#THANK YOU I LOVE WRITING ABOUT CREEPY FOLKLORE STORIES

[clockworkgraystairs]

There is no such thing as vampires #1 || Jurdan AU

Jurdan Smut Week 2020   •   DAY 2

The prompt was technically dagger play...it didn’t really worked that way but HEY more smut! (vampire smut cough)

@jurdannet​   @jurdannetrevels​

Rating: E (no I don’t mean ‘everyone’)

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of blood, some biting (it’s a vampire au c’mon), swear words (just in case)

Summary: 

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both.

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying.

Extra comments: Just because I’m extra af, I’ll leave you the ambience music videos I listened while writing this. In case you’d like to hear them while reading:

Rain in a forest at night - Haunted Mansion/rain/thunder/wind - Narnia Lullaby

Written for: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ MA’AM AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR ALL THE HELP AND SUPPORT, FOR BETAING THIS UNENDING PIECE AND FOR HELPING ME CRAFTING THE IDEA FOR IT! ❤️

Part 1 ||  Part 2

Masterlist   •   AO3

“Please tell me again why are we doing this?” I ask for the third time, leaning to rest my head on my sister’s shoulder. We bounce as the uncomfortable van we travel in turns to a cobbled path, leading us deeper into the woods. 

“Because,” Vivi hisses back. “Your little brother is currently in his Twilight-obsession phase, and he just broke up with his girlfriend so we’re trying to cheer him up!”

“He’s 9! And they lasted like, what? Four hours?”

In that moment, Oak turns violently from the front seat, scowling at me. “First of all Jude, we were together two full days ok? She was the love of my life and suddenly she’s not sure about us anymore? Now I shall never find love again! I might have to become a priest. I expect a little consideration.”

Vivi ruffles his hair affectionately. “We absolutely understand, your sister here doesn’t have an ounce of romance in her veins but of course she supports the cause.”

That said, he returns to his place. I bite my lip hard, trying not to laugh. Typical Oak. I love my brother I really do, even if half of the time I can’t understand his dramatic outbursts.

Sighing, I stare through the window, to the heavy clouds gathering on top of us. Great. We are probably far away from the highway by now, nothing more than trees, rocks and occasional wild animals around. For some reason, our father had thought that there was no better way of fixing a kid’s broken heart than going on a quest in search of legends and hidden castles. 

The thing is that apparently, it works. Instead of an incessant whining about love being doomed, my brother spends the days throwing the most random facts about werewolves, vampires, ghosts and any impossible creature. To be honest, I don’t think wikipedia and the Twilight books are a reliable source, but if it makes Oak happy I could live a couple of days with it. And most importantly if I have to choose between this or spending the week back at home with my mother and twin sister going to tea parties for old ladies, well, the answer is very clear.

I remember reading a few books about myths when I was younger. When I turned fifteen, I developed a hard crush on Brad Pitt after I saw Interview with the Vampire, filling half of the walls in my room with posters of him. Even now ten years later, I actually enjoy talking about old folklore and legends, urban myths and stuff like that. 

What bugs me, are the fraudulent morons who want to take advantage of Oak’s naive curiosity to engage us in the most ridiculous tours that were obviously a waste of money. So far, we’d entered three “museums” where most of the so-called relics were made of plastic, and a haunted house with special effects so poorly done, father had discreetly asked for his money back. Only another two of the places we visited were actually interesting, but since the guides spent most of the time flirting with Vivi or me, it had annoyed our father. 

Now though, we are driving behind the car of an old couple who swore their ancestors owned a castle where true vampires had lived once. The sole mention of the word “castle” was enough to make Oak hang from our father’s sleeve begging to go.

I’m not going to lie, it is an intriguing idea. But I remain a little worried about how much money Madoc is ready to pay before he hurries his little son back to his fantasy books and videogames.

“Dad, did you know that vampires like to live in the woods because it allows them to make racing competitions without being interrupted?” Oak asks with enthusiasm.

Madoc gasps. “Do they? Is it because they’re so fast?” 

Okay, he might be willing to pay more than I thought. Next to me, Vivi muffles a laugh and keeps taking pictures for her instagram, occasionally asking for my help.

Upon arriving at the castle I have to suppress a curse. This, now, is a real castle. Nothing like the pitiful buildings we’d visited before. It is huge, made of pure stone and a modest wooden bridge that connects the entrance with the spot where the cars park. A slight fog covers the sides of the castle giving it a creepier look. 

A shiver goes down my back. I turn to find my family who are all equally gaping at the place in front of them. Oak is visibly shaking with excitement. Vivi shoots me an astonished look before taking my brother’s hand and following the couple across the bridge.  

The first thought that pops into my mind is that this place must have been taken out from a movie. Or set up for one. Maybe this is one of those pranks for TV. There is no other explanation for the massive room we find behind the giant front gate. Every inch of the walls is covered by paintings, several images barely recognizable through the dust. Aged furniture rests under dust and spiderwebs, pointing out they haven’t been used in quite some time. The illumination doesn’t help either. Electric lights hang from a few spots on the walls, though not enough for the big space, which I suspect is the reason that long candles are lit up too. 

My next thought is that I should’ve brought my sweater. The damn place is freezing. 

“Phew, sorry about the dust!” The old man says, flashing an embarrassed smile to us. “We were not planning to have any visitors yet.”

“You said this is going to be a museum?” Madoc asks, carefully surveying the walls. Next to him, Vivi tightens her hold on my brother’s hand to prevent him from starting to run around. I swear his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. 

“It will indeed! This place has been in our family for generations, but since it’s hard to adapt it to modern technology it was abandoned.” He turns to Oak and winks. “Not to mention the creepy things that happen here all the time.”

His gaze widens. “What kind of things?”

“Well, some distant relatives used to try spending their vacations here. But after a couple of days they left in a big rush, claiming some strange force had commanded them to go away.” With a lower voice, he adds. “They also mentioned noises coming out from empty rooms and dark hallways. Steps. Shadows that followed them along the place.” 

For a second everyone remains silent. The only noise I can hear is the wind outside and the start of a slight rain. Somehow my hands are even colder.

“The legend says,” The woman, whose name is Marrow if I remember it correctly, continues while taking one chandelier with her hand. “This was the hideout of ancient vampires, how many, we don’t know. But they didn’t appreciate people trying to live within their domains.”

“So why come here at all?” Vivi asks. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It might be.” She shrugs. “But that’s half of the fun, isn’t it?”

“We like to think we’ve found a safe way to open this castle to the public without taking any risks. We will use a part of it as a museum, to show some of the family relics. But be aware, no one is allowed to go further than the marked area.” He signals at the yellow tape stuck on the floor forming arrows.

“If you please...” Marrow says, motioning at the stairs where the markings start.

They get me for a moment, not gonna lie. The surroundings and the way they speak are creepy enough to make me doubt my beliefs for a second. I shake my head to clear those thoughts away and walk behind my family. There’s no such thing as vampires or haunted castles.

We go through passages. Madoc has to remind Oak to not touch anything, constantly. From what I see, he’s living his best day. Several counters line up side by side against the wall. Some of them contain jewelry, others weapons, old writing pens among other things. Most of them carry a family shield, although it’s too blurry to properly identify what it says.

The rain thickens outside and Marrow keeps talking. She tells the story of her so called ancestors, whose family were big enough to fill all the rooms in the castle. Elwen, Eldred… something like that, and his many wives had once lived here. Along with his abounding children. I see in Oak’s face the intention to ask about how that family arrangement worked but Vivi gives him a slight pull of his hair. 

I would have thought our guides would try to keep a proud name for their so-called ancestors. But they don’t. In fact, she seems particularly interested in explaining how Eldred’s cruel and terrible nature brought him nothing but disgrace. His once prosperous castle and assets were gone little by little. He claimed he was under the effects of a curse, but no one dared believing him. At least not until people started disappearing.

I stop listening at some point, focusing my attention on the relics in front of me. I’ve always felt a significant attraction to weapons, but not the ordinary ones like guns or rifles. These ones though, such beautiful daggers and swords. I’d give a kidney just to hold one of them. 

On the next shelf books pile one next to the other, the dust around them a clear sign of how long they’ve been unbothered. All except for one. The navy blue cover has almost no dust at all, yet it looks like it would fall apart with a gentle blow of wind. The title is partially gone, probably through time. 

I turn my head to my family but they’re gone, probably to another corridor since I can still hear the muffled voice of Marrow and my brother. Would she care at all if I check out that book?

I bite my lip. As long as it doesn’t break it’s probably alright. Standing on the tip of my toes I reach for it.

“That is an excellent book.” 

I shriek and whip around, my hand flies to my mouth trying to cover the embarrassing sound. The book falls open next to my feet.

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both. 

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying. “My personal favorite. Too bad the author was a poisonous bunch-backed toad.”

My mouth opens to apologize, but I only manage to let out a strangled. “Shit”

The stranger lifts an eyebrow and chuckles. 

“Sorry, I- that wasn’t what I meant to say.” I stutter. I feel as if my heart has jumped to my throat. “I wasn’t trying to steal the book.”

“I did not say you were.” He answers, his voice is like velvet.

I nod and take a deep breath. “I came in with my family. Marrow is showing us the place.”

His dark eyes wander down my body, but not like one of those rude men on the streets. No. Something in his gaze feels feral, like an animal sizing up his prey. A strange urge to run pools in my stomach, yet at the same time my muscles seem to have forgotten how to do so. 

He looks me in the eyes again and it’s all gone. I let go of the tension in my back and a breath I didn’t know I was holding. When he smiles again, I feel as if I could trust him. Why shouldn’t I?

“And are you enjoying the tour?” He bends to pick up the book I’d dropped before and puts it back on the shelf. His movements are fluid and carefree. I doubt I’ve ever seen such elegance in a simple action. It is unsettling as much as it is attractive. Then I realize I’m supposed to answer.

“Yes, this is amazing actually.” I look around and take in the aged stone of the walls and ceiling. In that corridor there’s only one electric lamp, the rest is only lightened by candles. I can see our shadows dancing along to the flames. “All of this really helps getting in the ‘mood’.”

“The mood?” 

I look at him and notice his tilted head. “Yeah you know, the mood of enchanted castles and old legends. This is well put enough that a credulous person would believe any story. Marrow is pretty good at it too.” Motioning a hand to him I add. “They even have their own actor.”

A thunder roars outside. “I beg your pardon?”

I roll my eyes and flash him a smile. “You don’t really have to keep the charade with me. I’m not some schoolgirl.”

“Yet I managed to pull a scream out of you, didn’t I?” The way he says it feels as if he was talking about an entirely different subject. Heat creeps up my cheeks.

“That was… not the same.” I mumble. “I didn’t hear you approaching. That could scare the living hell out of anybody.”

“I have been told I am quite sneaky, I concede you that.” He nods. “Why don’t I give you the rest of the tour? As an apology, of course.”

He’s doing his job, I remind myself, he’s not flirting with you. 

“You haven’t even told me your name.” I say. “If we’re roaming around a castle together I should at least know who’s guiding me.”

That sounded an awful lot like flirting. Dammit. 

“Cardan, at your service madam.” The tone he uses feels like a caress, he bows his head in a way I’ve only seen in movies. He takes his role seriously. I almost chuckle, but the sound dies in my throat. 

“Cardan.” I repeat, just for the pleasure of doing it. “My name is Jude.”

He straightens. “Delighted to meet your acquaintance.” He answers and offers me his arm. “Shall we, Jude?”  

I can’t believe how far away my family has gone. Cardan and I walk through a couple of corridors and still there is no trace of them. Did we take that long talking?

He’s an excellent guide, I have to acknowledge that. 

While Marrow uses a tone of suspense and mystery, Cardan has this melancholy in his voice that sounds as if he’s talking about a memory. It’s bewitching. He also drops the most ridiculous “facts” about the people on the paintings. I refrain myself from asking if inventing things is allowed for employees, because saying that the girl with the pearl necklace enjoyed to play on the beach while saying she was the Princess of the Sea, certainly sounds like it. 

“If you bite your lip one more time, I am going to do it for you.” 

My heart skips a bit and I let go of my lower lip. I hadn’t realized I was tugging it. It’s an unconscious habit. I turn to him and I find his gaze different, hungry. It sends a shiver down to a place I know it shouldn’t. He arches an eyebrow as though he notices it.

“Is that a thing vampires like to do?” I say, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing I want him to know is that for the last twenty minutes I’ve been listening to him speak wishing he put a different use to that wicked mouth of his.

His gaze doesn’t change. “It is a thing I would like to do.” 

I am pretty sure my expression is giving me up by now. Knowing my traitorous body, I’m probably flushed, my mouth open in awe. Desire coils inside me.

At my lack of answer, he continues. “Why don’t I show you something vampires really like to do?” 

He walks back without letting go of my hand. I notice he steps out from the marked section and into a forbidden corridor. 

The sensation returns, the one that is telling me to run. The problem is that I don’t know whether to run away, or straight to it. My mind wants both and my body, only one.

“You’re going to the restricted area.” I’m partially surprised by how breathless my voice sounds. “You can’t go in there…”

Cardan pauses and a confused expression crosses his face. A second later, it returns to his charming and teasing smile. “Are you afraid?”

I am. 

Yet, I don’t care. I walk into the shadows with him.

As we cross the passage darkened by the lack of chandeliers I tell myself this is a terrible, terrible idea. The way he devours my mouth the moment a door slams shut behind us, convinces me it is the best.

Cardan pushes me against the wall, the cold temperature of the stone goes through my clothes making me gasp. He takes the opportunity and kisses me harder, his tongue explores my mouth with such deliciousness I have to bite back a moan. 

My fingers are tangled in his hair pulling him closer to me, if such a thing is even possible. His hands are everything but still. They roam intensely from my breasts, down my sides and finally to my rear, where he grabs me, pressing me against his pelvis. I hear him groan and the sound makes something clench inside me. 

Before I can double-think about it, one of my hands lowers to rub his hardness, still hidden behind his trousers. His breath hitches. He pulls back a bit and whispers to my ear. “Needy little human.”

I frown a moment, something about his words not clicking inside my brain but whatever it is I forget it the moment he slides his cold hands under my jersey. I yelp at the sensation, not sure if what flutters down my back is a result of the temperature or the eagerness which he’s holding me with. When he reaches my bra I hesitate for a moment. Cardan pauses too and leans back to stare into my eyes. 

