#Pur/Lucian

[trashboatprince]

For writing prompt, something with Lucian, Peter and catmilla? I love that little family 🥰

Okay!

This is an au from my side account, @ofpineapplesanddawns, where Lucian lives with Peter, who is secretly a vampire, and they have an adorable black cat named Catmilla with extra long fangs.

On with the fic!

--

"It's kinda... ya know, really cute that she doesn't fear either of us." Peter said as he watched the cat he had picked up the other night rub her face against Lucian's leg.

She had been attached to them both since she was brought into the penthouse, and seemed to really like snuggling against Lucian. As if she didn't know he was a terrifying wolf man.

"I don't quite understand it." Lucian commented, watching her before carefully picking her up, setting her on the bar top where Peter was leaning on it. "I have spent my whole life never having animals approach me like this. Wolves have been fine with me, a kindred thing, I assume, but dogs keep a distance. And cats? They avoid me like the plague."

He watched the cat walk over to Peter, rubbing her face against him, purring very loudly. "But this one? She's... not scared. And shows no fear to you, do animals not fear you?"

"I think they know something isn't normal about me." Peter shrugged. "But Catmilla here likes me."

"Wait... what?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but what did you call her?"

Peter smirked and started scratching the cat's head. "Catmilla! I thought over it for hours, what's the the perfect name for a black cat with vampire fangs? I did think of Elvira, but that seemed too obvious. I was gonna even use one of the girls' names from Dracula, but... they didn't fit her."

Lucian tilted his head. "And Catmilla is what you decided upon?"

"Of course! Carmilla, famous lesbian vampire story, a classic, and she's a cat, so... Catmilla! Lesbian vampire cat!"

"What makes you believe she's a lesbian?"

"I dunno, just got a feelin'." Peter shrugged again, scooping up Catmilla. "Also, we're keepin' her. I've grown attached and when am I ever gonna find a black cat with vampire fangs that doesn't fear us again?"

Lucian frowned, then sighed. He had already guessed that Peter, who was a man who was infamous for his spontaneous actions and decisions, would keep the cat he found in an alley way and fed blood to.

"Fine, but she is your responsibility."

"Uhg, you sound like a parent."

"Well, one of us has to be mature around here, it might as well be me." Lucian said, walking past him, but did quickly reach out to gently pat Catmilla on the head.

--

Lucian will not admit that he likes the cat, but Peter knows.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Here we go, here's the Lucian/Peter one-shot I've had in mind for, like, two nights now.

It's not related to any of my aus, it's straight up just an idea that came to me and I decided to have some fun with it.

Warning: vampires, blood, vampire hunting, Peter is a bit drunk

On with the fic!

--

Peter really didn't want to be at the club tonight, but he needed to be here. Just for that bit of 'normal'.

Well, as normal as it was for someone like him.

Ever since the whole Jerry thing, he had his whole world turned upside down. Again. And while he embraced what happened, because he really couldn't deny it or pretend it was just his mind trying to cope, the scars he had were a clear indication of reality, he needed to get out and act like his old self to ground his mind.

And if that meant being at a shitty goth club in some really shady part of Las Vegas, trying to get really drunk, high, and/or laid, then so be it!

So far, the drunk part was happening. The other two were a little harder than he'd expected, and that really annoyed him. Especially the laid part. Peter was a man with wants and needs, and he wanted some-

Oh?

He looked across the bar where a man was seated, nursing an imported beer. And he had just made eye contact with the actor.

Peter took in the sight of this man, noting that while he could pass for a patron, he very clearly stood out. And Peter saw that as a good thing. All dark clothes and cool leather jacket with a furred collar, he wasn't exactly goth, he looked more like a grungy character in a comic. The kind that you'd think would be the villain, but turns out he's actually the tragic hero, or anti-hero.

Long hair, clean beard, and a charming face.

Peter wanted him in his bed, he looked like a really good partner to scratch Peter's ever growing itch.

Grabbing his overpriced, over sweetened drink, Peter sauntered past the other patrons at the bar and dropped himself in the empty seat next to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

"Never seen you around these parts before, not that I'm complainin'." Peter smirked, hoping he was loud enough over the shitty beats playing from the speakers.

The stranger looked at him, and it was impossible to tell his eye color, even with the dim lights in this place. But he smirked, just a little, and took a drink from his beer. "Just passing through, thought this would be an interesting place to pass the time."

He sounded British, interesting. A bit more posh than Peter, clearly.

"And you picked a shitty night club full of drunk and horny goths?"

"You're here as well, what's your excuse?"

"Lookin' for a good time." Peter purred, leaning his arm on the bar, resting his chin on his hand. He hoped he was coming off as attractive, it's been a while since he'd done this, not since... well... Ginger's death. He even put on the charm by popping the top button of his stupidly-expensive shirt, a tease. Hopefully not showing the still healing scars he was now sporting.

The handsome stranger's eyes lingered on the exposed skin before looking away, glancing around the bar. Not as a distraction, but more as if he were looking for someone. Peter winced, shit, a guy like this probably already had someone on his arm. Who wouldn't want to be with such a hot looking guy.

"Fuck, sorry, you're probably already-" Peter started but the man shook his head.

"No, no, it's... sorry. I thought I saw someone I... know." He frowned deeply, but then his expression softened. "I'm Lucian."

"Peter. Peter Vincent." He hoped that Lucian didn't recognize the name.

"The man from the billboards and commercials?"

Fuck.

Peter groaned. Sometimes he liked letting his name help him bring people to his room, or to get him a little treat in dark corners. But lately he'd felt... embarrassed about it. Oh, like, he loved his show, holy shit, it was doing great! He was making bank still, but after Jerry...

Well...

"Yeah." Peter downed his drink and then waved at the bartender, holding up his empty glass for a refill, his fourth of the night. "The vampire hunting magician." He tensed, waiting for the usual laughs.

But they didn't come, instead, Lucian looked interested. Very interested. "Does magic help with hunting?" He asked with curiosity very clear in his voice.

Peter blinked, a bit off-kiltered by the question. "Uhh... n-not really sure. I mean, pyrotechnics are pretty good at keeping vamps away. Actually, pretty good at keepin' anyone away if you're not careful."

And that's how Peter found himself, sharing drinks and stories with Lucian for an hour. Apparently the guy was from Romania and had an interest in vampires and creatures of European myth and folklore. Said he was a researcher of sorts, a scientist? Peter wasn't sure, he was a bit tipsy.

But it was nice, weirdly nice, to be talking about vampires and monsters in a way where Peter acted like they were fake, even though he knew they weren't, with a man who kept speaking as if they were real. Probably was used to talking about them as such, Folklore and myths always had grains of truth in 'em or something, Peter couldn't quite remember.

"Fuck." He groaned and stretched. "Gotta go..." He gestured off to an area of the large room. "Gotta take a leak, be ar be."

He stumbled from his barstool, giggling a bit from the liquor in his system, and from how Lucian asked him 'do you need me to walk you there'. How charming, a gentleman! Are handsome Romanian guys who know a lot about werewolves always such gentleman, might make a guy swoon!

Wow, Peter was drunker than he thought.

"Nah, I got this!" He laughed and tried to walk towards the bathrooms, shoving his way through sweaty dancers on the dance floor.

Though he was drunk, he couldn't help feeling like he was being followed. He frowned, scratching at his chest, but decided that someone else might be heading in this direction to use the bathrooms.

Not everything was a threat.

Peter made it to the restroom, ignored the shouting people who were making out on the counter, and did his business. "If you're gonna fuck," he slurred, blinking four times, "at least do it in a stall. Fuckin' kids."

He stumbled out and glanced about, hearing weird noises over the music. The area was just off from the dance floor, down a hall. Peter saw two figures further down the hall, bathed in the tacky red faerie lights decorating the walls.

One figure looked a lot like Lucian, same coat and long hair. The other looked like some weird techno-goth from the 2000s, all Matrix-y and shit, hacker nerd. Both of them were struggling in some sort of fighting positions.

Peter frowned, watching. They were speaking in a language that Peter didn't understand, but his eyes widened when the techno-goth snarled. Actually snarled, like a wild beast.

And even in the tacky lighting, he recognized inhuman teeth anywhere.

The techno-goth was a fucking vampire! Of course he was, just Peter's luck! And he was trying to chomp down on Lucian!

Hell no, if anyone was gonna bite that neck, it was gonna be Peter! And it was gonna be in his bed in the throws of passion!

Reaching into his shirt, Peter grabbed at the handle of the blade he had hidden on his person, strapped to him by a special holster that wasn't cheap to order. The two men were not paying any attention to him as Peter rushed forwards.

Lucian was pinned to a wall, trying to shove the vampire off with his legs, his arms pinned to his side by hands that looked larger than they should be.

"Hey!" Peter shouted. "Leave 'im alone!"

Not exactly the coolest thing to say, but Peter was pretty damn proud of himself for actually getting the blade into the vampire's neck instead of completely missing.

The vampire screamed and pushed away from Lucian, clawing at his neck, where the blade was still jammed in it. Kinda gross to see that the tip went through the other side.

Peter turned to Lucian, to make sure he was okay, but the man shoved off the wall and lunged at the techno-goth. He yanked the blade out with a nasty spray of blood, before shoving it right into the thing's chest. Peter watched as the vampire exploded into dust, leaving behind its clothes.

Lucian looked at the blade he was now holding, covered in a thick, black blood, and turned to Peter, raising an eyebrow. "A stiletto?"

"A perfectly good weapon for stabbin' someone between the ribs to get to the heart." Peter scoffed, taking it back. "Also, what the fuck was that?"

"He was following you."

Shit. So, he was followed.

Then Lucian continued. "I was tracking him down, figured he'd be here, easier to blend in. Don't know if he was looking for you as a target, doesn't really have any particular taste in victims outside of the goth scene. I think you were just an opportunity."

"For fuck's sake." Peter kicked at the dusty clothes. Then he turned to Lucian, frowning. "You're a hunter?"

Lucian shrugged. "In a sense. And I'm going to take it that you're not just a hunter on a stage? Judging by the stiletto?"

"It's... a new thing. Still a hunter on a stage, but now I do it on the side."

And he watched Lucian's expression shift, he looked interested. Very interested.

Peter wondered if he could still get him back into his penthouse tonight.

--

This all came about because I thought of Peter using a stiletto would be fun.

It is. And the mental image is hot. Also, much easier to use than a stake, and cooler to hide on your person.

[lustrous-dawn]

A shudder as Lucian breathed in the wintry air. Nestled in the warmth of his jacket, Umbra poked her head out of the hole at the base of his neck. She purred, nuzzling against his cheek, sensing her trainer’s cold. 

“Thanks, Umbra,” he said softly, fingers scratching beneath the Umbreon’s chin. Most were afraid to have an Umbreon so close to their person; wary of the toxins said to be within Pokemon’s skin. Not once could he recall an instance of being affected by said toxins, Umbra being a very placid creature. 

She was a quiet observer as much as her trainer.

She quietly listened to his steady breathing, her eyes searching. Lucian was very adept at hiding. She knew this. It took her so long to find him ages ago but they managed to stumble across each other. She was a mere eevee back then. Now her trainer appeared… lost as he rummaged through his pocket. 

He pulled out his phone and searched through the messages, the light of the screen bright on his face. 

No new messages.

His face twisted, a pink flush under his skin as he roughly shoved the phone back inside his pocket. 

“I have no idea what I expected,” Lucian muttered bitterly as he dropped his head. 

She recognized what this was. 

Loneliness. 

She butted her head against his neck, her purring more pronounced. 

“It’s nothing, Umbra.” 

She grew frustrated, nipping at his chin.

“Hey hey.” He fished her out, holding her, feet dangling in the air. “That’s not fair, you know.” He didn’t need the earpiece to know she was annoyed with his behavior. “Just… I expected something different this year.” Lucian wasn’t one for many connections. Only a few took up an anchor in his life and he was simply content with that. 

“But sending a message every now and then wouldn’t kill them you know.” It was a matter that this was his birthday. It left him twisted, feelings he despised as he tried to push the negative thoughts out of his mind.

