gasp Ariadne!

"Who are you?" the man asks me as he stares in awe at the many books that line the ever moving shelves. He sets his hat down on the table by the doorway, I hope he doesn't particularly care for it.

"I wouldn't set that hat there if I were you," I say in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but as the man turns back to grab it the hat is already gone. "Oh well, perhaps it'll turn up," I say as the man blinks in astonishment. "Now, you're here for something, surely you are. No one ever comes here unless they're looking for something."

"N-no," the man stutters "I just wanted to use the restroom. Who are you? What is this place?"

"If you'd wanted to use the restroom you would have gone there, instead you came here, to my home." I turn and gesture to the books, and they freeze momentarily while I add, "So what is it you are looking for?"

The man stumbles, and a chair appears to catch him as he falls backwards, "Morris must have spiked my coffee, the bastard." As he says this coffee appears on a small table at his side. The man jumps as he sees it. "What the hell is going on."

He's going to be a difficult one, the ones that think they're drugged always are. "Here," I say as I sit, a chair appearing to catch me. "Let's start a little more simply," I grab my pipe out of the air, a gentle smoke puffing off the top of the lit tobacco, "What is your name?"

"S-Sebastian, Sebastian Smith," he continues to stutter.

"Alright Sebastian, I haven't met someone with that name in almost a century, your parents must be old fashioned. Try the coffee, I promise it's not been drugged, the Morris you spoke of has never been here and likely never will be."

He sips tentatively from the coffee before asking, "Why am I here?" he puts the cup back on the table, which was starting to wander off, "Where is this place?"

"This," I take a few puffs from my pipe, " is a library, couldn't you tell from all the books?" as if in response a few of the books leap from the shelf and begin to flap around us, their pages rustling in the breeze they made. "As for why you're here I truly don't know, that's why I asked you." I take a few more puffs. "You must be looking for something, some piece of knowledge, otherwise why would you come to a library?"

The man stares in a combination of bewilderment and wonder at the books as they flapped about.

"Oh don't mind the histories, they just want someone to read them," I say, shooing away a history on St. Cuthbert as it strayed to close to my face. "Nobody is ever here for history though, now the books on the future on the other hand..." I trail off. Most of the people who come through my library are looking to understand the future, some want to know who they will marry, others how their investments will do and how they can make more money, very few sought to learn from the past.

"I guess, since there are books on the future, this isn't a normal library?" The man asks.

"Finally, a thought, I was beginning to wonder if you could have them Sebastian," he turns red with embarrassment and perhaps a subtle anger, "No this isn't a normal library, surely the furniture and the flying books gave it away, that and the fact that you apparently entered through a bathroom door. You get one question, and there will almost certainly be a book here that can answer it, so ask and leave me to my books." One does not become a master of a library beyond the veil by liking company.

"I don't know what I want, I just want to be happy," Sebastian begins, but I cut him off.

"Stop there, that's enough," Nobody had ever asked for the secret to happiness before, and I was curious how the library would answer, most of the fools that came through here already thought they knew what would make them happy.

As Sebastian falls silent a book comes flapping through the air, it is a simple one, plainly bound with cloth, but it seems to hum with importance. It lands in Sebastian's lap.

"Go on," I prompt, "Open it."

Sebastian opens the book, not at the beginning, but towards the middle, and a soft warm glow envelops him. As he reads further his face lightens, and he begins to turn transparent. The further he reads, the wider his smile gets, and the less substantial he becomes. Until at last he closes the book, and with the soft sound of the pages closing, he vanishes completely.

Married him.

Additions of numbers bigger than 50 are already horror enough

Dionysus?

Hah! Nearly spit out my wine on that one.

