Vampire fic!
Title:Kissed my neck with a crooked, cracked fang
Author: Nytegoddess
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck
Warning: AU, boy-on-boy, graphic sex, light bloodplay, Vampire!Kurt
Spoilers: Um, none? This is basically PWP, except I can't seem to write PWP, so...yeah.
Disclaimer: There's nothing even remotely resembling this happening onscreen, so, so, totally not mine.
Author Notes: Oh bbs. This is my first time ever writing something this graphic, please be kind! Title from 'Young Blood' by Norah Jones, who apparently writes the soundtrack to everything I write. I hope you like it.
Summary: When the Vampire Virus hits Lima, Puck doesn't really give it much thought.
Word Count: 2492
Puck doesn’t get what the big deal is.
When Quinn starts pressing crosses into the hands of everyone she meets, he just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, tuning out her divine protection spiel he’s heard a million times since it happened.
Secretly, he thinks it’s kinda cool, in a comic book movie kinda way, except how everybody’s so freaking scared all the time.
Sure, it’s sad, he guesses, the way Brittany had cried and chased after the government car that took Santana and Matt away, but they still get emails and messages on Facebook from them, talking about how the tests are annoying and the scientists are half fascinated and half freaked out over their so-called neutrality. Puck figures it’s a good thing this started in Canada, where the welfare of the infected was an actual first thought, instead of something everybody’ll talk about years from now.
But still. When Artie and Tina leave in the middle of the night, determined to have at least a few years on the run before the virus takes over completely, Puck looks at Artie bouncing on his now functioning legs for the first time in years and he can’t help but silently wonder if it really is that big a crisis.
Sure, he hears the talking heads on the news ramble on about humans being hunted by the infected once the blood supply dwindles, and setting up ‘partnerships’ between the infected and the immune, and about how it was hard enough to get people to donate blood when it was for sick kids and dying cops, let alone to feed fucking vampires, but he thinks about his dad running out on his mom and how maybe if one of them was dependent on the other for more then just money and sex, maybe they would have made it.
Or maybe they would have killed each other, like that couple in Phoenix, draining each other dry more literally but still the same way. Who knows.
Riots break out. Stupid humans fighting each other over somebody else’s problems. Pro-vamps and anti-vamps, hurling words and rocks and lawsuits like it’s gonna solve anything, and dozens of religious types pop up everywhere, blaming music and movies and culture for half the world’s teenagers suddenly waking up with fangs and a serious appetite issue. Personally, Puck thinks they should mind their own business. Vampires can take care of themselves, just like the stupid whales or tree frogs or whatever. Not his problem.
The whole town’s blowing things out of hand, enforcing curfews and banning teenagers from gathering in groups of three or more. Like the infected are gonna start turning them all and building an army or some shit. They don’t cancel school, though, which just proves Puck’s point that no one knows what the hell they’re doing, because if you‘re gonna convert teenagers, he can‘t think of a better place then a building they‘re already locked in, bored out of their minds. Besides, all the over-paid doctors say it’s not like the myths, not like you get bit and then you’re one of them or whatever. It’s something in certain peoples’ DNA or RNA or whatever that the virus gets ahold of and then makes them change. Some just get sick, some are immune, and some become vamps. That special his mom made him watch said something about ethnicities and genetics and Puck just slipped his earbuds in and turned on his iPod at that point. He wasn’t sick and he wasn’t a vampire, so who the hell cared?
But he still tries to be understanding, tries to say the right things when Rachel cries on his shoulder after Finn’s mom moves them to some anti-vamp commune in Montana. And he’s trying to be a better guy or whatever, so he beats the crap out of Karofsky when he makes a crack about Kurt getting away when him and his dad got caught in a riot. Burt Hummel died protecting his son, Puck thinks that makes him pretty badass in his book.
Puck’s still nursing some bruised ribs a few days later, tossing and turning in his bed, trying to get comfortable and cursing that his mom forbade him from sleeping with his window open anymore, like some vampire is gonna try and sneak into his room and suck his blood.
Thump.
The sound startles Puck right out of his thoughts, and he scrambles for the closest object he could use as a weapon, which turns out to be his Little League baseball trophy, and carefully sits up, eyes straining in the dim moonlight to make out the familiar shapes of his bedroom.