She meowed, her tone sounding frustrated. 

“I know, I know. I should have just… said something.” But this was something that didn’t need reminders… right?! “Argh!” He groaned, slumping back. 

She fussed in his hold until he was forced to release her. Then she was off, quickly bounding off into the snow. 

He took off after her like a bolt. “Umbra! I’m sorry!” 

Little did he know, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket as he ran after her. A small notification appearing at the top of the phone. 

Happy Birthday, Lucian! I’ll be arriving by boat in an hour or two. We have a lot to catch up on. -Glad

Another soon after.

Come to my office in the evening to celebrate your birthday. My wife sorely misses your presence. She says you bring more life to my droll demeanor. I expect an explanation later.  -Zane

[g0ttal0ve101]

Valentine’s Day Special

Note: (4/4) lukai :3 TW: it’s complicated. uh. cannibals being cute.

“How can you already be sleepy?” Kai purred with a toothy smile, grabbing his waist and holding him like there was no tomorrow. “It’s not even time for bed yet…”

Sleepily, Lucian rested his head against his boyfriend’s lap and wiggled closer so that they could share their body heat. “I had too much to eat.”

“Mmh, yeah?” Moving the stray hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear with one finger, he watched as Lucian’s face remained unmoved. With his lips slightly parted and his eyelids drooping ever so gradually, he could hardly resist the urge to kiss him all over. “Cutie.”

A sleepy giggle erupted from his throat when hearing that nickname. Kai rarely used pet names unless he wanted to console, persuade, or seduce him. In this case, it was clearly the latter. Lucian’s eyes peeled open to exchange a glance at his boyfriend doting on him like a lapdog and cheekily grinned.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” Lucian averted his attempts of flirtation to a different subject, wondering whether he would follow through with the act or not. It didn’t come as a surprise when he saw it fly right over his head.

“Yep.”

“Really? What is it?”

Blinking while desperately yearning for words to fall onto his tongue, Kai’s adoring smile appeared silly rather than genuine. His boyfriend waited patiently for his reply with closed eyes and slowed breaths. He was practically half-asleep before his voice finally rang out through the comfortable silence. “Um, V-Val…Val-in-times Day.”

Lucian placed his two fingers right above Kai’s belly button and absentmindedly worked his way up to his chest as if his hand were on a grand journey. It wasn’t until he reached his abdomen that he paused, planting the entirety of his palm against his chest with a drowsy look on his face. The touch was enough to send bolts of electricity through his boyfriend.

“Mhm, that’s right. You’re so smart, honey.” Lucian giggled again, his shirt riding up his stomach a little as he stretched across Kai’s thighs. It was hard to avert his sharp golden eyes from tracing his gorgeous figure. Once he caught himself staring, he sheepishly looked away — It wouldn’t be good to let his eyes linger for any longer anyhow. [Even if Lucian didn’t mind it.] “You’re the best boyfriend in the whole universe. Y’know how big the universe is?”

Kai shook his head.

“Gimmie your hands,” Lucian demanded, still visibly exhausted despite his vivid consciousness. Without a shred of hesitation, Kai obeyed his orders and placed his fists onto his warm palms. His porcelain skin was surprisingly soft. “Now watch. Pretend your hands are the planets and my hands are the universe they live in, okay?”

Separating their skin contact by gradually removing his palms from his hands, Lucian continued to spread his arms further and further apart until they were as far apart as he could manage. In disbelief, Kai blinked a few times and tried to comprehend the visual representation that he created.

“See? You get it?”

Kai blushed and nodded. He didn’t truly understand what he was trying to say, but what he did know was the fact he was trying to explain it to him the best he could. “…I love you more than even that, Lu.” Towering over his face, he swiftly shifted his head to align with Lucian’s.

Shifting his hands onto the back of Kai’s neck and entangling his fingers into his hair, he hummed in pleasure. “Really?” His sleepy voice cracked with emotion.

To show his devotion to those words, Kai enclosed the space between their lips in a heartbeat. Gentle with him as always, he supported his back and embraced him lovingly, leaving not a single unwanted touch upon him. Lucian melted into his arms almost instantaneously. It wasn’t until he pulled away to breathe that Kai pulled away. It wasn’t until he shifted his position that Kai shifted his position. It wasn’t until he spoke that Kai spoke.

Whispering into his ear, his voice collided against Kai’s eardrums like a beautiful melody. “You wanna give each other matching tattoos?”

“Huh?”

With his arms still wrapped around his shoulders and his thighs on either side of Kai’s legs, he leaned his head back and laughed to himself. Whatever he was thinking had to be good. Kai wished he could laugh for the same reason he was.

“Where do you want it?” Lucian asked, pulling his boyfriend's shirt off his shoulders to inspect the areas of placement that were available. “Right here, right here, orrrr…right here?” His fingertips land against the side of Kai’s neck with a flirtatious smirk displayed on his beautiful countenance. Kai couldn’t help but blush. Even though they’ve been dating for some time now, he couldn’t get used to how attractive Lucian’s facial features were.

Recpicating the same level of affection, Kai let his eyes purposefully linger on every attribute of his face that he found attractive. (Which were, well, all of them.) Once he was done staring at his lips for a good while, he allowed their eyes to interlock. “I dunno. Where do you wanna put it?”

He slid his fingers down his neck affectionately. “Riiiight here.”

When the final syllable popped off his tongue, he lowered his head and launched his teeth right into Kai’s neck. There wasn’t much blood at first; Actually, there was no blood at all until he finally warmed up enough to apply all the pressure he could in his jaw. And although it would sting like a bitch to any ordinary person, it hardly phased Kai. He giggled as he felt his boyfriend’s tongue working to clean the mess of red liquid up, rubbing his back so it wouldn’t become sore from the odd position. Lucian smiled against his pale skin as he finished up.

“See?” he bubbled, pulling away to reveal his blood-soaked teeth. Dabbing away the excess liquid on his lips with his sleeve, he continued on with his explanation. “Now all you gotta do is gimmie a matching one right here! Bite as hard as you can so it lasts forever!”

Kai’s eyebrows cocked upward from the mere suggestion. “I’m not gonna bite you as hard as I can, Lu.”

“Awh, why not?”

The answer was obvious but his face was tempting. So with a heavy sigh, Kai entertained this fantasy.

Lucian hadn’t realized he was shoved off Kai’s lap until his head cracked against the couch cushions. Disoriented, he let out a little whimper and resorted back to instinct, bracing for impact. When he peered upward, however, he saw the same old boyfriend who loved him. His tense muscles relaxed as he let out a soft laugh, embarrassed that he had been caught so off guard. Kai held his hands that were pinned above his head, sitting on his hips in order to adjust himself to reach his neck with no problem.

“Where do you want me to start? Your tummy? Your chest?” Kai sadistically sneered as he pulled out his ridged knife from his jacket, stroking the blade down his boyfriend’s tiny frame. “Ohh, I know what you want. You want me to slit your throat, huh? But I won’t be able to hear your pretty screams that way.”

Lucian couldn’t help but blush from his tone. He knew it better than anyone else. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach from the thought, batting his eyelashes and grazing his tongue across his front teeth with a flirtatious smile. “That’s not what I want though…”

Lifting his freshly sharpened blade from his neck, Kai’s smirk peeled ear to ear. “Don’t gimmie that face, Lucian.”

The butterflies that infested his stomach bursted into fireworks of all shapes and colors when hearing his full name escape his lips. His face was bloodshot by the time he managed to get his words out. “What face? I’m not making a face.”

His airless laughter softened as Kai landed his fatal shot. Sinking his teeth deep into Lucian’s neck and savoring all the blood that gushed out, he returned the flirtatious remark. His tongue rubbed against the wound he created and delicately traced over the texture of his flesh, only for more blood to regenerate in seconds. Tears welled in the corners of Lucian’s eyes. Even though it felt like a mixture of heaven and hell at once, he made sure to voice his pleasure so that Kai understood he was doing a good job.

“It must taste good, huh?” he purred, stroking his raven-hair back to ensure it didn’t soak up any blood by accident. “I hope it does…”

Cradling Lucian’s waist, he didn’t say a word. His instincts begged him to move closer despite their bodies interlocking from the neck down. He knew better. Snuffing the feeling out like a little flame, he continued onward.

It was hard to pull away but when he did, his face was the color of the sun’s chromosphere. He wiped his mouth with the end of his shirt while admiring the damage he’d made on Lucian’s pretty skin. Every individual front tooth had managed to sink inside of him, leaving a sweet reddish-purple injury that bled profusely. It framed Lucian’s collarbones so well that he began to slip into the fantasy that it belonged there. Lucian was meant to carry the wound that bound them together.

Lucian was meant to be his.

“Your teeth feel good under my skin, sweetheart.” With shimmering eyes, Lucian planted both his index and middle finger in the gaping gash to presumably gather an approximate depth it had.

The pride Kai once inhibited completely melted into a puddle of humility. He covered his mouth sheepishly and giggled, taken aback by the sudden compliment. Lucian’s voice was in a perfect octave that rubbed him in all the right ways. “M-My teeth?”

One thing was certainly different about Kai’s teeth compared to an ordinary individual’s. Not only were they a perfect shade of white, straight as ever, and framed his handsome face well, but they also took the form of miniature daggers stuck in his gums. The most prominent feature of his mouth was his canine teeth. (Lucian’s favorite.) His canine teeth were sculpted beautifully along the rest of the row, sharp, dignified, and a bit unnaturally elongated. Maybe that’s why he could leave such harsh bites? Maybe that’s why Lucian struggled to fight back tears when he bit him? Either way, they must have been the source as to how he could land such a great blow. And the funny thing was, Lucian knew that wasn’t the hardest he could bite. He went easy on him.

“Mhm…” Lucian adoringly stroked his chest, his turquoise eyes inhabiting an unfamiliar glint within them. “It makes me wanna let you eat my insides.”

…Maybe that’s not what he really wanted. No matter how much he loved Kai and how safe he felt within his arms, there was no way he could withhold throughout the torture that he forced his victims to endure. Tearing their limbs off when they’re still alive and eating them in front of their face is one of the tactics Lucian wasn’t so fond of, so it did distort his view of saying what he did. Kai, on the other hand, was in his complete own world, blushing profusely from the thought of Lucian’s suggestion.

“I couldn’t do thaaaat…” he swooned, aligning his fingertips down his skinny frame. “I like the way your insides are now. All intact and pretty…”

“They’d look so much prettier in your mouth.”

“Keep pushing it like that. I dare you.”

“Hehe, pushing what? I’m not pushing anything. I’m just saying.”

And that’s how Lucian ended up biting off more than he could chew. His neck, shoulders, back, and chest had been utterly mutilated by the time Kai moved onto his final course — The thighs. But by then, Lucian was in a daze from the amount of blood he lost. His pajamas were stained red, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants lowered in order for Kai to finish his masterpiece. Silent tears drifted from the corners of his eyes from the sheer amount of bittersweet pain it caused him. But even through sniffling and wiping them away, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself from the pleasure he felt knowing Kai was the one doing it.

“Kai…” he murmured, his brain too foggy to form a coherent thought. “Last one, okay? Please…”

Figuring he was just sleepy, Kai peppered a few kisses on his delicate skin and interlocked their eyes spontaneously. A sly smile rose to his lips. “Only ‘cause you asked nicely.”

And with that, Kai made sure there wouldn’t be any misconceptions this year. Anyone that spared at glance at Lucian would know who he belonged to.

[league-of-starlight]

He was a boy, she was a girl, (Can we be any more obvious?)

@teeto-peteto

The monster exploded into coloured tendrils of cosmic horror, and its killers lasted in exhaustion. Seraphine was the first to recover, pumping her fist in the air as she stood on her floating stage platform.

“Woo! Good work team! Anyone up for a group hug?”

Orianna raised her hand and was immediately set upon by Seraphine’s cheerful embrace. Senna cracked her neck, the adrenaline of combat still flowing through her body.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I need to get home.”

