also Stiles will be there" Chris smiles at YN

"Fine but you lot owe me" YN points to everyone around the room before grabbing her bag and heading to the safe house where Scott is hiding with Allison.

Once they arrived YN gets out the car with Allison and they head into the safe house where Scott and Stiles are

"Guys I'll be fine" Scott tries to reassure everyone

"Yeah yeah with Stiles' cooking we will all be dead" YN jokes making fun of her younger brother while Allison greets her boyfriend

"Hey your crap at cooking as well"

"But I'm not crap at magic so shut up so I can make food. Also I'm going to put a spell on this place while we wait for the others to figure this all out" just as YN was about to chant the protection spell the doors bust open and Kate walks in with her berserkers

"To late. Nice to see you again YN" Kate evilly smiles at YN before everything suddenly goes black.

When YN wakes up she's in some kind of cave or tunnel. Kate walks up to YN smiling

"Good your awake, can't say the same for your dear brother"

"What the fuck have you done?" YN snaps

"Oh relax he will wake up. Hopefully soon because I want to give them a show" Kate walks over to a machine that YN recognises from when Kate was shocking Derek. God this woman just can't leave him alone

"Kate please stop we can help you through this you don't need to kill anyone"

"Yes I do because I need the power"

"No you don't. If you do this others will come after you. You won't ever be safe"

"Shut up" Kate yells in YNs face. Instinctively YN holds her stomach a way to protect the tiny little life that's inside her. She hasn't long found out she was pregnant with Chris' child but when she saw the 2 lines on the stick YN was ecstatic and so was Chris

"YN? Scott?" a weak voice says. YN looks across from Kate to see Stiles is waking up and so is Allison

"You wouldn't kill your own niece would you?" YN looks back at Kate who rolls her eyes and walks over to Scott kicking him awake

"Finally your all awake. Time to get this party started. Now YN I say you should go first"

"What? No no no please Kate no" YN puts up a struggle, the others move to try and help her by they are all chained down. Kate ties YN up and walks over to the electric machine

"Night night YN sweet dreams"

"KATE STOP IM PREGNANT" YN yells crying "please don't. I'm pregnant please stop don't hurt my baby"

"Oh the witch is pregnant. Now this is a fun game. Whose the daddy? Well it can't be Stiles because he's your brother, Scott's to young, Derek maybe but he's into that Braeden. Would he cheat? Hmm no I can't see it. What about Peter? he's 10 years older that you" YN doesn't say anything because the last thing she wants is for Allison to find out her father is dating her best friend

"Hmm no not Peter. You held disgust is your eye. Can't be the Sheriff because that's your father so that just leaves.... oh my. I have another niece or nephew on the way don't I? well now this is truly going to be fun" Kate puts her hand on the bar to turn the voltage on

"Nooo" YN yell and closes her eyes but instead of pain she hears a gun shot. YN opens up her eyes and sees Chris standing with a gun pointing to where Kate was standing. Chris puts the gun away and runs towards YN

"You ok?" he asks helping untie her

"Chris they know"

"Know what ?"

"Us" YN says looking into Chris' eyes

"Oh" after YN is untied they both quietly untie the others.

The silence continues until they get outside, soon learning that they were back in Mexico

"You know I'm ok with this right?" Allison suddenly says holing on to Scott's hand "you and my dad. I love you already. You've been a mother figure even if you haven't realised it and to be honest I can't wait to have a brother or sister" YN walks up to Allison and hugs her

"Thank you" next she looks at Stiles

"I guess there's worse people you could have ended up with. At least Chris doesn't want to rip my throat out"

"So how long have you been... well... erm you know doing whatever you guys are doing?" Scott awkwardly asks

"We've been dating for a year in secret" Chris answers as we get into the his car

"Of course Derek found out. Saw Chris and I kissing"

"Eww" Stiles scrunches his nose up

"I think we should get home and talk about this then. YN you should get some sleep" Chris kisses YN's forehead and pulls a blanket out from behind his seat giving it to YN to wrap up warm in.

