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shirefantasies · 3 months

Note

Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. ��Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

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n0cturna1-m3 · 1 year

Text

Tarts | John "Soap" MacTavish x Male Reader | Fluff

Fem/Minors DNI

Warnings; Little bit of kissing but that's all

Request; "could you please write some soap x male reader fluff? like quite domestic and they're baking together and have a dog maybe?" @sammy863

A/N; MY FIRST REQUEST YEAAHH!! In all honesty, I tried writing this 4 times before giving up and having my friend help me, and thank god I asked because I was pulling my hair out. I wonder if you can tell what my favourite dog breed is? /s anyway, enjoy lads!

About 1.3k words

Mo grá means 'My love' in Irish btw

“Johnny,” Y/N whined, stopping his hands that were kneading shortbread dough and hanging his head back. “When will I be done? My arms are sore.”

John turned his head to look at him while continuing to mix the tart filling he was working on. “Stop complaining,” he scolded, turning his attention back to the fruity mix. “You can put it in the fridge”

Y/N moulded it into a ball and wrapped it in clingfilm tightly, leaving no room for air bubbles before taking it to the fridge and placing it inside, shutting it behind him.

“Until it gets firm, then you can roll it flat ‘n cut it,” John said. He paused his stirring when feeling Y/N creep up behind him and wrap one of his arms around his large build. “What are you up to?”

“Nothin’” Y/N said, bringing his other hand around and revealing a bottle of whiskey, attempting to pour it into John’s handiwork, the latter grabbing his hand and squeezing.

“Awa you and chew mah banger,” The brunette hissed, squeezing Y/N’s hand. He placed the bottle on the counter but didn’t let go of it, keeping a tight grip on it. He leaned in and kissed John’s neck, proceeding to rest his chin on his shoulder.

“Aye, sorry mo gráh” Y/N replied, hand travelling down and resting on John’s hip. “I was just trying to make it taste better. You know I would though.” He whispered the last part, kissing his lover's neck again. John scoffed and patted his head before dipping his finger in the filling and putting it in front of Y/N’s lips.

“Taste.” Y/N complied, taking his finger into his mouth and licking the sweet jam off it.

“God, it’s sweet,” He grunted, playfully scrunching up his face. “It’s good, I like it.”

John hummed and pushed the bowl away from him, wrapping the top with cling film before turning around to look at Y/N who smiled and kissed him on the nose.

“I think Alfie would like some,” Y/N mentioned, letting the whiskey go and taking the spoon from the bowl, stepping away from John.

“Don’t you dare,” He warned, reaching for Y/N’s hand. He had already alerted their anatolian shepherd by saying his name, the big dog trotting into the kitchen with his ears perked up. He wagged his tail at the sight of Y/N running past him with a spoonful of jam.

“Come on, laddy! Don’t get me caught!” Y/N laughed running through the small house with both Alfie and John on his heels. Y/N slid on the wood floors because of his socks, almost running into a wall.

“Don’t you give him that, Y/N! I’ll kick your arse!” He yelled as he chased the two, almost barreling straight through their bedroom door when Y/N closed it in his face and locked it behind him, pressing his back to it to keep it closed while he laughed. He let the large dog lick the spoon clean while John made empty threats and scolded him while pounding on the door. “You’ll have to come out eventually.”

“Aye, I will!” He said, taking shaky breaths between his laughter. “But you won’t stick to any a those threats, will ya now?”

In response, John unlocked the door and shouldered it open, Y/N stumbling forward and tripping over Alfie, landing face first into the floor. Alfie picked up the spoon in his jaws and bolted past John, disappearing into the living room to lick it clean. Y/N was cackling as John grabbed his left ankle and began dragging him back into the hallway, his own laughter joining Y/N’s. Y/N grabbed onto the doorway with both his hands and effectively stopped John from yanking him any further through the home, struggling to break free from his tight grip.

John eventually let him go and Y/N rolled onto his back, a wide grin on his face as he looked up at John, sharing his fond gaze. He dropped to his knees, straddling Y/N’s legs and cupping his face, pulling him into a chaste kiss. Y/N was still giggling, wrapping his arms around John’s waist and rocking side to side as best he could. John lightly slapped his cheek and pulled away from him, Y/N’s wide, toothy smile making him laugh.

“You look like a gobshite,” He said. Y/N shrugged his shoulders and looked at him with adoration, leaning up to kiss him.

“I love you, Johnny,” Y/N whispered against John’s lips, leaning in to give him another kiss. He reciprocated it, tilting his head and smiling. Y/N let one of his hands travel down John’s back, sneakily resting on his ass and giving it a tight squeeze.

“No, we are not doing this in the hallway,” John said, pulling away from Y/N’s face and putting his hand over his mouth. The H/C furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, but John gave him a stern look that screamed ‘There will be no negotiation.’

Y/N licked John’s hand, the latter groaning and sitting up, wiping his hand on Y/N’s shirt with a face of disgust.

“Are you willing to reconsider?” He queried, tilting his head and looking at his lover with a smug face. He shook his head with a grin and attempted to stand, only to be pulled into Y/N’s arms again, wrapping them around his waist tighter and flipping them over and kissing John again.

His hands rested on John’s hips and he leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, pulling away and looking down at John.

“I love you, Johnny,” Y/N said as he kissed John again, the latter wrapping his arms around Y/N’s neck loosely. He deepened the kiss by parting his lips and running his tongue on Y/N’s own, him opening his mouth and welcoming John’s wet tongue into his mouth, sighing at the feeling of being so close to him. Y/N would never get sick of this feeling, his chest tightening and mind buzzing with excitement and affection for John, all for him, and only for him.

Alfie walked over and stared at his parents with what could only be described as disgust. The only option he had to stop this nonsense of his humans trying to eat each other's faces was obvious to him: jump on Y/N’s back and dig all four of his large paws into his skin to end this incident. So that is exactly what he did.

Y/N grunted as Alfie pushed him off of John rather aggressively, resting on his side as he barked at them both and took up a playful stance before stepping on John and laying all his body weight on him, glaring at Y/N with his big brown puppy eyes.

Scoffing, Y/N sat up and stared at the two, a betrayal written all over his face. “I can’t believe this!” He exclaimed, watching John as he laughed and wrapped his arms around the big dog. “You’ve chosen this boyo over me!”

“I haven’t, honest!” John laughed, ruffling Alfie’s thick fur as he looked at Y/N. “I’d never pick a mutt over you.”

“Tell that to the boyo that’s shoved me off ya and taken my place!”