“Do you want to stop?” His voice is throaty and charged with desire. Still, he doesn’t make a move, waiting for my answer.

An instinctive part of me knows this is something I shouldn’t be doing. But that’s definitely not any close to me wanting to stop. Without removing my eyes from his I take the hem of my jersey to pull it over my head. The piece of fabric hits the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it. Once again Cardan’s gaze roams me in that predatory way. 

I don’t stagger this time.

When my bra falls to the floor too, I take his hand and guide it to my jean’s button. “Do I look like I want to stop?”

Without hesitation he yanks the button open and slides his hand inside to cup the apex of my thighs. The contrast of my warm skin against his coldness makes my hips buck. Cardan buries his other hand in my hair and tilts my head back. I can feel his lips nipping down my jaw and my neck. A moan escapes my lips as he swipes a finger along my heat. He hums in response, the vibrations of it against my neck makes my eyes roll back.

He continues his ministrations until he feels me wet enough to slide a finger inside, he curls and pulls out. Then back inside. My breath comes out in elaborated pants as he quickens his pace. My hands almost finish unbuttoning his shirt when he slides another finger through my folds, his movements turn fast and punishing. Wet sounds taint the silence around us. As pleasure takes full control of my body I cling to him like a life saver, trying to muffle my moans.

“Let go Jude, let go for me.” He breathes next to my ear. My back arches and I sob a curse, writhing down on his hand. 

He slows down as I come back from my orgasm, but never stops. Despite the freezing surroundings a drop of sweat runs down my chest. My heart beats as if I just ran a marathon. Cardan’s lazy moves continue, frequently grazing that spot that makes me mewl.

I hear him sigh. “You smell so good.” He claims my mouth one more time and bites me hard enough to make me wince. His tongue caresses my lower lip and a warm throb expands through my veins. He freezes and pulls back, releasing me. I stare at him in confusion, or at least as much as I can manage giving my current state.

He pants a couple of times before looking up at me. There’s a fiercess in his eyes that would’ve been scary under normal situations, right now, it only makes me want him more. He swallows before finally speaking. “If we go further, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice is like sandpaper.

My body seems to work on its own account, as I move to cup his face between my hands. “I already told you.”

“Jude…” He warns me, but I interrupt him joining my lips to his.

“I want this.” I breathe into his mouth. Cardan lets out a defeated groan before pulling my body back against his. Either he’s been holding back or it is until that moment that I realize how strong he actually is. He kisses me like a starved man and I can feel my pulse rise once again.

Soon his shirt joins my other clothing. My fingers trace his chest and torso, marveled at the softness of his skin. I mimic him moments before and kiss his neck. A low sound that almost resembles a growl comes out from his throat. My hands travel lower.

Somehow I manage to free his raging erection from his trousers, closing my hand around him. He hisses and then tilts his hips up to my touch. I start pumping him with unsure movements before gaining confidence to do it harder, tighter. Now it’s his turn to curse. Even though it sounds like something taken out from a Shakespeare novel, it makes my core pulse. 

Cardan grips the hem of my jeans strong enough that for a moment I fear he’d rip them away. 

“Take these off.” He demands instead.

I’m not sure of how I manage to do it. My mind feels blurred with a mix of sensations. Disoriented, not sure about exactly how my body is doing all of that, and the bliss of knowing I’m enjoying every second of it.

Before the air hits my skin, Cardan lifts me from the ground. My legs circle his waist in a reflexive move. His lips quirk in approval. Then my back is once again pressed against the wall, making me arch in a failed attempt to avoid touching the cold stone. A sound leaves my mouth, though it is not clear if it’s a protest or a moan. I hear him chuckle in my ear and I turn my head, searching his lips.    

His kiss is slower but still deep. I feel as if small electric sparks are tickling every single one of my nerves. More, I need more. Cardan holds me in place with his hips, letting his hands wander up and down my legs.

The tip of his shaft is grazing my core over the thin fabric of my remaining piece of clothing, with an aching slowness that is not enough to ease my thirst. More.

I might have said that out loud because Cardan’s hips grind faster against me. It feels so good. And yet, it’s not enough.

I whine his name like a plea. 

He continues for a couple of torturing seconds before reaching between my thighs again. There’s no teasing now as he moves my panties aside and immediately sinks his fingers inside me, pumping in and out with a pace that has me gasping in no time. He murmurs something I can’t understand and lines himself up to my entrance.

With soft, deliberate movements he slides through my heat, letting me feel every inch of him until he’s completely filling me. Then he stills. My muscles twitch around him, trying to adjust to the invasion. The exquisiteness of it is making my head swoon. 

Cardan grabs my jaw and locks his gaze with mine. I can imagine what he’s looking at. Hooded eyes and flushed skin, though he doesn’t let me think a lot about it as he starts to move. Slow at first, with careful strokes that quickly evolve into long and deep. My mouth falls open at the sensation and my eyes shut.

“I warned you.” I hear him pant. “That there was no coming back.”

A whimper escapes my lips. I’m not even sure I’m actually trying to say something. He doesn’t seem to care either and leans to whisper to my ear. “You are mine now, Jude.”   

There is something in the way he says it, his words carrying some compelling implication I can’t fully catch. His lips trail down my neck and I want to answer. To tell him that I am, that after the way he’s taking me, how could it be otherwise? 

That’s when I feel a sharp stinging pain on the base of my throat. 

I cry out and try to shake it away but whatever it is won’t let me go. Cardan’s words echo at the back of my mind, Needy little human. 

As if sensing my thoughts he grabs my thighs and opens them wider, he thrusts into me harder and faster. Everything mixes in sensation. Pain leaves as fast as it came, leaving behind it that throb in my veins I can’t really explain. It is more intense now, what I felt as warm now is scorching. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, I’ve never felt so exhilarated before in my life. I don’t want it to stop. 

Cardan sucks on my neck again and I moan his name. Without realizing it, I’m on the brink of another orgasm. I only realize it because he groans when my legs start to shiver around him. I cling to his neck and his hair. If I’m pulling too hard I can’t really know. A familiar swirl comes up from my core to the rest of my body as I spasm around him. It takes me a moment to notice the broken moans and sobs I hear come from my own mouth. 

He keeps going a little longer until his fingers tighten over my skin, surely leaving bruises on both thighs. Muffled moans ring against my skin as he comes, thrusting in a couple of times more before stilling. A warm sensation covers the place where we join together.  His mouth lets go of my neck. I grunt and shiver. 

He puts me down carefully, still holding my waist, which is good considering I don’t know if I’m able to stand by myself. I feel dizzy. Cardan lowers his lips to mine one more time. He’s slow and gentle as though he’s worried. There is a slightly metallic taste in his tongue but I don’t pay attention to it. I trace the fine features of his face with trembling fingers. Little by little my senses start to take in the surroundings, the cold. 

The place rumbles with another crack of thunder.

“You have to go back.” Cardan says, barely pulling his lips apart. Go back. I frown, then images of my family crash in my mind. I look around searching for the door, there is something  on the floor. I realize soon those are my clothes. Shit. The tour, Oak. How much time have I been gone?

I dress in a hurry, not really caring if I put on my jersey correctly. He does the same but with the calm an elegance he has.

Panic must be written in my face because he grabs my chin and turns me to him. “Hey. Calm down.” He soothes me. Then his tone changes, turns commanding. His eyes are darker too. “Listen to me. You are going to do exactly as I say, do you understand Jude?”

I want to ask why, but for some reason I only nod. Cardan grabs my hand and pulls me out of whatever room we were in. “You must follow this passage until you find a way to turn left. Then continue until you see a painting of a black snake then turn right, you cannot miss it or you will get lost. Walk straight, and you will be back to a safe area.”

“But-” I start. I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t understand why but I don’t want to separate from him either. Which is nonsense, I barely know him and still...

He interrupts me. “I cannot go with you, I have lost so much control already and I don’t think…” 

“Cardan, I can’t-” 

A growl echoes in his chest and he pulls me closer to him. While his voice is still hypnotizing it sounds threatening now. “You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. Now go if you intend to leave this place alive.”

Then he's gone. I can’t recall if I blinked or turned, because a moment before I could still touch him and now he vanished.

I take a deep breath and start walking. Focus. Go straight, then turn right. Or was it left? 

All passages look the same, some spaces don’t even have a painting or anything at all to help me differentiate them. Sometimes I whip around, thinking I heard a familiar chuckle behind me. Distant rain is the only sound that is a constant companion, but even with it I’m able to hear an echo of every step I give. It unsettles me more with every minute that passes. Although I feel more in control of my body than before, my knees falter constantly and a sensation of tiredness slides over my mind. 

I find the snake painting just as I’d started to think I would be trapped here forever. 

It’s huge, and despite the years that have probably passed the scales still seem to shine. The head is painted in an angle that gives the illusion of the eyes following the person looking at it. It doesn’t help that the candle’s flames also make the snake look as if it’s moving. Stalking. Before noticing, I start hyperventilating. I shut my eyes close and turn away. Something is terribly wrong with me, I need to get out. 

Turning right, I start running. I cover my ears fearing that if I don’t, I’ll start hearing the snake’s hiss behind me.  

I cross an arch made with the same stone and stop right in my tracks upon realizing somehow I’m back at the room where we first arrived. I blink to adjust my eyes to the change of light, since here’s where all the electric lamps are. The room is empty though. 

I’m not sure of what I am supposed to do now. Sit and wait? Go out to the car?

While I’m weighing my options, trying to choose any that doesn’t imply dropping myself on the floor to have a panic attack, I hear murmurs and steps getting closer.

“Jude!” My little brother yells and runs to me. Behind him, Vivi scans me like she’s trying to find something wrong. I straighten my back and put on my best calmed face.

“Where were you?” She demands. “We lost you hours ago! Are you ok? You look pale.” 

Always such a mother hen, I sigh. “I’m fine. I fell behind and lost y’all. Then... I guessed it would be better to just… return here.”

I try not to frown at my last words, since I didn’t fully intend to say them. You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. 

“Jude knows how to take care of herself.” My father adds. I could hug him, but we’re not exactly the affectionate type. So I just flash him a smile.

Vivi does not look convinced but still stands down. “I guess so. The weather did a mess with your hair though.” A flash of Cardan’s fingers pulling from it to gain access to my neck sends a shiver through my body. Had that really happened just minutes before?

Before I can answer, Marrow calls for us. We turn to find her standing next to a big set of paintings that apparently were covered with a curtain. “You cannot leave without meeting the royal family.”

The canvases are ordered to mimic a family tree. A man with a severe expression rests at the very top. Eldred, I assume. Just by looking at it I feel judged. I can’t imagine what was like to actually live with him. The pictures of his wives look all so different but under them, their sons do have resemblance to one another. A weird sensation tickles my fingers as my gaze continues travelling over the paintings. Finally, I get to the last one. Once more, I cover my mouth to avoid  an undesired sound.

Staring back at me I see Cardan. 

I don’t care if it’s a painting, there is no way I could not recognize those features. Those lips.

“A big family, I see.” Madoc’s words seem so far away.

Marrow hums in agreement. “The Greenbriars always felt proud of their vast offspring. Such attractive sons and daughters. It’s a shame the curse took most of their lives all those centuries ago.” 

“Did he…” I start, without knowing how to continue.

She approaches me to look at the canvas. “Ah, young master Cardan. He was the last one of Eldred’s children.” Then a frown appears on her face. “There was a lot of controversy regarding his death. Some say he died because of the curse, some others say he was the curse. The books all have different versions.”

“That sounds creepy as fuck.” Vivi says. 

“Creepy as fuck.” My brother mimics her, the thoughtful expression on his face makes him look ridiculous. We cackle as Vivi shouts Oak he’s not supposed to say bad words.

By the time we get out of the castle the rain has decreased to a drizzle. 

Madoc carries Oak on his shoulders, listening to his non-stop squeals of excitement after visiting what he calls ‘a real vampire hideout’. This time, I don’t find the words to contradict him. Vivi is the first one to get to the car, shouting back some nonsense about the Greenbriars needing a protection hex. 

The moment I step down from the bridge something shifts in my head and I feel as if I had just woken up. 

Perhaps it is me who needs a protection spell after all. 

Before closing the car’s door, I turn to the castle one more time. Marrow and her husband wave at us from the front gate. 

A dull ache throbs on the base of my neck and my hand flies to the spot. I retrieve it and see blood staining my fingers. 

My heart misses a beat when I lift my gaze to the upper windows, where a tall figure with white shirt and dark hair is looking right back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @jurdanhell​ @nightbringer​ @b00kworm​ @mysweetvillain​ @thefolkofthefic​ @yafandomsdotnet​ @vanessa172003​ @booksandothersecrets​ 

If you wish to be tagged/untagged (or if I forgot to tag you like an utter idot) please let me know!

[seijorhi]

asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

[tsainami]

— A MASTERLIST OF T. SAI’S ONGOING PROJECTS

hello, hi! my name is sai (otherwise known - at least at this point in time - as t.sai or @tsainami​) and i write fantasy. (i also avidly read fantasy, which is probably obvious but... if you care to talk about fantasy books... i’m all ears) under the cut you will find a list of all my ongoing, active wips to benefit those who are curious and are seeking to know. i have a total of three primary works. all fantasy (though they do vary in sub genres). as you can read them practically everywhere else i’ve linked, i have included no blurbs in this post - just the main tropes and comp titles + elevator pitches. feel free to take a look see!