#chris argent #Chris argent x reader #Christ argent x Y/N #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine

[dreaminggoblin]

Wolventraum - Chapter 9

The first group we joined was in a town two days north, a day out of the forest. A small wooden watch tower overlooked the hills, but this town, too, had been hit by thralls without warning, and many had been dragged off kicking and screaming to the dungeons under the tower. The thralls that had attacked us would have likely hit this place first, but if that was the case, we had never heard about it. Our headquarters were so close, and yet we hadn't been there to help these people. It was not surprising that the townsfolk didn't welcome us with open arms. They didn't know about the blood that had soaked into our own watch towers. I would have expected insults and even stones and rotten fruit, but it seemed they didn't have that strength or anger in them any more. Or maybe they were afraid of what we'd do. We carried our swords openly, after all.

There were a handful of recruits led by Hunter Julia, one of Lucie's seniors when she was getting specialised training in magic. I was about to ask what her magic was like when she saw us in the market square and pulled Lucie into a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, Lucie! It's been forever. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I'm glad you're doing okay, too,” Lucie squeaked.

Julia finally let go of her and looked her over like a worried mother. Then, she asked, “How's the situation at headquarters? I haven't been able to go back yet.” She motioned towards her recruits standing awkwardly a few steps away, trying not to stare and failing. They were all under fifteen and undergoing training here while they still lived with their families. They had made the choice to become Hunters despite knowing the risks, and Julia had been unwilling to force them away from their parents. That was what had protected them, in the end. But it had to weigh on her like it did on us. We could have helped.

I shook my head to clear that thought out, and looked at the market goers. There was a stand selling tools. “We're rebuilding.”

Julia followed my gaze. “I see. Rebuilding is good.” She waved the recruits over and introduced us, then took us all to a house on the outskirts of town she had rented for training purposes. It had a garden with two dummies set up, a few trees for climbing, a small shelf with training weapons. It reminded me of a place I had stayed at with Isharn on my way to Sword Master Lydia's school in the mountains.

The house itself was practical, but it still had a feeling of homeliness to it. Two guest rooms went off from the main hallway, there was a small bath around a corner, and shelves in the hallway held anything from towels to pillows to books. A dagger leaned against a small crate of onions, the blade carved with what I recognised was a permanent force enchantment. If anyone got struck by that, they'd be flung a few feet away, the best way for a mage to get out of close combat. There were more weapons more or less hidden throughout the house, just on the first floor I saw a walking stick with a sharpened top in a corner and a dagger hilt peeking out from under some pillows stacked on a chair. That, too, made it feel like home. Julia wouldn't let anyone hurt her charges while they were in her house.

Julia brought us into the kitchen, the largest room of the house. She busied herself with making a simple meal while one of the boys set the table. Lucie and I quizzed the recruits on their theoretical knowledge and listened to their version of what had happened in town. One of them had lost one of their grandparents in the attack.

Everyone agreed that there still had to be captives in the tower to feed the vampire that had taken control of it. Those captives would end up as thralls sooner or later, drained dry by the vampire and not given any of its blood, only the curse from its fangs, but Julia hadn't allowed her recruits to come with her when she scouted the tower, and she hadn't dared attack it alone, despite her considerable magic skills. The kids were full of praise for her, but also eager to prove themselves.

“I don't want any of you to get yourselves killed before you've had a chance to see headquarters and finish your training,” she said sternly as she put the pot of soup onto the table and began filling bowls for everyone. One of the girls cut a loaf of dark bread into chunks and handed them out.

I broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup. “I understand how eager you are to fight something other than dummies and shadows, but Julia is right in holding you back. Even experienced Hunters get jumped on.” I pointed to my scarred cheek. Lucie had been right, the hair on that side of my head wasn't growing back, the scar stood out even if I combed my hair over to cover it. “I got this one less than a year ago because I was feeling too confident. A small group of thralls ambushed me, and one got their teeth in real good.”

The poor kids looked a mixture of shocked and disgusted. But it was a necessary lesson, and it probably brought their egos down to earth as much as it had done for me. We all needed that from time to time. If we became too sure of our skills, we could easily end up dead.