Xayah smirked, withdrawing her feather-like blades from between her fingers.

“Oh yeah, your mystery boyfriend.”

Senna sighed.

“Xayah, it’s not like that, it’s a long distance thing.”

Xayah pursed her lips with an ‘mhm.’ Senna didn’t have time to reiterate her points of how her 'mystery guy' was real and not some fantasy.'

“Okay, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, have fun making out with Rakan.”

Senna didn’t let Xayah get any more words in before she flew away on streaks of star power.

——-

Senna threw open her bedroom door, kicking off her shoes and switching from her guardian outfit to her school uniform. The upside to the guardian gig? No change time.

After getting dressed into something more comfortable, Senna flopped into her bed.

“Hey Senna,” spoke Lucian from the other end of the phone. They met last summer on a trip, keeping up a long distance relationship ever since.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Are you okay, you sound out of breath.”

That monster took a lot out of her. Never a dull moment in the life of a star guardian.

“Just went for a run, how’ve you been?”

“Not too bad. You’ve beaten the chain warden boss yet?”

One of the things they had in common was their favourite FPS. Sentinels, where you fought off ghouls with badass light guns. But Senna was stuck on the latest boss. Bastard with a shitty lantern-scythe-thing.

“Not yet. I keep getting stuck in the lantern and he drains my health. So unfair.”

Lucian made a sound of agreement, before his voice turned to gain a tone of almost… romantic? Teasing? It was something on those lines.

I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow.”

Senna chuckled.

“Asshole, playing with my head?”

“Yep. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Senna looked to her bedside alarm clock. Ten at night, damn.

“I hope so, I’m heading off. School tomorrow, you understand?”

“Sure. Love you.

“Love you too.”

The conversation ended, and Senna soon fell asleep in her comfortable bed.

——

Senna sat outside with her team at school the next morning. Seraphine was talking about the book report that they totally didn’t study for.

The hardest part of this gig is keeping up with the schoolwork.

“So, talk to your boyfriend today?” Xayah purred, still not letting go of Rakan’s hand.

“Nope. He has school too.”

“Oh, so he’s a teenager and not like a thirty year old man?” Xayah replied with a sardonic edge,

Seraphine made a gagging noise and Senna rolled her eyes.

“That’s enough, it’s none of your business.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Senna noticed a few girls and even a guy whistle in awe and turned her gaze to find a guy around her age with dark dreads and leather fingerless gloves. Pair with the white and black of the uniform, and he looked perfectly fitted for the school.

“Who’s the new guy?” Rakan asked, the group shrugging in confusion.

Senna jogged up to Lucian, locking eyes. This wasn’t the only time she’d seen his face, but it was the only time she’d seen his body in full.

“Lucian, this was your surprise?” She asked.

“Yeah, my parents heard about the sports program and thought to move schools. So, yeah.”

Lucian looked over Senna’s shoulder to her team. Seraphine waved cheerfully, Orianna nodded, Rakan smirked and Xayah was still wide eyed in silent surprise.

“These are your friends?”

“Mostly. I’d introduce you, but I think class starts soon.”

Lucian nodded.

“I’ll see you in English.”

“Sure.”

Lucian walked off, Senna looking to Xayah with a smirk. She shrugged before walking off into the building.

“Told you.”

In the back of her head, Senna fretted about having to keep her secret from Lucian. Would that damage their relationship?

She pushed such thoughts away for now, she wasn’t on guardian duty yet. She could just enjoy the stroke of good fortune.

Hell, maybe he’d like romance novels.

——

[bartholomaus]

"Regiunile istorice sunt cele mai eficiente construcţii administrativ-teritoriale."

Boia: ”Da, poveștile astea au prins și e foarte greu să mai ieși din situația asta. De exemplu, întîlnim mitologia asta a unității și la Bălcescu, și în perioada interbelică, dar nu în maniera absolută, dusă pînă la absurd, pe care a imprimat-o naționalismul din vremea lui Ceaușescu. La un moment dat, prin anii ’80, se dăduse consemn să nu se mai pronunțe nici numele provinciilor istorice. Punctul culminant a fost acela cînd meteorologii n-au mai avut voie să dea informațiile potrivit provinciilor istorice. Nu se mai spunea că plouă sau ninge în Moldova, ci că plouă sau ninge în nord-estul țării. În viziunea aceea era o crimă să atentezi la unitatea dintotdeauna a țării (începînd de la daci), împărțind-o în tot felul de regiuni. Pentru mulți, lucrurile s-au fixat în maniera asta rigidă. Cînd un istoric cu o poziție importantă în instituțiile istorice ale țării vorbește despre națiunea română medievală, comite o aberație.”O aberație... Președintele Academiei Române nu ar da like la asemnea afirmație adevărată. Dar citește tot interviul https://dilemaveche.ro/sectiu ne/tema-saptamanii/articol/n-o-sa-l-intrebam-pe-stefan-cel-mare-cum-ar-trebui-guvernata-romania-de-azi-interviu-cu-lucian-boia

--

1. "Românizarea" din timpul regimului ceaușist a fost o catastrofă majoră pentru Transilvania și Banat. Această românizare s-a făcut extrem de dur și fără o minimă rațiune şi ne-a costat plecarea masivă a saşilor, a şvabilor şi a evreilor(în epoca post-comunistă, li s-au adăugat sute de mii de maghiari și peste un milion de români).

2. Așa numitul "pericol maghiar"(Lucian Boia vorbește de „psihoza maghiară”) legat de pretinse "asalturi iredentiste", asupra Banatului și Transilvaniei, nu are nici un fel de justificare.

Psihoza aceasta, abil întreținută de politicieni și serviciile secrete, constituie un alibi pentru amânarea sine die a reformei administrative, a regionalizării, al căror rost ar fi descentralizarea masivă a puterii în România. ---

...Centralismul este boala structurală a României. Centralismul distruge pur și simplu România. După cum vedem, până și oamenii foarte educați nu reușesc să iasă din această perspectivă și nu văd țara decât prin ochii unui locuitor al Bucureștiului...

...Să treacă pur și simplu dincolo de Bariera Vergului, să se mute cu mintea la Bacău, Suceava, Vaslui sau Galați. Sau la Tulcea, Caraș-Severin, Satu Mare ori Brăila.

Lumea se vede altfel dinspre aceste orașe sau zone subordonate, sacrificate mereu, fără înțelegere, unui „bine mai mare”, așa-zis național...

Ieșiți din modul centralist de a vedea această țară. Paradigma conducerii absolute din Capitală a distrus regiunile, Moldova în primul rând, un Principat mai dezvoltat decât Muntenia la momentul Unirii. --

 Cam toată lumea a auzit de subsidiaritate, regionalism, descentralizare, autonomie locală, financiară, teritorială, chiar dacă unii au greutăți în a înțelege corect sensul acestor cuvinte.

Hai să mai discutăm despre un termen mai puțin cunoscut românilor, devoluția.

Devoluția este delegarea statutorie a puterilor de guvernare de la nivelul administrației centrale a unui stat suveran la un nivel inferior, cum ar fi cel regional sau local.

Este o formă de descentralizare administrativă. Teritoriile devoluate au puterea de a iniția măsuri legislative relevante pentru zona respectivă.

Aplicabil perfect într-un stat unitar, cum este România. Devoluția nu înseamnă federalism, ca să fie cât se poate de clar și pentru spărieții de serviciu.

Cel mai bun exemplu de devoluție, adică de împărțire a puterii centrale(democrație consociaționistă) și a competențelor, cu factorii de decizie locali și regionali, este Marea Britanie(vezi Irlanda de Nord, Țara Galilor și Scoția).

 Citez pe domnul profesor Bakk Miklós:

…”profesorul Paul Philippi(sas transilvănean)…considera esențială și moștenirea constituțională a Transilvaniei. Este vorba de constituția nescrisă, istorică a acestei regiuni (cuprinsă în cutume, reglementări istorice locale și regionale, în jurisdicții diferențiate), dar în care sașii erau prezenți pe lângă maghiari și secui ca colectivitate istorică, constituțională a provinciei.

În Transilvania nu trăiesc minorități, ci popoare, susținea Paul Philippi – de altfel, cum este cuprins și în Rezoluția de la Alba Iulia din 1918.

Iar popoarele sunt entități constituționale, și moștenirea Transilvaniei nu cuprinde numai peisaje urbane dar și o masă succesorală de soluții constituționale, foarte diferită de cea primită, adoptată de vechiul regat, al statului iacobin organizat de Cuza.

Modelul transilvan este modelul confederal și consociaționist al democrației, desigur, la nivelul vremii, care s-a cristalizat cu o participare mai redusă a românilor transilvăneni și care, începând din secolul al XV-lea, prin Fraterna Unio chiar i-a și exclus pe români din conducerea Transilvaniei.

Însă această excludere, și mai ales interpretarea ei traumatizantă, nu justifică, de loc, abandonarea modelului însuși.

Mai ales datorită faptului că întreaga construcție europeană în sine, dar și reconstrucția mai multor state europene de după cel de al doilea război mondial demonstrează caracterul reînnoitor al tradițiilor de acest tip.”

Viitorul logic ar fi realizarea unui model de regionalism, să-i zicem, evolutiv, unde cadrul juridic al regiunilor se va dobândi treptat, pas cu pas,prin acorduri bilaterale între autoritatea centrală şi reprezentanţii comunităţilor regionale…

 PSD a blocat Centura Metropolitană a Clujului chiar dacă s-au dat bani de la Uniunea Europeană, iar Consiliul Local Cluj a plătit, din banii clujenilor, studiul de fezabilitate. Prin regionalizare nu și-ar mai bate joc nimeni de clujeni.

Brașovul se roagă de 17 ani de București să-i dea bani de Aeroport și Autostradă. Prin regionalizare ar fi primit imediat bani de la Uniunea Europeană. Mai mult, ar fi negociat direct cu aceasta.

Iașul se roagă de ani buni de București să-i dea bani de o Autostradă care să lege Moldova de Ardeal și de acolo spre Vestul Europei. Sunt tratați ca și când ar fi o colonie a Bucureștiului.

 Însă, cei de la putere, PSD -Sud, trimit 360 de milioane de euro în Teleorman pentru drumuri, fac un stadion la Târgu Jiu pentru o echipă care retrogradează și așa mai departe. --

"Naționalismul este cea mai mare mizerie a lumii moderne. Chiar dacă, uneori, pare a fi o virtute, naționalismul nu este altceva decât înapoiere și sentimentul primitiv de apartenență tribală. Astăzi, acesta este apanajul societăților subdezvoltate, societăți pentru care apartenența etnică este primordială iar valoarea individului este condiționată de această apartenență.

Credeam că, odată cu intrarea în Uniunea Europeană, demonii naționalismului și ai xenofobiei să dispară sau dacă nu, măcar să devină o parte insignifiantă a societății. Din nefericire, astăzi, în era tehnologiei digitale, societatea est europeană în general și societatea românească în particular răbufnesc într-un spectacol grotesc de naționalism xenofob." --

Cum se perpetuează distorsiunile bucureșteano-regățenești:

Dacă vrei să afli pe wikipedia ce și cum cu mult-iubita noastră capitală, primul text care-ți e vârât sub ochi, încă înainte să dai click pe articolul respectiv, e cel de mai jos:

„Bucureștiul este cel mai mare centru economic al României. Regiunea Bucuresti-Ilfov a contribuit in anul 2018 cu 26,6% din PIB-ul la nivel național, respectiv 251.350 miliarde lei (54.013 miliarde euro). [66]”

În corpul articolului wikipedia informația respectivă e plasată undeva spre treimea ultimă a textului. Dar chiar înainte de a accesa articolul trebuie să ți se vâre în creier minciuna centralisto-regățeano-bucureștenească, în virtutea adevărului relevat de experimentele psihologice, după care cele mai eficiente și mai ușor de introdus în creierii subiecților sunt enunțurile scurte. Nu contează cât sunt ele de aderente la adevăr. De preferabil ar fi să nu fie- cu atât mai mare e reușita dresajului. Ceea ce și vedem în jurul nostru.