↳ adult / ya fantasy > clockpunk — page ⋄ tag ⋄ characters ⋄ playlists ⋄ wattpad

arkane studio’s dishonored meets v. e. schwab’s a darker shade of magic in this story of an outcast from a destroyed universe trying to find his missing heart...

tropes: addictive magic, alternate identity amnesia, ancestral worship, another dimension, another world, artifact of doom, bad powers + good people (and vice versa), betrayal, bizarrchitecture, bit of dungeon punk, crapsack world, creepy clockwork, cults (just a bit in this installment), estranged siblings, family angst, fate worse than death, gray and grey morality, grouchy guardsmen, hero or villain, magic a is magic a, magitek (just a bit in this installment), mausoleums as churches, organ theft, punk punk things, rogue royalty, soul jar, technology vs. magic, time is of the essence (actually tho), villainous rescue. [to be updated]

↳ adult fantasy > science fiction fantasy — page ⋄ tag ⋄ characters ⋄ playlists ⋄ wattpad

mark lawrence’s red sister meets asuka katsura’s blood+ in this tale of religious intrigue set in a world inhabited by a banished race of humans tinged with cannibalistic tendencies... 

tropes: all romantic love is unrequited, a.n.g.s.t., anti-villain, anyone can die, ascent to a higher plane of existence, black-and-grey morality, body horror, corrupted clerics, crystal dragon god, even evil has its standards, fictional racism (sort of - it goes for what type of ‘cannibal’ you are), heretical hell, precursors, science vs. faith, terror heroine. [to be updated]

↳ adult / ya fantasy > historical fiction — page ⋄ tag ⋄ characters ⋄ playlist ⋄ wattpad

osamu dazai’s the setting sun meets amal el-mohtar & max gladstone’s this is how you lose the time war in this story of political intrigue, monsters and magic set in a world inspired by shōwa japan... 

tropes: anti-heroine, bad bromance, botany things, deadpan dueling, curses, fate worse than death, hanahaki disease, japanese folklore & myth, found family + found family fluff + family angst, insert paranormal tropes, immortality pursuits, mad scientist, necromancy, plaaants, politics, several things worse than necromancy + politics (and at least 1 other thing as great as plaaants), rivals to other things, realism with running gags, the tragic villain.  [to be updated]

if you want to be added to the taglists for any of these or my general taglist or have any questions (if that’s a thing) - feel free to yell at me via my ask box! thank you for your time!!! <3

[alixanonymous]

Things That Got Me Through 2020: A Long List Of Random Recommendations

Hi! 2020 was awful but throughout it I found a lot of amazing things to get me through it. So just in case things get tough some times in 2021, here’s some wonderful distractions, amazing stories, and things that I just loved in general. Hope you enjoy any that you give a try! Also, I always love new suggestions if anyone has any!

BOOKS (Or actually just one book because I did not read nearly as much as I though I did)

- The Martian By Andy Weir (Sounds like it would be really depressing, actually one of the funniest books I’ve ever read! Can’t recommend more.)

WEBCOMICS (What a great year to discover WebToons I tell you)

- Lore Olympus By Rachel Smythe (Worth the hype in my opinion!)

- Let’s Play By Mongie (I enjoyed this much more than I could’ve imagined, my romance loving self squealed when reading certain parts.)

- SubZero By JunePurr (Amazing balance between romance and plot.)

- The Remarried Empress By Alphatart/Sumpul (Reads like a soap-opera, main character is my favorite type of female protagonist, smart, confident, and not ashamed of it, love interest is adorably infatuated and I live for it.)

- In the Bleak Midwinter; By Kat/Ali (I got sucked into this one. The world building is great, the world itself is so interest and I loved the premise.)

ANIMATED SHOWS (20 minute episodes came in clutch this year with my short attention span due to anxiety)

- The Dragon Prince (If you like animated series at all, you’ll like this I think.)

- RWBY (Season 1 is good, Seasons 2-3 are pretty great, 4-5 were not my favorites by any means, 6 is pretty good, Season 7 was sooo good!)

- Ever After High (Thanks @raesofmoonlight for the recommendation! Possibly the best character design I’ve ever seen. Watch it if you can!)

- Avatar: The Last Airbender (Zuko alone is worth watching the show, add in all the others, the world building, the humor, the writing, just watch it already if you haven’t yet.)

- DC Superhero Girls (Sometimes I think about this show’s version of Bruce Wayne and start cracking up.)

LIVE ACTION SHOWS (I’ve been so caught up in animated shows since March I forgot I watched some really good live action ones till right now)

- Galavant (A medieval musical. Pretty short episodes, hilariously silly, my favorite way to lose twenty minutes of my life at a time. If you’re not sold yet, how about this: They started the second season by singing a song about how they didn’t think they’d get a second season.)

- Anne With An E (Gilbert Blythe owns my heart and soul and wow the show is so much better than the typical teen dramas. Love the historical aspect too!)

- Jane The Virgin (I got so attach to this show’s character my goodness. Top tier writing I think.)

- The Umbrella Academy (This show is so freaking addicting. It’s never what I expect it to be and I love that. I love the music, I love the action scenes, I love the characters. Watching the second season now, wow the characters make you feel for them. )

MOVIES (I’ve never watched so many movies as I did this year so here are my favorites, although half are DC animated ones so sorry if that’s not your thing)

- The Martian (One of the best book to movie adaptations I’ve ever seen, Matt Damon was the perfect person to play Mark Watney. )

- The Entire DC Animated Movie Universe (My favorites are Justice League: War, Son of Batman, Batman v.s. Robin, Justice Leagus v.s. Teen Titans, Reign Of The Supermen, Justice League: Dark Apokolips War but I think it’s worth just watching them all in order. The characters are all so great. Most of them have amazing team dynamics.)

- Batman: Under The Red Hood (If you like Batman, you’ll probably like this movie or maybe you’ll hate how emotional it makes you either way.)

- Miss Americana (This is the Taylor Swift documentary. I actually just discovered how much I love her music and I found this to be super fascinating in showcasing how the media portrays female entertainers.)

MUSIC (I have this horrible feat or people judging my musical taste so if you do please do it silently)

- Taylor Swift (This year has really just been non-stop Taylor Swift for me. Her albums Folklore and Evermore in particular helped me come to terms and cope with 2020 as a whole.)

- Hamilton: An American Musical (I’m not even going to bother to sell this one, there’s no need to.)

- The Little Mermaid: The Musical (I like fairy tales okay and Alan Menken is a musical genius and I will fight anyone who’s says otherwise.)

YOUTUBE (This definitely needed it’s own category)

- Philip DeFranco (I got really overwhelmed with all the news this year so most days I decided to just watch his twenty minute show everyday and it really helped. Just a good way to keep up to date without getting overwhelmed.)

- Technoblade (Okay, real talk: MCYT took over my life since I discovered it in August. I could make a whole separate list of all my favorite minecraft youtubers but I decided to just put my favorite, the Blood God himself. You might consider it a sign of the times that my family and I watched The Potato War saga on the television on Thanksgiving. Highly recommend his whole Hypixel Skyblock series or just his Skywars Solos or everything he does actually.)

- BuzzFeed Unsolved (Great way to get a good laugh in and also learn about creepy cold cases and also aliens. The two host, Shane and Ryan are the best. Ghost in general are fun.)

- Tingting ASMR (Shoot! I almost forgot! A large portion of my sleep last year was due to this woman. I’m not really one for ASMR myself, I don’t really love whispering in general but I really love her approach and I find it super calming!)

Okay! I think that’s it. I hope some of these things bring some of you joy or peace. Please give me any suggestions you have. I am always open to recommendations. Happy New Year everyone!

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

What’s this? a new episode of “Another Kindof Chameleon”, AKA, Lila find a miraculous and becomes a hero!... or something.

“Thank you so much!... Again, sorry… yeah… See you tomorrow” Lila ended the call and sighed sadly.

“So, how did it go?” asked Glamm, with one eye in the tv and another on Lila.

“Surprisingly well. I learned a new swear word from Alya.” Glamm did what Lila guessed was raising an eyebrow at her with their creepy eyes. “Ok, maybe I’m not that bad at lying without an elder god doing the persuasion for me.” She added, avoiding both of Glamm’s eyes.

“I prefer the term eldritch abomination, but go on.”

“Yeah…” Lila avoided Glamm’s gaze and picked up a magazine, pretending interest. “That’s why I told her via a call… She wasn’t happy about having to delete the interview because my mom had found out and was furious at me for ‘exposing us like that’… Y’know, in hindsight, It’s a relief that no shady criminal, let alone Hawk Moth himself tried to do something when everyone thought I was Ladybug’s best friend”

“Bad writing” said Glamm matter-of-factly, floating towards Lila.

“Uh?”

“The magazine you’re pretending to read. It has bad writing on all their articles.”

“… Oh…” she put the magazine away. “Anyway, ready for our literature homework?”

“You mean your literature homework” Glamm teased Lila. She just stuck her tongue at her kwami.

“You know what I mean. We… I have to make an analysis on Cinderella”

“Cinder… OH! Ye Xian! It’s amazing how her story has evolved over time. One of my first holders”

“… you knew the original Cinderella?”

“One of many. Miraculous and Miraculous holders are part of a LOT of fairy tales and folklore worldwide. C’mon, making a common peasant girl look like the most beautiful noblewoman? That was me!”

“So she did marry the prince and became a queen?”

“What? No, she just went out for a night of fun, but her step family recognized her – my bad- and we had to flee, and long story short, she lost my Miraculous.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Nah, the King of another Island found my Miraculous and asked me what was going on, and I told her about good ol’ Ye Xian. He went to search for her and married her. It was very romantic.”

“I guess the story of this book is nothing like you just told me Fairy GodKwami”

Glamm shrugged.

-

It has been almost a month since Lila’s debut as a super hero. Thanks to Alya uploading her fights with the other heroes, her popularity had been on the rise, with people praising the group of “Ladybug, Chat Noir and Chameleon”…. She wasn’t happy that Alya had named her that, as everyone latched on the name, and she thought it was way too basic for her tastes.

But, as Glamm had pointed out, the other heroes were literally named “Ladybug” and “Black Cat”, so her name actually made it feel like she was a part of the team, unlike the more elaborate “Rena Rouge” or “Queen Bee”, much to her annoyance, Lila had to concede the point. And feel strangely giddy at the thought of herself truly belonging to a team. Not that she would admit it.

It didn’t help… or it did, that people immediately latched on the name and Glamm pointed out, even if she tried to name herself something different now, people would still call her Chameleon, so it would be better on the long run to accept the name and own it.

She had fought another akumas in that time, and had made a good synergy with Chat Noir and with Ladybug. Sometimes she copied Cataclysm, sometimes she copied Lucky Charm. Sometimes she didn’t need to do either, and instead got ice cream when she helped defeat Mr. Pigeon. Again.

She felt oddly proud when she heard her classmates talk about her hero persona, some of them, of course, still liked Ladybug better, and Chat Noir had her own fans too. She was surprised to hear Alya telling Ella and Etta now liked Chameleon better, because she looked more fun, which prompted Sabrina to confess she actually liked her too. People started to talk about the new hero and Lila had to excuse herself when she heard Marinette, of all people, commenting that it was hard to imagine a time before Chameleon was with Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

And then things got worse… or better… she didn’t know anymore, after arriving at school one day, and finding Alya making an interview with that Gabriella girl, the one that had became Dollmaker and was, technically, the first person Lila helped save. She totally didn’t count Mister Pigeon.

Curious, she approached in silence and saw some of her friends (err… classmates?... she felt weird that her first thought was “friends”, but shrugged it) around them. And what she saw almost made her cry on the spot.

Gabriella had very nicely posed, a doll of Ladybug, a doll of Chat Noir and… a doll of Chameleon. All in nice poses and much better done than the official merchandise from the movie (That Ladybug had told her one day that they weren’t consulted on those). “Her” doll was very nicely done, and was posed with her tongue whip.

“She’s my favorite” Gabriella’s voice snapped Lila back to reality.

“Really?” asked Alya, whose favorite was still Ladybug.

“Yeah, I mean, I know Ladybug and Chat Noir work hard, but I was the first akuma that Chameleon battled and…”

“Wasn’t that Mister Pigeon?” asked one of the students. Lila glared at him, as did Alya and Gabriella.

“I mean, she only arrived when Ladybug had practically won already… and it’s Mister Pigeon… he attacks the city every other week… No offense to Mister Raimier.”

“Anyway, yeah, Chameleon’s design is a bit more intricate than the others, and I plan to eventually do the others too, like Rena Rouge, I already ordered the hair and I have the base dolls for her”

“Dolls? Plural?”

“Yep. Well, the reason I asked you for this interview, apart to show off, is that I actually made two of each hero, and I would LOVE if this interview reached our heroes. It’s not much, but I would love to give them their own mini-me. “

Lila was… emotional for the rest of the day. She tried to justify Gabriella’s actions as just wanting to gain the favor of the heroes, but she felt so sincere.

“She is what she is” said Glamm after class, when they were going home. “I didn’t perceive any ill intentions from her.

Lila just nodded. She felt a knot in her stomach. If it had been her, she would have commissioned someone like Marinette to do the dolls and then give them to the heroes. But this girl… she had spent money and time and her talent on being grateful to them, as a sort of reward that she sincerely didn’t expect…

She wouldn’t call it a “waste”, and it wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened, not even to her, like the Ice cream she received from Mister Raimier, or the hug she got from August, but she wasn’t saving them to get something… wait…

“Lila?” Glamm called as Lila had stopped on her tracks, having a bit of an existential crisis.

Wait… hadn’t she become a hero in the first place to get the love and adoration of the people of Paris? Why was she feeling weird that one of those people actually wanted to reward her?

They were very close to reach home, where Lila could have a very nice existential crisis in the comfort of her own home. Glamm was so busy trying to get Lila to snap out of it that neither he nor Lila noticed that someone had reached them.

“Lila? Is… is that a Kwami?”

Well, that made Lila snap out of it.

[closecore]

Hello fine person on this lovely evening, I've got a book rec for you if that's your thing. It's called "Walking Sam" and it's available on Amazon. It's a creepy midwestern gothic about this Native American legend, but it's also got a low-key sweet side to it as well. It's by a super unknown author and I managed to stumble upon it by accident because not much is known about the Walking Sam myth itself. Anyway, your blog is cool and I admire your taste in liminal spaces. Happy trails.

I feel like I’m gettin hazed ^^’ are you referring to the Deanna Lynn Sletton book, Walking Sam, a Lake Harriett Novel, or the Walking Sam series by an independently published Amazon author known as Bailey Fouraker, of which I can only find evidence of a book 2?

Although I appreciate the recommendation, I should also let you know I tend to steer away from media that brands itself as being about ‘Native American’ culture, namely by non Native authors, as they’re usually misguided, push harmful stereotypes, mistruths, or are outright racist. It’s usually ignorance that leads to stories about “Native American folklore” as there are over 550 Native tribes with varying traditions, cultures, languages, and religious practices, and lumping any or all of them together is usually a bad sign.

I have heard good things about these contemporary books by Native authors though, if anyone is interested!

