#tskom

The Strangest Kind of Magic

Chapter 11 & Epilogue

Or start from the beginning?

Gansey has spent his life obsessed with the legendary lost king, Glendower. When tragedy burns through the life of his best friend, Ronan, Gansey decides that now, it’s more important than ever to find the long lost king, and to write their own story. Together Gansey and Ronan set about retracing the final steps that Glendower took, but could a chance meeting with the mysterious mage of Cabeswater change their journey forever?

but the elite selection wasn't the only batch of test subjects. another test, the original even, was done on a group of captives, dissidents from the slums and 'Joys brought in from the Zones. instead of just Drac'ing them and being done with it, BLI employed them in their biological weapons program. the entire point of this was to create a living breathing force of enforcers. but it went wrong the whole way down. the first as the last time, only one survivor in the group who got away. it seems to be a theme. that survivor was a desert-born Killjoy who called himself Sandman, and back to the sand with fangs and blood on his hands he went.

when Benzedrine found himself in the desert he also found himself found by Sandman, a creature of the night, rumored to be some kind of spirit haunting the desert looking for vengeance. older 'Joys call him a vampire. what he's actually looking for is a way out for an old friend.

(I think this is gonna end up being just a vampire AU)

Donnie, as in my mainline AU, was caught and turned into a Draculoid. Sandman's theory is that turning him, like all the old vampire stories people like to pass down like folk tales, would undo that. he's just gotta find the guy first, and the masks don't really help. he finds Benzedrine at some point and there's almost an instant telepathy between them. not like, mind-reading, but these senses that they can predict what each other is thinking a split second before they say it out loud. they recognize each other as The Same Kind Of Monster. so they stick together. they both think the other is totally weird but like whatever, they're the most Other things in this desert so what else are they gonna do?

Benzedrine is the more ruthless when it comes to feeding but Sandman finds it easier. he's been out here longer. he's more willing. Benze fights it until he's in a frenzy and then tries to analyze it, figure out what precisely the physiological alterations to them that have been done are, because if he doesn't perform clinical about it he will lose all control. he's constantly teetering on the edge of going full feral vampire, whereas Sandman is chill about it, accepts it (except for in the long days when he can't sleep and he wonders what it means to be human). they're monsters, the both of them

and they're trying to add another to their ranks.

Benze is against purposefully turning someone else. Sandman needs to test his theory. there's another theme there. these kind of tests never end well.

except this one does.

Benze refuses to participate. he will feed but he will not turn someone else (until he does, in fascination, but that's another story for another time that certainly can't end well. there's mercy killing involved at that point.). so Sandman does it and pulls the mask off his former best friend and daydream mechanic, suffering from sudden whiplash as BLI programming is overwritten by vampirism. Donnie doesn't speak for nearly two weeks. it's pretty much withdrawals. and at some point they've gotta find someonething to eat.

enter one H. Shoe Crab, Esq. Donnie's cousin, a vague acquaintance of Sandman's, and the cat about to be killed by curiosity. what can he say, he spent a year tailing Dr. Death Defying's radio crew and pestering the hell out of Cherri Cola and ended up with a fascination for research and radio interviews. 'course, he can't write so it took him a while to find a working tape recorder, but now occasionally he's a source for the radio crew (whenever Cherri isn't belligerently refusing to take the offer of fresh content. they've literally had petty beef for years this is my comic relief subplot lol). he's way too curious for his own good and at some point decides to track down his old acquaintance, Mr. Sandman, former golden child of the crash track and current desert cryptid.

Crabby boy stumbles into the other three's """lair""" (as in my main 'verse, it's an abandoned firehouse, bc I find the layout and designs of those places a super fun setting to have characters hang out in skskskfjs) one day and is met with three sets of should-be normal eyes that flash red in the light. after a LONG, CHAOTIC explanation (mostly done by Sandman, because Benze is Confused™️ and Donnie is not having a fun time getting yelled at by his cousin who thought he was dead) Crab just. makes himself at home. he's like ok so two out of the three of y'all I have history with so obviously we're a crew now. so what you're all weird failed experiment vampires that's fun we should hang out. who's the nervous little guy in the corner? (the nervous little guy in the corner is, of course, Benze, who has all the ferocity of one of those little fluffy dogs with needle teeth)

(Crab is SUCH a little shit in this AU I'm so serious. I haven't had a chance to play with that side of him in my main stream of writing but part of that is because my dude is VOCAL. like he's not mute in this version and he's making that everyone else's problem fr. he's still lowkey a voice of reason at the same time though in some ways though, just... also a total TWERP. let's just say there's a reason Cherri Cola has beef with him)

so I'm thinking if I write this it would be four separate short intro pieces on each character that start out with individual backstories and lead into them all meeting and becoming a crew. it takes a while to figure out the collective dynamic, but once they do they're unerringly loyal and absolutely dedicated to each other. found family at its peak with three vampires and their human buddy/one reasonably normal human and his three vampire besties who are all in some form of existential crisis at all times

none of them want to feed on Crab bc he's THEIR PERSON but also. for added angst potential?

No wonder Sandman is an arsonist. Donnie claims he set shit on fire as a kid to keep himself warm at night when he was lonely, and when the flames spread it stuck with him. The habit, and the warmth. Sandman’s softer than he gives himself credit for. He puts on a big nasty painted grin and bares both pairs of teeth, but he’s the warmest of them all. He always feels so bad, strokes Crab’s hair when the others feed.

