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thebloodofsaints · 1 year

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What is The Blood of Saints?

So, if you're here, on this page, then you have probably heard about the story I've been working on. Hello! I appreciate your company. I realize that perhaps I should give some sort of a synopsis of this story, and what it means to me as the author.

So... what is The Blood of Saints?

It is a passion project, above all else! I really have no desire to publish it in a professional setting, or seek out financial gain from it. It is, quite literally, just for funsies.

It is also a means of exploration for myself. An exploration of religion, guilt, trauma, loneliness, and sexual liberation. The setting is no accident, either, it was not random. Setting this story in rural Tennessee in the early 1980's was deliberate. While there may be some of the classic elements of horror and suspense in a vampire story, the real horror comes from the regional conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism (particularly, Evangelical Fundamentalism).

My father is a lapsed Catholic from Northern Pennsylvania, my mother a former Christian of the Church of Christ, from Tennessee. I was born and raised in Tennessee, and they both made the decision early on to raise me without any religious affiliation, because all of the churches they attended in the area as a means of testing the waters conflicted directly with their morals.

To put bluntly, they were all a bit horrifying and cultish. This was, of course, the rural American south, post-9/11.

Unfortunately, due to some lingering prejudices, my mother told my father directly that I would not be raised Catholic.

All of these factors led to a very interesting upbringing, a focus more on doing good and being kind just for the sake of it rather than out of fear of my eternal salvation. It also led to some pretty relentless bullying and an intense feeling of isolation that lasted all my life. Couple that with being trans and queer and knowing that I was different in some way, but being unable to place just how I was different, and you've got... a bit of a neurotic mess.

A lot has happened in the last two and a half decades for me to be here, but I ultimately wouldn't change it for the world.

What else inspired this story?

Glad you asked! Besides my kind of weird agnostic upbringing in the deep south Bible Belt, it was, admittedly, inspired by a lot of the media I consume. I've been fascinated by vampires since I was a kid. But it should come as no surprise that Midnight Mass was the biggest catalyst in me even starting this story. The way it delved into religion, loss, love, and evangelism spoke to me. As I said, I've always been agnostic, but make no mistake, I am actually pretty religious. But... just sort of in my own way.

Another piece of media which spoke to me was Wise Blood, both the book by Flannery O'Connor and the movie directed by John Huston. The tone is almost absurdist, and the setting threw me right back into my small town where I grew up, where nothing at all seems to have modernized.

The Exorcist and The Exorcist III were also inspiration for me, the first for the horror elements and the questioning of faith, and the second for its strange and Lynchian tone and imagery.

In terms of music, I was inspired particularly by artists such as K. D. Lang, Nick Cave, Neil Diamond, Simon and Garfunkel, Townes Van Zandt, and Colter Wall.

What else is there, besides religion and vampires? Are there any other horrors?

Possibly. I'll be honest, I'm sort of making this up as I go, but there may be more to everything than vampires and priests and preachers and love and folk music. The Appalachians are an ancient and strange place. Who's to say?

How does it end?

With love. But you'll just have to find out the rest for yourself!

#the blood of saints #writeblr #original story #original fiction #religious horror #appalachian horror #vampirism #catholic horror #catholocism #letters from the author

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sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine · 1 year

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You Don’t Even Know

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: (spoilers) (18+) references to sex, but mostly fluff, nightmares(nondescript), storms, flooding, lightning/thunder, ‘situationship’ mutual pining, comfort, confessions

{Author Commentary: I was particularly inspired by some lyrics from Bedless by PTV:

'Cause you don't even know you're an angel, foolish am I for the times I come and go'

'And sleep inside your worn-in bed, And it woke me up, Like a heart attack, When you talk in your sleep I'll be there to slow your breath'

And this fic kinda switches between close third person perspective with the reader and with Jake, I hope that’s not confusing for anyone.}

“Want me to lock up and everything? You look spent.” Jake couldn’t help a little self-satisfied smirk as the two of you headed back to your room. You’d each taken turns freshening up, you taking off your makeup and brushing your teeth, Jake stealing one of your hairbands from the drawer to tie back his damp hair before stealing some of your mouthwash. It may not have been a regular thing with past hookups of yours, but Jake would always make sure you looked after yourself before bed after the two of you went at it. For the better- your joint activities were typically aerobic, and more than once you’d been tempted to just fall asleep in your sweat-through makeup.

Your casual situation had been going on for a while, and he’d be over at your house pretty frequently when he was in town, so he’d learned your routines. “Yeah, if you don’t mind…” you strolled over to your dresser for a sleep shirt, tossing him his shirt that had landed on it earlier. He caught it, nodding his confirmation before he pulled on his crumpled pants. You stretched exaggeratedly before flopping on your bed. You did feel spent, in the best way. All the tension you usually carried around with you had been melted away, ‘or maybe burned away was more accurate…’ He was good at that, making all the little things in your mind’s periphery disappear, temporarily. He just had a way, of grounding you in your body, making every sensation demand your attention so your mind couldn’t fathom anything outside of it in those moments. You rolled over to pull back your covers, finally sinking into your pillow with a sleepy, satisfied sigh.

