Givs



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    “Who are you talking to?” Sveta is looking with a raised eyebrow, at Ilya’s delighted face.

    “Ah, I am talking to my catfish.”

    “What do you mean, your catfish?” Ilya angles the phone so Sveta can see the shirtless picture on the screen.

    “This guy is pretending to be Shane Hollander on Grindr. It’s pretty funny. He’s cropped the face out, but he’s using pictures from the billboard next to my apartment.”

    Or: Ilya Rozanov is sure he's being catfished- why would the real Shane Hollander be on Grindr, talking to random university of Ottawa students? But the more he talks to Wayne, the more he starts to like him, and the more he wishes Wayne would just come clean so they can finally be together.

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    26 Jun 2026

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    Shane shouldn't care about what the Centaurs have to say about sex life years into marriage. They say it's normal for it to get boring, and he can't help but disagree with how far from the truth that statement is.

    Until he sees Ilya laughing with Haas about it. That's when he starts to spiral.

     

    or: Shane thinks Ilya finds their sex life boring. Ilya thinks he's insane. They fuck about it.

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    23 Jun 2026

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    Daniel sees life like a river. Thinks he is caught up in a current that only goes one way, that will eventually sweep him out to sea. It’s easier for him to think so. It keeps him alive to think so.

    He doesn’t know that he could stand up and reach the bottom. He doesn’t know he has a choice.


    Drugs don’t work, sex doesn’t work, New York hasn’t worked. Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, an improbable number of suicides have taken place. Somewhere in a bar in New York, Daniel hears about them. He wants to fill a void. The difference between what is real and what isn’t matters as little to him as the things he’ll find to throw into the darkness. Which, as it turns out, is quite a lot.

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    22 Jun 2026

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    Daniel is sprawled out across the bed, loose-limbed and lazy, somehow filling all the open space it has to offer and leaving Armand to nestle into the gaps. His cheeks are flushed, blood pooling like it knows what comes next. Maybe it does. Armand was reading about classical conditioning the other day. About dogs who become accustomed to getting food when their handler rings a bell.

    Perhaps Daniel is the dog, Armand’s teeth sharp bells reverberating in his veins. Or perhaps Armand is the dog, Daniel’s blood a song rattling in his ears. He has been a dog before. He runs his tongue along the bow of Daniel’s collarbone, gathers the salt-sweat there and imagines what it tastes like because Daniel does.


    Armand remembers he loved Daniel, once, and that Daniel loved him. Or a version of them did, at least. It isn't his intention to go back to that, but it's not not his intention, either. Such is the prerogative of an immortal: to hold two contradicting desires simultaneously. If nothing else, it passes the time while he waits for this miserable interview to end.

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    20 Jun 2026

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    Daniel was lying on his back in his bed in the Dubai penthouse and he was spiraling.

    When he’d first realized he might be missing more vampire-related memories than just the night of that first interview, he’d been thinking along the lines of, you know, a couple of days. A week at most.

    He hadn’t expected…this. Over a decade of bizarre cat-and-mouse, master-and-servant fucked up gothic romance with a goddamn vampire.

    With Armand.

    In which Daniel remembers and handles it extremely well, thank you very much.

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    19 Jun 2026