I generally don’t like poetry but this one is good

> She is fifteen. She will never be older

God that line hits so hard, your writing is amazing

This is so good. Sad but can feel a hint of hope

Please tell me I’m not the only one who imagined a dragon…

I only ordered a water, I was thirsty. It turns out the unlimited breadsticks applied to that order too, even if the water was free, so now too were the breadsticks. Scientists had been studying microplastics and radiation for years, but those were only the trees in the forest of what would become unlimited breadsticks. We never could have seen the exponential growth that came from the sticks, and we tried to eat our way out when we could, but sometimes you can only really carbo load so much. Our best squatters and body builders ended up sinking into the mass of bread and being lost, while the rest of us tried to ride it out. We’ve finally reached the edge of the atmosphere, and olive garden continues to produce breadsticks. Soon I will be on the edge of the atmosphere with no air and no one to share these with. When you’re here, you’re family.

Please tell me when the next part comes up.

You can find the subreddit in their history

My cat was gray.

He was so kind.

He was old, and he grew sick eventually.

He died a few years back.

I’d to imagine that he’s visiting MC’s dimension for the everafter.

I’ve been thinking about it all day. May be something for tonight.

So guess where I went?

It took me awhile to find the Pink Lemon. Turns out it has rebranded as the Pink Martini only a couple months ago.

It was in the old brownstone district, where lots of the cities older buildings were. This surprised me, as you’d think the city wouldn’t allow a strip club off one of the busiest shopping districts. Might scare away customers.

Then I remembered this was the same city that did nothing for the homeless problem, let drugs run rampant in the streets, and had parades about how good it was.

Shit was never going to change until people who care are put in charge.

Ten years ago, kids could have played down by the riverfront. Now it was a tent city with more drugs flowing in and out of it than a truck stop on I-5.

I don’t mean to sound like I hate the homeless, I don’t. We’re all just a paycheck away from ending up on the street. What I do hate is the fact that people let the problem get so bad - and it makes my job harder.

Half these people just need a warm house. The other half are horribly addicted to drugs I don’t even know the names of, and will get violent for a fix.

I won’t even get into the shit you see in winter. People step over people in the street and tell themselves they’re sleeping.

Anyway. The reason I say all this is because The Pink Martini was only a few blocks from a notoriously bad camp.

People get robbed all the time on this street and the police do jack shit about it.

But as I turned the corner, I wasn’t greeted by piles of trash and human feces. Instead my face was bathed in the light of a giant, pink, neon sign.

I looked to my left towards the riverfront. How did I never notice this coming across the bridge? It’s huge.

I decided it would be best to keep my distance, opting to lie low in a bush.

If the guy on the porch was a vampire, what better place to hide than a strip club? Probably a blood bank, but you get the idea.

The bouncer at the front was as you’d expect. Huge, surly, tiny head. Sunglasses even though it was midnight.

He appeared to let the dumbest girls in the smallest dresses go in first. So was it a night club or a strip club? Either way, as a gaggle of giggling girls walked through the velvet rope, the pit in my stomach tightened. Bad shit happened enough at regular clubs. Add potential vampires to the mix, and it can only get worse.

I watched into the darkest part of night. It had to be closing soon. How many hours could people take loud, disorienting music and shitty, overpriced drinks?

My eyes were getting tired by the time people started trickling out.

Groups stumbled up the pavement to wherever. Some into cars that shouldn’t be driving, others with dates - I could have sworn they went in with different people.

But everything seemed… normal. Of course, I might actually have to go in sometime to see it for myself, but scouting was always a good first option.

It was getting late. Finally sometime around 4 am, it seemed like the last of the customers had faded into the night. The pink sign shut down. And immediately the area got dark.

It shouldn’t have been as spooky as it was, but it took my eyes a bit to adjust to the dimness of the street lights, and that made me feel vulnerable - even as hidden as I was.

I was just about ready to head out when a girl came stumbling out of the exit. She was crying, her dress was askew, her shoes bundled up in one hand. My first instinct was concern, the second was disgust at her bare feet on the ground.

But she looked a little too distraught to care about stray needles and broken glass.

A man followed after her.

She threw her shoes at him.

I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she was shouting at him, the tone of her voice hoarse and on the edge of a total breakdown.

The guy was undeterred.