“He’s just clingy.” Y/N made an ‘uh huh’ noise before standing up and leaving the two to cuddle. “Are you sulking now?”

“No,” Y/N lied, walking to the kitchen and watching them from behind the counter, his bottom lip and cheeks puffed out. John shook his head and pushed Alfie off of him, getting onto his feet and walking to Y/N, kissing him in the cheek.

“You’re not a very good liar,” John whispered. Y/N turned and wrapped his arms around John again, kissing his forehead and proceeding to bury his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. “Will you help me finish the tarts?”

“‘Course I will, mo grá.”

#x male reader #cod x male reader #soap x male reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x male reader #i want to be happy #let me have this #gay

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beoneofus · 1 year

Note

🕯️ with Paul please? ❤️❤️

“ I'll listen. I'll always listen. ”

requested.

unedited.

3.15.23

I hope you enjoy this :) I planned this to be... kinda very angsty

pairing┋paul! x fem! reader

warnings┋angst!! and fluff. mentions of anxiety. sad reader. mentions of death. swearing. breakdown/panic attack. takes place in the early 2000's for plot purposes.

summery┋you had just gotten news about an unexpected death in the family. you tried going to the others, but they were occupied with... other things. however, paul decides you're more important and comforts you.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

it was the worst time possible when you had gotten the news. you had been out on the boardwalk, star and laddie off someplace else - they had left you alone upon your request, because you never got alone time to yourself these days. although you loved your boys, it could get very... crowded sometimes. just, dealing with loudness and rowdiness all the time was tiring. nonetheless though, you loved the goofballs.

but, standing in line for a soda and soft pretzel and then getting a call that your mother had died was not something you planned. you had just stepped off to the side, drumming your trimmed nails against the wooden railing you leaned against when the familiar ringing of your phone went off. with scrunches brows, your hand dove into your jacket pocket to retrieve the device; you just wondered who in the heck was calling so late.

after flipping the device open and pressing the required button, not checking the id, you put it to your ear. “ hello? ”

“ y/n... ” a shaky, cracked voice called out your name. the connection really sucked from where tou were at, so the voice came out crackly, but you could definitely make out that it was your younger brother. he sounded like he had been... crying, which was odd. it concerned you, which is why you quickly looked over to the pretzel stand, eyeballing the cart to make sure your order wouldn't be ready anytime soon. you didn't need a distraction. “ junior.. what is it? ” you finally answered, worry lacing your voice.

he never called you unless it was to borrow money, or update you on the dogs at home, or to just be a little brat with his pranks. and he rarely cried, which is why something in your gut was telling you to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

“ it's.. ” junior hiccuped harshly, stopping him from talking mid sentence. this caused anxiety to swell on your chest, but you waited patiently for him to speak - you rather not startle him more than he already is.

“ — it's mom. ” after calming down partially, he gave you his vague answer; strain coating his vocals on the other end. you could tell this was very serious. that's why, upon the mention of your mother, you gulped heavily. eyes shifting to look down at the boards of the boardwalk, before you turn, looking out to the darkened ocean. you tended to constantly move when anxious, which is why you very so fidgety. “ what about mom? ”

“ she— ” you could hear a ‘ pop! ’, almost as if none met skin, kind of like a punch. you imagined it was him covering his mouth, because a muffled sob reached your ears. this immediately caused your heart to sink. “ junior? junior— ” tears were now gathering behind your waterline. you could feel the familiar itch in your nose, one you got when you were on the verge of crying. “ junior, please answer me. you're scaring me. ”

“ ... she's dead, y/n. ”

‘ what? ’

your eyes were, hands shaking. breath instantly coming out in heavy puffs; clouds of pure white coating the space in front of you from the chill of the night. you couldn't control the tremble your body was producing, making your phone slip from your hand and hit the deck.

“ ma'am? ” the employee who worked at the pretzel stand called to you, drink and food in hand, but you couldn't bother to turn around. your eyes were dead set on the view in front of you - which, actually, wasn't a view at all. your vision was blurry. your head was starting to pound. everything around you was fuzzing in and out; ringing taking place within your ears. was this a panic attack? is this what that felt like?

god, you couldn't breathe. our of there... you needed to get out of there.

so, you ran. you didn't even feel your legs move, nor acknowledge that you were once in the middle of the small amusement park and now bolting full speed towards the bridge. all you knew is that breathing was hard - you were hiccuping. chest falling up and down so fast that your lungs stuttered, making you cough. making your chest vibrate so violently, that you cried even harder.

the droplets kept falling and falling. you nearly fell yourself; stumbling over rocks and weeds that were much too tall, just to make it to the familiar rickety staircase that you hated. it squeaked so damn much. but you didnt even hear that sound, nor care. what was important was making it to the boys. you needed them.

sobbing, sleeve of your jacket brought up to your nose, you violently wiped at your face to rid yourself of the snot that came from your nose and the tears that leaked into your mouth. you were simply a mess. stopping to lean against the wall and clean yourself up a little was a smart move - only because, if the guys saw you like this, they'd flip shit. why? the idea of someone putting you in such a state makes them lose it.

you evened out your breathing a bit. arms raised above your head, against the dusty outside wall; head ducked down and eyes closed. breathing in slowly, shakily... only to hold it and then let it out. you repeated this process a few times, before you were somewhat functionable. by time you reopened your eyes, the tears that had cascaded down your cheeks dried up; leaving you to feel gross and groggy.

pushing yourself off the wall, though wobbling a bit, you made it down into the cave.

what you didn't expect to hear though was harsh arguing, the throwing of shit, and david yelling. you could only guess marko or paul did something again.

and, you were proven right once you hit the slope, and the familiar bound of curls speed walked past you, practically fuming. you swallowed, figuring it'd be bad to call out to him. when marko was angry, it was an ugly site to see... so that was a no for you.

next stop was david. you carefully got down, before walking over to david, who was sitting in his famous wheelchair. but... he didn't look too good either. head down, stable in his hands, while his elbows sat perched on his knees. his leg was slightly shaking, indicating what you heard was definitely an argument - and he was pissed.

usually david would try to clear his head to still talk with you if something was the matter, but as of right now he looked as if he'd break your neck if you even tapped him on the shoulder. so, huffing through your nose, you tapped him out.

you turned, walking away, but-

“ y/n. ” his deadly calm voice held an aggressive tone to it as he spoke your name. you flinched, stopping in your tracks. you didn't even bother to look back at him; he'd see the state of your being, and you rather not deal with that. “ did you need something, doll? ”

“ ... no. just looking for dwayne. ” you were sure your voice was shaky and pathetically raw, but you knew it'd be a shit storm if you didn't answer him.