Dar să gîndim un pic logic. Acea pură hoție centralist-bucureștenească numită Sistemul Marilor Contribuabili face ca toate firmele mari din țară să-și plătească taxele și impozitele la București. N-are parazitara noastră capitală nici un merit în funcționarea și prosperitatea lor- dar taxele și impozitele se plătesc de parcă Bucureștiul le-ar fi adus mana de pe cer. Am dat exemple flagrante chiar pe aceasă pagină- firme care-și desfășoară activitatea exclusiv în provincie- dar din ale căror realizări economice se ghiftuiește cloaca gentium, cum duios numea Vaida Voevod cetatea ciobanului Bucur. Credeți că acele sume colosale nu intră în calculul celor 26.6%? Intră, cum să nu intre.

Ce să mai vorbim despre șantajul continuu prin care Finanțele determină firmele străine sau autohtone să-și mute sediul în București sau măcar în Muntenia? Ursus vă amintește ceva, clujeni? Dar vouă, medieșenilor, Romgazul?

Ce să mai vorbim de șmecherii porcești tipic bucureștenești- regii autonome, firme și instituții, ba chiar întregi ministere, cu parcuri auto extinse, care sunt folosite în teritoriu, dar care musai sunt înmatriculate la Bukkale și pot fi asigurate numai și numai de sucursalele bucureștene ale firmelor de asigurări? Ce ziceți, într-o asemenea competiție economică, măsluită după tipicul bucureștean, care asigurători vor primi titlul de fruntași pe ramură?

A propos, de ce toate autovehiculele vândute în leasing trebuie să aibă număr de București? Din nou, doar pentru ca asigurătorilor de acolo să li se creeze o situația favorizată într-un mod atât de necinstit bucureștenesc? Și dacă ăsta e sistemul în domeniul asigurărilor, credeți că lucrurile stau altfel în restul domeniilor păstorite de centralismul bucureșteano-regățenesc?

Să judecăm problema și din alt unghi. Firmele alea nemaipomenite, din București-Ilfov, nu subzistă doar din încasările făcute acolo. Grosul realizărilor e obținut de sucursalele din toată țara. E, acum puneți-vă problema logic: de unde va veni cea mai mare parte a acelor încasări? Din Ardeal și Banat? Sau din Muntenia și Moldova, cele două regiuni care conțin în ele polii sărăciei în UE- Regiunea Sud-Vest Oltenia și, respectiv, Regiunea Nord-Est? Vedeți de ce tot afirmăm și repetăm la nesfârșit că Ardealul și Banatul contribuie cel mai mult la bugetul României și primesc cel mai puțin? Nu vi se pare absolut evident acest lucru?

Cândva, în negura vremurilor, un cioban, pe nume Bucur, a întemeiat o așezare umană, București. Nu știu câte își imagina ciobanul respectiv despre destinul viitor al localității sale- de călău al provinciei, de ucigaș cu sânge rece al vieții economice, politice, sociale și culturale din arealul căzut, spre ghinionul său, sub fetida dominație bucureșteană. Știu doar că un oraș înființat de un cioban a perpetuat ciobănismul cel mai mitocănesc în relația cu teritoriile cărora le este capitală.

Din punctul meu de vedere, m-aș simți extrem de bine într-o realitate politico-statală regională care să nu mai aibă parte de cele 26.6% din contribuția la PIB. Sunt oricum procente jefuite de la provincii, procentele hoției și nesimțirii regățeano-bucureștenești, de care Ardealul și Banatul n-au beneficiat, nu beneficiază și nu vor beneficia niciodată, în nici un fel.

Cât despre București- a fost întemeiat de un cioban. Dar acum, de ceva decenii, un alt cioban s-a sculat dîn Pipera și demonstrează că are valoare. Încât parcă mi-l pot imagina pe distinsul domn George Apostol B. spunând : „Cum sună Bucur și cum sună Becali?” Adevărul e că s-a numit destul București. A venit momentul să-și schimbe numele în Becali. Aceeași ciobănie, dar cu altă pălărie ciobănească.

M-ai înțeles? ----

În timpul facultăţii am urmat un curs opţional de Istoria Africii. Ce mai reţinem de acolo este următorul fapt: când puterile coloniale europene au început, în secolele XVIII-XIX, să ocupe teritorii de pe continentul negru, le-au delimitat, administrat şi denumit conform propriilor interese, fără a ţine cont de realităţile etnice şi de specificul zonal. Prin urmare, coloniile africane, devenite ulterior, în perioada postbelică, state independente, aveau nişte graniţe complet arbitrare, unele înglobând mai multe populaţii sau formaţiuni tribale diferite, iar alte populaţii sau triburi fiind divizate în mai multe state. În plus, vechile colonii erau împărţite administrativ conform intereselor europenilor, fără a se ţine cont în niciun fel de tradiţiile şi diferenţele locale. Astfel, aceste subdiviziuni au primit denumiri edificatoare, conforme intereselor noilor stăpâni: Nord, Sud, Vest, Centru, Sud-Est, Nord-Vest etc. Atlasele geografice mai vechi abundau în asemenea denumiri administrative.

Ulterior, în Africa situaţia s-a mai schimbat. Se petrece în schimb un fenomen asemănător celui de acum două secole tocmai în Europa, unde state ca România, Bulgaria şi probabil şi altele au început să fie împărţite administrativ în regiuni denumite Nord, Sud, Centru… O ciudată repetare a istoriei, am putea spune. Această teribilă coincidenţă trebuie însă să ne dea de gândit. Că asemenea denumiri arbitrare sunt impuse de “puterea colonială”, complet necunoscătoare a realităţilor locale, este evident. Ce pretenţie putem avea faţă de unii care încurcă şi acum Bucureştiul cu Budapesta? Însă cel puţin noi ar trebui să ştim că în trecut regiunile României nu se numeau Est, Vest, Nord, ci Moldova, Banat, Maramureş. Cât ar fi de greu să denumim viitoarele regiuni administrative conform tradiţiilor şi specificului lor de aproximativ o mie de ani? Europenii ar putea fi tentaţi să ne împartă în Centru, Nord-Est sau Sud-Vest, dar noi le-am putea arăta politicos, în cazul unei minime verticalităţi, că aceste regiuni trebuie să se numească, după istoria pe care o au, Transilvania, Bucovina sau Oltenia. Chiar dacă avem un statut de colonie, nu trebuie să fim confundaţi chiar cu africanii secolelor XVIII-XIX.

În aceasta ar consta aşadar rolul autorităţilor româneşti. Să susţină cu hotărâre tradiţiile noastre istorice. Pe harta noii Europe trebuie să existe şi denumiri româneşti, nu convenţionalele puncte cardinale. În cel mai rău caz, regiunile ar trebui lăsate să îşi aleagă fiecare denumirea pe care o consideră mai potrivită.

Iar dacă, de exemplu, proiectata Regiune 5 Vest şi-ar lua numele de Banatul Românesc, prin analogie cu cel sârbesc şi cu cel unguresc, nu am avea nimic împotrivă. -- Ce înseamnă să fii ardelean? Simplu: să nu minți să nu furi, să fii harnic, să nu corupi și să nu fii corupt, să fii curat, să fii ordonat, să respecți pe toți oamenii, să respecți legea, să respecți natura, să respecți animalele, să citești, să scrii corect în limba ta maternă, să crezi, să ajuți și să fii implicat civic pentru comunitatea ta! No, simplu, io-s ardelean! Tu? --

''Habar nu am de ce, dar odată cu moartea regelui Mihai îmi doresc o Transilvanie liberă de România. Țara asta nu ne-a adus nimic bun, i-a confiscat locomotiva austriacă a lui Iuliu Maniu când s-a dus să semneze unirea. Ne-a dat un semnal pe care îl înțelegem abia după o sută de ani... O să vă furăm, o să vă împilăm, o să vă subjugăm, cadou pentru că v-ați unit cu noi...

Ce ne-a adus nouă Unirea? Peșcheș, ciubuc, șpagă? Confiscare? Plocon la București? Ce altceva ne mai ține împreună în afară de limbă?'' --

Toate țările din Europa de Vest au administrațiile descentralizate unde puterea decizională a fost distribuită comunicațiilor din regiunile autonome respective! România are sistem administrativ hipercentralizat, din această cauză nu se poate prospera, din această cauză au fugit peste 7 milioane din România, de aceea suntem unde În suntem, ultimii la toate! Italia, sunt peste 3 milioane care au fugit din România!

"Regiunile Italiei au un grad de autonomie regională conform constituției din 1948. Totuși, cinci (din cele 20) regiuni, și anume: Friuli-Venezia Giulia, Sardinia, Sicilia, Trentino-Tirolul de Sud și Valle d'Aosta, au statut special care le conferă o autonomie politică și posibilități culturale mai mari. O regiune se subdivizează în provincii iar provinciile la rândul lor în comune. Centrele comunale fiind de regulă localitățile cu același nume (numele comunei respective)." --- Cherdere de vreme! Națiunea(poporul) română NU există! Se tot încearcă de prin 1860 să formeze o națiune/popor, fără șanse! O națiune( un popor) trebuie să aibă o istorie, ori ceea ce prezintă ei sunt numai minciuni legende și basme! O națiune (un popor) trebuie să aibă rădăcini vechi pe locurile respective, o națiune un popor trebuie să aibă o mentalitate comună sănătoasă! Doar dacă există o națiune un popor atunci este unitate! De exemplu maghiarii sunt o națiune un popor! Ardelenii la fel, bănățenii la fel, moldovenii la fel valahii la fel! România/românii NU sunt o națiune, nu sunt un popor!

[matyldawroblewska]

Service

As part of my voluntary service, I had the wonderful opportunity to take care of my neighbour’s two adorable cats, Mona and Lucian. Throughout my time with them, I ensured that Mona and Lucian received plenty of love, attention, and affection. Feeding them their 3 meals every day, even though they demanded more, and ensuring they had access to fresh water was a daily responsibility I gladly took on. I also spent time playing with Mona and Lucian, engaging them with toys and creating a stimulating environment to keep them happy and active. Grooming was another important aspect of my care routine, as I brushed their fur, cleaned their litter boxes, and ensured they were comfortable and clean. I made it a priority to monitor their health and well-being, observing their behaviour to notify their owner of any concerns or changes I noticed, however, they both were well off. While caring for those cats, I formed a special bond with them, cherishing the moments when they purred contently or curled up in my lap for a cozy nap.

Overall, my experience caring for Mona and Lucian during my voluntary service was immensely rewarding, as I witnessed their happiness and provided them with the care they deserved.

[the-writing-creature]

I Can't live Without You (warning, long post)

word count: 1883

Chapter 1

I walked out of Washington Trust Bank, a duffel bag slung over my shoulder, full of money. I looked in a window, admiring the new skinny jeans I had stolen beforeI robbed the company. “At least my ass looks nice,” I said outloud, twisting to examine my body.

“It does, but have you ever considered paying for things for once, instead of stealing?” A voice came from behind me. I turned and saw Lucian Namad, my archnemesis, leaning against a nearby wall. He pushed off the wall and held out his hand. “Give me the bag, Nyx.”

“No,” I held the bag closer. “I spent good time stealing this.” I straightened. “Besides, the jeans go well with my boots, Lucian.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped closer, reaching for the bag. I bared my teeth. “Don’t fuck with me, Lucian. Today is not the day.” I lowered my sunglasses onto my face and walked away. Lucian grabbed the bag and shot light into my face, momentarily blinding me through the sunglasses. I grabbed it and yanked back. “Lucian, I need this money.”

“Yeah, like you need a hole in the head.” 

“You know what, Lucian?” I threw the bag to the side. “Fine. This is a stupid reason to fight, but if you’re that bored, we’ll fight.” Darkness swarmed around my hands as I geared up. 