Thump.
“Shit.” A high-pitched voice mutters from somewhere near his closet and Puck groans as he drops the trophy and turns on his light. Only one person in Lima has that particular voice.
“Hummel. What the fuck are you doing?” Either the glow from his lamp or the sound of his voice startles Kurt, who wheels around like a burglar in a movie.
“I was just, um, nothing.” Kurt edges back towards the now-open window with a nervous smile. “Um, this is a dream?” He tries weakly.
“Trust me, Hummel,” Puck frowns as he takes in the other teen’s appearance, disheveled clothes, dark circles under his eyes, a sallow cast to his skin, nothing like his usual pristine fashion. “You don’t look like four kinds of hell in my dreams. Not that I dream about you.” He adds a beat too late, but Kurt hardly seems to notice, his blue-green gaze focused solely on Puck’s mouth.
Puck reflexively licks his lips, Kurt’s eyes tracking the movement, and he hisses as his tongue hits the edge of the split-lip Karofsky managed to give him. An almost silent whimper follows like an echo and Puck looks back at Kurt in time to see a flash of white teeth latch onto a plump bottom lip.
A flash of white, glistening, fangs.
“Ohhhh, shit.” Puck scrambles back against his headboard, wishing vainly he hadn’t dropped his trophy. Kurt takes a half step forward, hand twitching like it wants to reach out and pull him back, pull him into the range of those wickedly sharp incisors.
“It’s okay, I’m not-” Kurt swallows and takes another step, his legs coming to rest right against the edge of the bed, unable to tear his focus from the open wound, whole body leaning forward with longing. “Please.”
The word sounds different, breathed out in Kurt’s higher register, like a subtle tug at the back of Puck’s brain, an urge to obey, and before his mind can follow through on that thought and remind him of the old legends about vampires’ voices, he’s sliding forward to kneel in front of Kurt, still slightly taller, so that he has to bend his head down to let Kurt have access to his mouth.
“I just need a little.” Kurt says almost pleadingly as he lightly grips Puck’s head and rises to press his lips against the split in his mouth. It’s not quite a kiss, with Kurt’s fangs scraping softly against the delicate skin, opening the gash more, his hot tongue darting out in little licks, and suction, gentle suction that sends throbbing pulses down Puck’s body and straight to his cock. He must make a sound, a moan or a gasp, because Kurt pulls back, a whine coming from the back of his throat.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I had it under control, thought animals would be enough,” He leans forward again, helplessly slurping at the little trickle of blood. “But then Karofsky hit you, and you, you smelled so good, and I-I need to, I’m so thirsty, so thirsty it burns, I just couldn’t stay away.” Kurt whimpers again, turning his head and laving his tongue across Puck’s whole bottom lip, nails raking slightly across the back of Puck’s head, and fuck, yeah, he moans. Somehow his hands are on Kurt’s hips, bunching up his shirt, and boy, the stories have it wrong this time, because Kurt’s not cold, not even close, skin like a wall of heat, like holding his hands over a fire, and that mouth, slick and warm like a hot shower, chasing the drops of blood down his chin.
Puck buries a fist in Kurt’s hair, tugging that wet heat back to his mouth for a kiss that’s anything but proper, lips clashing hard and dirty as Puck chases the flavor of Kurt Hummel over his tongue and around those fangs, demanding more and Kurt gives, bending almost backwards with the force of Puck’s assault.
Puck breaks off, gulping in air, and the sight of Kurt, eyes blown wide, lips swollen and parted on a sigh, the tip of his fangs just barely visible in the low light has him gasping, rocking his hips into Kurt’s, thin cotton boxers doing nothing to disguise the hardness in his groin. Kurt keens, low in the back of his throat, and suddenly shoves him away, using his grip on Puck’s shoulders to ride him down to the bed, hips grinding down onto Puck’s erection and goddamn if it doesn’t feel better then any cougar.
Puck tries to capture that mouth again, fingers scrabbling for purchase on designer clothes but Kurt slides down his chest, nails ghosting over his skin and pulling his underwear off, mouth hovering over his body until it reaches his cock, standing tall and begging for attention. Kurt’s fingers stroke it once, from base to tip, before he swallows it down in one swift motion. Puck’s hips buck up, but an arm like steel is thrown over his waist, holding him against the bed. Kurt sucks hard, moving his head up and down, the added pressure from his fangs sending devilish licks of fire along Puck's nerves to curl in the pit of his stomach as Kurt’s nails dig into the muscles of his ass, kneading like a cat in time to his bobbing, salvia dripping down and over Puck’s balls.