Robopocalypse, by Daniel H. Wilson, is about a sci fi near future populated by dangerous, sentient machines, a topic of interest to Wilson, who eagerly and apparently quite frequently writes about robots, and whose gripping works and strange worlds he builds in his writing is influenced by his Cherokee heritage. I hear it’s hard to put down, and a favorite of not just his own fans, but fans of disaster books in general.

Murder on the Red River, by Marcie Rendon, is a dark comedy about a young woman who accidentally discovers she has an almost supernatural ability to solve crimes, and uses this skill to track down the murderer of a Native man whose death wasn’t given the attention it deserved by authorities. (I’m going to buy and read this one, it sounds fantastic!)

And, of course, though not by a Native author, if you’re in the mood for a solid American gothic podcast, I cannot recommend Alice Isn’t Dead enough, which is about a lesbian trucker trying to solve her wife’s disappearance.

I’m sorry if I came across as blunt or rude! I often struggle to put my thoughts into words. I appreciate your patience. If any followers know about Walking Sam, feel free to tell me! And thanks again for the kind words, and for reaching out! Take care of yourself, and I hope you have a lovely weekend.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 3

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3422

Author’s Note: Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. 

@thoughtslikeaminefield​ , babe, I love you, and I love this story so much.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Breathe, sweetheart, take a deep breath and hold it. Watch me, follow my breathing.” Dean’s hands, warm and solid against her clammy skin, hold her face so she has no choice but to look right at him. 

His eyes pierce the haze of fear that locks her lungs, and she pulls in her first shaking breath since she spotted the doll. She must have screamed, because one moment she was alone with the damned thing, and the next he was by her side, pulling her out of the room.

“Come with me, we’re getting out of here. Right now.” In a habit that miraculously stayed with her since she first knew him, Kimber stumbles after Dean, her fingers clutching his with a level of desperation that would leave her shamed if she had the thought capacity to care right now.

They’re out the front door, in his car, and speeding away before she even realizes he’s on the phone. 

“Yeah, Sam, I saw the doll on her bed. Front door was definitely locked when we got there, but I didn’t get a chance to check the windows or back door. She’s talked to the cops before this, they didn’t do shit then, but maybe now that the bastard actually went in her house. I’m taking her back to the motel.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, listening intently, his lips pressed thin and tense. Her face is wet, and she realizes she’s crying. She takes a moment to wipe away the tears streaming from her eyes, discreetly clearing her throat. She has a strange, disconnected moment of panic when she realizes she left her purse in the house and the door unlocked, but she shoves the words back down her throat so fast she nearly chokes.

That horrible...thing...on her bed, and she’s worried about her purse?!

Priorities, Kimber, she scolds herself. Dean is talking when she comes back to the moment, and she catches him mid-sentence.

“-agree with Kimber, I think it’s probably a witch. Gonna check for hex bags, ask her about anybody that might have a motive. We’ll go over her house when you get here, but I’m gonna try to keep her out of sight in the meantime. Don’t have a tail, but I’ll keep an eye on the way to the motel. See ya in the morning.”

He hangs up, eyes flicking over to Kimber then back to the road.

“How you holdin’ up?” The genuine concern in his voice breaks through the worst of her panic, giving her something other than her growing dread to focus on.

“I...I’ve been better. I mean, I know that nothing actually happened, but...Dean, I-”

“Oh, no, I totally get it,” he says, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “Fucking dolls, I hate ‘em. That creepy shit absolutely ain’t right. Anyway, we had no idea if someone was still at your place. Better to high-tail it, regroup, and plan than get stuck in a shootout with somethin’ that might not even go down with a bullet or five in it. You heard me talkin’ to Sam?”

She nods, doing her best to hide her sniffling. Without a word, he opens the glove box, pulls out a napkin, and hands it to her. She takes it gratefully, failing in her attempt to discreetly blow her nose while boxed into a moving vehicle.

“Thanks. The thing is, though, as far as I know, nobody has a motive to want to hurt me.”

This time he only lifts one eyebrow. “You, a college professor in a highly specialized academic area that’s typically full of eccentrics at best and nutbags at worst, have no students with chips on their shoulders? No jealous colleagues? Never forgot to tip the barista or leave a Christmas bonus for the janitors? Really?”

Her face heats up. She’s thinking like a scared kid, and she should know better. She may not be a hunter, but she knows the lore, knows the signs, and she really should know better.

“Okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly. Just...gimme a sec to get my head on straight.” 

She sucks in a sharp, deep breath through her nose, focusing on a droplet of water that’s sliding down her window. She presses air slowly from her lungs, watching the drop gain speed as it joins with more water dotting the outside of the glass, repeating the process until the raindrop slips off the window and her thoughts are focused again.

“I haven’t actually had to fail anyone in my classes lately, but I suppose someone could have held a grudge from previous semesters or just not been satisfied with a lower passing grade. As far as I know, no one in the department is jealous of my position. I’m not really anything special, literally just a glorified storyteller. I’m not on any boards or committees, I haven’t received any awards in a few semesters. No particular nutbags lately, but…”

She frowns as he pulls the car into a motel parking lot. Something is tugging at the back of her mind, an almost non-incident from a few Thursdays ago. She’d dismissed the conversation as random but harmless, but even the smallest details could be life or death. She’s been shown this over and over in her dealings with hunters. It’s about time she learned from other people’s mistakes.

“There was something, a few weeks ago, but I can’t quite remember,” she says, frustrated at how inadequate her memory is proving at the moment. The vestiges of panic still cling to the edges of her mind, leaving her thoughts scrambled and disjointed. 

“Think on it. Let’s get checked in, get somethin’ to eat, and you can tell me then,” Dean offers. 

She smiles her appreciation at the reprieve and climbs out of the car to follow Dean into the motel office. She uses the time Dean spends, first talking and then arguing with the clerk, to jog her memory, trying to recall everything she can about her encounter at the end of a self-defense class the previous month. 

It had seemed so harmless at the time, and nothing odd happened afterwards. At least, not that night. But as she stands next to Dean, straining her memory, she realizes Helen’s accident was just two days later. Her unseen watcher trailed her for the first time a week after Helen’s fall. Then Professor Lawrence a few days after that, and just last week Allen and the stapler.

She feels the heat of shame flooding her face. She’s a researcher by profession. How did she never put the pattern together? People have been hurt, nearly died, because she was too stupid to connect some dots? 

“I connect dots for a goddamn living,” she mutters to herself, earning her an odd glance from Dean. He turns back to the clerk, who shrugs.

“Take it or leave, sir.”

“Fine,” Dean growls, shoving a credit card at the man. Five minutes later, Dean unlocks the door to a room with two queen-size beds whose decor calls strongly back to a decade long past and best forgotten.

“I think they decorated this place before we were born,” she murmurs, earning her a tired smile from Dean. “At least it’s clean?”

He nods, tossing his bag on the bed nearest the window. “Sorry we have to share, they’re full up. Some sort of convention in town?” 

She hesitates, her stomach fluttering uneasily at the thought of a wall between her and Dean. “I don’t mind. I think...maybe it’s safer this way, in one room. I would offer to get dinner, since you paid for the room, but…” She trails off, empty hands spread at her sides. 

“Not a problem,” he says, dropping down on the bed and reaching for the phone. “Know anywhere good that delivers?”

 Forty minutes and two cheeseburger combos later, Dean lifts her reprieve and presses her for information again. The food helped ground Kimber’s jittery brain, and she’s thinking clearly for the first time since she spotted the doll.

“A few weeks ago, after self-defense class concluded, a guy came up to me. I’d never noticed him before, I thought he was new, but he said he’d seen me a few times and wanted to know if i would go get coffee with him. I wouldn’t have said yes, regardless, because...I mean, picking up dates at a self-defense class? Feels kinda predatory.”

Dean nods, lips pursed as he listens. He’s stretched out on his bed while she’s opted to sit in one of the two chairs by the table a few feet away. Kimber scrubs her face with her hands before running them back through her hair. 

“I just...I got this weird vibe off him, though, Dean. He may have found me attractive, I don’t know, but I seriously doubt it. He didn’t really want to ask me out. I have no clue why he asked; I could tell he wasn’t into me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his face was kind of stoney the whole time? Almost like someone put him up to it even though he really didn’t want to?”

Dean frowns, just as perplexed as she is.

She sighs, resting her chin in her palms and elbows on her knees. “I know. He was acting just a little too off. On top of that, I didn’t know him at all, so I turned him down. I wasn’t rude, at least I don’t think I was. He just accepted it, though; he didn’t push or even look upset. He didn’t really look anything at all. He just left. I didn’t see him in class again after that, and, honestly, I’m certain I had never seen him before.”

Dean rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t...I mean, yeah, maybe. A strong maybe,” he conceded. “But we need more information. Even if that guy is our perp, we need to find out more about what’s actually going on. Sam can help me look over your place tomorrow; you and I can search your office. We should check out the other accident scenes. Did anyone else in your class see the guy or talk to him?”

“Maybe the teacher?” Kimber offers, stifling a yawn. She’s weary to the bone and suspects she may still be feeling the after-effects of shock. She stands, intending to hit the shower in the bathroom, when she remembers just how quickly they had to leave her house.

“Um...Dean, I didn’t get to...we left my place so quickly. Do you have anything to wear that I could...borrow?” She doesn’t mean to sound so hesitant and vulnerable, but her emotional filter is fading with her energy, and she doesn’t have it in her to put up a tough front.

His eyes widen, and he jumps up from the bed to rifle through his sports bag. He reaches out, holding what looks like a white t-shirt and pajama pants. She takes a step towards him to accept them just as he moves over to meet her, and they both stop just shy of a full-body collision.

His fingers brush her skin as she accepts the clothes, and she’s annoyed at how her hands tremble from the brief touch. Her eyes flick up to find him watching her, his color high and lips parted. His hands close more solidly around hers, fingers rough and welcome against her wrists. Her pulse quickens, and that cold spot near her heart ratchets up a couple more degrees. 

His pupils dilate in response, black circles swallowing the mossy irises. Dean’s tongue flashes over his lower lip as he swallows convulsively, and her eyes track the movement. She wonders for the span of a single breath if he still tastes the way she remembers. It would be so easy to find out; just step in, drop the clothes.

All she has to do, really, is reach out.

…

Her fingers paused halfway between them, hesitating. He glanced up from his plate of pie, eyeing her curiously. Feeling suddenly, deliciously brave, she brushed her thumb over his lower lip, swiping a bit of whipped cream he’d unknowingly smeared there. She sucked her thumb for just a moment, self-consciously looking away as her cheeks blazed red. 

She’d never been so forward before, brazen even, and while she was proud of her courage, she was still shocked she’d had such nerve. She risked a peek at him across the table just in time to see him flick his own tongue over the exact spot her thumb had just been. He caught his lower lip under his teeth, grinning at her, somehow looking just as flushed and off-balance as she felt.

“You, uh...taste good,” he murmured, eyes shining. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up at his sweet, simple sincerity. 

“You do, too.”

They had finished tutoring early, and it was only their second week. Dean was keeping up just fine in class, so she was more than happy to accept his invitation for a snack at the nearby diner. The day was pretty warm for mid-September, and they were technically still supposed to be at the library, so she asked if he’d like to maybe take a walk and talk some more.

“You’re just using me for my stories,” he said with a mock pout as they strolled down the sidewalk. “Is that all I am to you? A source of entertainment?”

“Dean, you’re the best show on. I wouldn’t even skip the reruns.” She felt so light around him, so comfortable and giddy all at once, like he was sucking the oxygen from her atmosphere while giving it right back to her all at once.

Just when she felt like her chest might burst holding all this inside, she reached out and linked her fingers through his. She felt a slight falter in his stride (or maybe she imagined it), and they walked on. She asked him about his family. He told her less about his Dad, more about his little brother, and nothing about his mom, but mostly he asked questions.

What did she like to read? Where was the best pie in town, because that place was not it. Where did she have her favorite birthday party growing up? What did she want to do when she graduated? Favorite family vacation? Favorite holiday? Was it as awesome being an only child as it seemed, or were there actually drawbacks he didn’t know about? What did she really think of his jacket, be honest?

Eventually, they found themselves back at her house, not quite time for her to be home yet. She was reluctant to say good-bye, and if his grip on her hand was any indication, so was he.

“I know!” she said suddenly. She tugged his arm, leading the way around her house and into the backyard. Neither of her parents were home from work, so she didn’t have to worry about their well-meaning interrogation as to why she was dragging the new boy around by the arm.

“Ta-da!” She spread her arms wide, grinning as she indicated the treehouse she and her dad had built together only a few years earlier. “Best craftsmanship, all the comforts of home, minus electricity, heat, air conditioning, and plumbing!”

“You mean it’ll hold us both, and there's some pillows and blankets up there?” He laughed, his grin growing as she glowed back at him. 

“You get me so well!” she squealed, grabbing his hand and tugging him forward again. “Come on!”

Though the structure swayed ever so slightly, it didn’t embarrass her by creaking, and there was plenty of room for the two of them to prop up against one of the walls, stretching their legs out on the nest of cushions and blankets she kept up there during good weather.

Rather than settling down, her heart began to beat against her ribs so loudly she was certain Dean could hear it. Her shoulder brushed his, and she could feel every minute shift of his body. Her nostrils flared a little as she steeled herself and turned to meet his intent gaze.

“I would really love to kiss you right now,” he said, his voice low and velvet soft. 

“Does that usually work on girls?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes glued to his impossibly lush mouth.

“Why, is it working on you?” The raw want in his voice was unmistakable, even to her inexperienced ears. No boy had ever looked at her the way Dean was right now, as if he’d never seen anyone else he’d rather kiss. He reached up, slid his fingers into her hair, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

“Yeah, it, um...it really is.”

He tasted of cherry pie and coffee. Years later, she would recognize that kiss as the moment her dependency on the caffeinated beverage began, but at the time, she wouldn’t have recognized her own mother. His lips moved gently, so tenderly it stole her breath and made some random spot in her chest clench painfully. 

She turned, leaning across him, almost on her knees. Her fingers slid over the impossibly silky bristles on the back of his neck. He shivered under her touch, lips parting from hers as he sucked in a sharp pull of air. 

“Kimber,” he murmured, eyes closed. She nudged the tip of his nose with her own, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed the smallest of kisses to the corner of his lips. Dean’s breath caught, and then he pulled her up into his lap suddenly, tilting her head just so before claiming her mouth again.

She didn’t know how long they sat in the treehouse exactly like that, learning each other’s contours and tastes, trading kisses and caresses but nothing more, until she heard the front door of the house close. 