david chuckled sarcastically. “ good luck with that. he took off once marko busted his skateboard. ” hearing the flick of his lighter, one could only guess he was lighting up another cigarette. “ you know how much he loves that stupid fuckin’ thing. ”

oh, he was definitely upset.

but, dwayne wasn't available either? you might as well not even look for paul. he was probably off getting high... or eating... or, maybe, marko broke something of his as well and he's just as pissed. It'd make sense.

you sighed. “ okay... tha-nks. ” your voice cracked, but before david could even say anything you were fleeing out of the cave again. you thought maybe he'd chase after you... but, alas, he did not. surprisingly, you were thankful for it.

maybe being alone is what you needed. that's what you had thought to yourself, when you made your way back towards the rusty ol’ bridge. often, you'd come on it and sit on the edge, just to think. which is what you were doing at that moment. you slowly dragged your feet over, until the tips of your boots touched to the red-brown railing. swallowing once more, followed by a sniffle, you reached a palm down; pressing it to rhe ground so you could situate yourself properly.

once your thighs hugged around one of the beams so you wouldn't fall, you pressed your cheek to the crusty metal. usually, you wouldn't dare risk catching something from the old thing, but as of now you couldn't find it in yourself to care. you felt... hollow. empty.

as fhe minutes past, you stared down into the fog, your gaze rather dull. nothing floated through your mind except for the regret of not being there for your brother. It hurt to know he was alone in this.. your dad wasn't around, and your older sister was in jail. It was only him, your mom and you. and now he had no one.

“ hey, shortcake.. ” lips had pressed to the shell of your ear, the low drop of a soft voice tickling you. since you didn't hear anyone coming you jumped, but after quickly looking over your shoulder, you relaxed instantly.

“ paul.. ” breathing out his name, your gaze softened. “ I thought you were busy.. why are you here? ”

paul scoffed, his blue eyes shining in the slight glow that radiated from the moon above. “ busy? fat chance. ” he plopped himself down beside you, and only then did you notice the blood stains on his pants. looks like he was being messy with his meal again. “ I got a kick feed and came back. did you know the cave is wrecked? ” he looked at you, raising his brows in an exaggerated manner. “ apparently marko and david got into it, man. even broke my toaster. ”

paul scoffed, rather annoyed now that he mentioned it. “ how the hell am I supposed to toast those eggos now? ”

any other time you'd break into giggles, but right now you couldn't find it in yourself to even smile. the quietness was quickly picked up on, which is why paul actually looked at you now. his baby blues stared you down; lips tugging into a form, brows drawing together.

“ hey, princess... ” his voice was soft now. serious. “ y'okay? ” he questioned with such care, that the stone expression you had managed to wear finally.. broke. your rosey lips wobbled, readying you to cry once more. so you looked away, hiding your face away from him within the shadows of the night.

“ hey, hey- ” the blonde turned his body, so that one leg folded in; a position comfortable enough for him the lean forward and grab onto the hand that was facing towards him. he interlaced your fingers, squeezing, the gesture soft and warm. “ c'mon. talk to me, sweetie. ”

“ it's... It's just.. ” your voice was coming out in shambles again. breathing uneasily folding in, only this time coming out more short. “ i-i- ”

“ y/n. ” paul's face turned solemn, eyes blinking with all seriousness. “ baby, deep breathes- in and out. theeere you go. ” his free hand slipped up to curve over your back, rubbing gentle circles. “ I got you... now please, tell me what's wrong. ”

“ I don't.. ” exhaling heavily, wobbly, you continued to speak. “ I rather not b.. bother you with it. I.. before, maybe, but you probably don't want to hear something... so pathetic. ”

“ princess. ” paul spoke your name with such a tone, so soft and melting, that you couldn't help but turn your head once he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. his eyes were lidded, gentle... as smooth as butter was his gaze. It took your breath away. but in a different manner.

“ I'll listen. I'll always listen. ”

he was very much true to his word. paul always took in your emotions. when you were happy, when you were mad.. when you felt like shit, just like now. he's always been there to care, even if you didn't realize.

“ my mom... ” your voice was cracking as you spoke, fresh tears gathering once more. “ she's dead.. ”

an ‘ o ’ shaped formed on paul's lips. that is not what he was expecting. he knew you didn't have the best relationship with your mother, but getting news about her passing... he just knows that killed you.

“ oh, baby.. ” he mumbled, sadness heavy on his tongue. “ come here... ” he opened up his arms, which you had no hesitation springing into. once you snuggled your face into his neck, he buried his nose into your hair. “ I'm so sorry. I'm always here for you, I hope you know that. ”

“ I do. ” you breathed, tightening your hold on the male. he too, tightened his hold on you, rocking you both back and forth.

you felt so safe with him paul... and, realizing just how much he cared about you, you couldn't help but mentally hit yourself in the head.

it'll always be you and the guys, but as of right now, it's just you and him.

and honestly? you couldn't help but relish in it.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #paul the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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booksopandah · 1 year

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Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett (Discworld 10)

It is a joy, as always, to read Discworld. The particular subject is really very unimportant. Sure, a funny parody of Hollywood culture and movie history might have occurred, but that was only a background. The characters, the jokes, the 100 page long set up for a single punchline: those are the true stars of any Pratchett book, and they make a stunning return in this one.

I loved Laddie, and I loved the bastard that is Gaspode the Wonder Dog. I loved the new feminism of modern trolls, and maybe most of all I loved people being in the right place at the right time, all for a perfect film. There’s some lovely, heartfelt passages in here that are worth reading on their own, and the tried and true “belief is magic” is always fun, especially with the twist it gets here. Moving Pictures is a wonderful book, and more than anything exemplifies Pratchett’s ability to write a punch line 200 pages after the setup. It was a good way to spend the last few evenings. Happy Reading y’all.

#books #sff books #moving pictures #discworld #terry pratchett

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anna1306 · 1 year

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The Lost Boys Incorrect Quotes

Part 2, because I like it

Part 1 here

Paul after trying Dwayne's cooking: If this sauce was a person, I'd get naked and make love to it!

Marko: Well, I am stunned!

Nobody:

Marko: Just stunned!

Literally nobody:

Marko: Stunned is the only way to describe how... stunned I am!

David: Just a minute, just a minute, Marko. Are you trying to tell us... That you are stunned?

Paul: You got nothing to fear, but fear itself.

Laddie: ...

Paul: And, of course, the boogeyman.

Dwayne: There is no such word as that.

Marko: There certainly is.

Dwayne: Disdam is not a word. You made it up.