Puck’s head thrashes on the pillow, hands fisting in his sheets as waves of sensation slam over him, a thought to try and reciprocate flashing through his mind before Kurt hums around him as he pulls off and pulls in a breath before sinking his fangs into the sweat-slicked skin at the top of Puck’s thigh. Puck screams, pain and pleasure fighting for dominance and his world explodes into white hot lights and electric blue eyes.
A minute or an hour, Puck’s honestly not sure which, he drifts back down into his body, awareness slowly returning, the cool night air from the still open window hitting the sweat on his chest and making him shiver. The weight on his legs stirs restlessly as Kurt looks up at him and despite having just come harder then he ever remembers doing before, his dick still gives a valiant twitch as he takes in the sight of the other boy’s pale skin covered in his cum, mixing with his blood around swollen lips, dark hair falling in disarray over those eyes.
“Did I-Are you hurt?” Kurt pants out, hips swiveling in slow circles against the bed, and Puck realizes two things instantly. One, Kurt still hasn’t come, and two, vampires are so much better when they’re gay. He growls and hauls the smaller teen up by his collar, reclaiming that wicked mouth in a bruising kiss, plunging his tongue in deep to catch the iron tang of blood and the salty aftertaste of cock. Kurt shudders and goes almost boneless when Puck bends his knee and plants one foot flat on the mattress, rocking his hips up and down, rutting against Kurt’s still denim-encased length.
Kurt’s making noise, wordless little vocalizations that mean nothing in English but hit that same spot in the back of Puck’s brain and have him unbuckling Kurt’s jeans and shoving them down with his briefs before he can even think about it.
“Fuuuuuck, Noah.” That breathy, compelling voice again and Puck feels a flash of pain as he shifts his hips and the bite on his pelvis opens back up, warm blood running down his crack and over his hole, and he can feel it, a desperate wanting at the base of his spine, the need for something else, something more, and he whines into the soft skin of Kurt’s neck as he struggles to ask for it, whatever it is. Kurt seems to know, though, kissing him soothingly as hands like the burning tip of a match take control and rearrange his body, tucking a pillow under his hips and bringing his other leg up to rest against the bed, spreading him open. Kurt pulls away from the kiss, running one hand along Puck’s chest as the other trails down, swiping through the blood and slipping around to stroke gently around his entrance before pushing inside. Puck gasps at the strange sensation, body tensing up, but Kurt’s touch is sure as he rubs reassuring circles on his stomach, bending forward to place burning kisses along Puck’s collarbone.
“Shhh, relax. I got you.” Like flicking a switch, Puck’s body obeys, muscles giving in and opening up so suddenly Kurt slips three fingers all the way in before he even stops talking, hitting a spot deep inside that has Puck seeing stars. Kurt pumps his fingers twice more before pulling out and Puck can’t help the whimper he makes anymore than he can stop his hand from reaching out to bring that feeling back. He finds slippery fingers instead, twining around his own as Kurt moves forward and lines his cock up, pushing inside and filling him, hitting that spot over and over until Puck's back arches, his roar blending with Kurt’s scream as they both come, heat pulsing deep in him and Puck fights the wave of blackness back just long enough to see Kurt’s head thrown back, mouth open, ecstasy written all over his skin. It’s the most beautiful fucking thing Puck’s ever seen and he slips over the edge into oblivion with something light and warm curling in his chest.
When he comes to this time, he’s covered up, clean and warm and being studied by sleepy blue eyes. Puck blushes and tries to think of what to say because, hello, he just lost his homo card to a vampire that couldn’t be more gay if he actually did sparkle but Kurt beats him to the punch.
“You’re gonna need to get a much more comfortable bed if we’re gonna be doing this on a regular basis.” He says decisively before turning over and snuggling back into Puck’s chest. Puck chuckles faintly and wraps his arms around Kurt’s heat, feeling a familiar rhythm under his palm, his heartbeat in Kurt’s chest.
His final thought as he drifts off to sleep is that vampires are awesome, and he’s never closing that window again.