Only one of them can at a time. Obviously. One human is not enough food for three hungry vampires, not when they want to keep him alive, at least. Donnie is the one who cleans him up. If Benze has been drinking his blood, he’s always far too dazed and shaken by the end of it to be the doctor. They still don’t know if it’s a personality thing, the distant, almost drunken shock that takes hold of Benze when he’s just eaten, or if it’s because he was made different than Sandman or Donnie.

Donnie is careful and gentle, if unpracticed, when he dabs at the bite marks. He’s Crab’s blood family. When Crab is dazed like this, the irony seems hilarious. His only blood, drinking his blood, and then patching him back up like they used to as kids when they’d get into petty scraps and then make up later. Crab giggles, lets his head fall back against Sandman, nose stroking lightly against his cheek.

Sandman never feeds on him. Never. Not once. They’ve fought about this. But it’s okay. Sandman always, always holds him. It doesn’t matter if it’s this or a real injury. Sandman is so good at holding. Crab can feel him turn his head, nuzzling at his hair. Sandman kisses his forehead. Crab smiles at that.

“Hi,” he breathes, lightheaded. Sometimes he can't tell if it's more from the blood loss or from the contact it entails. He thinks he could get drunk on this feeling, of loving and being loved in return, in the most visceral of ways.

“Hi,” Sandman whispers back. He's positioned behind Crab, with Crab leaning back against his chest and his chin hooked over Crab's shoulder. He strokes Crab's face again, doing a shitty job of hiding that he's checking his pulse. “How you feeling?”

Crab’s hands are shaking, just a tiny bit. Benze and Donnie are always so, so careful with him. They would never take more than he can spare to lose. He’s a little bit dizzy, and the puncture wound stings, but he’ll be fine by morning.

“I’m fine,” he replies, rolling his eyes though it sets his narrow view, mostly of his friends, tilting. Sandman lets out a relieved sigh. Crab huffs a quiet laugh. “Relax, dude. It’s okay.”

“I know,” Sandman says tersely. He’s so rarely this edgy, at least not so obviously. It’s almost endearing, but mostly sweet.

Crab turns his head awkwardly so he can look Sandman at an angle, peering up at him from his position with his head resting comfortably on his shoulder. “I’m okay,” he says softly.

“Don’t begrudge us our concern,” Donnie says. “Move over, he gripes, then knees Sandman in the ribs climbing onto the couch with them and gets an amused oof in return. Donnie will always, always choose to take care of Sandman if he has to choose. He knows his cousin can handle himself. Sandy’s a different deal. It's almost scary the bond those two have, and it has been since they were little. Crab used to feel like an outsider around them because they're so close. Now he's grateful for it. They won't ever end up alone.

Donnie slots himself in beside Sandman and reaches for Crab's hand. It's like they think they're killing him, or something. If he was dying, or even a bit too dizzy, he'd tell them. They should know that by now. There's no need to be so melodramatic about it. Being a dramatic bitch is his job. Crab tells them this.

"You guys know," he says, breathing softly against Sandman's jaw, "You make way too big a deal out of this?"

"Shut up," Sandman grumbles, low enough that Crab can feel the vibration where he's leaning against Sandman's chest.

"No way," Crab retorts, smirking a little dizzily. "It doesn't bother me, you know that."

"Maybe it should," says Donnie, sounding mildly perturbed. "We're not gonna stop worrying," he adds, then sighs, exasperated. "Benze, come here."

There's a moment's heavy hesitation. "Are you sure?" Benze asks quietly. When Crab turns his head to look at him, he's looking at Sandman. There's some kind of bad blood between them. Pun intended. It's like no matter how hard they try or how much they love each other, they're still afraid. Of each other, or what they're capable of. They can practically read each other's minds. Crab doesn't know what there is to be afraid of, but he sees the fear anyway.

"Benze," he murmurs. "Baby. Come here." It's a cheap shot, honestly. He knows the pet names are one thing Benze can never withstand. He kind of wonders if Benze had ever been loved before they met. It's a little sad to think about for too long. But it works. Benze's face, smeared with his blood a few minutes ago before he had the presence of mind to clean himself up, crumbles and he slowly joins them on the sagging couch.

"It's okay, dude," mutters Sandman, stretching out one hand to grab Benze by the back of the neck and pull their foreheads together. Benze sinks onto the cushions, hands briefly ghosting over the bandaged bite marks before he curls himself tightly, almost protectively, around Crab's side.

"Hey, baby," Crab whispers. Benze blinks slowly at him, red reflection from his eyes flickering in the half light. "You're okay. I trust you," he says, though he's said it so many times. "I love you." Benze still flinches at that. That's part of why Crab says it so much. Half to teach him that it's true, but partly to see the stunned, awestruck look in his eyes. It's like magic.

"Thank you," Benze whispers back. It doesn't matter if he means for feeding him or for loving him. It's kind of the same thing, anyway. Benze doesn't say I love you back. He never does. Crab isn't sure he'll ever be able to. But he knows.

Their blood is cooler than it should be, they can't regulate temperature as well as they should be able to, but with the three of them wrapped around him like this, Crab feels warm. How could anyone ever think they're monsters when they're so full of love? How could anyone ever fear them? How could they hate them?

The Strangest Kind of Magic

Chapter 10