After dinner, Lucie and I reported to Julia and her students about the capital and headquarters. Not the full, detailed reports we gave to our superiors and wrote down for the archives, but in the same tone, with no emotion, hard as it was. Being able to distance yourself from these experiences at least when reporting helped to learn from mistakes, either your own or those of others. And your own mistakes and shortcomings were as much part of the report as your victories and strokes of genius. We spared them the more brutal details until Julia sent her students home. As soon as the door was shut, we reported fully.

“It's as bad as people are saying, then,” she said quietly. “I'm glad you two are here to help me with this tower. It hasn't been in use for years, and is little more than a ruin now, but it still makes for a decent hideout, and it has a basement level, according to the old folks who used to man it. We'll go at sunrise tomorrow.”

“Understood,” Lucie and I said in unison. We treated ourselves to a nice hot bath and went to sleep early to make the most of the comfortable beds and soft blankets.

After a quick and simple breakfast the next morning, we set out for the tower. Julia's students joined us, but agreed to stand back until the fighting was over, for their safety and our peace of mind. After my little lesson yesterday, they didn't seem too eager to get up close and personal with a thrall.

The tower stood dark and imposing despite the rotting fence around it, looming over us as we marched towards the closed wooden doors, weapons at the ready. Flames flickered in Julia's hands, and grew brighter almost as if in anticipation. She busted the doors open, and set a swarm of thralls on fire the moment she stepped through. Lucie and I followed, dispatching what hadn't been burned, while the recruits stayed back, keeping watch on the other doors in the rooms we had already cleared. They eventually freed the captive townsfolk who hadn't yet been turned.

The vampire that had created these thralls was nowhere to be found, but the people said it was an older man, small and hunched over and desperate for blood. Maybe he had been promised a return of his youth, but that was a myth. No matter how much blood a vampire drank, how powerful they or their creator were, they only stopped ageing from the moment they were turned.

A recently turned vampire, if he hadn't figured that out yet, and not a very strong one, given how frail the thralls had been. He hadn't given them good orders. But he needed to be taken out, and so, while Julia and the others escorted the civilians back to town, Lucie and I got to tracking.

Though Julia had mentioned a basement, we found no door leading to it, so Lucie kept watch as I focused on the tower, the presences within it, the energies left behind by those that had left. Vampires had a particular energy, and I saw it as a thick red mud where there was a lot of it. This vampire had spent much time in the tower before we came, and his tracks didn't leave it. He was still here, hidden away somewhere behind a false wall or under a trap door. The red mud climbed up a wall to an empty candle holder.

“Twelve steps left, candle lever, he's waiting,” I muttered, and opened my eyes again. “Let's go.”

Lucie ran her hand along her sword. The blade began to glow faintly, imbued with a simple but effective enchantment. On my mark, she pulled the secret lever, and we walked down into a dark chamber behind a sliding piece of wall. This town had to have been prosperous once to afford a trick like that in a watch tower.

The vampire jumped at us, claws outstretched on gangly arms. A burst from Lucie's blade slammed him into the wall, and I hurled him out of the secret room into the light of the sun shining through the tower's main door. He burned to ashes screaming at the top of his lungs.

Lucie dispelled the enchantment on her blade and rolled her shoulders. “I keep forgetting the force of this.”

“It's one of your main spells for a reason,” I said, shrugging. “Let's head back to Julia and report.”

The townspeople were overjoyed to have the vampire disposed of. His screams had been heard well into the town itself, and the survivors, after being treated by Julia and the local healers, now felt justice was done, and they could begin mourning those they lost. They treated us a little more warmly now, and Lucie and I made sure to be kind and pleasant on the rare occasion one of them spoke to us. But we didn’t stay much longer. There was more work to do, so we bought some food for the road and set out again without saying goodbye to the kids and townsfolk. We usually didn’t, out of habit as much as necessity. The people we helped often didn’t want us to leave because they felt safe with us around, and recruits and stationed Hunters missed the company of their own.

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#dreaming goblin writes #Wolventraum #my writing #writeblr #werewolves #vampires #fantasy #fantasy writeblr #fantasy writer #fantasy writing #dreaming goblin writes books #writers on tumblr #original writing #creative writing

[starrprincesss]

28.06.2023

I would like to forget each experience. But my memory plays it on a loop, the record is broken, and it won't budge.