Author: Nytegoddess
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck
Warning: AU, boy-on-boy, graphic sex, light bloodplay, Vampire!Kurt
Spoilers: Um, none? This is basically PWP, except I can't seem to write PWP, so...yeah.
Disclaimer: There's nothing even remotely resembling this happening onscreen, so, so, totally not mine.
Author Notes: Oh bbs. This is my first time ever writing something this graphic, please be kind! Title from 'Young Blood' by Norah Jones, who apparently writes the soundtrack to everything I write. I hope you like it.
Summary: When the Vampire Virus hits Lima, Puck doesn't really give it much thought.
Word Count: 2492
Puck doesn’t get what the big deal is.
When Quinn starts pressing crosses into the hands of everyone she meets, he just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, tuning out her divine protection spiel he’s heard a million times since it happened.
Secretly, he thinks it’s kinda cool, in a comic book movie kinda way, except how everybody’s so freaking scared all the time.
Sure, it’s sad, he guesses, the way Brittany had cried and chased after the government car that took Santana and Matt away, but they still get emails and messages on Facebook from them, talking about how the tests are annoying and the scientists are half fascinated and half freaked out over their so-called neutrality. Puck figures it’s a good thing this started in Canada, where the welfare of the infected was an actual first thought, instead of something everybody’ll talk about years from now.
But still. When Artie and Tina leave in the middle of the night, determined to have at least a few years on the run before the virus takes over completely, Puck looks at Artie bouncing on his now functioning legs for the first time in years and he can’t help but silently wonder if it really is that big a crisis.
Sure, he hears the talking heads on the news ramble on about humans being hunted by the infected once the blood supply dwindles, and setting up ‘partnerships’ between the infected and the immune, and about how it was hard enough to get people to donate blood when it was for sick kids and dying cops, let alone to feed fucking vampires, but he thinks about his dad running out on his mom and how maybe if one of them was dependent on the other for more then just money and sex, maybe they would have made it.
Or maybe they would have killed each other, like that couple in Phoenix, draining each other dry more literally but still the same way. Who knows.
Riots break out. Stupid humans fighting each other over somebody else’s problems. Pro-vamps and anti-vamps, hurling words and rocks and lawsuits like it’s gonna solve anything, and dozens of religious types pop up everywhere, blaming music and movies and culture for half the world’s teenagers suddenly waking up with fangs and a serious appetite issue. Personally, Puck thinks they should mind their own business. Vampires can take care of themselves, just like the stupid whales or tree frogs or whatever. Not his problem.
The whole town’s blowing things out of hand, enforcing curfews and banning teenagers from gathering in groups of three or more. Like the infected are gonna start turning them all and building an army or some shit. They don’t cancel school, though, which just proves Puck’s point that no one knows what the hell they’re doing, because if you‘re gonna convert teenagers, he can‘t think of a better place then a building they‘re already locked in, bored out of their minds. Besides, all the over-paid doctors say it’s not like the myths, not like you get bit and then you’re one of them or whatever. It’s something in certain peoples’ DNA or RNA or whatever that the virus gets ahold of and then makes them change. Some just get sick, some are immune, and some become vamps. That special his mom made him watch said something about ethnicities and genetics and Puck just slipped his earbuds in and turned on his iPod at that point. He wasn’t sick and he wasn’t a vampire, so who the hell cared?
But he still tries to be understanding, tries to say the right things when Rachel cries on his shoulder after Finn’s mom moves them to some anti-vamp commune in Montana. And he’s trying to be a better guy or whatever, so he beats the crap out of Karofsky when he makes a crack about Kurt getting away when him and his dad got caught in a riot. Burt Hummel died protecting his son, Puck thinks that makes him pretty badass in his book.
Puck’s still nursing some bruised ribs a few days later, tossing and turning in his bed, trying to get comfortable and cursing that his mom forbade him from sleeping with his window open anymore, like some vampire is gonna try and sneak into his room and suck his blood.
Thump.
The sound startles Puck right out of his thoughts, and he scrambles for the closest object he could use as a weapon, which turns out to be his Little League baseball trophy, and carefully sits up, eyes straining in the dim moonlight to make out the familiar shapes of his bedroom.
Thump.