Marko: It's a word!

Dwayne: Fine. Use it in a sentence.

Marko: You are no good at disdam game!

Marko: Paul, let's go!

Paul: *sleeps*

Marco: Come on, Paul. Let's go!

Paul: *still sleeps*

Marko, imitating woman voice: Paul, wake up, my husband will be home any minute.

Paul: *wide awake*

David: This is strictly off the record, but Michael is nearly five years younger than I am.

Dwayne: In what, David, dog years?

Paul, excited about his new date: However, I have decided to overlook that minor detail and succumb to the Vesuvius of passion that is about to erupt from me.

Marko: Stand back. We're gonna get something on us.

Paul: For the first time in my life I feel over 40.

David: Because you are over 70.

After fight with the hunters

Dwayne: *pulls arrow from Marko*

Marko: OW! OW! OH!

Nervous Paul: Did that hurt?

Marko: No, I'm singing rock-'n'-roll.

When Star comes to visit

David: So, did you bring the young chippy with you?

Dwayne: David, come on, you are talking about her husband.

Star: Thanks.

Dwayne: So, did you bring the himbo?

Grown Laddie: This reminds me of when I was little. You used to tell me bedtime stories .

Paul: Oh yeah, yeah. The Bogeyman and the little boy.... The Zombie in the hamper.... Cannibal parents...

Laddie: I don't believe I had more than two hours of sleep in that time.

David: I love all the members of my coven.

Star: Even Paul?

David: Sure. But don't tell him. He'll wanna borrow money

Marko: I decided to give every one of you a gift, hope you will like it!

David: But these are my gloves, I thought I lost them at the Boardwalk.

Marko: I told you that you lost them. They matched this crop-top.

Paul: This is my crop-top!

Marko: I know, it goes great with...

Dwayne: My leather jacket.

Marko: Well, enjoy! *happily walking away*

Paul: I wonder if he has seen my leather belt.

Dwayne: You know I haven't been able to find my flag...

David: Come on, it's time to go search his nest again.

Dwayne to Star: Honey, beware of anyone who says "No calories", "Absolutely no charge", and "Let's just lie down on the bed and watch tv".

Michael, leaving: Well, I'm off!

David: Totally.

#tlb #thelostboys #thelostboys1987 #tlb1987 #david tlb #marko tlb #paul tlb #tlb dwayne #star tlb #michael emerson #incorrect quotes

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 26 days

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Blood and sand - Chapter Eight

“Lookin’ nice and defiant today, I see,” lilted the Butcher, and Luke could not put his finger on what had changed, but something had, and it sent weird shivers up and down his spine.

“Shut up and get to work,” Arthur said, and lunged. And it was—

A dance, Luke thought a few moments later, and then felt insane because it wasn’t a dance. It was violence, blood, viciousness, shouts (Arthur), laughter (Dennis), and for one moment, Luke wondered if it looked like that when he was training, if it looked like being played with, like the local bullies had done once to a small, dirty dog they found in the street.

CONTENT WARNING: Luke is badly inured in this one. There is brief but graphic violence done to that child in this chapter. The art reflects this, and it is gorgeous, but know that it is, like this moment in Luke’s life, graphic. You have been warned.

Written for the @malevolentmadnessmixup. Art by @aktrashpanda.

>>>>READ ON AO3 OR BELOW<<<<

----------

Chapter Eight: The Test

This was an entirely new experience for Just Luke Yang: an adult who didn’t talk down to him, didn’t seem to see him as less, fully paid attention, and actually gave good advice.

It was so shocking that he didn’t even mind being thrown painfully onto the sand again and again because Dennis (“Butcher was my old life, and Mr. Collins was my da’”) helped him back up again and then helped him figure out what he’d done wrong to get thrown down.

Luke drank it like parched soil. He was smiling as he scrambled to his feet again, sweating and panting, smiling harder than he could ever remember doing.

“Better,” said Dennis. “Tell me what you’re supposed to do.”

“Knees slightly bent, one facing forward, the other to the side, so I have full range of movement,” said Luke. “Ensure my fists are up so I can protect my face. Keep my elbows near my body.”

“Good. Now we’re getting into the tricky stuff,” said Dennis The Butcher Collins. “They won’t be polite about it. D’ya know how to take a hit, laddie?”

“I’ve taken a lot of hits,” said Luke, “but that isn’t what you’re asking.”

“No, it isn’t,” lilted the man, who proceeded to slowly (and painfully) show Luke how to take a punch.

This lesson would take a while. It didn’t make instinctive sense to turn toward the fist coming his way, to try to tense and take it in his side instead of his stomach, to twist his head so he got hit in the forehead, not the jaw.

“This one’ll take learning. Gonna have to practice it,” said Dennis, and then he paused. His gaze fixed on a point behind Luke, went hard and sharp. “Go eat.”

Bent double, Luke looked up. “What?” he breathed, having forgotten food existed.

“Go eat. Clean up. Tomorrow, we’ll work on hits… and on holds. I’ve got someone else to train right now.”

Still panting, wiping sweat from his face, Luke turned.

Arthur Lester stood in the entry gate, scowling, arms crossed.

Dennis’ smile changed. So did his eyes; this was not a look Luke understood. It was hungry, focused. Predatory. And so very, very still. “Go on, now,” he said, not looking away.

Luke tried not to limp as he walked out. He couldn’t stop grinning, in spite of how weird that last moment had been.

Arthur’s face was toward the Butcher. His eyes, however, were toward Luke. After a moment, Arthur seemed to realize he was there. “How did it go?”

“Really well,” said Luke. “Incredible.”

Arthur Lester smiled. He had a nice smile. It was completely different from that wild teeth-baring thing he did before biting a person. “I’m glad to hear it. Shut up—I know he’s waiting,” he added in a mutter. “Take care, Luke.” And he strode toward the Butcher.

Luke hesitated in the doorway, too curious to leave right away.

Arthur faced off against Dennis. He tensed; his jaw was tight, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Lookin’ nice and defiant today, I see,” lilted the Butcher, and Luke could not put his finger on what had changed, but something had, and it sent weird shivers up and down his spine.

“Shut up and get to work,” Arthur said, and lunged. And it was—

That memory didn’t taste good. He’d tried to save the dog when they were done, but he couldn’t. It hadn’t died alone, and that was all he’d been able to do for it.

Arthur hit the ground hard on his back with a sound that Luke could feel in his lungs. “Now, that was right clumsy of ye,” the Butcher started, but it seemed to have been a trick, because Arthur kicked out and knocked Dennis Collins right off his feet.

Luke gasped.