People started to gather and pull out their phones to record. “Lucian, beat her ass!” A guy called. I glared in his direction. “Who said that?” I said. I walked over, and the crowd parted until I got to the man. I put a finger under his chin, forcing him to look at me. “What’s your name, darling?”

He looked desperately at Lucian a few feet away. He gulped. “S-Sullivan, ma’am.” 

I smiled. “Nice name.” I put my hands on either side of his face. “What do I get if I don’t kill you right now for saying that?” I caressed his cheekbone.

He looked up at me, shaking his head. “P-Please, Nyx, I didn’t-”

“Shhh, darling.” I smiled. “It would be painless if I killed you. Yeah, it would be a little scary, being surrounded by darkness. According to others, of course. I, personally, love the darkness.” Tendrils of black came from my shoulders and wrapped around my arms, snaking toward his eyes. 

Something hit me in the back so hard I fell, almost on Sullivan. I braced myself on his shoulders and flipped over him, kneeling behind him. I looked around and saw Lucian walking toward me, holding a brick. A broken one  lay at Sullivan’s knee.

“Come on, Nyx.” He held out a hand. “We don’t need to fight today.”

I flicked my wrist and a knife slid out of my sleeve. I held the knife against Sullivan’s throat.”Wanna try that again?”

The darkness on my arms twined up to my ears. “He’s just trying to get you locked up again, where you can’t talk to anyone,” it whispered. “He wants you back in solitary confinement, with the lights on, where we can’t reach.”

“You just want me locked up, don’t you?” I accused. “You don’t want me ruining your precious city! Well, try to protect this!” I held the knife tighter against Sullivan’s throat and grinned as he sobbed. 

“Nyx, don’t do it,” Lucian pleaded. “Just put the knife down. I’m not trying to lock you up. I promise.” He advanced slowly, hands up. 

“He’s lying,” the darkness whispered.

“You’re lying!” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re just America’s golden boy, aren’t you?” Quite literally, I add to myself. I laughed softly. Oh, I’m so funny. 

While I was distracted by laughing at myself, Lucian slipped closer and grabbed my arm with the knife, prying the knife away from Sullivan’s throat. “Go!” He roared. Sullivan slipped away, holding his throat, looking back at me. 

I blew a kiss and smiled. Lucian slammed me against a wall. “Oh, getting kinky, are we?” I purred. I leaned forward.

“Nyx. I’m not playing your games today.” He pressed against my wrists so hard it bordered on pain. “I have shit to do today.”

I pouted, taking him seriously. “Fine. You can  take the money. But don’t arrest me. I have to take care of my cat, and I didn’t tell anyone to watch her while I’m gone. Deal?”

“Deal.” He released a hand to shake on it. 

I struggled free. “Ha! I had my fingers crossed!” I skipped to my duffel bag. “See you tomorrow, Luc!” I blew a kiss and let the darkness surround me, taking me home.

Once in my apartment, I slammed down the bag and paced around angrily. “Stupid fuck thinks he can just take what I rightfully stole? Ugh!” I punched a wall. “And where the fuck is Ophelia?” I looked around for my cat.

The cat, as if she had heard me, walked into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter, nosing my hand. 

“Hey, darling.” I pet her head, scratching behind her ears. “Momma will feed you soon. Just let me shower and wash off my makeup.” I kissed the top of her head and walked into the bathroom, kicking off my black, thigh-high leather boots and unbuckling my gold belt. Off came my black halter minidress and black fishnets, and I turned on the water. 

Stepping into the shower, I aggressively scrubbed my face and watched the black and purple flow down the drain. It looks like I killed evil Tinky Winky. I laughed at myself. “I’m so funny,” I said through giggles.

I finished my shower and wrapped myself in a dusty rose towel and padded into the kitchen. “Ophelia! Dinner time!” I grabbed a can out of a cabinet and opened it. The cat, wherever she was, ran into the kitchen like her life depended on it. I scooped the wet food into her kitty dish and set it on the counter. “There’s my darling.” I kissed the top of her head and walked into my room, planning on dressing in soft black sweats with an olive green tank top. As I pulled out the clothes, my phone dinged, alerting me of a message. “What now?”

It was from Delaynie, one of my best friends and ride-or-die. Lucian’s on a date with some girl. Should we take her?

I bit my cheek. No. Let them get closer. I want him to really form a connection with this girl.

This is the third date they’ve been on this month. I think they’re pretty damn connected already, Delaynie texted.

I rolled my eyes. Fine. Take her to the warehouse. Be there in 10. I sighed and threw on a tarot card hoodie, a pair of sweats and combat boots, really not giving a fuck about how I appeared to Lucian or this mystery girl. “I’ll be back, Ophelia! Watch the apartment for me!” I called. Wanting to appear in style, I went downstairs and got on my motorcycle, riding away to the warehouse at the docks.

I ran inside and waited in the shadows, letting them hide me from view. 

Soon enough, Delaynie and Kasdeya, Delaynie’s girlfriend, came in, each carrying a person with a blindfold on on their shoulders. I watched as they tied them to metal chairs, the smaller figure with regular rope, and the larger with chains. I perched on a desk and waited, swinging my legs. Parting the shadows, I let the fluorescent lights shine on me. “Laynie, Deya, come here and stand next to me.” 

The girls came over and sat on either side of me; Delaynie on my right and Kasdeya on my left.

We waited. Lucian woke up first. “Nyx, I swear to all that is holy, if you don’t let me go right now…” he threatened.

I hopped off the desk and walked over, my boots thumping on the concrete floor. “I’m getting deja vu, Luc. Haven’t we been here before?”

He tilted his head, perfect pink lips pursing. “Oh, yes, Nyx. All the time. Did you upgrade this time? It feels bigger in here than usual. New shipping container?”

“Nope, warehouse this time.” I checked my watch. “And your special friend should be waking up in three… two…” I’m cut off by a gasp.

“Lucian? Lucian?” A feminine voice cuts through the air. The girl had red lips and pale skin, with auburn hair. She whipped her head around. “What’s going on?” She sounded panicked.

I walked over to her and ran a hand over her hair. “Hush, now, darling,” I whispered in her ear. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just stay calm.”

“Don’t touch her!” Lucian yelled.

I rolled my eyes. “Ignore him, hon. What’s your name?”

“Don’t tell her,” he warned. 

“Enough!” I snapped. Everyone froze. I took a deep breath. “Now, I can’t exactly show you my face, but you know my voice, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“N-Nyx Quabe,” the pretty girl said shakily.

“And it’s only fitting for me to know your name, considering you know mine, isn’t it?” I asked. “It’s only fair.”

“Evangeline.” 

I straightened. “Really, Lucian? You pick the first supermodel-looking girl you see, and her name is fucking Evangeline? You have no spice what so fucking ever.”

Lucian turned his head toward me. “Can you take off the blindfold please? I’d like to be able to see.”

“You want to see me torture her until you finally surrender and let me take over the city?” I asked innocently. 

The blindfold started to smoke. “I said, don’t fucking touch her!” Lucian yelled. 

“There’s the spirit!” I applauded. “Come one, Lucian! Really let it rip!”

He struggled against his chains. “Nyx, I swear to God, if you touch her, I will never forgive you.”

I motioned for Delaynie to take off his blindfold. Once his sight was granted back, Lucian glared at me. “Don’t do it. Nyx, you’re going too far.”

I smirked and laid a finger on Evangeline’s shoulder. “Oops.” She flinched away, starting to cry. “Oh, shut up, Eva,” I said playfully. I clapped her on the shoulder, and looked Lucian in the eye. “Let’s play a game,” I said brightly.

Lucian eyed me suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘let’s play a game?’ I don’t trust you.”

I put a hand to my chest. “You? Not trusting me? I’m offended. Lucian continued to glare at me. I rolled my eyes. “Yes, a game. We’re playing Truth or Dare. If you don’t play fair, meaning you don’t answer truthfully or don’t complete a dare, lovely Evangeline here gets hurt.” I patted her head. “Sound fun?”

“No. Not in the slightest. You’re crazy, Nyx.” 

I bounced on the balls of my feet. “Not crazy, just determined. Now. Truth? Or dare?” He didn’t answer. I sighed. “If you don’t play, I could just throw her off the pier, still tied to the chair. Or I could have Kasdeya do it.” I shrugged. “Means nothing to me.” I tapped a finger to my chin. “You know what? For every question I give you, you can ask me something. I promise. Scout’s Honor.” I held up my hand in the Girl Scouts salute.

“Now. Truth… or dare?”

“Truth,” he ground out.

“We’ll start off easy. How did you meet the wonderful Evangeline?” I asked.

[warofrosesrp]

- Il est possible que des noms vous paraissent familier, certains ont été repris du jeu mobile Hogwart Mystery puisqu'il  s'agit de la même période (mais pas de la même intrigue). - Les personnages inventés ne sont pas autorisés chez les 6eme années.  - hb signifie halfblood (sang-mêlé), pb signifie pureblood (sang-pur) et mb signifie muggle born (né-moldu). Impossible de créer des familles de sang-pur qui n'apparaissent pas dans le registre. - Important : les faceclaims sont potentiellement négociables, sachez seulement que nous nous réservons le droit de refuser les propositions.

Pour découvrir les biographies, cliquez sur les noms des personnages ci-dessous ou référez-vous à la page du directory.

L E S  G W Y D I O N

Gillian McLaggen   — gryffondor › hb ›  — meneuse Cammie Prewett — gryffondor › hb  ›  Oswald Kirke — gryffondor › hb ›  Lance Dolohov — poufsouffle › hb ›  Cleve Mckinnon — poufsouffle › hb ›  — allié

L E S  E V E Y D D

Camille Prewett — gryffondor › hb › Angelica Cole — gryffondor › hb › Ben Cooper — gryffondor › mb ›  — allié  Darius Fudge  — serdaigle › hb › — meneur Andre Egwu  — serdaigle › hb ›

L E S  G I F A E T H W Y

Gina Linetti  — serdaigle › mb › May-Ly Chang — serdaigle › hb › — meneuse Myron Wagtail — gryffondor › hb ›  — allié Ajar Patil — gryffondor › pb › Henri Scrimgeour — serdaigle › hb › Asma Shafiq — poufsouffle › hb › 

L E S  A M A T H E O N

Rowan Khanna — serdaigle › hb ›  — meneuse Tulip Karasu— serdaigle › hb › Reginald Edgecombe — serdaigle › hb ›  — allié Archer Rosier — serpentard › pb ›   — meneur Cassius Nott  — serpentard › pb ›

L E S  H Y D D W N  

Rosetta Yaxley — serpentard › hb › — meneuse Darlene Croupton — serpentard › hb  › Richard Crabbe  — serpentard › pb › Gwenog Jones — poufsouffle › hb › — alliée Penny Haywood — poufsouffle › hb ›

L E S  B L E I D D W N  

 Merula Snyde — serpentard › hb › — meneuse Ismelda Murk — serpentard › hb › Ronan Montague — serpentard › hb › Diemos Bell — poufsouffle › hb › — allié Chester Davies — poufsouffle › hb ›  a quitté poudlard Chiara Lobosca — poufsouffle › hb ›

L E S  E X C L U S  

Charlie Weasley — gryffondor › pb › Aurora Jordan  — gryffondor › hb › Feyre Archenon  — serdaigle › hb › Lucian Dubois  — serdaigle › hb  › Nymphadora Tonks — poufsouffle › hb › Sulivan Flume — poufsouffle › hb › Barnaby Lee — serpentard › hb › Annabeth Goyle — serpentard › hb ›

[chuuyas--boo]

Hc: Lucian falls asleep with his head on Kai's chest listening to him purring

[stiri-noi]

Marcel Ciolacu a confirmat pentru Libertatea că Lucian Romașcanu a fost suspendat din funcția de purtător de cuvânt al PSD

Președintele interimar al PSD, Marcel Ciolacu, a afirmat pentru Libertatea că Lucian Romașcanu nu mai este purtător de cuvânt al social-democraților, după cuvintele obscene rostite la adresa jurnaliștilor.