“Shit.” A high-pitched voice mutters from somewhere near his closet and Puck groans as he drops the trophy and turns on his light. Only one person in Lima has that particular voice.
“Hummel. What the fuck are you doing?” Either the glow from his lamp or the sound of his voice startles Kurt, who wheels around like a burglar in a movie.
“I was just, um, nothing.” Kurt edges back towards the now-open window with a nervous smile. “Um, this is a dream?” He tries weakly.
“Trust me, Hummel,” Puck frowns as he takes in the other teen’s appearance, disheveled clothes, dark circles under his eyes, a sallow cast to his skin, nothing like his usual pristine fashion. “You don’t look like four kinds of hell in my dreams. Not that I dream about you.” He adds a beat too late, but Kurt hardly seems to notice, his blue-green gaze focused solely on Puck’s mouth.
Puck reflexively licks his lips, Kurt’s eyes tracking the movement, and he hisses as his tongue hits the edge of the split-lip Karofsky managed to give him. An almost silent whimper follows like an echo and Puck looks back at Kurt in time to see a flash of white teeth latch onto a plump bottom lip.
A flash of white, glistening, fangs.
“Ohhhh, shit.” Puck scrambles back against his headboard, wishing vainly he hadn’t dropped his trophy. Kurt takes a half step forward, hand twitching like it wants to reach out and pull him back, pull him into the range of those wickedly sharp incisors.
“It’s okay, I’m not-” Kurt swallows and takes another step, his legs coming to rest right against the edge of the bed, unable to tear his focus from the open wound, whole body leaning forward with longing. “Please.”
The word sounds different, breathed out in Kurt’s higher register, like a subtle tug at the back of Puck’s brain, an urge to obey, and before his mind can follow through on that thought and remind him of the old legends about vampires’ voices, he’s sliding forward to kneel in front of Kurt, still slightly taller, so that he has to bend his head down to let Kurt have access to his mouth.
“I just need a little.” Kurt says almost pleadingly as he lightly grips Puck’s head and rises to press his lips against the split in his mouth. It’s not quite a kiss, with Kurt’s fangs scraping softly against the delicate skin, opening the gash more, his hot tongue darting out in little licks, and suction, gentle suction that sends throbbing pulses down Puck’s body and straight to his cock. He must make a sound, a moan or a gasp, because Kurt pulls back, a whine coming from the back of his throat.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I had it under control, thought animals would be enough,” He leans forward again, helplessly slurping at the little trickle of blood. “But then Karofsky hit you, and you, you smelled so good, and I-I need to, I’m so thirsty, so thirsty it burns, I just couldn’t stay away.” Kurt whimpers again, turning his head and laving his tongue across Puck’s whole bottom lip, nails raking slightly across the back of Puck’s head, and fuck, yeah, he moans. Somehow his hands are on Kurt’s hips, bunching up his shirt, and boy, the stories have it wrong this time, because Kurt’s not cold, not even close, skin like a wall of heat, like holding his hands over a fire, and that mouth, slick and warm like a hot shower, chasing the drops of blood down his chin.
Puck buries a fist in Kurt’s hair, tugging that wet heat back to his mouth for a kiss that’s anything but proper, lips clashing hard and dirty as Puck chases the flavor of Kurt Hummel over his tongue and around those fangs, demanding more and Kurt gives, bending almost backwards with the force of Puck’s assault.
Puck breaks off, gulping in air, and the sight of Kurt, eyes blown wide, lips swollen and parted on a sigh, the tip of his fangs just barely visible in the low light has him gasping, rocking his hips into Kurt’s, thin cotton boxers doing nothing to disguise the hardness in his groin. Kurt keens, low in the back of his throat, and suddenly shoves him away, using his grip on Puck’s shoulders to ride him down to the bed, hips grinding down onto Puck’s erection and goddamn if it doesn’t feel better then any cougar.
Puck tries to capture that mouth again, fingers scrabbling for purchase on designer clothes but Kurt slides down his chest, nails ghosting over his skin and pulling his underwear off, mouth hovering over his body until it reaches his cock, standing tall and begging for attention. Kurt’s fingers stroke it once, from base to tip, before he swallows it down in one swift motion. Puck’s hips buck up, but an arm like steel is thrown over his waist, holding him against the bed. Kurt sucks hard, moving his head up and down, the added pressure from his fangs sending devilish licks of fire along Puck's nerves to curl in the pit of his stomach as Kurt’s nails dig into the muscles of his ass, kneading like a cat in time to his bobbing, salvia dripping down and over Puck’s balls.