My stomach sank as he walked towards her. She backed away, still shouting. He just kept coming after her.

She ran.

I followed.

I kept her in my visual across the street, doing my best to stick to the shadows.

She was going to get lost at best. At worst… well.

I don’t carry a gun for vampires.

She shouted through sobs the whole way down the street. Eventually I was able to make out what she was saying.

“Help me! He’s trying to kill me!”

Shit.

I put a round in the chamber and was about to make my way across to her when I saw something.

Eyes glinting in the dark. Three pairs of them.

She ran by an alley.

From behind a dumpster came a black blur.

It snatched her like a rag doll - she barely had time to scream.

The guy who was chasing her picked up speed and disappeared into the shadows.

The sounds… Screaming, begging, snapping, hisses. Then a sickening crunch. Silence.

A dark pool of liquid crept out of the shadows.

I stood there frozen, hardly able to breathe, process what just happened.

To my right, I heard something in the bushes. I barely had time to register a homeless man crouching next to me, his finger up to his lip.

“I saw it too.” He whispered.

I was just about to respond when he froze, stiff as a board. His face barely had time to look surprised before the top of his head slipped off at the eyes.

Then I did scream.

——(continued)——

Wow, thanks so much for reading! I’ll try to get the other parts up asap. Gotta take a break.

Could we maybe get a part two 😅

It's okay. They'll just reform in Tartarus and escape back to Earth where they'll be taken in by another lesbian couple

If you're an immortal vampire and still broke just step into the sun smh

Hell yeah lesbian moms! Oh dear poor doggies

Woken up by a horrific noise, Yvonne narrowed her eyes and charged downstairs, grabbing her bedside stake, just in case. Grumbling when she realised the commotion, she charged into the living room.

“I told you not to feed in here! It’s really annoying to get woken up by the sound of screams at.. at 4:23 AM!” Yvonne did a little glance at the grandfather clock, which ticked ominously. Faustus grumbled, dropping his prey on the floor like a scolded dog.

“I couldn’t get anyone when I was out hunting. Had to drag a morning passerby into the house before dawn. Thanks oh so much for the pithy little welcome mat, too. It barely counts as letting me in.”

Faustus resumed his barbaric feast on this poor pedestrian, who looked absolutely dazed. Yvonne wasn’t a vampire hunter because of any sort of justice reasons. She was apathetic to murder and death, considering it would make her a hypocrite to criticise it. Rather, she just didn’t like the pesky things, and the job paid enough for… joint rent. Hands on her hips, Yvonne sighed.

“You know, if you didn’t pay rent, I’d kill you.”

Faustus finished his meal, swallowing down the last of the (now absolutely dead) pedestrian’s blood. He pointed lazily at his fangs, then made a chomping motion. “You’re lucky I don’t just decide to mooch off of my friends. Amelia would be happy to take me in, and then I could dispose of you!”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on!”

Yvonne readied her stake, and Faustus bore his teeth and claw like nails, when a yell came from the flat above theirs.

“KEEP IT DOWN!”

#AND THEN THEY FUCKED

[removed]

Ding!

I woke up the next morning with a hangover and the disappointment that it wasn’t fun that gave it to me.

I crammed some granola bars and water in my face, then steeled myself as I opened my phone check the news.

Nothing.

How? The guy’s corpse was on a sidewalk in a normally busy part of the city.

I grabbed my lucky table leg (don’t judge) and traced the rough old grains with my thumb.

There’s no way in hell that was a prank.

There’s enough supernatural bullshit out there that it could be just about anything. I did a mental check through the list of likely suspects. But try as I might, I couldn’t come up with anything for invisible, silent, decapitation monster.

Unless is was the ghost of a guillotine, I was out of luck.

I scrubbed up in the bathroom before I dragged my ass to the kitchen.

“Rough night?” Adam was on the couch as I passed, deep in a thick book I could t catch the name of. “You’re wearing the same clothes.”

“You could say that.” I mumbled. I had only stepped into the kitchen when I remembered- right. No cups. Or coffee. “Hey, what happened to your dishes?”