Jake had finished redressing and turned off the far lamp before making his way to your bedside lamp. “Want this off?” “Mmm… it’s fine.” Your eyes had already drifted closed as sleep began encroaching upon you. “Hmh…” he emitted a quiet, fond sound. You felt his thumb brush your cheek gently before his footsteps retreated.

Jake made his way around your small apartment, turning off forgotten lights, and tossing a blanket from the floor back onto the couch where you kept it. He took his phone out of his jacket pocket as he started slipping his shoes on.

[MAJOR FLOOD WARNING] flashed on the screen as soon as it illuminated. “Shit…” he’d known it was going to rain, but admittedly hadn’t realized how extreme it had apparently gotten. He stood on his toes slightly to peer out the high window on your front door. The road was indeed flooded, resembling a shallow river. Not a threat from the elevation of the apartment, but certainly not driveable. He considered his… well, nonexistent options before removing his shoes again and padding towards your bedroom. He was scrolling through his phone as he made his way back to your bedside.

“Hey, uh it looks like the roads are no-” he looked up from his phone, seeing you undisturbed. You had curled yourself around a pillow and were breathing softly in the dim light of the small bedside lamp. “Hmh.” He couldn’t help another fond sound as he smiled down at you, putting his phone on the nightstand and squatting down by your bedside. He placed his hand over yours where it hugged the edge of the pillow. He gave it a squeeze, seeing your expression twitch briefly. He gave it a little shake, hoping that would be more effective “Hey…” His voice was still gentle, but in closer proximity, it finally registered. Your eyes fluttered open to his gentle, apologetic smile in the still dreamy dim lamp light. “Hm?” “Sorry to wake you, doll. The roads are flooded, looks like I’m gonna have to crash here.” You blinked a few times as you registered the information, reality crystalizing more fully. “Yeah, ‘fcourse… that’s fine.” He chuckled softly, dropping his hand from yours, “I’ll be on the couch, go back to sleep.” Your hand felt cold at the absence of his as you hugged the pillow once again, closing your eyes again and sinking into your dream's warm haze.

He stood up, taking his phone and flicking off the lamp before heading to the adjacent living room. He’d decided was only right, you hadn’t discussed bed-sharing, despite being together in bed, and a number of other places, a multitude of times. And he figured you were not awake enough to decide how you feel about crossing that line right now. He positioned a throw pillow at one end of the couch before shucking his jeans and settling under the throw blanket in his tshirt and boxers. He shifted a bit before finding the most comfortable position on the unideal cushions. It wasn’t a bad couch, fine for a movie, and a makeout, and other activities that often follow… but not ideal for sleeping. Still, he eventually dozed off as exhaustion caught up with him.

A heavy wind had picked up as the storm outside continued to swell. Jake managed to sleep through it till a loud crash sounded somewhere nearby. He shot up into a sitting position with a startled gasp, blinking into the dark as your living room came into focus. He could hear the wind and rain whipping against the outer walls but also a louder howling of air from the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. With his adrenaline still pumping he gingerly got up, turning his phone light on as he cautiously made his way to the kitchen. The source of the noise was quickly identifiable; a small window above your sink that had a pane that swung up to open. The storm pane behind it had not been lowered, ‘probably hadn’t even been latched properly, should’ve checked it when locking up…’. He hastily lowered the storm pane, grimacing as the rain-peppered wind hit his face. After lowering the inner pane and latching it securely, he took a deep breath, leaning on his palms on the edge of the counter.

Beyond the dull roar of the storm, there was yet another sound. A meek murmuring, barely audible. Jake’s brow tented in concern as he immediately headed to your room. ‘She’s probably terrified. First time staying over and there’s a bunch of crashing around the house, christ.’ He walked into your room slowly, not wanting to startle you, only to find that your eyes were still closed. The pillow he’d last seen you holding was lying on the floor by your bed, but your hand was blinding grasping for it. The soft distressed whimpers were coming from you as your head shook slightly. ‘She’s… having a nightmare?’ He would assume it was probably exacerbated by the loud noise and felt a pang of responsibility. But still, he felt stuck for a moment, unsure what to do. He’d been fully prepared to walk in and see you cowering and explain the window, possibly apologize, and offer comfort if you needed it. And offering comfort was still his instinct but… ‘what’s the line…’

“...Jake- ” An equally quiet and timid, but unmistakable plea from you snapped him back to the moment. ‘Her eyes are still closed… and she’s calling for me in her sleep, 'cause she’s scared…’ His heart clenched. ‘If I hadn’t been here, she’d likely be tormented by that dream till the window pane banging woke her up’. The thought twisted in his gut. But he was there, he could do something. He had to. Before he could formulate a plan his instinct pulled him to your bedside, where he crouched, yet again. “Hey.. hey, it’s ok… I’m here…” He kept his voice soft, reaching out to gently rest a hand on your upper arm. Your extended arm reached yet again, this time gaining purchase on his warm, solid shoulder.