Întrebat dacă Lucian Romașcanu a fost suspendat din funcție, Marcel Ciolacu a răspuns afirmativ.

Decizia lui Marcel Ciolacu vine după ce purtătorul de cuvânt al PSD a avut o ieșire nervoasă, la finalul Comitetului Național Executiv al PSD.

Jurnaliștii au plecat de la conferința lui Lucian Romaşcanu pentru a-i lua declarații lui Marcel Ciolacu, iar fostul purtător de cuvânt al PSD, fără să știe că microfoanele sunt încă pornite, a spus că “e sfârșitul unei frumoase prietenii. O să primească o p… în c… toți”.

Lucian Romaşcanu, fost ministru al culturii şi identităţii naţionale, a fost în trecut consilier al preşedintelui SRTV, director al ziarelor CanCan și Libertatea și executive manager al televiziunii Kanal D.

El a fost numit purtător de cuvânt al PSD în aprilie 2020.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

"I thought you didn’t like cats?" For Peter & Lucian? (Aka time for dog jokes again?)

Lucian must really love Peter a lot in order to put up with his nonsense.

Part of that new vamp Peter au I've got going on.

Warning: post-vampire hunting, blood drinking

On with the fic!

--

Lucian kept glancing over his shoulder and Peter finally had enough of it because Lucian kept telling him it was nothing. "What is it? Are we being followed? What's your all-powerful nose smellin' that my adorable bat nose can't? Picked up somethin' interestin'?"

He sniffed the air. "Cause all I'm smellin' right now is this nasty ass alley with whatever... festering things are in it. And pizza, but I think that's from some place nearby."

"You need to really develop your sense of smell to find specific scents, Peter." Lucian informed him. "I can't keep being the one doing it."

"Eh. Anyway, what's up? Are we being followed? Did someone survive?" Peter asked, looking down the alley.

"No, they were all taken care of, we didn't leave any of the vampires alive. But we have been followed since we left the building." Lucian then pointed at the end, towards a corner. "By her."

Peter raised an eyebrow, then squinted a bit, and finally noticed what Lucian was talking about. Peeking around the corner was a tiny black head of a cat. Then he heard the little thing meow.

They watched as the little black cat came trotting down the wet, smelly alley before stopping a few feet away. She watched them carefully, little ears flicking. Peter took note that she was one of those cats that had the long fangs, the kind that poked out and you could see the tips.

"Aww, she's like a Halloween decoration." Peter smirked as he watched her stretch, arching her back like those scared cat props you see in people's windows and yards.

"Yes, and she's been trailing us this whole time, for some reason." Lucian sighed.

"Really? Come here, cutie." Peter said, getting down to a squat and removing his backpack, pulling out a water bottle full of blood. He shook it up, hoping it would be a bit more liquid-y that way, then poured a bit into the cap. "Think she'll like a taste of pig's blood?

"I don't know, Peter. I'm not sure if cats even like- oh." They watched as the kitty cat approached, sniffed the cap, and lapped at the blood.

"Aww, like a much more adorable vampire. Could put some fake wings on you, you'd be adorable!"

"No." Lucian said instantly and Peter looked up at him, pouting.

"I didn't even say anythin'!"

"You just... you have this tone in your voice, like when you tell me about something you found online and suddenly it's at the front desk in just a day or two. You're impulsively interested in taking her home."

Peter stuck his tongue out at him and decided to give the kitty attention instead. He grinned when she nuzzled at his hand, purring. Poor thing looked so thin, had she been in that building when the vampires took it over? Had they prevented her from hunting mice or whatever?

He watched as she slipped away from him and moved to rub herself all over Lucian's legs, purring even louder. He could see Lucian looking down at her, and looking very much like he was trying not to smile.

Peter smirked. "I thought you didn’t like cats?"

Whatever hint of a smile that was there was suddenly gone. "It's not that I don't like cats, most animals know to fear- oh, you're making a dog joke again, aren't you?"

"HA! You finally caught one of 'em! I've made at least six this evening!" Peter put the cap back on his bottle and stood up. "What do we do with her?"

"She probably has a home."

"I don't think so, if she followed us from the nest, I think her home used to be that building. And we kinda... set a lot of the inside on fire burnin' bodies."

Lucian looked at him, giving him a hard look and Peter leaned down, picking her up. "Just a few days, okay? Until we can get her to a shelter or somethin'?" Peter asked. "Look at her, she's so cute and sweet, and she looks like a little vampire!"

The lycan looked at the cat, who was currently now nuzzling Peter's face and trying to slip into his hoodie, which made him laugh. Lucian sighed. "Just until you can bring her to a shelter."

"Cool! Thank you, babe!" He gave Lucian a kiss before looking at the cat. "Now, what to name you..."

"No, don't name her, then you'll want to keep her."

"She needs a name!"

"Cats do not always need them, it is their way."

"Meh, you're not fun, she's gettin' one despite your nonsense."

--

I dunno if they'll keep her, but Peter wants to name her after a famous vampire lady.

[weebsinstash]

What do the chocobros act like when you have your first heat

Gosh, this is a juicy ask and I wound up making this kind of long because I have IDEAS 👉👈

So for the story I've been writing parts of, the whole deal is that omega basically just. Borderline don't exist anymore, or were wiped out, or live in secrecy, are basically unheard of, so on so forth, and they've been "extinct" to the point where basic knowledge on them is mostly lost to history or in old textbooks. So step one is the incredibly fun process of everyone being confused and not knowing exactly what to do or even knowing that you're an omega or what that means

I imagine the "diagnosis" would come after you start manifesting symptoms: you've started producing your own unique, powerful pheromones, your senses such as smell and hearing have become heightened, strong maternal instincts/urge to "take care of" something. The boys all find themselves affected by your pheromones too, not knowing why they suddenly want to be around you so much more, or it makes them feel warm and fuzzy when you laugh or smile or you're happy (well, more than usual anyways), and, of course, finding their more... primal urges getting riled up 👀

Imagine everyone all piled into the car after a great day of hiking and swimming at the beach and fishing and all sorts of cool stuff, and you're in the backseat between Gladio and Noctis, all tuckered out, but with a big smile on your face when you get asked if you had fun. You're just so sleepy that you close your eyes, thinking of how happy you feel, how safe, loved.... All of the guys just instantly whip around to look at you as you've dozed off and, in your sleep, have started to purr for the first time. (I think purring in ABO is cute and I need more of it 👉👈). They're all just like, shocked into silence, because for once, how can you suddenly purr when you never could before, but most importantly, because you are just SO CUTE 🥺 at least two of them definitely pull out their phones to record this precious memory.

So now they're all suspicious, but say nothing of this to you, only sharing their concerns amongst themselves. What's going on? Why has there been a change in your behavior, and appetite, and energy, and not to mention a borderline mutation of your body? They all agree that you need to be looked at, and Ignis has you booked for a physician in the nearest town that same week, going with you to provide support and to just help you navigate the Lucian healthcare system

I picture in an ABO world that there would be some sort of test to tell someone's 'status' and I was thinking, for this time, it could be something simple and quick. The doctor pricks your finger and puts the little drop of blood on a test strip, saying it'll turn a certain color based on the result. For example, just picture the doctor saying "oh, it'll turn red for Alpha, and blue for Beta" and then your test strip turns fucking green, which the doctor didn't even mention it could do because they've literally never heard of that happening so now they're just looking at you in very obvious confusion and surprise and is all "uhhhh lemme go check with some colleagues"

But of course, you and the guys have to keep a low profile because you're literally travelling with the Crown Prince and his Crownsguard, so the second you and Ignis realize that something's up, now you have to sneak out of the doctor's office so there isn't like, some big huge scene or something. Now the bros are Extra Sus, and one of them eventually raises the possibility: if you aren't an Alpha or a Beta, there's only one other option, isn't there?

Then your first heat finally hits. The few days prior, you've got an increased appetite, sleeping constantly, and seem in an increased state of anxiety, talking about how you 'just need to be somewhere you feel safe'. The group is camping when it happens, the four Alphas awakening to find you sweating and breathing heavily from inside your own tent (that they reluctantly bought you when you eventually summed up the courage to say you needed a little space). All your blankets are bunched up to form, well, a padded sort of resting area which you lay on top of. Without pants. It's just far too hot for pants.

But in the end, it's your scent that allows them to piece everything together: that hypnotic, tantalizing scent that has their pants growing tighter, reminding them of their own hazy hormones when they're in their ruts.

So now it's awkward, really fucking awkward, because all of them are on suppressants and meanwhile you're in Full Blown Horny Omega mode, at least with the way you're practically creating your own atmosphere of beckoning smells. Leaving the Haven isn't an option since you're so constantly tired, borderline ill really, not to mention your own safety. They can only imagine all of the lowlifes who would want to have you for themselves now that you're practically a beacon for attention.. And when you're not holed up trying to secretly masturbate in your tent, up and awake and trying to come out for food or to use the bathroom, well... you'll barely look any of them in the eye, jaw clenched impossibly tight like you're fighting with everything you have not to say something embarrassing, giving them lingering glances, seeming extremely shy and flustered around them, and, well....

They would absolutely be able to tell whenever you've gotten off or horny, and while you don't know that, it's hell for them, since they haven't exactly come forward about their feelings. Ignis has to drop off your breakfast at the door of your tent and fights the urge to dive inside and make a nice meal of you, Gladio has an increased aggression from his aching alpha urges which he vents by hunting nearby monsters and bounties and for all intents and purposes tries to avoid you out of fear of losing control, Prompto can barely even speak to you without stuttering and blushing like a tomato, and Noctis isn't much better as not only an Alpha but as a young man who hasn't quite gotten in touch with his feelings and just may be... extremely sexually repressed

They'll ride out your heat without doing anything skeevy to you, but make no mistake, they're constantly fantasizing about all the things that they want to

[lal-ffxiv]

Feckless 21.21

• lacking initiative or strength of character; irresponsible. --- Their mother was keep to bedrest, and no one in family was far if she called. Even the newest memeber of the family. The only reason the courel was curled in Luc's lap was he was being currently held by Meharianni who was cooing deteoty terms of endurements to Luc'sil. "Don't insult my brother." Lucian said as he scooped the kitten from the kitten from Meharinni. "Luc'li is a sweet, little miracle." Lucian muttered sweetly. This obviously a challange to Meharinni who swept the kitten back into her arms from under Lucien nose. "Stinky little kitty" she purred and Luc'li purred back. "Nooooo." Lucian the 'o' only went on longer he chased around Meharanni. Its much harder to steal from a theif twice. Luca joined in from their seat, "brat cat". Only they said it, the courel leap from the other Miqo'tes and came to Luca to jump into their lap. Luca wad quick to grab it and hold it alway from themself. 'Feckless, faithless cat', Luca looked into the courel's eyes thought but only manged to see their own reflection. "Here." Luca returned the black courel to their mother's bedside. Luc put aside the bowl of gruel and grateful embraced her son. Luc could be upset with this. Their mother would be strong enough to begin excerzong out of bed soon. And its thanks to miracle of Luc'li. However, Luca was sure she heard their mother mutter, "stinky bastard man" into the coeurl's course fur.

Based on this meme. Too sleepy to fix all the so many typos.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

A Wedding in Paris

Trigger Warning: Light mentions of setting appropriate homophobia, alcohol use

“What’s a marriage anyway? Rings and a promise and a priest. And, the way I see it, two out of three requirements makes a good enough substitute for me. The law doesn’t want us so I say we don’t want it.”

Lucian and Stephen spend their first day in Paris, the first day of their new lives.

----------------

Please leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Stephen had been nervous about Paris.

It was his first step outside of England, the first of a headlong sprint that was going to take him even further than he’d had the free time to read about in books. Paris was meant to be a gentle start, just a hop over the Channel, within three day’s reach of the country he’d grown up in all his life, but it had still frightened Stephen to imagine. A new city, a new soil, a new tongue. A new him, supposedly, a Stephen Day who wasn’t a justiciar and wasn’t alone but now had to find out where he fit into the world, starting with Paris.