The Butcher hit the sand on his back and laughed.

And Arthur was on him, so fast, knife coming down, teeth bared and eyes wild, absolutely trying to kill.

Before Luke could cry out, the situation changed again, and somehow—like Arthur weighed nothing—Dennis flipped them both over and pinned Arthur down with his weight. He laughed again.

“Damn it!” Arthur snarled, and snapped his teeth at the other man as if trying to chew through his face.

“You lost, boyo,” said the Butcher, still grinning, just lying there and flattening the other man. “Call it, and we’re done.”

“We’re not done!” Arthur snarled, struggling.

Dennis didn’t budge an inch. “Suit yourself… but if you wear yourself out before whatever the next battle is, you won’t do too good in it, will you?”

Oh, that look. That look. It still wasn’t quite right, but it was as if Arthur’s eyes and Arthur’s face finally fully agreed on something, and that something was hating Dennis Collins.

It made the Butcher smile more.

Luke’s heart gave a little lurch. He didn’t know what he was seeing. It felt… uncomfortable to watch. Embarrassing, somehow, awkward, rife with things he had no words for. He’d never seen anything like this.

Arthur spit.

“Really?” Dennis seemed less than impressed and rolled off him. “That’s beneath you, boyo.”

“Fuck you,” said Arthur, rising and shaking, having pushed so hard that he gave himself muscle fatigue.

Luke’s moment to subtly run was gone. Dennis eyed him. “Come and get him, lad. He needs a hand.”

“I don't need anything!” Arthur snapped, and marched unsteadily toward the exit gate.

Dennis waited, whistling.

Luke hesitated for all of four seconds, then ran after Arthur.

They had enough time to go shower, and Luke offered to help, was told he couldn’t, and hadn’t quite gathered enough gall to say Yes, I actually can before the next fight was upon them.

It wasn’t a brawl this time. This time, the call was for duels.

“All right, you lot, let’s get you sorted,” called Dennis from the arena entry. “You and you. You and you. You… and you tonight. Yes. You and you.”

Luke queued with the rest of them, shaking a little, gripping his knife. Duels? One-on-one? If he got the wrong person, or some huge beast, or…

Dennis stopped him. “Hold on, lad. Your match isn’t up yet.”

Well, it wasn’t Arthur. Arthur stalked past, barely acknowledging the, “You… and you,” and hunching into the arena.

Luke did a double-take: Dennis had changed his clothes, trading out the Arthur-torn items for untorn, but they were just as worn, just as threadbare. Luke could see Dennis’ body-hair through it.

“There he is,” said the Butcher. “You—” he squeezed Luke’s arm—“and you.”

Luke turned.

Luke looked up.

And up. And up. Three ups, and it was the surviving bull-headed guy from the Last Lonely Inn.

“Nnng,” growled the bovine fighter, and stomped into the arena.

Luke stared.

“You’ve got this, lad, if you’re smart,” said Dennis. “Use your knack. Let him underestimate you. Go on.”

“I could fit my entire body into his thigh,” Luke blurted.

Dennis shoved him into the arena. Not hard, no; but Luke stumbled and nearly fell.

The duels had already started. Combatants spread out, paired off as ordered, and in the broad light of day, were clearly showing off. Magic flew; sand flew; blood flew; bodies flew, the evident error of taking the hit when they should have dodged.

And the King watched it all.

His inescapable attention swept over Luke like a wave, heavy and suffocating and filling empty space. Luke shuddered, gasped, and squinted in the bright sunlight, looking for his foe. Where had the guy gone? You wouldn’t think a big cow-headed man could just—

The blow came from behind, and something in his spine snapped. Limp, paralyzed, unable to breathe, he flew forward a dozen feet, crashed and badly rolled, feeling the horrifying buzz of nerve damage, and heard the heavy steps coming after him.

That had been meant to kill him. He’d nearly died, right there, and terror twisted in his head, under his burning, scraped skin.

He had seconds to use his knack, less than he ever had before. Fortunately, the bull-headed man clearly thought he’d won, and did not hurry as he brought his blade down.

Faster faster faster—

Luke regained control of his body just in time to roll. The axe clipped his shoulder, and he cried out, gripping his arm as he flung himself upright.

The bull-mad snorted, nostrils flaring and pupils big. Then he charged.

It was too close to dodge. Too fast to deflect.

The left horn pierced directly through Luke’s sternum, exploding in a red flower of pain, and slammed him into the arena wall.

Agony. This was agony. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow the blood filling his mouth. He couldn’t do anything but burn.

The bull-man pulled free, threw him to the ground with a toss of his head, studied him, then turned to go, unhurried.

It was an emergency. It wasn’t just knack-time, but true talent, because he couldn’t afford to just fix the rift, but he had to detoxify, had to clean the inside of himself from the spill of other inside of himself as his organs tore. Panic made him feel slow and stupid. He choked on blood.

The bull-man walked around fighting pairs. He ignored the dead bodies, avoided stray blasts, and was six feet away from the exit when Luke got back to his feet.

Luke—healed, terrified, and furious for it—ran, leaped, threw his arms around the bull-man’s neck from behind, and stabbed.

He stabbed directly into the center of that throat. Directly into the voice-box, scraping the spine behind it, and then let go.

The bull-man pulled the knife out, but the damage was done. He gripped his throat, staggering toward Luke, one hand failing to staunch his life’s blood, the other reaching.

Luke backed away, eyes huge.

The bull-man staggered. Fell to his knees. Fell on his face. And died.

Luke saw the life leave him, and had to throw up.

He’d seen dead things. Even dead people. He’d never, ever made one dead himself. Letting it happen flew against every instinct he had.

Muted by all the sounds and spells and violence, Luke sobbed, hugged himself, and ran past all the beings in need of healing toward the exit gate.

Somehow, Luke made it out of the arena, though he didn’t really remember much of that walk.

Somehow, Luke remained unmolested all the way to the communal washroom.

Somehow, Luke was the only person who wanted all the blood and vomit gone, at least at this moment, and he left his clothing a stinky, soggy mess as he stepped under falling water.

It was no mere shower. It was a torrent, a river-like flow with weight and sound and speed designed to clean flesh or fur or feathers, and Luke felt like he could disappear into it.

He liked the idea of disappearing into it, right now. In this moment, in this wake of death he had caused, he could not clearly see his path forward.

Parker. He had to bring Parker back.

Was he going to have to kill more?

(He knew he would.)

Was he going to have to feel pain like that again, gored through?

(He knew he would.)

Was he going to throw up and practically pass out every time?

(He really hoped he would not.)