He followed your beckoning pull, and its accompanying whimper, eventually shifting onto the empty side of the mattress previously occupied by the discarded pillow. As he settled on his back you curled into his side, seeking the warm, familiar presence. “I’m right here…” The soft timber of his voice emanated from his chest. Your face burrowed into his neck, your still slightly shaky breaths bringing in his unmistakable sweet, musky smell. He’d shifted his arm from under you to wrap around your back, inviting you to rest more fully against his chest. His hand on your back smoothed up and down as your breathing slowed, subconsciously syncing with his.

Though you seemed considerably calmer, your hand that had pulled him in was now resting on his chest, fingers curled tightly on the loose, hand-cut neck of his t-shirt. With his free hand, he gently pried your fingers open before slipping his hand between yours and his shirt, offering his fingers as a substitute, which you seemed to eagerly accept, closing your hand over his. The same bittersweet pang tightened in his chest at the innocent gesture. He tucked his head over yours, nuzzling it slightly. “You don’t even know…” he exhaled, even quieter than before.

He lay there as the storm continued to swell outside. The once distant rumbling had only grown louder, and bright flashes had begun lighting up the room. His arm tightened around you as the wind sounded like it could shatter the rattling windows. A sudden loud clap of thunder directly overhead made him jolt, and his hand from your back jumped to cradle the back of your head.

“...Jake?” your voice was small and muffled against his chest. “I’m here angel”, he reassured softly. His hand pet your hair in a slow soothing motion, but you could feel his pulse racing. “Jake… are you scared?” His hand stilled. "...Are you ...awake?” You stifled a small laugh. You’d begun drifting in and out after a particularly loud crash, but having found yourself wrapped in his warmth, his hand on your back lulling you back to sleep, you hadn’t wanted to deter him. “Yeah… kindof.” You trailed your thumb across the knuckles of the hand you were still holding.

While it was reassuring that you didn't seem opposed to him joining you in the bed, the question of just how much of it you'd been awake for suddenly made him self-conscious. The cuddling and cooing certainly wasn't a side of himself that presented often. And he'd called you angel -not part of his regular roster of playful nicknames.

He found a fumbling explanation forcing its way to the surface. "Your kitchen window got blown in-" "hm?" You responded noncommittally, your eyes having drifted closed again. "I got it latched, -storm pane was open." he added hastily. You smiled to yourself at his babbling, responding with a simple "hm." "I thought you woke up, but you were talking in your sleep…". Well that caught your attention, "...what did I say?" You kept your tone casual but prepared yourself for something embarrassing, knowing his presence often reappeared in your dreams after he left. His pause only made your pulse increase. "...You were calling for me, scared." He stated, his hand trailing through your hair again, unconsciously. "I think you were just having a nightmare-" A sudden loud crack cut him off, making you both flinch closer to each other.

He'd just been considering offering to go back to the couch, but… "I couldn't leave you like that." You let the warmth of his words settle in your chest, though you knew you may have been reading into them too much. "I'm glad you did… thank you." "You don't have to thank me- I mean… I'm glad I was here." This was coming out wrong, but how could he say it? How could he tell you?

"I'm sorry I'm always leaving." His voice was softer than ever, barely audible over the wind and rain. You untucked your face from his neck, shifting away just enough to look up at him. He looked down at you, eyes unsure, his mouth slightly open as he tried to read your reaction.

"You never have to, Jake." His eyes widened at your words. His hand left yours, only to rest on your jaw so his familiar calloused thumb could caress your cheek tentatively. "...Can I kiss you?", he breathed. His need for permission confirmed that this would be different, different from all those prior. You smiled at him, reaching up to brush his hair back “Anytime.” Lightning briefly illuminated his face, sparkling in his eyes before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!

{Tag List: @star-boxer @doodle417 @greta-van-chaos @weightofdreams-gvf @prophetofthedune @gretnabancheese @shutupdevvie @holdingup-fallingsky @t00turnttrauma @groggyvanfleet @garagebandvanfleet @gretavanflowerpowerrr @razorbladekiszka @hyperfixated-gvf @dannyandthekiszkas @rhythm-of-space @allieisacrybaby }

#ironically I'd kill for a big storm rn #but i needed a bed sharing circumstance hahaha #ydek fic #letters from the author #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka #gvf fanfiction #gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet

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