Kimber jerked upright, shocked as if she’d been dashed with a bucket of ice water. She’d honestly forgotten there was a whole world that existed outside the two of them in the treehouse. The sun was much lower in the sky, almost gone in fact.

“It’s almost dark, Dean, I have to go inside.” She spoke reluctantly, the words pulled out against her will. She didn’t ever want to be responsible, even indirectly, for telling Dean he had to leave.

Dean’s chest rose and fell rapidly, one hand holding tight to her waist as the other began to reluctantly untangle from her hair. He leaned forward, brushed her lips with his one last time before wordlessly encouraging her to put herself to rights.

Kimber checked the backyard to make sure the coast was clear before leading Dean down the ladder to the ground. 

“If you go that way,” she said, pointing out a thin spot in the hedge at the far side of her yard, “it’ll take you right out to Evergreen Drive. One more block over, and you’ll be on the same street as the school.” He nodded, glancing in the direction before turning back to her. 

God, his eyes. 

She was frozen to the spot and on fire all at once. In all her seventeen years, she’d never felt anything as intense as Dean just looking at her. How did he do that?

“I think I’m going to, uh...need a few more study sessions,” he said softly. “We might need to really get...in depth with the material.” This time his smile was a little shy, a lot less cocky than the first time she worked with him. And yet there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that let her know Dean Winchester would absolutely be worth every bit of trouble he got her into.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” she said, intentionally not addressing his statement. For one thing, she didn’t think she could match his level of casual innuendo without sounding like a complete idiot. For another, she didn’t trust herself to respond without turning bright red. 

She turned towards her house when Dean seized her hand, yanked her carefully back, and caught her face between both of his palms. This time the kiss was blazing, not a trace of the gentleness from the last hour, and when he finally released her, she stood dazed and shaken, staring at him completely unfocused.

“See ya,” he said. He grinned as he released her and turned, loping across her yard with an easy grace before disappearing into the hedge. ...

Chapter 4

[ts-unsolved]

Final Wrap-up for Chapter One

((since chapter one will be coming to a close shortly and there is still an assortment of questions left over, here is a masterpost of responses to queries that couldn’t be addressed during the story! 

[reminder: the ask box will be left open, however the characters are not available. please keep in mind that non-plot related questions will not be answered by the characters after this post.]

Anonymous said: ((Just wanted to tell you your drawings are so pretty and I love ur blog. That is all I have no braincells to ask questions))

Anonymous said: OKAY MOD I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH AND ITS SO COOL AND GOOD AND YOUR ART IS TOO!! sorry for caps I’m just excited

Thank you! Sorry I didn’t always get around to answering asks like this, but for every one that was sent in, I appreciated it with all my heart. You guys are angels 💖

Anonymous said: What is one haunted location you guys would really like to visit someday?

Poveglia is definitely the highest on the list for the notoriety alone, although they would likely never get the permission to go (the history in general is almost excessively horrible and tragic, so nothing good would come out of doing an episode there. Maybe it’d be good as a final-chapter type location? 🤔).

@anxious-fander-bean​ said: Hey Logan, have you ever tried swing dancing? It's really fun and good excersize! There's also a lot of bouncing and upbeat music, so Patton might enjoy it as well! ((I'm doing it. I need the qpp boys to be happy and have fun, bc they deserve it.))

(LOGAN: I’ll...consider it.)

You did it, you got them to go on some good ol’ platonic dates! B)

Anonymous said: I feel bad that I don't have any deep question or something along those lines, but what's your favorite thing to bake, Pat? - 💐

That’s alright! Questions don’t have to be deep to be fun/interesting. 

(PATTON: Cupcakes! You can make so many different flavors, and there are tons of fun ways to decorate them!)

@why-should-i-tell-youu2 said: Why cant anyone else see the seal?

You need to have The Sight to be able to see demon sigils. Patton has this ability naturally, and Dee has it because Elliott taught it to him. Otherwise, Virgil and Roman would be the closest in terms of gaining this ability, but a scared/skeptical part of them is holding them back. 

Anonymous said: My good dorks, is there a way to, I don’t know, get a better/more effective charm for your office? One that costs more than $10? -🍁

Anonymous said: Hey, Logan, potential naturalistic explanation for ya: depending on what the charm was made of, shifts in ambient room temperature could have caused minuscule expansions and contractions in the material that would eventually crack the charm. Do I believe my own explanation? Absolutely not. Am I grasping at straws for a non-supernatural explanation? Absolutely. And ambient room temperature doesn’t even begin to explain the red symbol around the charm

(LOGAN: Our budgeting is already a mess as it is, the last thing we need is to waste more funds on decorations. And that theory seems much more reasonable than the contrary explanation.)

Anonymous said: Is the demon that Pavreen summoned the same demon that possessed Elliott?

Anonymous said: Welp Virge SUMMONED A DEMON- (Why do I have a feeling Remy was the demon that possessed Elliot-)

Nope, they’re all different demons! The demon that Parveen summoned is notoriously difficult to contact, so a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t have been able to do it. Likewise for Remy; you can only summon him once you have his True Name, and he’s already destroyed most references to that (sorry Patton).

Anonymous said: omg omg omg what part of mythology is remy part of???

He’s not from any particular mythology, but he is partly based off of Alps from German folklore and the general mythology around sleep paralysis!

Anonymous said: Can Patton see supernatural beings like ghosts and demons and stuff? I just think it would be interesting if his scars make him able to see them :3c

Anonymous said: If both Dee and Patton can see the sigil, and Dee can see ghosts, does that mean Pat can see ghosts too? With the whole red glowing thing (forgot what its called) it seems to be connected.

Yes he can see ghosts/demons, and you’re right that the scars (or rather the deal with the demon which gave him his powers and scars) are what lead to him being able to do it. The red is just a general indicator of something supernatural/not of our Realm.

Anonymous said: Wait so if Patton and his family all have that mark could that mean Patton is not completely human 👀 -🌈

I supposed you could say that Patton’s not entirely human because he’s a witch who was born without a soul, but he’d find that pretty offensive tbh.

Anonymous said: Are Elliott and Patton maybe related, even distantly? Also, roman needs to suck it up and have Feelings for the Snake Man

There’s no relation between Elliott and Patton. Elliott is the child of a seer and a psychic, Patton is the son of witches. They’re similar, but different. (Also you’re assuming that Roman hasn’t liked the Snake Man since high school, but considered him off-limits because he’s his brother’s best friend).

Anonymous said: Does Patton know that Dee can see spirits and does Dee know that Patton is protecting them all?

Anonymous said: Dee, pat, do you know that each other can see the sigil? 

Anonymous said: is ... is patton a witch and dee a dee-mon and that's why they don't like each other.....?

Anonymous said: Pat what do you think about making deals with demons?

They’re both aware of each other’s secrets! Technically they’re both doing their best to protect everyone, but that doesn’t mean they agree with each other’s methods or bond over the shared responsibility. 

Patton is indeed a witch, and Dee is a regular human who happened to summon a demon one time. Patton thinks Dee is the occult equivalent of a satanist, which he disagrees with because dark magic is unnatural/dangerous in his eyes (making deals with demons only leads to trouble!), and would prefer Dee not endanger his friends. Dee doesn’t like Patton because of his perceived moral superiority, and finds the way he can be so secretive and two-faced creepy 

Regardless, they’re both sitting in glass houses and have more in common than they think.

Anonymous said: Patton Should Hug Dee *

Maybe. But he won’t. 8′D

Anonymous said: Since Dee has been able to see ghosts for a long time, was he an open believer in ghosts before Elliot died? Since it was mentioned that the reason he lies about his belief is because he knows that they're dangerous, he wouldn't have had a reason to hide it in the past. And if he did are any of the others aware of the belief change? Well, besides Remus. I'm guessing that one is pretty obvious.

He may have been more involved as a believer in the past, though that doesn’t mean he was ever super open about it. He was aware of how it would look like to outsiders (being genuinely skeptical at one point himself), so he wasn’t going to paint a target on his back by talking about ghosts and demons and things most people can’t see.

Of course, that didn’t stop people from stereotyping and making those sorts of assumptions about their friend group anyway, but no one besides them really knew about their secret-- not even Virgil.

Anonymous asked: What would happen if one time, the gang ended up getting something supernatural on camera?

The result of that would depend on the being. Ghosts can kinda appear on camera, although it’s very rare for them to appear as a full bodied apparition, which is why they usually only manifest in spirit orbs or light/shadows. Poltergeists are better since they’re able to interact with objects, but likewise since they can’t manifest into a physical form they can easily be brushed off. Demons and other miscellaneous creatures will straight up not appear if captured directly on film; you’ll simply get video glitches and distortions.  

So essentially, they may technically have found something already, but capturing evidence that’s also compelling is a lot more difficult than you’d think. I imagine there’s a good chance that anything legitimate wouldn’t get taken too seriously because of how easy it is to fake evidence nowadays.

Anonymous said: Okay so a little bit of a rant but not really ig but imagine the ladylike and unsolved crossover for this AU like I can see it as like Thomas' friends dressing up Roman and Dee in style and seeing a blushing mess and maybe flirting going on because of how good the clothing complements each other but this is kinda a weak idea lol

It’s not a weak idea at it, it’s really cute! (though I may just have a soft spot for the Ladylike cast and crossovers). 

The only thing to note is that I’ve chosen not to include Thomas’ friends in this AU because I personally weird about writing fiction about real people? (I was on the fence about including character!Thomas for a while too, tbh). So, apologies to anyone who’s sent similar asks or wanted to see any of Thomas’ friends; they wont be around!

Anonymous said: Did Dee and Remus ever have that talk Dee said he would try to have a while back????

They might have gotten the opportunity to chat back when Remus came back to help shoot the Room 1046 video. It wouldn’t have been a complete reconciliation by any means (dealing with years of baggage in one sitting is Hard), but now Remus is aware that Dee is open to discuss things again at some point in the future, so progress!

Anonymous said: wait wHAT?! When did he (Emile Picani) die?? Give us the deets oh wise one

Anonymous said: emile is... dead? what happened?

I see y’all, but unfortunately you’re not getting any answers from me just yet! You’ll have to wait until the next chapter~.

Anonymous said: Shit is about to go down and I am worried about the next ghost "adventure"

:) Don’t Worry About It.))

[maverick-werewolf]

Folklore Fact - The Asrai

Here’s one that prooobably won’t be super popular, but hey, I find them super interesting, so I’m going to tell you about them!

So, there’s an entire unopened can of worms on this blog insofar as folklore as concerned, and that’s the fae. Faeries. Fairies. However you want to spell it (I generally go for fae and faeries). Pretty much the only time I’ve really mentioned faeries before on this blog was in this ask about elves.

Faerie folklore actually fascinates me and I research it a lot for Wulfgard, one of my primary fictional settings. Thing is, fae are extremely complex and researching them takes a lot of time and work and absolutely mountains of notes.

So I won’t get too into the whole fae thing in this post, seeing as how this post is about a particular member of the fae... the asrai, from English folklore.

Now, there’s a big question about the asrai: did people actually ever believe in them? That’s, of course, a question with a lot of folklore things. In the asrai’s case, firstly, we have no known etymology. Yeah, none at all. That’s a little troublesome. Though most sources also say they are also called “ashray.”

Secondly, we do know that - obviously - there are plenty of “water spirit” legends out there. Heck, asrai have some aspects in common with even things like mermaids and nix/nixie/etc in a lot of legends. It could very much be that “asrai” is just another term for any number of other legends of similar nature.

Possibly the first surviving record of the term “asrai” pops up is in 1872, in a poem by Robert Williams Buchanan. He also wrote a sequel to the poem called “A Changeling: A Legend of the Moonlight,” which connects back to their fae nature (changlings are associated with fae; more on that in another post sometime!). To Buchanan, they are spirits that love nature and die in the sunlight.

There is another record of the term asrai, used by a writer who may or may not have been citing accurate information, as the author was citing only stories told by word of mouth that were supposedly passed down through generations. The problem with citing “local stories” or “stories your grandma told you” is that it’s like playing the telephone game over multiple generations and literally hundreds and thousands of years, and some of those generations don’t even care about it, either. The stories get so distorted over time that they’re basically useless information and no one actually believed any of it. This is why reliable folklore sources come from recovered written works, not from word of mouth - because we can’t trust the collective generational memory (unfortunately), but writing does not change with people’s extrapolations and failing memories. As such, you won’t see any professional citing “local stories” that don’t have a written source, or things a relative told them. It’s kind of like asking a random American for some American history and then taking everything he says as the absolute truth, just because they’re an American. There are late night skits that make jokes about that.

Wow, that was a slight tangent. Anyway...

So we don’t know much about the actual folkloric sources of the asrai itself, but we do know it’s very similar to a lot of other legends and is almost certainly just another take on several other stories, like things about mermaids and other nature spirits. Or the name could’ve been entirely made up by Robert Williams Buchanan. We don’t really know - but he probably got it from somewhere. That being said--

What is an asrai, anyway? They cannot exist long in the sunlight. Does that mean they’re undead?

No, not at all. Many spirits and things couldn’t stand the sun, such as trolls in Norse myth. They are defined as “water spirits,” more often than not. They are described in a lot of different ways, but my favorite source I have on the subject describes them as women, tall and lithe, with translucent skin. Sometimes they are just water, sometimes they have actual bodies of some kind. Generally, they are hundreds of years old.

In Cheshire and Shropshire, there were almost identical stories of fishermen capturing asrai in their boats. The asrai beg to be released, but no one can understand their language. The fishermen in both stories put wet weeds on the asrai even as it groans in the bottom of the boat. By the time they reach the shore, however, there’s nothing left of the asrai but a puddle of water.

In one of the stories, the fisherman handling the asrai tries to tie her up, but touching her burns his hands and scars him for life.

And... that’s it, really! That’s pretty much all we have on asrai in particular... but definitely not on general water spirits and other such nature spirits and water beings. That’s a topic for another time, though. Same for the fae - there’s so much to say about fae I honestly barely know where to start!

As for pop culture: looking around on the internet out of curiosity, I found out that the wood elves in Warhammer are apparently called “asrai” sometimes. I find that weird and interesting, given I know next to nothing about them. Do they turn into water sometimes? Like, water spirits? I don’t even know. I do know they look quite cool and creepy. But hey, either way, that’s cool that they’d use the word.