I suppose I must be honest with myself. It hurt, it hurt tremendously. Out of stupidity, I wanted love. But everything is a lesson when you're 21. I know that deep down I felt extremely lonely, life felt lacklustre, my home situation is in a constant crumble, and I wanted to escape more than anything. So, I looked for that escape in someone else. I thought if someone could love me, like truly love me, maybe I'd be okay. Maybe living in LA wouldn't feel so bad, maybe my decision of moving back would finally feel correct, maybe I'd have a reason to silently tell the world that I have value, and that someone else recognises it in me. What pains me more than anything is that this time I actually tried, this time I was honest, this time I decided to be sweet and open. This time I cared for someone, and I showed it, I showed it completely. Because I thought I was okay to do so, because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I had found the "one". How silly of me, to think that at 21 I could find the love of my life. Now the question that is actually the answer to my dilemma is; why do I desperately feel as if I must find the one already? Why am I trying so hard to have everything figured out right now? What's the rush?

If I do not have a partner at 21 or 22 that does not mean I will never find a partner, and that especially does not mean I am unlovable and will die alone. Again, what's the rush? Would I really want to get married at 22? No. Then slow down. Take your time Elizabeth, your life is not a race. I was desperate for connection, I felt that I was starved of it. Every person before him felt so meaningless, I had a mask with all of them the entire time. But with him it felt real, with him, I was myself completely. I have realised the people I have the most in common with, sometimes, are not good. We have experienced the same childhood, but we've taken two different paths out of it, and I'm afraid they chose the one without empathy and love. They chose to pretend that life is a game, and people are like dolls, if you tell yourself that you are the only real one, and everyone around you is fake, it becomes really easy to essentially; do whatever you please with them. People are no longer people, but items to use as you fancy. It"s like a child with a toy, they use it for as long as they want, make them do whatever, and once they get bored they throw them away and ache for a new one, a better one, one they know nothing about. The sense of newness is tempting, partially for the fascination of what it is, but the grandest part is (ourselves) being able to be new. I am a new specimen once again, and I can form myself to seem perfect to you, and awe you, I can perform for you. It's like hosting a ballet dance once a day for an entire month, but only allowing one person to watch you each night. You can tweak your performance one night, add something the other, take something away, you can keep "improving" until it turns more into you impressing yourself rather than the spectator. They don't really matter, it's you. It's like inside of you, you have the missing parents that you lacked in childhood. You are trying to impress yourself. And as you get better with these performances, you surprise yourself, you realise what you can get away with, how well you can pretend to be someone else, how easy it is for you to lie, how easy it is to make someone fall in love with you, how much you get off on the fact that the other person knows nothing about you really, how you are the director of this show. It is tempting, because it's a rush, a deep thrill. Pushing the limits of yourself, but remember, this is in a sick manner. Because in order to do this, be like this, you must think of everyone else as non-existent, as if they don't compare to you, you think you're better in some way. You do not recognise that they too have a story, a childhood, wounds of their own, dreams, ambitions... feelings. You forget that people feel, and that things have long lasting impacts.

I write about all of this so easily because it is for me. Because I can easily be that person, because I was that person. I'm not sure if it comes with the personality disorder or the awful childhood, maybe it is a mixture of both, or one is the result of the other. Who knows. What I do know is that everyday, I have to choose to not be like that. I have to choose to be good. I have to choose to recognise that people are humans, that they walk through life just like me, they are not just dolls to play with and throw away when we get bored, they get hurt, they cry, they remember things, they feel, just like me. I have to see that inside of myself, and see it in others. I choose empathy, and kindness, but most importantly respect. I don't want to hurt others anymore, it never feels good. Because at the root of it, it is just your self hate. Nothing more. I have to remember who I was before everything happened, I have to find that child inside of myself. I have had extreme lessons back to back, and part of me feels afraid to try again. I am left with scares and wounds, but I know, like all things, that they will soon heal, that wounds fade from blue to skin colour, and that scabs soon peel off and reveal healthier skin below. A healthier, more wiser being. I hope to be that. So I guess the pain is okay, I guess I should be grateful to the things that have hurt me, I've learned. I had to experience it, I had to experience all of it. Thank you for teaching me.

elizabeth sainz.