It had taken him all of a day to decide he really, really liked it.

That day had consisted of waking up in a very expansive, comfortable bed, made all the more comfortable and slightly less expansive by the fact that he was sharing it with all six feet of his lover. Then he’d padded around the lavish hotel apartment he’d been too exhausted to take any notice of after yesterday’s boat ride, in  a mix of wonderment and apprehension, until Lucien had woken and summoned him back to bed with a crook of a finger and a smile. Not all that different from his fonder mornings in London.

But then there had been bright sunlight, walks along boulevards familiar enough to Stephen that he could relax into the excitement of the chatter around him in unknown, lyrical languages, the smells of herbs he couldn’t name coming from the street stalls, the bright fabrics and colourful buildings. Then there was a park, open space and the smell of fresh cut grass and summer flowers, a museum with paintings from far away and long ago that Stephen felt he could fall forwards into, a patisserie with cakes that looked like perfect sculptures and tasted like heaven. Even the ether felt different, like rich velvet, less fettered by smog. There were smiles, laughter that made his jaw ache, a heart lighter than he could remember.

And through it all, more than anything else, there was Lucien. At Stephen’s side and smiling as he stared like the dumbstruck tourist he was, walking a few paces behind with a proud, patient chuckle while Stephen surged ahead to see something new, lounging beside him and explaining the ways in which French fashions differed to British fashions with each example that passed by. He indulged his little witch completely and for once Stephen didn’t argue or allow himself to become embarrassed by it, the cakes tasted too good for him to recoil at Lucien happily buying him as much as he could eat. It brought that smile of satisfaction to his lover’s sharp features, the warmth in his eyes that their troubles in London had made rarer than either would like.

And there were the touches.

The first time it happened, Lucien casually placing a hand on Stephen’s arm as they walked, he’d frozen in place. For a moment, he’d forgotten where he was, certain they were still in England and even a simple, friendly touch like that would get them spat at in the street. Lucien had taken his hand away quickly with an apologetic, understanding expression, endlessly patient with Stephen’s anxieties, willing to go slowly. Stephen appreciated it, his heart hammering in his chest until the next delight chased it away.

But then, sitting in the park, Lucien had made to reach for Stephen’s hand, stopping only at the last moment when he caught himself. His quick amber eyes had noticed and, for a moment, the fear jolted through him, a sour, metallic taste on his tongue. But only for a moment, the sugar and fresh air rushing back in and, with it, a sense of giddy courage. They were in the shade, dappled by the leaves overhead, and no one was looking their way.

And if they were, what of it? Lucien had promised Stephen a life of freedom. He’d told him they’d go places where everything about Stephen- his magic, the fact that he liked men- wasn’t something to be hidden and ashamed of. And every other impossible thing Lucien had promised was apparently true, so why not this?

So he’d joined their hands together, threading his fingers through Lucien’s larger ones until they knit together naturally. Not a manipulation of the ether, not a spell, just the honest scrape of rough, callused skin against his lover’s, scar brushing against scar, fingers slotting perfectly into the gaps between hair dusted knuckles. It had been Lucien’s turn to jolt in surprise but, God, the look he’d given Stephen put every wonder they’d seen into the shade.

Possibly that look, possibly the wild and welcome sense of freedom, possibly the fact that Merrick knew of a wine bar that didn’t close until one in the morning and served the most delicious ruby red burgundy and a very reasonable price, possibly a combination of all of these factors decided how Stephen’s first day in Paris ended.

Which is to say, piss drunk and dancing with his lover in an empty Parisian street at half past two in the morning. And happier than he could ever remember being.

“Lucien!” he cackled, clinging to him for dear life as he spun him around in what a waltz might look like through a haze of wine, “Lucien, I’m going to be sick!”

His lover laughed, finally letting them stop, moving into a slightly less disorientating four step that neither of them could really keep up with, “I thought you practitioners could hold your alcohol better than us mere mortals?”

“Not when it’s this much alcohol,” Stephen snorted, tilting his head back to watch the stars lurch drunkenly across the velvet blue sky, “God, Lucien, this place…”

“I know,” Lucien purred, catching him in the pool of gas light coming from a streetlamp, letting Stephen slump bonelessly against his chest as they swayed in a lazy circle, “This is what it should be like, my love. This is how you’ve deserved to live your entire life.”

Stephen giggled, loose limbed and loose lipped with the weight of the sweet wine on his tongue,  “No one cares...I’m dancing with my lover in the street and no one cares…”

Luien’s cheeks were a little red too, his speech a little slack and grin overly wide, but he was a few glasses down on Stephen, “Well, we can still get arrested for disorderly behaviour and waking the neighbours.”

“I see,” Stephen hummed with exaggerated seriousness, face still pressed to Lucien’s chest so it came out a little muffled, “We should be inside then so we can be as disorderly as we wish.”

“I like the sound of that,” Lucien chuckled, half dancing and half dragging Stephen to the door of their hotel which they’d been wonkily aiming for when they’d started their impromptu waltz.

Getting through the lobby with whatever wine soaked dignity they could muster took a few moments when Stephen stumbled on the steps and Lucien couldn’t remember his own name briefly when the front desk asked but eventually they staggered up the stairs to the apartments they were calling home until they could book passage further into Europe.

Fortunately they didn’t have to fumble with the key in the door, the French helpfully built their door knobs in brass and he sent it swinging inwards with a thought, unfortunately just as Lucien swept him up to kiss him against it. The two of them burst into helpless laughter, sprawled on the mat, giggling like children.

“Get off me,” Stephen managed to get the words out, through the laughter and the fact that shy of two hundred pounds of muscular lordship was resting on him, “I can’t breathe, you great lump…”

“Some poorly timed romance on my part, I apologise,” Lucien laughed, finding his feet and pulling himself up, snagging Stephen on the way up.

“Oh,” Stephen’s eyes glittered in the pale moonlight, the only thing keeping the apartment from complete darkness, “Well...don’t let this keep you from trying again.”

Lucien seemed to take that as a personal challenge, not letting his lover find his feet, just sweeping him into his arms and carrying him straight to the canopy bed. With a few assists from Stephen, bending the ether to shove an ottoman and curl the corner of a rug out of their path, they made it with no broken necks or barked shins.

“Did I tell you the ether feels different here?” he found himself murmuring, once they’d toppled into the pool of silk and down, his mouth doing that thing where the wine rather than his brain made it move.

“Hmm?” Lucien had collapsed next to him, looking like a scarecrow that had been dropped from a height. A scarecrow dressed in Hawkes and Cheney’s finest, “Don’t recall. Tell me anyway. I like when you talk about magic, your eyes light up.”

Stephen reddened until he was probably a similar colour to the wine they’d been drinking but he held his hands up above himself, backing them against the rich muslin of the canopy. He twitched his long fingers as he spoke, like he was stroking something.

“I work with my hands so it feels different to me. It feels richer, like I’m moving my hands through honey rather than water, like it is back home. It...drags on me, like it’s alive and it’s touching me as much as I’m touching it. Like the difference between velvet and cotton, you know? You just want to dig your fingers in and see how far it goes. I bet if Esther was here, she’d say it smelled different too and I’ll ask Saint if it sounds different…” he trailed off, glancing to the man lying beside him, realising that Lucien was gazing at him with an expression warmer and more adoring than anyone he’d ever given a magical lecture to.

“Did my eyes light up?” he asked shyly, mouth cocking into a smile.

“All of you does,” Lucien purred, looking at him the way Stephen had looked at the paintings and artefacts in the museum, like he was something precious and masterful, like the whole world around them and dimmed and Stephen was all that mattered, “This is just...this is everything I wanted for you, my love.”

“To eat my own body weight in cake twice over?” Stephen hummed,

The jesting tone was a little flat and shaky but he needed some way to blunt this. Because if Lucien kept talking like this and looking at him like that then he felt me might cry. Because they were alone in a beautiful place and everything was changing, because he loved this man so much and he loved him back and light could be as overwhelming as dark. You could drown in honey as easily as blood.

But, as ever, Lucien was the one who was unafraid. They lay practically nose to nose but it still wasn’t close enough apparently, he reached over to hold his cheek. His palm was cool from the chill night air and Stephen leaned into it instinctively.

“To be somewhere you can just be your incredible self,” Lucien murmured, keeping their voices low even though they were alone, just because the words were Stephen’s and no one elses, “Magical and powerful and mine.”

Stephen turned and pressed his lips to the centre of that slightly roughened palm, “Thank you. I know I’m going to be saying that a lot from now on and it’s never going to feel like enough but still. Thank you so much.”

Lucien kissed the bridge of his nose, running his thumb over his cheekbone, protective and comforting, “And I will always reply that you don’t need to thank me. You came with me, that’s more than enough.”

Stephen melted under the touch, sighing softly, finding a way to relax even beyond what the drink and dancing had already accomplished, “And it only gets better from here?”

“The further we get from England, the less anyone will care,” Lucien promised, fingers moving up to tease the tighter curls at the edge of his hairline, “In China I’ll be able to take you to dinners, kiss you in the street, introduce you as my partner to my fellow traders, brag shamelessly about my talented, handsome shaman…”

Stephen groaned, though he was betrayed by his lopsided grin of incredibly endearing goofiness, “Wonderful...though I like being called your partner.”

“Well,” Lucien patted his cheek and let him go, apparently too drunk and tired to engage his neck muscles, “I’d rather call you my husband but not even Shanghai allows me that.”

This certain kind of moment happens often between two people with more wine in their bloodstream than sense in their head, that one of them will casually blurt something without realising the magnitude of their words, their runaway mouths jumbling up the filing system in their head and confusing the one labelled ‘deeply personal thoughts’ with ‘casual conversation’. People said in vino veritas, Lucien recalled, though the more succinct phrase that snapped his eyes open and froze him in place when he realised what he’d said was ‘complete fucking stupidity’.

Stephen was watching him with wide, golden eyes, no expression but naked surprise, “You’d marry me? If we could?”

Lucien wasn’t often caught on the back foot, even around Stephen. His little witch could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen him blush as he was now, the amount of times he’d seen his mouth twist into the shy, vulnerable smile of a much younger man who’d been through far less in his life.

“Well...of course. Honestly, if we lived in a different time, I’d have done it long before now. Pretty much as soon as I got the slightest inkling you’d actually have me,” the blush deepened as he spoke and, God, Stephen would have been lying if it wasn’t damn endearing to see his lover’s cold, angular features having to deal with embarrassment.

Lucien caught his expression, laughing exasperatedly and dragging Stephen closer, “Oh fuck off, is this really that much of a surprise?”

Stephen giggled, wrapping his arms around Lucien in turn, “That I could land one of the most eligible bachelors in England? Somewhat...oh heavens, would that make me Lady Crane?”

That set them both off again, gripped by helpless laughter, giddy on wine and fantasy.

“I think you’d be Lord as well?” Lucien snorted, the idea of his radical little witch having a title too funny for words, “Or Lord Consort which even you have to admit is an inherently fuckable title.”

“Well, you’ve got me there…” he snickered, rusty curls falling into his eyes, “Stephen Vaudrey….”

Thinking if he was in for a penny on emotional vulnerability, he may as well be in for a pound, Lucien shook his head, “Actually, if we’re indulging ourselves completely, I’d ask you to keep your name. And, if you’d be so kind, extend it to me?”

Stephen’s jaw dropped, “Pardon? Did I hear that right?”

Lucien shrugged lazily, managing to haul himself up into something more like a sitting position against the bolsters, “Come on now, darling, like I’m going to cling to the surname of my abusive father and brother when I could join a loving family of people with actual integrity and honour.”

Stephen scrambled after him, resting his head on Lucien’s chest, gazing up at him adoringly, “That’s...I don’t even know what to say, Lucien.”

Lucien pushed that wayward hair back, his heart thudding at putting that expression of bewilderment and love on Stephen’s face and wanting to admire every inch of it, “So you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life with Lucien Day?”

“I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Stephen said emphatically, turning into his hand the way a cat being petted would, “And I will. No matter what the law says.”