Puck’s head thrashes on the pillow, hands fisting in his sheets as waves of sensation slam over him, a thought to try and reciprocate flashing through his mind before Kurt hums around him as he pulls off and pulls in a breath before sinking his fangs into the sweat-slicked skin at the top of Puck’s thigh. Puck screams, pain and pleasure fighting for dominance and his world explodes into white hot lights and electric blue eyes.
A minute or an hour, Puck’s honestly not sure which, he drifts back down into his body, awareness slowly returning, the cool night air from the still open window hitting the sweat on his chest and making him shiver. The weight on his legs stirs restlessly as Kurt looks up at him and despite having just come harder then he ever remembers doing before, his dick still gives a valiant twitch as he takes in the sight of the other boy’s pale skin covered in his cum, mixing with his blood around swollen lips, dark hair falling in disarray over those eyes.
“Did I-Are you hurt?” Kurt pants out, hips swiveling in slow circles against the bed, and Puck realizes two things instantly. One, Kurt still hasn’t come, and two, vampires are so much better when they’re gay. He growls and hauls the smaller teen up by his collar, reclaiming that wicked mouth in a bruising kiss, plunging his tongue in deep to catch the iron tang of blood and the salty aftertaste of cock. Kurt shudders and goes almost boneless when Puck bends his knee and plants one foot flat on the mattress, rocking his hips up and down, rutting against Kurt’s still denim-encased length.
Kurt’s making noise, wordless little vocalizations that mean nothing in English but hit that same spot in the back of Puck’s brain and have him unbuckling Kurt’s jeans and shoving them down with his briefs before he can even think about it.
“Fuuuuuck, Noah.” That breathy, compelling voice again and Puck feels a flash of pain as he shifts his hips and the bite on his pelvis opens back up, warm blood running down his crack and over his hole, and he can feel it, a desperate wanting at the base of his spine, the need for something else, something more, and he whines into the soft skin of Kurt’s neck as he struggles to ask for it, whatever it is. Kurt seems to know, though, kissing him soothingly as hands like the burning tip of a match take control and rearrange his body, tucking a pillow under his hips and bringing his other leg up to rest against the bed, spreading him open. Kurt pulls away from the kiss, running one hand along Puck’s chest as the other trails down, swiping through the blood and slipping around to stroke gently around his entrance before pushing inside. Puck gasps at the strange sensation, body tensing up, but Kurt’s touch is sure as he rubs reassuring circles on his stomach, bending forward to place burning kisses along Puck’s collarbone.
“Shhh, relax. I got you.” Like flicking a switch, Puck’s body obeys, muscles giving in and opening up so suddenly Kurt slips three fingers all the way in before he even stops talking, hitting a spot deep inside that has Puck seeing stars. Kurt pumps his fingers twice more before pulling out and Puck can’t help the whimper he makes anymore than he can stop his hand from reaching out to bring that feeling back. He finds slippery fingers instead, twining around his own as Kurt moves forward and lines his cock up, pushing inside and filling him, hitting that spot over and over until Puck's back arches, his roar blending with Kurt’s scream as they both come, heat pulsing deep in him and Puck fights the wave of blackness back just long enough to see Kurt’s head thrown back, mouth open, ecstasy written all over his skin. It’s the most beautiful fucking thing Puck’s ever seen and he slips over the edge into oblivion with something light and warm curling in his chest.
When he comes to this time, he’s covered up, clean and warm and being studied by sleepy blue eyes. Puck blushes and tries to think of what to say because, hello, he just lost his homo card to a vampire that couldn’t be more gay if he actually did sparkle but Kurt beats him to the punch.
“You’re gonna need to get a much more comfortable bed if we’re gonna be doing this on a regular basis.” He says decisively before turning over and snuggling back into Puck’s chest. Puck chuckles faintly and wraps his arms around Kurt’s heat, feeling a familiar rhythm under his palm, his heartbeat in Kurt’s chest.
His final thought as he drifts off to sleep is that vampires are awesome, and he’s never closing that window again.