So there you have it! Curious about what an asrai might be like in a story? Maybe you’re thinking they’d just be water elementals, like in a fantasy video game? I had a different thought. You can find an asrai in my upcoming novel Wulfgard: The Hunt Never Ends, available online on Amazon October 30! Be sure to check it out and keep an eye on this blog for the release post and order link! Here’s a preview:

Didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust, then to adapt, thanks to that potion. Faint moonlight spilling in let him see limestone walls slick with condensation and a violently gushing spring, churning the water on the far end of the cavern at the base of the wall. Spitting it out straight into the reservoir, the flow of it turning gentle by the time it left the cave.

Heavy mist hung in the air here, maybe kicked up by the water. But something didn’t seem right.

Then he realized why.

Fear washed down upon them like frigid rain – so much fear that, for half a second, it froze every muscle in Caiden’s body. His nerves pulled taut, ready to break and snap down on him like a whip, hard enough to leave a few more scars on his back. Hand shooting to his sword hilt in a white-knuckle grip, he drew in a sharp breath and fought the chill that ran fast up his spine and forced him to be afraid.

This wasn’t natural. Gwen, from the way she was suddenly fumbling with her gear, seemed to know it.

Asger, on the other hand, didn’t. He bellowed out a hoarse shout, nearly fell spinning around to face the exit, and ran for the cave mouth.

All around them, a shrill voice echoed, “Leave this place!”

It spoke the words very clearly – not the gibberish he’d been told about.

Everything happened at once. A rush of air ripped by him, trailing cold in its wake, like off the surface of the spring itself. Asger screamed, his heavy boots scuffing the stone as something made him stumble and fall. Caiden charged forward at a surging shadow, blade ready to swing.

And an arrow lodged itself in his upper arm with a hard lance of pain and a meaty thunk.

Caiden coughed out a grunt and staggered from the impact, the arrow locking up his sword arm and stopping him mid-strike. Whatever had come past him and attacked Asger seemed already gone, moving faster than he could even understand.

Gwen appeared beside him in an instant, hand on his uninjured left arm and sputtering apologies. “Caiden!? I – gods— I shouldn’t have tried to shoot it, it moved so fast—”

The cave around him was far from silent. Asger swore as he scrambled to his feet, Gwen kept on apologizing as she tried in vain to tug Caiden out of the cave until he, halfway in a stupor, finally staggered along after her.

Boots against stone. Grass under their feet, bright moonlight overhead. Plenty of pain in his right arm that twitched useless and limp at his side.

These sensations stayed, but something was missing...

Find more like this on Wulfgard.net - and be sure to keep an eye out for the release of The Hunt Never Ends on October 30.

(If you like my werewolf/folklore blog, be sure to check out my other stuff! And consider supporting me on Patreon. Every little bit helps and helps me run this blog, and you get goodies and a chance to vote on the topic of the next werewolf fact!

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[animeyanderelover]

Hi and Hello! Congratulation on getting over 90 followers dear! You are doing great and you deserve all the attention. That aside, I decided to go through the submission route cuz of the character limits as I have a few special ideas that I'd like to propose to you:

1. Love letters/Creepy notes - You could always go the good old classic way of doing things and go with the love letters or more so obsessively creepy notes more so in this case XD

2. A sort of reverse AU - I was thinking as a special is supposed to be a thing you are not usually doing we could maybe go with "Yandere!Reader" and ship them with either canon or yandere version of the characters. It'll allow you to play with diffrent dynamics and would offer something unusual.

3. Music Shuffle - We compile a list of music (songs may have yandere/dark vibes or not) and send a character and a number and you'd write headcanons/drabble/stroy based on any idea/vibes you get of the song you'd got. (You can either keep the playlist hidden so we don't know what song is what number or we can offer a number of shuffles and you'd shuffle the playlist that many times around.) [Also I have a playlist of yandere-vibes songs if you'd like some idea for that.

4.A one word prompt drabbles. We'd send a character's name and one word for example "rose" or "music" and you'd have to write a short story/headcanons around any idea such word inspires.

5. An specific AU the ones that come to forefront of my mind:

a) Soulmate AU - A classic. Headcanons/Drabbles placed in a Soulmate AU I have seen some really nice lists of such AUs if you'd like to look at them. Either we could sent a specific Soulmate type AU or you could choose one.

b) Fantasy AU - We could set the character in a position they are not usually in making some of the characters folklore/magical creatures and the like or switch around what they are. Like Angel!Sebastian or Nymph!Sakura kind of thing.

c) Hanahaki disease AU or the unrequired love disease AU - Hanahaki is a fictional disease that makes flowers grow around people's heart and lungs making them spit out flowers/petals untill the roots of the plant crushes the heart/lungs or suffocates the victim. It's born out of unrequired love and can be cured only by getting one's feelings returned or having it surgically removed loosing all feelings (for the person). It could be a interesting thing to play around within a yandere universe.

d) We could always make it a AU kind of event and send characters and a AU we'd like them in for the event as well.

Alright that's all I have atm but I may or may not send additional ideas at a later date as well.

Love you :)

animeyanderelover: Okay, let’s go through each of this individually.

The first idea sounds definitely very appealing to me and this is definitely something I would like to try.

The second one on the other hand is a bit risky for me since I like to keep it clean. Yandere!Reader and letting the s/o die are points where I’m very unsure if I want to write this.

The third idea seems like fun as well, but the problem here is that I only listen to K-pop, Anime music and Disney songs and I’m not very experienced with anything different so I would need some other songs as well. I think songs with Yandere or dark vibes would fit the best in here and I think if I’ll do this then I’ll do two separate playlists. One for K-pop and one for all the others.

The fourth might be a bit hard since it’s only one word, but as long as the word isn’t something too ridiculous I’m confident that I can do it.

The fifth point is something I already want to do. I even wrote in the rules for the Yandere Prompt List that if someone wishes for a Soulmate AU they just have to mention it in the request. The only point where I’m unsure about is c). I need to think about this point a bit more until I’m sure that I can imagine it well enough.

Thank you for this🥰🥰. It must have taken some time to think about this and write it❤️❤️❤️.

[slipsthrufingers]

Hanging Rock Anon Again! Took me a while to type up my thoughts: (1/3) I find it is fascinating that we never really get a reoccurring and clear look inside Miranda’s head. Hell, we never even get her last name. She seems to be a cipher that plays a different role or aspiration for the other characters. I think one of the reasons why Marion, Miranda, and Miss McCraw disappeared is that they are all disconnected or operating on a different wavelength from the rest of the world.

(2/3) Do you think they were specifically called to the Rock or that they stumbled onto some kind of supernatural force that was able to take those three because of their kind of otherworldliness? SPOILERS for anyone who has not read the book, the scene where Sara’s ghost shows up to Albert threw me through a loop. I had a feeling there were long-lost brother and sister. However, Albert tells it to Mike is just downplayed, which makes it more tragic and creepy.

(3/3) “Good-Bye, Bertie. I’ve come a long way to see you and now I must go” broke my heart. Because of this, I definitely think what happened was supernatural on some level. I got that a time warp was happening but not what was causing it or why. Maybe my childhood in mountainous, densely forested region of the US where the the land could seem imposingly alive & my knowledge of folklore makes me biased but I wonder if it is a genius loci situation???

I hate Mrs. Appleyard as a teacher, but I respect her hustle as a con-woman. The juxtaposition between Sara writing and memorizing a poem with Mrs. Appleyard’s believing that Felicia Hemans wrote "The Wreck of the Hesperus" was very funny to me. 

Thanks for letting me talk about Hanging Rock with you!

---

Caveat to my response: it’s been a good four or five years since I last read the book, so I’m a little rusty on it, but your examination of it is both delightful and insightful! 

I don’t know whether it’s supernatural or not, and I’ve always liked the fact that the book is brave enough to never, definitively answer it. I think it reflects on the mysteriousness of life; sometimes weird shit happens and there is no explanation for it. And you just have to live without knowing.

And I think the whole Sara and Bertie thing is a great example of that. They were separated as children and have gone so long without each other that they’ve almost forgotten each other. They pass almost like ships in the night. We go through life so close to those people who might have some significant role in our lives and sometimes we meet them, and sometimes we never do.

Mrs Appleyard, though, is a brilliant character. Up there with Nurse Ratchett from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. Do you think she killed Sara, or do you think that she just watched Sara jump from the window without doing anything to stop her? Does it matter either way?

I also love that it has become so well known in Australia (in a very surface level way) that a significant part of the population genuinely believe that it’s a story based on real events. 

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

👀 spare a WIP for a weary traveller

This isn’t going to happen for a LONG TIME but spoilers, eventually in Lucky Star, Christopher gets a little more human, and finds a hobby that he rather likes.

“You’re reading one of his?”

“What?” Ripley bent the mass market completely in half, setting it upside down on the coffee table. Samuels winced.

“That author,” he specified. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve read the whole series so far,”

“I didn’t think high-fantasy interested you much.”

“Not usually, but I’m over the shoot-outs, military lit, and what generally passes for fantasy anymore. Retro science fiction only goes so far too,” she shrugged. “But I kind of like this guy, he’s got a…I don’t know, his perspective is weird. I like it. Except that thing in this one, where they brought in the wyvren hatchery, the way they move…Reminds me too much of shit.”

“I like what he did with them though; dragons are far too beloved of a feature to demonize at this point, especially by a newer voice.”

“You read them?” Amanda perked up.

“…Technically.”

“What did you think?”

“I want to know what you thought—“

“Nope, you first.”

“I think they could have been better,” he began. “Too many instances where you can tell the author is merely reciting a scene instead of creating one. I think several conversations between the knights and their lords are taken from his own experiences,” there’s more he could pick apart, so much more, but Amanda looks crestfallen as it is, and he’s a little confused by it.

“Yeah but I don’t think he was wearing armor, or talking about a surge of monsters in real life.”

“Well, you never know,” he said with a slight grin. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know that I’ve met many, many people through the company. I could have possibly seen him one day,”

“There’s no fucking way that you’ve met McClaren,” Amanda crossed her arms.

“Why not?”

“He lives in Scotland, for one; two, he’s probably ancient, so what would he be doing in the HR office of Weyland-Yutani, on Luna?”

“I don’t know, but I am familiar with him.”

“You’re lying,” she didn’t bother biting back her smile—she never bothered to around him.

“I’m not lying, and I’ll prove it to you,” she didn’t ask him to elaborate further, and he vanished for a short moment to his office, returning with a hardcover of the second novel.

“So you own a hardcover?”

“Open it,” he said, handing it to her. Amanda raised her eyebrow at him, flicking through the pages, before falling back on something strange on the title page that she missed in her copy of the book.

“holy shit. He signed it for you? The guy never does signings!”

“How do you know he doesn’t?”

“I looked him up once...read a lot about him. I thought you’d like the series, and I was going to try to find a boxed set of it for a gift for you, and see if I could get it signed. But then I found out that a) he doesn’t fucking sign anything ever, b) no one knows what he even looks like, and c) there’s another book left."

“There’s at least one, but knowing him he’ll probably drag it out for another two. He isn’t exactly...aware of human time and space.”

“Wait...Are you still in contact at all?”

“Yes but you can’t talk to him. I’m afraid to lose you to him,”

“Shut up,”

“I am though; he’s no older than I am. And is…apparently, your type.”

“I have at least three types.”

“He’s…much like me.”

“Then I’d rather keep you, not the updated-famous-writer-you. But I just want to ask him-- I’m mad about the alchemist—how could she not know what she was doing? If the king was using her work to help breed the wyverns, she had to know something, she couldn’t be that blind.”

“Perhaps she thought her work would help someone she loved.”

“That’s a whole other thing, that weird statue-hexed-to-life thing by some fuck up of hers? It doesn’t have a soul or a thought of it’s own and it’s...It’s creepy. She never even questioned it. And as far as her research for the wyvren hatchery—how would she think that the king gave a fuck about her science project sex toy—“

“That is awfully cruel, she really thinks that given enough power he might be able to live outside of her study, to be a person.”

“She fucked him though. Without knowing that he can’t say no to her. It was skeevy.”

“We were sleeping together nearly a month before you realized that—at the time—I couldn’t tell you no—“

“Again different story—“

“—is it? And why do you like the character so much if everything she does bothers you that much?”

“…She’s on her own. She came from nothing and now works under the king, not at the big castle of course, but still.”

“I don’t think she thought she was helping the king’s project; or that he was trying to breed monsters in the first place. Her father died in a dead-end battle for him, but…it happens all the time. Accidents. Mishaps. She doesn’t know—“ “Wait, did her dad die at one of the dens?! Oh my god it’s too long until the next one. And shit, if--” Amanda stops herself. Samuels isn’t going to call the guy up just becuase she wants spoilers, but--, well. Actually, that’s the exact kind of thing that Samuels would do.

“She does find out; and her ‘sex toy’ finds the record of her father’s death.”

“How do you—do you have an advanced copy?” he leaves the room again, and she half expects another treasure, an early release with a note in the front, maybe? Instead, he returns with the notebook she had bought him for Christmas. 

“I’m…getting to the point where it’s beyond something that I can…bend out of my own experiences. I don’t want to lean too heavily on folklore but for now it’s the best I can do to avoid just copying out Beowulf.”

“…….You wrote a fanfiction?”

“Amanda, I wrote the whole series.” His partner is silent, and he’s wondering if she hasn’t already guessed it in the past, but she’s clearly in shock. “The author’s first two initials are ‘C. S.’ and that didn’t—“

“I thought it was a Narnia reference!”

“How didn’t you figure out you’re a main character—“

“……I’m the creepy alchemist?! And--she’s like…minor royalty. And pretty.”

“I think you are,” there’s a moment when it clicks in, the secondary character, her hair color, her attitude, her lover, her missing parent, her drive, her lover’s tender affection towards—and it clicked. And other scenes clicked too.

“You wrote and published a sex scene about us?”

“….I’m sorry? It was a fade-to-black though, nothing happened on the page. In the moment it felt like that’s...where they wanted to go.”

“When were you going to tell me about this? Not--not the alchemist but all of it, how did you even keep this a secret???”

“I started…writing memories. Then I could change them. Slightly, and eventually I could reset them entirely and even add and take things and…I figured out how to make things up. As for how I kept it a secret, well, I don’t require a fraction of the rest that you do, and while I do enjoy relaxing with you, I like feeling as if I’m accomplishing something.”