Lucien seemed to consider that a moment, an amusement dawning in his grey eyes, the kind of idea that could only happen when one was a little bit drunk and madly in love clearly taking root. His mouth quirked upwards at the end.

“Fuck the law then,” he grinned, “Marry me. Right now.”

Stephen blinked, clearly missing a few pieces of the puzzle, “Excuse me?”

Lucien lurched to his feet so suddenly that Stephen was left to fall face down into the space he left behind with an ungainly yelp. He turned onto his back to see Lucien straightening his lapels, trying to shake out some of the rumpledness in his suit from their raucous evening. He deftly untied his cravat, somehow managing to force hands that had held several wine glasses over the last few hours to handle the knot expertly. Then he held out his hand to Stephen.

“Your leg please, sweet boy. This can be the something new, I only bought it today, and borrowed too as I’m lending it to you. I’d say your suit can be your something old, given the state of it, as I’ve pointed out many times. Don’t think you’re getting out of Paris without some new clothes by the way. And blue…”

“Our tattoos have blue in them,” Stephen grinned at him as he complied, shivering a little as Lucien pushed up the leg of his worn trousers, “You’ve lost your mind completely.”

“It's this or we become pirates and enter into matelotage, my love,” Lucien hummed, tying the lace around his thigh in a decent approximation of a garter, “And the journey across the Channel made it clear you get seasick far too easily for that.”

Stephen wrinkled his nose, he’d had a near constant sour taste in his mouth for the entire trip, “Granted…”

“What’s a marriage anyway?” Lucien hummed, kissing Stephen’s knee before letting him go, “Rings and a promise and a priest. And, the way I see it, two out of three requirements makes a good enough substitute for me. The law doesn’t want us so I say we don’t want it.”

“Spoken like a true smuggler,” Stephen gazed up at him, feeling like he could float.

Lucien flashed him the kind of grin that made shivers run up his spine, as he slid the magpie ring he’d had made to fit Stephen’s from his finger, “Now I know we already did this part but why not...take mine and I’ll have yours, if you don’t mind…”

His hand felt naked without the ring but Lucien’s larger one lying in his palm was a solid certainty, still warm from his lover’s skin. Stephen clutched it like a talisman, a delighted, bewildered laugh bursting from him as Lucien pulled him to his feet. The two of them stood facing each other like they were before an altar, framed in the enormous bay windows that lay the glittering entirety of Paris out before them. Neither man gave it a glance.

“Now, I’ll do my best to remember how it went at Leo’s though the wine might not be helping,” Lucien frowned as he thought, “Although, having said that, I was drunk for that wedding too.”

“Which one?” Stephen grinned teasingly, “The one years ago or the one last month?”

“Both,” Lucien hummed, taking Stephen’s hands in his own, enveloping them safely in his own, “Now…”

Stephen tilted his head upwards, taking a breath and focusing on Lucien’s face. Something inside him fought through the burgundy fog and the giddiness and the fear of those emotions that felt too big to hold, something whispered focus, this is important, you’ll want to remember every second.

Lucien slid Stephen’s ring back onto his finger, fitting it perfectly where it had sat since last December, “I, Lucien Vaudrey, take thee, Stephen Day, to be my completely unlawful but much devoted and adored husband to have and to hold from this day forward. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, when you’re vomiting over the edge of an ocean liner or in health, so on and so forth and whatever…” he clearly abandoned the traditional vows and his eyes softened with sincerity, “You are the person who woke up my heart when I’d rather forgotten i even owned one. You’ve saved me, you’ve made me a better man and you’ve put so much trust in me. All I can do is swear to you that I am yours, completely and utterly. For whatever it's worth to you, my love.”

For a few moments, Stephen couldn’t speak or move or do anything but stand in place with his eyes fixed on Lucien’s and wonder what the hell he’d done to deserve the place he stood in now. He only realised how long he’d been struck dumb when Lucien stifled a chuckle and pointedly cleared his throat, prompting Stephen to scramble for the ring and nearly drop it, managing to get it onto Lucien’s finger.

“Um, okay, ah…” he shook himself, “I, Stephen Day, take thee, Lucien Vaudrey or Crane or Fortunegate or Day or whoever the hell you want to be, I’ll take every single one of you as my unlawful husband and I’ll do it gladly. I’ll take you for better or worse, though God knows we’ve had plenty of the latter. For richer, hard to do in your case, or poorer, even harder to do in my case. In sickness and in health and whatever else the world wants to throw at us because I swear, you are the best thing in my life and nothing is taking you away from me now. Thank you for helping me see something worthwhile when I look in the mirror, thank you for being that little bit more stubborn than me, thank you for...everything. For the whole damned world. I don’t know what I can do to pay that back but I can promise you I’ll try.”

“You can start by kissing your husband?” Lucien’s voice was rough and thick and if Stephen didn’t know his lover better, he’d say there was wetness on his eyelashes.

Not that he had time to properly take note before he threw himself into Lucien’s arms, kissing him hard enough that he would have buckled if he was a shorter man. Instead they met and melted into each other, kissing hard enough to bruise, hard enough that there would be aching jaws to go along with aching heads the next morning.

And outside of the window, Paris still glittered, gaslamp stars in their cobblestone sea, the Seine the path to the rest of the world that lay beyond. All of Europe, all of Asia, wherever they wanted to go was waiting.

And it would have to wait. Because tonight all that mattered was each other.

[spoiler1001]

Lucien knew that he had known the wizard. The memories were gone, but Lucian felt a familiarity with him, but there weren't the physical memories there. Lucien felt like he was missing something being thrown at him. He knew all of them, the new companions they each brought forward an emotion from him. The wizard brought forward too many emotions. It almost made him want to lash out. Lucien felt a rush when he dispelled that shield, making the snowfall over the group.

The meal was silent and there was a moment where the group had no idea how to proceed.

Until the wizard turned himself into a giant orange owl. Which was shocking. Lucien could see him as he was but could also see the new form. Pride flashed grim his chest. That was new.

The flight to continue to speed up the journey to the city. It was nice to not have to chase them anymore. Lucien found Caleb's feathers warm. He wanted to purr and a small chirp escaped his chest. The tower was welcome. Sleep sounded wonderful but…

"How did you know the other-" Lucien asked from the doorway of Caleb's room. Caleb froze. His hair was down the shade a wonderful color of copper. There was a streak of silver under his hair.

"Mollymauk was a friend. He pushed me to be better." Caleb wasn't looking at Lucien. He was still, his shirt half off.

"Is that why you can't look at me now?" Lucien kept his distance.

"No. I last saw Mollymauk differently than most of the group." Caleb sighed.

"And how was that?" Lucien took a step forward. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Like this." Caleb turned around and Lucien was face to face with his echo. Mollymauk stood in front of him and looked at him with red eyes, but with a white film that almost seemed pink. The skin was pale and bruised. The lips were chapped. There was a bloodied wound on his chest. Lucien blinked, his natural eyes showing him the image of the body, but he knew this was Caleb.

"Oh."

Caleb nodded and turned around and dropped the disguise. "Veth and beau have the ability to forget the pain of that day. But I remember everything."

"I don't know what to say to that." Lucien's tail froze.

"Just know- if the worst happens, we, my group, have concern for you, as you, Lucien. Your friends might not be able to say the same." Caleb put on his sleep clothes. "Our priority is you going home."

Lucien stood there in silence. Caleb kept his back to Lucien. Lucien couldn't hear breathing, so he just backed away. "Rest well Mr. Caleb." Caleb let his breath go.

"You too, Lucien," Caleb whispered. Lucien walked out of the room as Caleb sat there with his face in his hands. Lucien made his way to his bedroom.

It was beautiful. Linen and silk were everywhere, soft pillows covered the bed. He laid on the bed and was swallowed by comfort. Lucien took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He thought about staying getter for a while. Laying here, he could forget about all of his worries.

A high pitched meow grabbed Lucien's attention. Lucien looked up to see an orange cat looking at him.

"Hello dear. You're a special creature aren't you?" Lucien smiled and reached a hand out towards the cat. "Come here, darling. I won't hurt you."

The cat took a step forward and rubbed against Lucien's fingers.

"Your boy needs you." Lucien hummed.

The cat just meowed at him.

"I'm not your boy but I appreciate your concern." Lucien pulled his hand away and curled into the bed. The cat walked closer to him and laid on Lucien's chest.

He fell asleep, with the cat purring on his chest.

---------------------

Caleb wiped the tears off his face. "Keep an eye on him," Caleb whispered. Frumpkin chirped and ran up the cat door.

"Why do you hate us?" A female voice whispered as the door opened. Cree stood at the door.

"We don't hate you." Caleb sighed straightening himself up.

"You can never leave well enough alone." Cree snapped.

"We just want him safe." Caleb sighed.

"No. You want him. You'll just get him killed again." Cree hissed. "But if it will get you from stopping him from finishing his duty, here." She slammedsomething into his chest. He cradled it with pure instinct. 

"What is-"

"Your friend. The thing keeping you from as him alone." Cree grabbed his head, chanting softly. 

Caleb gasped and his eyes fogged over. 

He felt his memories shift. Instead of Lucien walking away from Caleb with sad eyes, he was angry, Lashing out at Caleb with magic. He remembered Lucien using the blood magic to suffocate him. He was dead. His body froze. His breathing became slow and shallow, still clutching the orb. Cree just tucked Caleb into bed and left the room. 

-------------------------

Lucien woke up to the orange cat jumping on him. 

"What's wrong?" He whispered. 

The cat just yelled. 

"Caleb- Caleb!" Lucien shot up and ran to Caleb's room, having his Tombtakers bang on everyone's doors to wake them up. 

Lucien opened the door to Caleb's room. He looked over at the bed and blanched. He could see Caleb getting pale, barely breathing. No. No. No. No. This was supposed to be safe. 

Lucien found himself at Caleb's side. The pearl in his hands drew his attention, but Caleb was fading. Lucien placed his hand on Caleb's chest, letting his eyes grow dark, letting his magic keep Caleb's heart beating. He was vulnerable but his eyes kept watch. Caduceus arrived first. 

He looked at Lucien with his jaw set. 

"It's not what you think. The cat brought me here and his breathing was faltering." Lucien whispered. "I'm keeping his heart beating." 

"Let me take over," Caduceus said, casting zone of truth. "What happened." 

"I don't know. I talked to him and he was physically fine, just missing his friend. He showed me the injury that killed him. I didn't see anything that would make it seem like he was hurt. This was supposed to be safer. If I have been awake, I could have done more." 

Caduceus cast greater restoration and Caleb took a deep breath. Lucien released his magic and let his hand cradle the back of Caleb's head. 

"Mollymauk…" Caleb looked up and touched Lucien's face. His voice was distant but Caleb seemed to be coming back to himself. 

Caduceus watched Lucien just grab Caleb's hand and squeeze gently. 

"Would you know who would do this to him, if he was completely fine when you spoke to him?" Caduceus asked. 

Lucien froze. "I know it wouldn't be your group, so it had to be one of mine, but I had said that I wanted to travel with you and we all agreed." 

"There's at least one person in your group that has no problem lying." Beau snapped. Lucien looked up. "If you really had nothing to do with this,"

"He didn't, but gather the Tombtakers." Caduceus sighed. Lucien stayed right next to Caleb.

The Tombtakers entered the room, bar one. 

"Where's Cree?" Lucien asked. 

The group looked around. No one had the answer. Lucien went quiet. "She went behind my back. She betrayed me." 

"She betrayed you weeks ago. This was a coverup. Caleb sat up. The orb in his hand flashed. "She called this Mollymauk." 

Lucien ran his fingers over it. "It would be best if you had this for now. I need to finish my lesson." 

"And Cree?" Beau asked. 

"Fuck her. You saw what it looks like out there. She'll be dead soon anyway." Lucien was still holding onto Caleb. "I'll stay here anyway. Keep Caleb safe."

The group looked at him. Caduceus nodded. "He's telling the truth. Let them rest." 

Frumpkin sat between the two of them purring calmly.