Luke suddenly realized he didn’t want Parker to know about any of this. About how he’d used his magic. What he’d had to do. He didn’t want Parker to know he’d… done this.

Luke sank to his knees under the heavy, warm water, and quietly as he could, he cried.

[chapter nine] [masterpost]

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #arthur lester #john doe #dennis collins #luke yang #kiy malevolent #malevolent madness mixup #blood and sand fic #kayne malevolent #oscar malevolent

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queerestqueertoeverqueer · 8 months

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this is now a gaspode the wonder dog and laddie fan account

#noah reads discworld 🔮#moving pictures #terry pratchett #was not expecting to like moving pictures as much as i did but i think it's one of my favourites so far #the other contenders being guards! guards #and maybe sourcery #just starting reaper man #side note the josh kirby reaper man cover is so fucking pretty #discworld #gnu pterry

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pratchettquotes · 1 year

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Gaspode laid on the sand and wheezed. Laddie danced around him, barking urgently.

"We're well out of that," he managed, and stood up and shook himself.

Laddie barked and looked incredibly photogenic.

"All right, all right," said Gaspode. "How about if we go and find some breakfast and maybe catch up on our sleep and then we'll--"

Laddie barked again.

Gaspode sighed.

"Oh, all right," he said. "Have it your way. But you won't get any thanks, you know."

Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures

#gaspode #laddie the wonder dog #moving pictures #discworld #terry pratchett #dogs #unlikely friends #rescue team #interpretation #translation #anti hero #heroes #protagonist #movie star #photogenic #well out of that #no thanks

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 2 years

Note

Hi! I had a request! I hope you like it / might write it if you can / want ofc! :]

Remember that scene where the guys come to the Emerson’s house at night and we see Star run upstairs, literally right past the door that Paul was hiding behind? (and later pops out lol) ..well I was wondering (for the sake of fanfic ) could you write something where they only came that night to ‘kidnap’ Star and bring her back to the cave because Marko wants his revenge on her? You write amazing suspense stories!

I hope you like this!

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

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Nanook - or whatever that dog's name was - was supposed to be inside. Sam shouldn't have been outside, nor was Michael supposed to be there. Michael, sweet naive Michael who believed that he could not only safe her but also defeat four vampires. And then the poor kids, Edgar and Allan. Star still wasn't sure how they ended up in this mess, but they were not supposed to be there. That she was certain off. And, above all, they were not supposed to be there. Not like that, not with a clear plan in their eyes. The Emersons and the Frogs had assumed they'd be panicked, angry - and obviously not thinking straight. Yet here they were, determination in their eyes, as they only took what they came for.

Star hadn't moved an inch since they had entered the home, she just stood there, frozen. She wasn't sure what to do, what to feel - all she knew was that she royally screwed up. She stood there as Dwayne flew past her, carrying a sleeping Laddie in his arms. She stood there as she heard Paul laugh, probably being satisfied with the way he killed the humans in the house. She stood there frozen, a tear burning in her eye, as David circled around her, always staying just out of sight.

"You really thought you could get away with it, hm?" David chuckled, his gloved hand clasped around her neck. "That you'd survive your pathetic attempt at freedom?" He bared his teeth, causing Star to shiver as she gasped for air.

"I-" she struggled to breath, "I'm sorry."

David growled, tightening his grip on her neck. "You will be."

It was the last thing Star heard before fading away into darkness. When she came to, her neck sore beyond imagination, she wasn't quite sure where she was. She could smell the sea - after months of living in a cave she certainly couldn't forget that smell. She also smellt a fague rotting scent, she came to associate with the vampires. She tried to move, only to realise she was tied up. Her arms tied to something far above her, her feet just barely touching the ground.

Star was about to open her mouth to call for help, when she froze. She didn't know where she was, or who was out there, but noticing how she was tied up, it wasn't someone good. If she stayed silent she couldn't avoid whatever they wanted to do to her, but she could possibly postpone it, right? It was only postponing the inevitable, in the end she would still become their victim, but for now - what choice did she have?

She hung there, slowly losing the feeling in her arms. She began to feel heavy, tired, and was about to fall asleep when the door to the room suddenly opened. A bright light streamed in, and Star closed her eyes instinctly, afraid to be blinded.

"Look at that," Star recognised the voice, but couldn't quite place it yet, "The little traitor is awake."

She stayed quiet as the man walked forward, slowly opening her eyes hoping to no longer be blinded by the lights. She blinked once, twice. Then she gasped. It was impossible. He was dead. He couldn't be here. He - she saw him die. She heard his screams, she heard their angered cries. She had heard those kids celebrate that they had killed their first vampire. How-?

"M-marko?"

He grinned, waving at her. "Hi."

"Y-you're-"

"Undead? Yeah, no thanks to you." He walked to the wall behind her, grabbing something from a table that stood there. "Lucky for me, your little traitor friends had enough fresh blood to heal me."

"No! You- you cant kill Mike!"

"Oh I can't kill Mike!," he repeated mockingly, "Wanna say Hi to his head? Or do you want to have his dick instead? Or his hands? Eyes?"

"What did you do to him?!" she cried, trashing against the ropes holding her up.

Marko chuckled. "Nothing compared to what I am going to do to you."

Star shivered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please... I- I made a mistake."

"You tried to kill me!" Marko growled, his fangs shining in the light coming from the hallway, his mouth still red from the blood he consumed. "You are the reason a stake went through my chest. You brought dead upon this family!"

"We are no family," Star spat out, groaning as she was punched in the face.

"We were until we made the mistake to let you in, Star," he held a knife in his hand. "So," he grinned, "first I will make sure there's not a drop of vampire blood left in you. Then, I'll torture you."

"You don't have to do this!"

"You didn't have to try and kill me, but hey - here we are, Star. Hurts, doesn't it? Realising your actions have consequences."

"You're a monster!"

Marko didn't respond, instead he just grinned as he began to slice the girl open. Blood dripped down her arms, her stomach, her legs, pouring on the ground. Marko could hear her heartbeat slowing down. He grinned. It was almost time to make her regret ever trying to cross them. When he'd be done with her, she would be nothing. If she even managed to survive it all, all she'd be to them was a living and breathing bloodbag. It seemed like a fitting fate, the boys had decided. He laid the instrument needed down, making sure he had what he needed to do what he wished. To quiet her, to blind her and to immobilise her for good. The girl would definitely regret ever crossing them. And then, when she'd be broken enough - she'd serve as an example for any other vampire, Hunter or creature that tried to cross them.

Marko smiled as he imagined her being unable to beg, unable to yell at them, as he slowly acted out his revenge. He breathed in the smell of her blood, sighing.