“Old roommate took them.” He said. If he was looking at me, I couldn’t tell. Still had those sunglasses.

“Took the mirror too?” I asked.

Now he did look up. He seemed to consider me a moment before nodding. “Yeah, weird guy.”

“What did you do to piss him off?” I was trying to be funny, but my tone was off. I was tired, ok?

He gave me a mirthless smirk. Something about the way he watched me, but I couldn’t see his eyes, made me uneasy. After an uncomfortable pause, he turned back to his book. “I hadn’t anticipated having a replacement so soon. I’ve been eating out, so I wasn’t bothered by the absence of dishes.”

I nodded. I guess that made sense. Put the poverty theory to rest, anyway. “I’ve got a couple plates n’ things. No silverware, unfortunately. We can share if you want.”

“Feel free to put them in the cupboard.”

I nodded again.

“Oh, and while we’re here.” He said, his voice on the edge of a pompous drawl. “Everything on the top shelf of the fridge is off limits. Help yourself to whatever else.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“- And about the subject of rent.” He continued. “Landlord wants it by the first of the month, but if you need an extension let me know and we’ll work it out.”

“Landlord?” I asked. “This isn’t your house?”

“No.”

That surprised me. I glanced to the blinds behind him - the ones with nails sticking out at odd angles in the windowsill.

“We have an arrangement.” He said curtly.

I didn’t press.

I just agreed to the rent thing and turned back to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the fridge. Some close-to-expired applesauce, withered veggies, and cheese.

On the top shelf, however, was the reddest hunk of meat I’ve ever seen. Like venison. Worst of all, it was just sitting there, unwrapped, on a plate, juices nearly spilling off.

It reminded me of last night. I gagged.

“Hey, I don’t mean to come in here and tell you what to do…” I said, as calmly as I could. “But shouldn’t that be in butcher paper or something?”

“It’s thawing out, don’t worry about it.”

It looked pretty damn raw to me.

I opted to grab the applesauce and scuttle back to my room. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could feel his eyes follow me the whole way back.

The next few weeks fly by. Every time I checked the news, nothing came up about the headless guy. Adam and I were content to give each other passing acknowledgment and not say too much to each other.

He eventually did get plates and stuff. I went and bought some silverware from a thrift store.

The fridge was fully stocked, but I rarely saw him eat anything. There were a lot of fast food wrappers in the trash though, so I assumed he was picky. And weird.

Off and on meat would be on the top shelf of the fridge, but he did keep it wrapped in butcher paper at least. Looked expensive too.

I thought maybe he was one of those frugal dudes who only spent money on absolute necessities - and Taco Bell was cheap. Maybe the meat was a weird indulgence? Grilling steaks is a hobby, I supposed.

I was content to ignore his eccentricities. The rent was cheap and, while he was a bit terse, he wasn’t the worst room mate I’d had. Still, the alarm bells in my head wouldn’t shut up each time a new, weird little fact about my roommate emerged.

I never heard him move in his room. The walls weren’t exactly cardboard, but not thick enough to expect much privacy. I didn’t hear his bed creak, the closet shut, his feet hit the floor - nothing.

My brain’s excuse? Sound proofing.

Then there was the fact I never saw him leave or arrive. I even camped out by my door to watch him through the keyhole. Now, before anyone suggests I’m a stalker or need something to do with my life - you’re absolutely right, but I had a reason.

1. It would be embarrassing as hell for a hunter to room with a vampire and not even know it.
2. It would be more embarrassing to accuse the guy of being a vampire without having any proof beyond shitty, circumstantial, Hollywood tropes.

Most of his weirdness could have mundane explanations - but still it didn’t sit right with me.

So, I peeped through my keyhole.

For hours.

Nothing.

It wasn’t until I had given up and peeled my legs out of the hole I’d worn in the floor that there was a knock at the front door.

Delivery? I glanced at the clock. 11:30pm. It’s a little late. Maybe he forgot his keys.