“Look at you figuring out how to be creative,” she did look proud of him, and she was, even if it would take a while to fully comprehend it.

“I’d appreciate it...if no one else found out.”

“People love you—“

“They love a thing that I made.”

“And you by extension—“

“I’d lose my royalties, copyrights, and probably my waking job too if I was exposed on a large scale.”

“You’re being dramatic—royalties?”

“…I…I’ve been saving them.”

“For what? I mean you make a decent check at the meteo center, and the flat’s paid off so what—“

“If you ever want to try--the genetics laboratory on Titan.. We’ll need tickets, lodging for multiple months. Supplies. Medical—it’s…not—don’t think that you have to make your mind up if you aren’t ready--only if you did I thought having the funds ready would...”

“I’m the one that brought it up, but I think…Another day we’ll talk about it but—spoil it for me,” she changed the subject. “Tell me what’s going to happen.”

“You can read it.”

“…You did’t write another sex scene did you?”

“….Yes but not for publication. There’s one that I was going to include but—it was too tasteless, it didn’t suit the rest of the story, and I thought it unnecessary. They arrive back at the main group the following afternoon, walking closer, touching more. Readers will know something happened.”

“But you did write it.”

“…I did. I also wrote another six hundred pages of plot and character development aside from it.”

“I want to read it,”

“Read the actual story first—please I don’t know what I’m doing with it, and it’s overdue to the editor—“

“I’m sure it’s perfect—“ she remembers the dedications at the opening of each book perfection’s closest being, love of my eternity. “The dedications… I’m…I’m the woman they’re all for. All those thank you’s and acknowledgements and—“

“There’s no one else,” he means it in honesty and love. Of course there’s no one else. So few friends and so few confidants. If there were more, she’d still be the one they’re dedicated to, but as it stands, there is quite literally no one else. 

“Could you read it to me? The whole thing. I want to hear it, if it’s so important to you.”

“That’s a lot of –“

“Just a little! Each night a chapter or two. I want to hear it from you, how it was meant to be heard.”

AAAAAND that’s all you get. This is a stand alone bit inside of my “bad AU ideas” file that often ends up getting chopped up for later chapters of LS. This is likely to happen but the thing with Titan isn’t (a genetics lab, the sense being that they’d eventually have a kid/science project of their own). Maybe a one-shot becuase Samuels fretting over an infant is ridiculously cute but it’s not gonna fit the final version of them in Lucky Star.

[yehet-me-up]

Frozen North ~ Night One

Pairing: Chanyeol x reader

Genre: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

Word Count: 2,675

Rating: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

Summary: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. But one night a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

A/N: A smol mini-series for @yeoltidecarol because let’s see how many ways I can procrastinate writing this book 😂 and because I luh you <3 Plus it’s blizzarding here, so why not get creepy?

The station is normally deserted by the time you get there just after seven thirty. All the daytime hosts leave by six, seven at the latest. A few other nighttime crew members are arriving for the evening shift. The janitor Marcus waves to you before sliding in his earbuds and you return it with a smile.

The building seems to move in closer as the evening settles in, making a protective cocoon around you as you step into the tech room.

Daniel, the evening producer turns and gives you a nod before going back to manning the controls. The show before yours is winding down. 

Sue lifts her headphones up to fix her hair and waves when she catches your attention. You’ve worked back to back for going on three years now and Sue was the first person to take you out for drinks to celebrate getting a regular show.

After dropping off your coat and bag in the closet of the studio you head for the kitchen to get a large cup of coffee. With the eight to midnight shift five nights a week, you’ve learned you need it.

You roll your neck and grab a mug from the collection in one of the cabinets. Even if the station bootstraps damn near everything they thankfully never skimp on good coffee. 

The sound of wind howling draws you to the window while you stir in your creamer.

Snow flurries outside, coating the trees with thick whiteness. Even though it’s warm in the station and in your sweater, you shiver. The sun sets early in winter here, making it seem like the dead of night by five or even earlier.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out. A face is on the screen, a profile photo of someone you don’t recognize. Messy black hair falling into warm brown eyes. Ears that stick out at the edges.

CHANYEOL WOULD LIKE TO FACETIME the screen reads.

Well, you’re not one to avoid a little mystery. With the pinky of the hand holding your coffee you swipe the accept button.

Before you can say anything a sound comes through the phone. It’s deafening, howling, drowning out any attempt at conversation. Wind, if you had to guess. 

There’s no face or sign of the man in the photo on the screen. The only thing you can see is white and gray. For long seconds you wait to see if the scene will change.

‘Hello?’ you call into the phone.

Nothing moves, the noise and the whiteness remain. You look up at the clock and see its 7:48. ‘Shit.’

You shake yourself and shrug, ending the call with your thumb and shoving the phone back into your pocket. ‘Well, that was odd.’ 

You hustle off back to the booth to get ready for the show. After a quick run-down with Daniel you grab your laptop and quietly open the door to the booth.

‘And here’s one last track from me tonight. Please enjoy Pied Piper from the Senate. This has been Local Rewind. I’m Siouxsie and I’ll be back tomorrow at six.’ She sighs and takes the headset off, hanging it on the holder.

With a big stretch she leans back in her chair, twisting her neck to work out the kinks. She stands dramatically and motions for you to take the chair. 

‘After you, queen of the spook.’

You share a laugh, heading to the plush leather chair. ‘Great show tonight, I loved that Temple of the Dog choice to open the show. I haven’t heard it in ages.’

She pouts while slinging her purse over her shoulder. ‘Thanks. One day I’ll get over Chris Cornell, but that day is not today.’

The two of you air kiss as she passes you, wrapping her scarf around her neck. ‘It will never be that day, Suse,’ you laugh gently.

She pauses in the doorway, leaning her hip against the wood. ‘Ah, you’re right. Have fun tonight babe, don’t let the demons get you.’ With a wink and a waggle of her eyebrows, she’s gone.

You laugh, the sound echoing back to you as the door shuts. You slide into the chair and lift the headset over your ears. Bopping along the ending of the song you pull up the notes for the show on your laptop.

The insulation in the booth makes it feel like a bubble. Only the lightboard of calls that come in throughout the night, and Daniel in the control room, remind you that you’re not alone in the world.

The song playing fades out and you look to Daniel. After a beat he points to you and the ON AIR light flashes to red, letting you know you’re live.

‘Hello and welcome back to The Long Night on 107.9 KJWZ Seattle, where the dial might stop, but we don’t. I’m Roxy and I’ll be your host for the evening. Let’s get weird.’ Your assumed name slips off your tongue like clockwork, further distancing you from the real world.

You smile to yourself as you read the first short story, one of your favorites from the SPC Foundation database. 

Here feels like your home. Your voice on air is absent of the nervousness that it seems to take on in your daily life. Here you don’t have to worry about bills or eating a balanced fucking diet or grad school and your mountain of reading to get through by Sunday for your PhD in mythology and folklore.

Here you can savor the pure joy of sharing, hearing, and discussing excellent stories that remind you why you love the craft of storytelling.

The first hour of the show goes by fast. A regular listener, who goes by the handle Ghoulish, calls in to share the piece he’s working on. From the semi-regular stories he’s called in to share you suspect he’s an aspiring horror writer. Sure, his submissions might read a bit like someone who worships and emulates Stephen King. But he’s got style, and loads of potential, and you’re always happy he calls.

Once he finishes you jump back on the line. ‘Oooh, that was a good one this week Ghoulish. Thanks so much for calling in.’

You jump to the next chunk of your notes. ‘Tonight’s local myth is the story of Mariner High up in Everett. According to legend a creature haunts the school, stalking its halls and terrifying the night janitor so badly he was put in the hospital with heart palpitations last month.’

In the control room Daniel’s mouth presses together in interest and he gives you a thumbs up. He used to hate being the night producer, claiming he was too old and superstitious to be able to cope with hearing stories like the ones you dive into. But now, after three years together, he’s coming around.

‘Witnesses report that since the 1990’s late night visitors to the school have noticed flickering lights, unearthly whispering from the men’s locker rooms, and the sound of nails scratching along lockers. Many claim that the entity is the spirit of a worker who died at the school during its construction in the mid-seventies.’

Daniel frowns and wraps his arms around his torso dramatically, his salt and pepper hair shaking as he cringes in mock horror. You lift a hand to your lips to smother a laugh.

‘Allegedly, if you get close enough to this being you see a pair of floating, glowing eyes. Jackson Donnelly, a member of the football team who was there late on Friday night after practice claims that he saw the eyes around a corner. The longer he looked he says that an outline of a tall man with wings started to form.’

‘Supposedly this figure is protective of the school and its students, but Jackson says that the form definitely did not seem welcoming. After his phone rang, distracting him, Jackson said he looked back and the figure was gone. He quickly dressed and left, swearing to never be in the school late at night again.’

‘So, what do you guys think? Real? Myth? Let me know.’

Lights start blinking on your call panel and you grin. It never fails to amaze you how many people listen to and love your show. A small cult following has grown up after an article from The Stranger highlighted it and you’re so grateful to be able to do this.

You push the button for the first line. ‘Welcome on the show, what’s your name?’

‘Hi, my name’s Janelle. My cousin Alisha goes to Mariner and she said for sure it’s real. She and her friends were there working on signs for cheerleading and they swear they heard something in the gym calling their names. Got so freaked out they ran out immediately.’

‘Oooh, fascinating. Thanks for calling in Janelle.’ You push the second line. ‘Hi, what’s your name?’

‘David. I gotta say this sounds pretty cliche, it’s probably just an old building with faulty lights and bad plumbing. Not that it’s not a great story, and no offense to Janelle’s cousin, but I just don’t buy it.’

‘Very possible, David. Thanks for playing Devil’s Advocate as always,’ you laugh warmly and David joins you for a beat before you end the call.

After a few more responses you see its approaching ten o’clock and decide to move on. ‘Thanks for calling in everyone. We’re going to take a short break for some sponsor messages and then I’ll open it up for submissions again. Don’t go anywhere.’

When you get back to the chair after a quick bathroom break you settle in, easing the sleeves of your sweater over your palms. The temperature in the building gets freezing, especially when everyone goes home for the evening.

The ads finish and Daniel signals that you’re back. ‘Alright, let’s see what stories you guys have for us tonight. Hmmm.’

You debate, watching as the ten lines all fill up with blinking lights. Something makes you hit button six. ‘Hello, lucky number six. Welcome to the show, tell us about yourself.’

The line is dead for a moment and you almost move on and hit another button, but then a man’s voice comes on. ‘Hi. I’m…. you can call me C.’ His voice is a deep baritone, wrapping around you like silk.

You look at the station computer at his number and a chill runs down your spine. 1-907-613-2458 - UNLISTED NUMBER - NOME

‘Hi C, where are you calling in from tonight? The extension on your line says 907. Are you calling from Nome… Alaska? That can’t be right.’

He ignores the question. ‘I thought you might be able to help me.’

You meet Daniel’s raised brow through the glass. Running a night time radio show about scary stories, you’ve definitely heard your fair share of weirdos. People playing practical jokes or soliciting all manner of freaky sex acts. People who are way too into some of the more gruesome legends, especially the ones involving women.

Luckily, those kind of calls are few and far between. And this man’s voice is steady and sure, unlike the tremor and intonation of some of the more disturbing callers.

You lean forward in the chair. ‘Help you how?’

‘I see her sometimes. At night.’ His reply comes fast.

His words ignite that feeling in your gut that sets you on edge. Alarm races through your veins, speeding your pulse. ‘See who?’

When his voice returns it’s distant, quieter. ‘The white woman. Amarok Siku. That’s… what the others call her.’

Fear slides through your lungs. If he’s making this up he’s a damned good actor. ‘Others?’

He carries on, the line fading into static. You press your headphones to your ears to hear him clearly. ‘I see her outside my window. From the trees. I think… she wants me to come and walk with her. Onto the ice.’

‘C. Are you alright? How can we help?’ You err on the side that he’s someone in honest need of help. ‘This is a radio show down in Seattle and we talk about paranormal stories and legends. Is this woman… human?’

‘She wasn’t supposed to be real,’ abruptly his voice continues, rising at the end to a panicked, keening sound. ‘Please, help m-’

The line clicks off. You sit there in silence for a few moments, trying to slow your breathing. Daniel waves to get your attention. Are you okay? He mouths.

You nod and shake yourself, jumping back onto the line. Something feels off, and terribly wrong. You can’t explain it, but you know that wasn’t just a story.

With a cough to clear your voice, you continue. ‘Well, thank you... C. That was definitely a new one for us. What did you guys think? Let me know.’

The lights on the panel flare to life, but you can’t look away from his number, still on the screen.

You finish the show as best you can, unable to get your mind off that call.

At eleven fifty-nine you wind things down, stifling a yawn. ‘Thank you for hanging out with me tonight everyone. I’m Roxy and this has been The Long Night. See you guys tomorrow... stay safe,’ you add after a beat.

While you gather your things Daniel queues up the programming that runs from midnight to five when the morning shows start running. Per habit you tidy the studio, slide on your coat, grab your purse and laptop, and flip the switch before leaving the booth.

Daniel presses a final button and motions for you to exit first. He turns the lights out in the halls while you snake your way through the building. Neither of you speaks, both unsure what to say.

After locking the front double doors he finally turns to you. ‘Are you okay going home tonight? That was some weird shit, Rox.’

You shrug, trying to shake off the weird feeling that’s lingered on your skin since C’s call. Folding your arms to keep in the warmth, you plaster a smile on your face. 

‘Oh yeah, Dan, I’ll be fine. It was just a prank or some new thing someone’s trying. I’m sure.’

He pats your shoulder. ‘I’m getting too old for this shit,’ he says in his best Murtaugh impression and you crack a genuine smile.

With a laugh he gets in his car and drives away, raising a hand in farewell to you. Once inside your own car you start it up, willing heat to flood the space. As soon as Daniel pulls away, leaving you in the empty lot, you pull out your phone.

The number is still there on the screen from when you typed it in - 1-907-613-2458 - and with your breath visible in front of you, you debate. ‘This is silly,’ you say aloud to yourself.

But still, something makes you press the call button. The number fades as the phone starts ringing. 

CALLING CHANYEOL the screen now says, the face from earlier popping up.