Revenge was sweet. Very sweet.

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #star #tlb 1987 #dark fic #tw torture #tw blood #darkfic

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mrblogjangles · 2 months

Link

#Ireland #StPaddy #StPatrick'sDay

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luminnara · 3 years

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God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much.

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting.

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean.

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin.

“...a little.”

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled.

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled.

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her.

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked.

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly.

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked.

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne.

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked.

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound.

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was.

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul.

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind.

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk.

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm.

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back.

“Relax,” Marko purred.

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care.

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous.

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand.

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined.

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched.

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him.

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge.

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway.

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well.

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed.

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal.

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin.

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others.

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh.

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor.

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her.

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak.

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat.

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food.

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened.

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said.

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other.

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them.

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

#GODDAMN SHIT SUCKING VAMPIRES #the lost boys #poly lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #the lost boys x oc #the lost boys x reader #david x oc #dwayne x oc #paul x oc #marko x oc #david x reader #dwayne x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader

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beoneofus · 1 year

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“ do you ever get curious about what it'd feel like to be human again? ”

the question was rather random and sudden coming from your mouth, but the silence that took over the cave was becoming deafening. usually, the place was booming with music, paul's crucial jokes and marko's bombarding laughter. but right now, paul was too gone to even think about speaking, marko was focusing on making his pigeons little sweaters and dwayne was off catching fireflies with laddie.

so, that left you with david. he tended to make conversation with you, but as of right now, he was too caught up in his own mind. your head in his lap, as you sit on the concrete ground; enjoying the combing of his gloved fingers through your hair, you figured it wouldn't hurt to pull him back to earth.

when your question came to, though, he paused his hand. his chin lowered, blue irises flickering down to curiously gaze at you. “ come again, doll? ”

“ well, ” you shifted your head, to where you could rest your chin on his thigh while you looked up at him. “ I wanted to know. do you miss being human? or ever wonder what it'd feel like to be that way again? ”

david's brows twitched in amusement. he nearly snorted, actually. “ no. why would I? ”

you huffed, letting your index finger round about to draw lazy circles into his knee. “ it's just... you don't miss the feeling of the sun on your skin? or the warmth of the blood in your veins? ” tilting your head to the side, you gave the male unintentional puppy dog eyes. “ you're always so cold. that doesn't bother you at all? ”

god, that look could make him melt. you were so, so gorgeous... “ I don't think about those things, y/n. ” his digits moved once more, to pet your hair caringly. “ being cold to the touch doesn't bother me. I've been this way for years. plus, ” his hand curved around the side of your face, to hold your cheek passionately. thumb stroking under your eye in an affectionate manner. “ I can't feel the cold. temperature is nothing but an illusion in this life, babydoll. remember that. ”

you hummed in reply. honestly, you kind of weren't paying attention to his words... his voice- it ended up captivating you. so velvety and low and smooth. it made your insides turn to liquid. david took notice of this, and the way your eyes were blinking as you attempted to stay awake. so, with a small grin, he patted your cheek. “ look at me, princess. ”

although you nearly jolted from surprise, you managed to stay calm and look the vampire in the eye.

“ sleep. ” he commanded, eyes flashing amber and scarlet.

and that, you did.

#david the lost boys #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys imagines

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

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Oh, Loverboy: Part 2 (Everyone x Everyone, Star x Fem!Reader Centric)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: drug use, canon compliant bullying/teasing/violence, cursing,

Word Count: 1.9k

I feel like this is just gonna turn into an everyone x reader, star!centric fic so- hope you guys are down for that

While she'd given you a taste of the silent treatment last night, it didn't stop you and the boys from teasing her relentlessly for her crush. David sat on his bike, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. He loved to tease, and he did so subtly by saying,

"He kinda looks like Jim Morrison." He started, and Star sent him a glare from where the pair of you were sitting. Even if the boys didn't know where he was taking this, Paul was already laughing. David grinned and was quiet for a moment. As if he would agree to drop it. He didn't, and finished his teasing by saying, "Y'know, we could move that poster into your bedroom." And the boys erupted into a chorus of laughter when Star threw her corn dog stick on the ground. The boys only added onto his teasing, with Paul reaching out to pinch her side and say,

"Hey, no littering, miss." As he mimicked Big Ed's voice. She rolled her eyes again, and you grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. You knew it was all in good fun, and it wasn't their fault if Star happened to just be an easy target. Even Dwayne was having fun with it, telling her,

"I didn't know you had a thing for brunettes." Before running a hand through his own hair. Star had scoffed at that, and finally cracked when even Laddie started to laugh along with them.

"Y'know, you guys are the worst." Before she hopped off your seat and floated away from the pack of you. When you tried to follow and called after her, Marko was quick to grab your hand and spin you. He pulled you back into his arms, pulling a laugh from you as well, before he said,

"Nah, let her go. She's been hogging you." He said, and leaned down to nip at your neck. You yelped, trying to slap him away but his grip was too strong. It didn't take long for you to surrender, pulling him in by his jacket to satisfy him with a kiss.

She'd been gone for a little bit longer than you liked. You were picking at Markos jacket, having moved to sit behind him. It was almost time for you to leave, and Star still hadn't returned. The boys did what they did best, and they were a good distraction. Mostly. The night was stretching on, and you were starting to worry your lip between your teeth. You glanced at David, concern swirling in your eyes before he glanced away. Towards the opposite side. It seemed one of you may have to go find her, draw her back. You knew it would probably be you, and you were just about to offer before David let out a small scoff.

You looked where David was looking, leaning back as you held onto the curly-haired blonde. It seemed Star had caught her stray.

He was leading her towards his bike. It was red and not nearly as geared up as the bike you were sitting on, or the bikes surround it, but the simple act made you frown. From over here, you could almost hear him ask if she wanted to go somewhere, and you watched as she made moves to accept.

All it took was a shared glance, and the five, plus Laddie, of you had the same idea. You'd been starting to get worried, thinking that you were going to have to go track her down. And all this time she was with loverboy? Even if you didn't want to be, a part of you was pissed. You didn't know why. Sharing had been easy before, but the idea of this mysterious kid? He set you off, ground your gears. Maybe it was because you thought she could do better. Maybe it was something else you didn't want to admit. Either way, it didn't help that David seemed to feel exactly the same way. Or maybe David just wanted to be a dick.