I padded over to the front door, conscious that I was still in my cami and sleep shorts. I shrugged off the potential embarrassment and peeked through the peephole.

There was someone standing there, but it wasn’t Adam.

From what I could see, he was equally handsome. Tall, dark haired, with equally dark eyes. Impeccably dressed, which threw me off. Why would someone like this be in this dumpy part of town? He didn’t look like he was selling something. Oh shit, was he Adam’s date?

I cracked open the door, and instantly a wave of something hit me.

“Oh, hello.” The man on the porch said, his voice pitched low. There was this look on his face I couldn’t quite place. It was like he was pleasantly surprised, but there was something off about it. Something dark, hungry. The look twisted my insides into knots.

Still, I felt compelled to keep the door open. This wasn’t good.

“Is Adam home?” He asked, straightening the cuffs of his tailored suit.

I didn’t know how to respond. If it was someone Adam was waiting for, I should probably go and see if he’s home. If he’s not…

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Two who am I speaking?” I finally managed.

“How rude of me.” He scoffed. “I’m - “

“Leaving.”

I jumped. Adam was behind me, I didn’t even hear him. He nudged me out of the way and stood in front of the door, blocking my view.

“I told you not to come here.” He snapped, angrier than I’d ever heard him.

“Now, is that any way to treat a friend?” The stranger said. “I came all this way to see you, I didn’t know you had company.”

I didn’t know whether or not it was okay for me to hear this. I wasn’t trying to intrude on Adam’s private life - but there was something about the guy on the porch that sent off all kinds of signals I definitely couldn’t rationalize away.

Now, before I continue, I need you to understand something. The vast majority of vampires out there aren’t the type you see in Hollywood. Most of them look like meth junkies. Shells of their former selves, perpetually starving. They’ll look cold, withered - but despite their emaciated appearance, they are stronger and faster than you.

Fortunately, the ones that are blood-hungry are like rabid animals. Easy to coax into a thoughtless rage. I’ve heard of those that are more calculating, able to use logic. Those, so I’m told, are the true bloods. Most of the ones I’d been killing are their remnants. Vampire spawn they throw out into the world, content with the idea that the rational world will find a mundane explanation for their existence.

Usually, it’s drugs. Remember bath salts guy? Yeah.

Comfort in the mundane is alluring. Probably the sweetest drug known to man. We built cities and put up power lines to push out the supernatural, but instead like most animals it adapted. Like raccoons and foxes in the inner cities, the world is full of heinous creatures. And we are their most creative prey.

As Adam and the stranger had a heated conversation, I backed into the hall until I found a broom.

If this guy was a vampire, he was one of the scary ones. And like hell was I gonna let that thing eat my roommate - this house was cheap.

But it never came to that. I didn’t catch the rest of the conversation, but Adam slammed the door in his face.

When he turned around to see me holding the broom like a weapon, he just arched an eyebrow at me. “Weird time for cleaning.” He said.

“Thought I was gonna have to beat some refuse off the porch.” I mumbled, face going pink. I knew I looked stupid.

But, he laughed. Probably the first actually friendly gesture he extended. “That’s cute, but don’t worry about it. If he comes around again, don’t even open the door. He knows better than that.”

One more strike leaning in option vampire for Adam.

I tried my best to look normal as I put the broom down. “Ex roommate?” I offered.

“Nah, old boss.”

Two strikes.

I tried to diffuse the tension as we walked into the living room. “What the hell did you do for a job to have that as your boss?”

“Night club.” He said flatly.

Oh come on.

“The guy is a piece of shit.” Adam continued. He was angry, his defenses down. “Don’t ever go to the Pink Lemon on high street. It’s not exactly a fully legal business, if you catch my drift.”

“You worked in a strip club?”

“Kinda. I was the chef. I didn’t interact with anyone there. Just took orders and sent out food.” He looked uncomfortable. “Just… If that prick comes around again and I’m not here, call me.”

Then he stormed back off to his room.

——(continued)——