‘What the-’

While it rings you click the home screen and pull up your contacts. You shake your head in confusion while you scroll to the C’s. Christine. Caitlin. Carrie-Ann. Camille. Connor.

Definitely no one named Chanyeol. And you’d have remembered that face.

The phone makes a beep, the line going dead. Not even a voicemail option. ‘That’s so fucking weird.’

Pulling up Google you type in the words he said: Amarok Siku. Dead end links come up one by one. Eventually you add ‘Alaska’ and finally get somewhere. The words in Inuit mean Ice Wolf. 

You purse your lips, drawing one into your mouth to chew on it. Adding ‘myth,’ you can’t find any results. Usually urban legends or tall tales at least have some blog posts or local articles, but for this, there’s nothing. 

Lastly you type in ‘Chanyeol’ and ‘Nome, Alaska’ and get no results. 

Disturbed, carving the warmth and safety of your apartment you shrug, turning on the radio and moving the car to drive.

[flying-elliska]

salut ellie! someone once asked you about your writing and you recommended falling in love with language and finding ways of writing you love. i was wondering, what books and/or writing styles are you in love with? it's just so interesting to know what somehow had an impact on the way you're writing bc i honestly adore your style

wow do you remember that ? that is such a flattering question oh my god. well, i’m still working on it. some of my favorites are (i’m very eclectic lmao) : 

- His Dark Materials (it’s a fantasy book series ‘for kids’ but it’s actually insanely deep and philosophic) is pretty much the first book series that made me fall in love with stories, and made me want to write. I think I found it when I was 10, and it completely shaped me. It’s so ambitious and clever, it never talks down to the reader, brings up those amazing worlds and philosophical concepts and is still accessible to kids. Most of all it is so committed to atmosphere, to making it vivid, to really make you go through what the characters are. I’m thinking of it and I can remember exactly certain passages in an almost sensory way : the witch Serafina Pekkala describing what it feels like to feel the Aurora Borealis on her bare skin as she is flying through the arctic. The polar bear Iorek giving Lyra frozen moss to help bandage his wounds after a battle. The grilled poppy heads that the Jordan College scholars at Oxford eat during a meeting. The little Gallivespians on their dragonflies and the way the sun reflects off their poisonous spurs. That’s how you make a story stick ; that’s how you can put in deep stuff without ever making it boring. I am so excited they’re making a tv series because that shit deserves some recognition. And I mean the whole plot about the importance of stories, free will, the horror of religious fundamentalism....always relevant. Philip Pullman’s stuff is great in general, I love his Sally Lockhart series, which is more adult and adventure focused, and is a great deal of fun. And of course, the sequel to HDM he’s been putting out recently. 

- I spent a lot of my teen years reading either crime novels or historical novels. (When I think of some of the stuff I read when I was 13 I’m like oh my god what were my parents doing lmao some of that was really horrible.) And I think it gave me a good feeling for suspense and setting, and how important tension is. One of my all time faves is Andrea Japp. She is a French writer who does mostly crime, involving complex/monstrous woman characters and a very sensory, poetic approach to language, often involving food, plants and poisons. My favorite by her is the “Season of the Beast”/Agnès de Souarcy chronicles, which is a crime series set in medieval times, with a cool independent lady at its core, crimes in a monastery, and this very gloomy end of times vibe that I love. I also read a lot of Scandi Noir stuff, I love the kind of ...laconic approach to life. And again : vibe. Vibe is so important. And Sherlock Holmes stories. I love the Mary Russell series that take place in that universe and are basically a big Mary Sue self insert guilty pleasure but are just. So much fun. 

- I like poetry a lot - not stuff that is too wordy, but something short, sharp and vivid. i think reading poetry is essential to feeding your inner ‘metaphor culture’. I love Mary Oliver. Rimbaud, too, that I read at 17 and rocked my world. One of my underrated faves is  Hồ Xuân Hương, a Vietnamese poet from the 18th century who was adept at using nature metaphors to hide both erotic stuff, irreverent jokes, and political criticism, and correspond with all the great scholars of her time under a pseudonym. Badass.  Recently I bought ‘Soft Science’ by Franny Choi, which is about cyborgs, having a female body, emotions and politics and it’s absolutely brilliant. 

- I love reading fairy tales, too. Currently reading (i always read a lot of books at once lol) Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales, basically fairy tales for grown ups, collected from folklore all over the world, with an amazing kind of gruesome humor and wisdom. Norse mythology is also so damn funny. That one bit with Thor dressing up as a bride or Loki’s shenanigans...amazing. And I like fantasy, I find it very soothing to read for some reason, my fave has to be Robin Hobb and her Realm of the Elderlings series. And Terry Pratchett, especially the series with Death or the Witches. Just brilliant. Neil Gaiman too. 

- I tend to be very impatient when it comes to literary fiction, I find a lot of it is self-indulgent, dreary. I’m a genre reader through and through, I need to be amazed. I loved ‘the Elegance of the Hedgehog’ by Muriel Barbery though. Some stuff by Amélie Nothomb, Virginie Despentes occasionally (they’re French writers with a very dark, wry approach to life, tho the first is more polished acid and the second very punk rock). And ‘Special Topics in Calamity Physics’ by Marisha Pessl is pretentious as hell but a lot of fun, if you like dark academia. Salman Rushdie has a way with language that is amazing. 

- I read a lot of non-fiction. At the moment : the Cabaret of Plants (about the symbolic/socio historical meaning of plants and how they shaped history) by Richard Mabey and ‘Feminist Fight Club’ by Jessica Bennett. One I absolutely love is ‘the Botany of Desire’ by Michael Pollan in which he traces the history of four plant species (apple, potato, cannabis, tulip) and how they impacted us as much as we impacted them. I was obsessed with plants for most of my life as you can see lol (my mother is a herbalist and I wanted to become a botanist for quite a while.). Also philosophy/anthropology in little bits. I love Tim Ingold. Things about witches. Anything by Rebecca Solnit is incredible. 

- I’ve been reading a lot of YA recently, because it’s fun and quick and keeps me reading, and has a lot of good female characters. Big fave recently : Jane Unlimited by Kristin Cashore. It’s about a young bisexual woman who’s grieving and comes to this weird house full of doors, each of which leads to a different path in life, and we follow her through each choice she can potentially make, each of one becomes a different genre of story : creepy ghost story, spy story, sci-fi, cute romance, etc. It’s so innovative and it’s a story that is also bisexual culture at its core. Also I absolutely love love love love love (etc forever) the Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater. What she does with language is just so cool, because she stays simple and efficient but uses her metaphors in such a fulgurant, vivid way. Some of her lines are just. bam! genius. #goals. Also Ronan Lynch is probably THE character that helped me the most with my coming out. He’s one of my forever faves.  Of course Harry Potter, lmao, I was of the generation that pretty much grew up with him, the last book came out when I was 17. JK Rowling really should just stop rn. But I learned so much from those, about the importance of making your story feel like home, and having a clear emotional journey. And Harry is such a sarcastic little shit, I love him. And I love a Series of Unfortunate Events too, the darkly funny tone of it, the celebration of knowledge and resilience. 

- I think in terms of the classics (I had to read in school lmao), I do like Victor Hugo a lot even though some of his stuff just doesn’t fucking stop. I also like Balzac and his Comédie Humaine, he’s very observant, mean and funny when it comes to people (even though it’s depressing.) Colette is my grandma’s fave writer and she is a rockstar, I love her (also hella bi culture). Jane Austen is great, I read Pride and Prejudice in one night straight, I was so hooked. Love Jane Eyre too. I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac while hopped up on opioid pain killers and that’s probably the only way to appreciate it, but it did mark me.  

- But to be completely fucking candid, I probably read the most fanfic nowadays still. Esp since I got to college, I need to unwind when I read, and having characters you already know can be so comforting. Now, of course, there’s a lot of fanfic that is just fluff (nothing wrong with that) but I honestly really believe in the literary value of fanfic. Because some of that shit simply just really slaps and is well written. But also as a genre on its own : you just simply don’t get so much emotional nuance, and depth in most other things. Because these are characters we already know and the writers are not afraid to be self-indulgent and plot is secondary, we see shades of things that we never see anywhere else, we see relationships developping in the small things and wow that shit is breathtaking, bro, sometimes. The art of infinite variation on a theme. Even though a lot of fic writers could use a bit of stricter editing, and do stuff a bit too many unnecessary details in here, so does Victor Hugo soooooooo....

lol i could go on forever. i love book soooo much. uni kinda killed my reading appetite, I used to read several books a week when I was in middle school. hope i can get back there (although maybe not as much bc i have a life now lol.) but thinking about everything i have yet to read makes me sooooo happy. I want to get more into sci-fi, English lit classics. Basically I like stuff that’s witty, dark, political, hedonistic, with dry humor, but a warm heart. Stories that celebrate knowledge, curiosity and human weirdness. And that gets to the point. When I get bored by a book, I put it down, because I just don’t have the time. I also hate writers where you can tell that they think they’re better than other people. Misanthropy is boring. Thank you for this question anon I had a blast

[danaty-consolation]

What made you love Rumiko works so much ?

Simple answer: I love her craziness in the stories and love stories, her humor is incredible.

Whole Answer: I love how different and interesting her stories are, she can make a simple thing incredible like the time she  did  One Pound Gospel,  a romance  between a boxer (who is relatable because he wants to eat so much  delicious food like, same) and a nun so fun and  interesting,  she made my favorite childhood theme that was mermaid into a creepy and amazing concept about immortality.

She made things I never knew I wanted at the time like Time Travel, aliens, Genderbend in a credible way.

She made a boy who struggling financially and I can see how much college students/ young adults relate to him(I can see my future as a college student thanks to him,  I will  prepare now)

I can 100% believe she could make anything people wouldn’t think, she made an alien race based on Japanese folklore, she made an interesting Time travel to the youkai era, She made magic water to allowed people to transform into the opposite gender or animals when cold water touch them thanks to the Jusenkyo waters, She made a Shinigami world into a funny and capital world making something that could be depressing into something kinda wholesome and funny.

 A person: you draw a lot of romantic stories, what is going to be now? A boxer and a nun?” *Laughs*

Rumiko Takahashi: It’s on.

And boy do I love how diverse her characters are in personality and  I freaking fell in love of how the romantic relationships between the character are build up very different but are as strong as any other, I promise I will write an analysis later on about the protagonist romantic relationships.

Thanks so much for the ask!!!

[madscientistjournal]

I Didn't Break the Lamp: Interview with Die Booth

Today, we’re talking with Die Booth about his story for I Didn’t Break the Lamp.

DV: Tell us a bit about yourself!

Die Booth: Hi, I’m James, but I write under the pen name Die Booth, which has been my nickname for as long as I can remember. I live in Chester, England, which is a beautiful city packed with hundreds of ghosts, who I’m always trying to make friends with. When I’m not assembling unsettling stories, I enjoy making other stuff–drawing, sewing, metal, and woodwork. I love goth music and I co-run and DJ at a local goth night.

DV: What inspired you to write “Meltwater” for I Didn’t Break the Lamp?

DB: I keep a folder full of ideas that I write down as they strike me, and then revisit when I’m looking for some inspiration for what to write next. The idea for “Meltwater” came to me a long time ago, after seeing a field full of half-melted snowmen covered in a new layer of snowfall. They looked so menacing, all hunched over and looming, like something out of a zombie film, that I knew I had to write about them. When I saw the excellent pitch for I Didn’t Break the Lamp, I thought back to that story seed and the idea of a snow-creature that only the youngest child could see came to me. I’ve always been very inspired by folklore, and I’ve been getting more into folk horror lately, so the idea of Old Groan really appealed to me. I really like those snippets of folklore where a name alone can induce a feeling of unease.

DV: Your story is a wonderful blend of youthful innocence with something very dark lurking at the edges. Do you find this is a common theme in your writing, or is this unique to this story?

DB: Thank you so much! Yeah, that that’s a common theme of a lot of my work. I think that often, fears are born in childhood. I had an interesting relationship with fear as a child, because I was absolutely fascinated by anything creepy or supernatural, whilst being a bit scared of it too–I think a lot of kids are like that. As I grew older, I always seemed to identify more with the “monster,” and so I like writing stories where the protagonist makes friends with the monster, kind of thing. I write a lot of children and young people in my stories because I think that contrast of innocence and unease often provides the most lingering horror. To this day, I can watch most adult-aimed horror films completely unmoved, but stuff like Pipkins or Moomin or Labyrinth, which is absolutely aimed at children, still manages to freak me out!

DV: The description of the snowstorm in your story is so realistic that it made me feel like I was stuck inside because of deep snow, even reading it in the spring. What’s the largest snowstorm you’ve ever experienced, and did you draw on that to write that aspect of this story?

DB: Again, thank you so much for your kind words. To be honest, living in Chester, we don’t tend to get an awful lot of extreme weather. We’ve had a couple of mild winters recently, but there have been a few where we’ve had snowfall. There wasn’t a particular one that I drew on to write this story (except, I guess, the one where I saw the field of snowmen), but I can easily recall the feeling of being inside during a blizzard, and that particular eerie stillness and silence as the flakes flutter against the windowpanes and all the light goes sort of blue.

DV: What’s on the horizon for you?

DB: I’m currently working on a collection of short speculative stories featuring transgender protagonists (of which “Meltwater” is a part). I feel like there’s a real gap in fictional representation for trans people, as most narratives featuring a trans or nonbinary character still tend to make their identity a key plot point, rather than just being incidental to their story, so I’m writing this collection to address that. I’ve had a few stories from this planned collection published already, so it will be released when the copyrights revert back to me. In the meantime, I have another collection of short stories ready to go–it’ll be titled Making Friends (and other fictions) and should hopefully be out in 2019 or 2020. I’m also supposed to be working on a novel–but aren’t we all!

DV: If you had an imaginary friend growing up, what was their name, and what were they like?

DB: I don’t think I had an actual imaginary friend growing up, not in the sense that you usually hear about: I didn’t ask my parents to set an extra place at the table, for instance, or blame my mischief on someone else. I did have a good imagination though and played “pretend” almost constantly, with a huge cast of characters that I invented. A lot of them were ghosts. These ghosts were often very specific to certain areas of the school playground–I remember one tree in particular was haunted by a ghost called Sarah Jane and you had to bow to her as you went past. I can’t remember how many of my classmates I actually convinced that she was real, though.

  I Didn’t Break the Lamp: Interview with Die Booth was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal