r/liminalwendys

The perfect place to be the place between places.

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This... made my day.

Hellsing, or more specifically Hellsing Ultimate, originally by Kouta Hirano. It's a Hellsing reference. I've sadly never been able to get invested in Jojo, despite all the genuinely interesting concepts, ideas, and characters displayed in that series.

I’ve sat here, on this empty piece of floating scenery for the all of my existence. I am not aware of why i am, or the reason this place decided to trap me on itself. Most might assume the loneliness is unbearable, though i should disagree, the place keeps me company in most days.

This place, this endlessly quiet land, It thinks and, in Its special ways, speaks to me. I dont say this as in one of your metaphors, as It does, quite literally, speak to me. It says things to my soul, my head. I can feel the life blooming in Its air.

Countless times i’ve seen travellers passing through to rest, when i was young, id hide from them, i was scared they would take me away. Nowadays, however, i enjoy seeing It transform to the humans in question. It speaks to their mind, too, It changes according to their memories, It makes them comfortable. I never knew why It loved them so much, if I think about it, I dont know much about anything.

The passing of ages led me to meet humans of all types, I even served some of them, when It asked me to. I have meet said kings and queens and cared for runaway slaves. Though I never learned their names, I deeply cared about each one. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know every little detail. I learnt how to read and write, and to speak properly, even learnt etiquette to some extent. I have learnt about people’s stories from all over the world.

One person, in particular, stays in my mind quite often. Her name was Grace.

She was loud, so impossibly loud. Never had i heard that kind of noise, it scared me at first. She also loved gardens, It changed into one for her, it was very beautiful, in her short stay, she cared about it quite a lot.

She stayed what i would estimate to be three nights, and Grace told me stories about her family and friends, her adventures and her old passions. She was unaturally pale and young, fragile, even. I cared for her much more than all the others, she would tell me beautiful things about her life and she would make me want to live it with her. No one ever made me want to leave this place before, it sounded too stressful. But with her, it seemed peaceful and full of life.

She then, slept another night, her final night. And when i say final, I mean it. She never woke up again after that night. I never knew how that could happen and I did not know what to do with her formerly joyous self. It told me she was ill and didnt want to keep spending her family funds on herself, as she knew she could never recover. I wont ever believe It this time. I cant accept that she killed herself, I cant possibly believe she gave up her own life.

I dont think im ever going to die, so I’m left to my own imagionation for all times, together with It.

The man watched his prey intently. Tonight, he would kill again. This wasn't his first hunt, no. No this had happened before, and it would happen again, and again.

He had spent his day living the quiet life of a farmer, tending his crops, settling down. He even had a child.

Bandits, none had ever seen them so close to the city before, that was the reason he made his living so close to the walls of Artas, but none the less, misfortune had seen fit to visit him one fateful night. after visiting the market to sell his excess produce and meat, he thought he'd head to the local pub, spend some of his spare coin on booze, game, and song.

When he got home, it took his rum-soaked brain some time to comprehend the fire in the distance. He knew he should have turned around, sought the safety of the city walls... But instead all he could think of was his family.

He found their bodies, charred in the ruins of his home.

This was the moment he knew, there was no god, none worth prayer. None he could count on. It would take less than a week for him to find the bandits that slew his family, and though he charged in, his hands trembling with rage, he expected to kill maybe ,1 or 2 of the camp of dozens. When the sun rose it shone over a pile of bodies with a single surviving wounded man, covered in their lifeblood.

Little did he know that a spirit of revenge guided his hand. Invisible to even him, she helped guide him toward those deserving of punishment.

Unable to see them, he never knew his sudden combat prowess was the result of his bride ensuring he wouldn't suffer as he sought to smite evil. His daughter would mend his wounds in his sleep, as she lay her hands on any cut or broken bone they would mend at her touch.

But soon those responsible for his misery were slain, and he still felt unending anguish. He turned his blade on all those who had caused such pain.

And so it was that he found himself at the home of a wealthy businessman, standing outside his door ready to kill him. He knew not his name, he only knew his sin. He could sense the evil radiating off him, smell it in the air wherever he went. The very sight of him sickened him when he got visions of his horrible deeds

The children in his mines would be freed next, but first, he needed to execute the man.

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Fellow man of culture detected. Caught the Tanya Degurechaff reference but was anime dracula Dio? Lol

It was good though! I'd love to see the original WP it belonged to lmao

I would read more of this

You definitely deserve it, you did great.

Wow Thanks! I honestly didn't expect a reward from this or this many up votes. Thanks for reading everyone. xD

The afternoon went by quickly. As I suspected, there was no trace of the bastards. Sometimes they’d prep ahead for big events and stalk the grounds, I guess kinda like I was doing. But you know what they say about monsters - the ones you catch are either sick, stupid, or injured. Usually stupid, where vampires are concerned.

With that out of the way I made it back to the center of town, swung by a few stores, and then got prepped for the hunt.

9/10 times, if you’re a woman walking downtown alone at night with your headphones in, it’s going to be the average, run of the mill creep who comes up to you.

Anyway. In went my headphones, no sound of course, and downtown went I.

I played up the college student look. Ponytail, big backpack so it looked like I couldn’t run easily, distracted by my phone or music, not paying attention to my surroundings.

In truth, I kept everything in my peripheral, and used my phone as a mirror. I’d scan the windows in the upper floors of builds as I passed. I kept my eyes and ears opened as I passed dark alleys.

There’s a trick I used even before I became a hunter. When you’re passing by street lights, check your shadow every once in awhile. As you walk by the lamp, your shadow will stretch - and so will the shadow of anyone following you.

And tonight, someone was.

You have to gauge the situation when you know someone’s behind you. They could be going the same direction, even if they’re making suspiciously little noise.

I played oblivious and casually jaywalked to the other side of the road. They followed.

It was on.

Pervert or vampire, which will it be?

I walked close to an alley, fumbling with my keys. This part was never easy. My blood rushed in my ears, my adrenaline levels rising. I dropped my keys.

My senses were heightened, tuned to everything around me. Time seems to slow down when you think you’re going to be attacked. I bend to scrape my keys off the asphalt, and I hear a rustle behind me.

In the corner of my eye, I see a hand reaching out in the dark. I straighten up, they still don’t know I’ve seen them, my muscles tense.

Contact.

The hand grips the strap of my backpack.

Then two things happened almost simultaneously.

I slip an arm out of my backpack and turn as the other hand goes for my hair. Not tonight, fucker!

I face my attacker, he’s got his hood up. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” I shouted.

At this point, most thieves and rapists will turn and run. They want an easy mark, not somebody willing to fight back.

This guy, though. He didn’t move.

He just stood there, fist tight around the strap of my pack, still as a statue.

“You gonna let go?” I asked. My hand gripped around the handle of my knife in my pocket.

But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

Then.

The hood fell back. And with it went his head.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

I suppressed as scream as the body crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. I watched in horror as his head rolled down into the gutter, getting caught on a storm drain.

He had just followed me. Headless guys don’t do that.

I didn’t know what else to do.

I ran for my damn life.

I didn’t know who or what could decapitate a guy silently, but I wasn’t going to stick around and find out.

My feet beat the pavement for about a mile before I made it to a familiar street and bus stop. There’s some animal instinct inside all of us where light means safety. Light plus shelter? That’s a little more ground to fight on. But I wasn’t sure if I could fight.

I’d never been so rattled. Not since my first vampire. Not since…

I pushed the thoughts from my mind. I had to survive. Whatever the hell did that was silent, possibly even invisible. Or worse. Very, very fast.

But as I backed myself into the corner, silver knife at the ready in front of me… nothing happened.

Seconds ticked by like lifetimes, and all that I could hear were the distant sounds of barking and sirens.

I put my knife away when the bus came 30 minutes later.

I half expected the bus driver’s head to slide off his shoulders. I don’t know if I blinked the whole way home.

It was nearly dawn when I got in. Adam was already there.

He acknowledged me with a nod. I did the same and slumped into my room. I didn’t bother changing.

The adrenaline comedown felt like someone had beaten me with a bag of rocks - the bed I flopped on felt like said bag.

What. The. Fuck.

I didn’t know who to call, what to say even if I did. The next morning this would probably be the biggest story in the news. The police will probably be looking for me, if there’s any doorbell cam or CCTV footage.

I comforted myself with the thought that most of those ran at potato quality, so there’s little chance I’ll be implicated for the crime. Then I wondered what the hell that looked like from different angles, and I almost started laughing. Prank TV wasn’t in fashion anymore, and it probably wasn’t YouTube shit.

It had to be real.

And whatever the fuck did that… Well, I hoped it didn’t follow me home.

———(continued)———

Not all who are lost wander. This is how your species has spread across the realities for eons. In torpor the Somnu'F'Ictians have used dreams to explore universes instead of traversing the void between stars. This usually happens to older Somnus'F'Ictians, after their life cycle had passed the point of mating. Your father started jumping earlier than most, while still carrying you to term in his heart. The stress of realizing what had happened caused your premature birth in this reality. His exhaustion and lack of control of this ability caused him to land in a new type of place. He is not an expert on this ability and lacks the experience to know if dreaming himself back to his homework would leave you stranded here, so he dares not risk losing you without knowing if he could get back.

You mature quickly and he teaches you of your family and the culture of Morpheun as best he can. He strains against the biological need to traverse his dreams, but is melancholy for his home and people, his intimate partners, your maternal parents of whom each supplied a portion of your genetic code. He does not know where you both are, but knows from his cultures history that it isn't like any place they traveled to before.

Your father teaches you the skills that have been hard won by your people. Skills of survival, communication, diplomacy, philosophy. He says that your instincts will help fill the gaps in your experience. He tells you that he will one day fail to suppress his urge to use his dreams to travel and that he is sorry for the time when that will happen. His one small hope is that close proximity will allow you to travel with him when he goes, so you sleep curled up against him every night, worried that his fear will become reality. You wake up today and feel cold where you had grown accustom to his heart. Silence where you had grown accustom to the strong heart that had birthed you. And you feel a pull, not through space or time, but through your instincts.

I like the references you put in there, especially Tanya. Well done and OP was right this would make a great TV series.

I feel they’ll either kill each other or get married, but idk which is more likely

Thanks, that‘s really kind of you! I do have a subreddit but it’s not got any more of this story (and hasn’t been updated in a while) so I won’t link — but I appreciate you asking <3

I try to answer your prompts in drabbles, stories of exactly 100 words. Also I misread the prompt. This one's about two vampires not a vampire/vampire hunter. Enjoy!

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Do you know what it's like to be broke in the big city? Having to sustain yourself on the blood of the overworked and uninsured? I bet you have no idea what being in a constant state of panic does to the circulatory system. The taste is thin and weak, nutritionally void.

Do you know what its like to share a coffin? To be priced out of your own, private resting place? I bet you didn't know some of us continue to snore despite inert lungs, all through the brightness of day.

I know all these things and it sucks.

It should've been an easy case, the crime scene was coated in fingerprints. Yet when run through the database, no matter how many times they tried it always showed the same individual, a woman who died two weeks ago in a similar fashion. Mutilated, the fingers removed and missing from the scene.

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I found it. I finally found it!

Ground zero, the first Olive Garden, the one that started this four decade long nightmare! I'd heard stories of what the world was like before humanity went one leap too far, and meddled with forces beyond their comprehension.

I'd like to able to say I yearn for the world to be like that again, but I have smaller ambitions. I just want my friend back, anyone who tries to drink the sauce doesn't stop, they just lose themselves, drinking more and more sauce for days until they're submerged, and I don't know what happens after that.

I tried to warn them! But they were desperate, water has only been getting scarcer and scarcer since the sauce started rising again.

I know I'll never get them back, but I can make sure the oceans of sauce never rise again, and that the forests of breadsticks and endless fields of pasta never destroy another town.

At least that's what the stories said, and stories aren't always true.

I just hope they are, as I stand here, lighting a torch.

Towards the end of Sandman, we find the inn called the Worlds' End, where wandering travellers from many worlds take shelter from a storm across the realities, and swap strange stories to pass the time. And then they travel on afterwards to wherever it might be that they were going. And occasionally some stay on, between the worlds.

Six issues we pass there, and the whole thing hardly advances the plot at all, but they're some of the most wonderful tales of strange fantasy you'll ever find in comics.

" There's one made by some lady named Christine..."

…Hestia, goddess of hearth and home, by extension light and heat indoors? Even campfires arguably count. Everyone, everywhere, worshipped her. A soldier that marched against her, marched against the force keeping his family warm back home. After a long, tired day of work, a warm fire is enough to elicit heartfelt thanks. Any food that falls into the fire can be taken as an offering. She’s also the oldest and the youngest of the Olympians (born first, nommed first, last out of dad), and that alone carries a ton of power. Only fools would make fun of someone who could claim direct lineage from her.