The six of you rode up to them, boxing the pair of them in. You had your chin on Markos shoulder, and you played with a couple of the loose strands on Markos jacket. Your eyes fluttered over the boy. He was handsome, with a strong jaw and nice cheekbones. It was understandable as to why Star liked him. Hell, he was pretty. There was no other way to go about it. But your eyes moved to her right as David spoke,

"Where you goin', Star?" And you lifted your head. You were staring at her, silently asking her the same question.

"For a ride." She said. She had met David's eyes, but quickly avoided everyone else's. Your own. She even turned her back to you as she said, "This is Michael." You frowned, your eyes shifting to the boy besides her. So, loverboy had a name?

"Hi, loverboy." You said, leaning your cheek on Markos shoulder and sending him a small wave. You'd caught his attention for a moment, and you almost thought you could see his cheeks tinge at the nickname. It seemed he remembered you. He was quick to look away, hiding an embarrassed smile. Just cause he had a name didn't mean you were going to use it. Especially when embarrassing him was so fun.

"C'mon, let's go." He said, and your eyes were quick to flick to David's. He was already on it. He leaned back, calling the single word,

"Star." And her eyes flicked back to him. David clicked his jaw, staring back. It was a game of chicken. One to test if she really was mad at the lot of you. You didn't know how she'd react, but you watched the exchange just as closely as Michael did. Finally, Star gave in. She wasn't really mad at all of you, and she didn't want to stir any tensions by acting like she was. She moved to take her usual seat behind David, and your lips spread out into a mega-watt smile as you reached a hand out to touch her. Paul laughed his usual laugh, but it was more at the brunettes expense. You turned to see that Michael had deflated, a look of disappointment on his face. David smiled, and you couldn't tell whether it was from winning Star over or from Michaels loss. Maybe a little bit of both. Either way, David could be an ass, but he was a surprising ass. "You know where Hudson's Bluff is? Over looking the point?"

With Michael in tow, you'd ended up back at the cave. He was pretty, sure. But he wasn't smart. You'd guessed that the second he'd tried to pick a fight with David. To your surprise, David had let it go. You were almost impressed with him. You didn't know him to have an easy temper, but he'd even gone as far as wrapping his arm around his shoulders as he showed them their little living area. After giving him the usual spiel, of course.

Your boys had spread out, with Marko going to get food, Paul, Laddie and Dwayne on the fountain, and David and Michael heading towards the couch with a joint in hand. You didn't live in the cave, but you might as well have. You spent plenty of nights there before retreating to your father's house. You were his golden child, and he wouldn't have you sleeping over with kids like them, as your father put it. You and Star had clasped hands, the pair of you standing near the rock entrance as you watched David sit Michael down. You glanced at the pair of them, before glancing at the poster David hung on the wall. You watched how David talked to him, before you gripped her hand and grabbed the arm of the girl next to you. You leaned in, whispering,

"Doesn't David have a thing for brunettes?" And it took Star a second to realize before she was tearing her eyes away and staring at you,

"No way-" But you were cutting off her words with your own laughter. She reached up, covering your mouth despite her own giggles as the boys looked over at the pair of you. You watched as David arched a brow, a cigarette balancing between his lips. Michael looked confused, and you almost could swear that you could hear elevator music coming from inside his head. You tried to silence your giggles, but even Star couldn't stop her smile as she dragged you towards her room. You saw David lean back, his arm around the back of the couch behind Michaels head. He's totally putting on the moves. You thought to yourself, making your giggles even harder to stop. You watched David clench his jaw, and faintly you could hear him say,

"Don't mind them, Michael. They're like a pair of hyenas, those two."

You were sure that Michael was staring at the pair of you. You were sitting on the floor, a layer of pillows keeping you from sitting directly on the gravel. You glanced over your shoulder, but Star was quick to grab you by it. She was quick to say,

"Don't look." And you tried to be serious. You really were trying. Maybe it was the joint the two of you had been passing back and forth, but everything was funny. It was also the second you made eye-contact with her; you couldn't help the giddy feeling she made run through you, and you couldn't help your own attempts to make her smile. After a moment, she whispered, "Okay, okay, now look." You weren't surprised to see that Michaels baby blues were trained over to where the pair of you were sitting, but they glanced away at the blonde beside him the next moment when David tried to steal back his attention.

"If you don't hurry up, David's gonna steal him-" You said quietly, and you couldn't stop your laughter when she tried to shush you. Maybe it was a trick of the candle-light but you thought he'd face had turned a lovely shade of red. She gave you a half-hearted glare, tilting her head as she said,

"Shut up. You're- You're terrible at this. How did we start dating?" And you only hummed in response, sending her a shrug. You held her hand, interlacing your fingers. It was much easier to not be jealous of Stars crush when she was holding your hand, and when David was expressing his own interest. Well, it was probably mostly easier because you were high.

You ran your fingertips over the warmth of her hand, your eyes trailing over her face as she glanced over at the other curly-haired brunette. You thought about leaning in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. To her neck. Her lips. You wondered how Michael would react to that. But Star was snapping her head back towards you and whispering,

"He's coming over." And you tore your eyes from the sight of her face just in time to see him standing near the bunched up curtains of Stars room. He seemed almost shy, but too- whatever to really show it. He was unsure of where he stood, at least aware to know that he was a newcomer. But you were sure he remembered what had caught his interest in this group first. It made a small smile come to your face, and you brought the rolled cigarette up to your lips, blowing out a flume of smoke before you said,

"Hi, loverboy." It seemed to become his semi-permanent nickname, and even just saying it made you smile. You watched how Michael moved his head, attempted to hide his face. He pointed a finger to where you were sitting, at the spot between either of you.

"Mind if I join?"

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #star the lost boys #the lost boys star #star x reader #the lost boys x reader #michael the lost boys #the lost boys michael #reader x everyone

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bamf-jaskier · 3 years

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Who the Fuck is Eskel?

If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy?

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books.

Post under the cut

Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves.

For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show.

We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:

“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”

“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.

“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”

“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”

Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.

She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped. “Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”

Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.

“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”

She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.

“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.

“Wolf, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”

Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear.

Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them:

“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”

Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV.

Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.

“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”

“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”

This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s.

“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”

“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”

“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”

“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”

It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.

“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”

Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself:

Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.

“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”

Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society.

There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:

“White Seagull.”

“What?”

“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”

“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”

“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”

“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”

“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”

I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.

Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted.

In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word.

Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier.

Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.

And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events:

This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.

“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?”

“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”

“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”

“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”

“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”

Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict.

This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:

The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.

Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.

So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen.

The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this:

The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.

“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”

“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.

“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”

“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”

“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”

“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”

“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”

They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.

“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”

Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks.

So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point.

Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel.

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