#although in modern au he's not a priest at all so he would have no business representing Vatican

[canisalbus]

Machete at the Olympics what will he do??

Well he's anything but fit and athletic, he doesn't have strength or stamina, and even as a sighthound his running speed leaves a lot to be desired. He has low cold tolerance so that rules out most winter sports, and he's not much of a team player. He is very precise and has great fine motor skills so I was thinking of shooting, but I'd imagine you need good eyesight for that, and he's nearsighted with astigmatism and lower than average depth perception. In modern au he wears contacts and they help him noticeably, but because his vision problems are caused by albinism, they can't be fully corrected with surgery or glasses. Fencing might be an option, it's mostly about concentration, strategy, speed and accuracy. It would also neatly tie in to their canon setting, since to my understanding a lot of the principles of modern fencing are based on 16th century Italian sword fighting techniques. But that's just a guess, I'm not that familiar with the sport at all, or how physically demanding it actually is.

[gatitties]

Hello again my little butterfly 🦋✨

I came to place another order if that's ok! so, the scenario is a One Piece AU, where YN has an arranged marriage with Shanks, who is one of the richest men in town, but even so, YN decides to run away on her wedding day and throw herself off a bridge, but she can't, they find her and the family manages to bring her back to the wedding, Shanks is a man very much in love with YN, the moment he sees the sadness in YN's eyes when she walks up the aisle and puts the ring on her finger Shanks, he decides to conquer her and make her the happiest wife in the world! ( PS: Shanks is in a desperate situation when he learns that his beloved literally decided to throw herself off a bridge rather than stay with him, even little sad :( )

─Shanks x wife!reader

─Summary: you didn't want to be part of that ceremony, but you're not brave enough to run away either

─Warnings: slight mention of suicide attempt, modern AU

Oh hi hi love!! 🫶🏻🦋 you really like angst 😳

You ignored the perplexed looks of people, without stopping or thinking about a second option, you gripped the thin white fabric of your wedding dress harder so as not to trip over it, your shoes had long since disappeared so you could run more comfortably. You didn't want this, you didn't want to marry an unknown guy, no one thought about your feelings? It's not something your parents have the right to play with and you weren't going to let them ruin your life for financial convenience.

The moment adrenaline started to increase when you saw how you were now being persecuted, probably due to the absence in the ceremony that was taking place in the nearby church, you felt bad for the man you had been engaged to, since it wasn't his fault either and you didn't even know him enough to determine that he was a horrible person, but this decision was too hasty and you definitely didn't agree to this.

With your heart in your throat you ran until you tripped over your own sore feet, your breathing accelerated even more when you heard shouts of your name, taking courage again you stood up with a new impetus, although when you noticed how the distance between your pursuers was shortening more and more, your brain began to draw an extreme line in your thoughts.

Would it hurt? Could you die? Well, you were going to see for yourself what it felt like to jump off a bridge just to avoid facing an unwanted fate.

You quickly climbed onto the thick railing, stabilizing yourself standing on it, the next few seconds felt like a blur, like a part of memory that was difficult to remember, the fear of possible death and the indecision that comes with taking a long time to jump into the void made one of the guys chasing you caught you before you did something crazy.

The next thing you know after that, you were back in one of the private rooms of the church, being yelled at by your mother while your father looked on disapprovingly, you didn't care, nothing mattered to you at that moment, you let them go back to put on your makeup, you let them put new shoes on you and they changed the dirty surface fabric of your dress as if you were a doll, lifeless.

The ceremony returned to its course, Shanks waited awkwardly all this time at the altar, and when he saw you appear next to him his heart shattered, you weren't even looking at him, your eyes were lost somewhere far away in this unwanted reality, you lacked any kind of expression. He knew it, he knew how you felt, and yet he felt a little selfish for wanting to be your husband, for wanting to love you unconditionally, this marriage may be arranged, but he admired every drop of courage you poured out to prevent this event, every anger and every fierce response you gave to the first meetings between both families.

"Now… husband and wife, you can kiss each other."

You were both so absorbed in your own thoughts that you barely heard the priest's last words. Shanks was the first to step forward, holding your waist slowly as if he were asking permission and asking if it was okay to do so. You didn't move an inch, your eyes were still lost even when he sealed your fate with a cold kiss devoid of love, at least, lacking on your part.

Shanks knew it wouldn't be easy, that you weren't going to trust, that he wasn't going to receive tons of affection, even looks, he knew you were in a delicate state, after all, you'd rather almost kill yourself than get married.

You didn't bother with his emotions, you didn't bother to ask about his tastes, his hobbies or how his day had been, you just spent the days dead, repeating your routine, your life remained the same in a way, a few more numbers in the account. but in exchange of what? Your freedom and decision. You were hurt, you had been damaged by your own parents, your emotional wounds would not heal overnight and you would refuse to show a modicum of affection until you recovered.

Shanks knew that he would have to sleep alone for months, that an empty house would await him, that all his praise and gifts would be quickly discarded, but it doesn't matter, maybe you didn't look for him or you didn't want him, but as your husband, he would do everything he could to at least help you cope with the situation, he really loves you, but it won't be easy to win your affection because you never wanted this.

Your heart began to heal over time, it took a long time, you decided to completely break the relationship with your family, although before they were the only ones you could turn to, Shanks showed you that he would be there, that despite not being the husband that you chose as such, made you trust him, made you feel loved again.

He wasn't a bad man, he wasn't the most wonderful person in the world either, but he proved to be enough for you to stop feeling that emptiness inside your heart, step by step he managed to break the walls that you built around your emotions, Shanks turned out to be something unexpected in your life, someone you didn't think would be so important and he was able to grant some peace, some happiness back into your life.

Maybe you are not yet ready to accept that he is your husband, but you slowly began to meet someone you could voluntarily fall in love with.

[machetegirl109]

Synopsis: After spending the whole Bible study daydreaming of Abby, she finally makes your fantasies come true. *inspiration: vacation bible school by ayesha erotica*

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, F/F, modern!AU, suggestive and offensive language, religion, abby&reader are 18, smut, angst, switch!abby&reader, dom!abby, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering(r&a!receiving), oral(a!receiving), no aftercare, mean!abby x reader

important info about my stories here

©machetegirl109 (credits to VBS by ayesha erotica that inspired me to write this) DO NOT copy/steal my work OR post it on any platforms

Word Count: 2.6k+

Oneshot: Vacation Bible School

❝︎and like every other shitty love story

you came and went❞︎

Church camp happens every year during the summer. It lasts for a week; during this time, you live together in cabins, explore the outdoors, and dine in community, all while learning about religion.

You’ve been taking part in attending ever since you were a little kid. The campgrounds are filled with kids, teens, and young adults. The VBS director would be supervising the assisting staff that consisted of other members of the Christian church, where they were divided into group leaders, an audio/video coordinator, music director, Bible story tellers, game leaders, craft supervisors, and kitchen staff.

This year would be the last summer camp trip for you and the other 18 year-olds before you all start college.

Every year you’d be eager for the summertime, wanting nothing more than to arrive at the huge campsite with lots of green space, bushes and trees, picnic tables and a bonfire. Paths that led to the big main cabin where indoor activities and supper were held, another that led to multiple smaller cabins scattered around a secluded area with some portable wooden toilets by the end of the trail and finally a path that led to the forest where a beautiful river was at as well as a hiking trail.

Although you did enjoy being surrounded by the calming nature and your fellow church peers, what made you anxiously wait for the one week vacation every year was her. Abby Anderson. You two met years ago when you were kids, having to spend the days around each other as you two learned about Jesus and his rules. You and the blonde girl quickly became friends; however you never spoke to each other outside the camping grounds. In day-to-day life, you would only admire her from a distance. Whether it was on the Sunday evening services, or at the school; you paid attention to Abby’s movement as she kneeled to pray, or when she talked to those around her.

Something about her made your hands shake with nervousness, your heart skipped beats just by the thought of her so, so pretty eyes and her strong arms—

“What do you say, miss Y/N?” The pastor interrupts your thoughts and you move your eyes from Abby who’s sitting in front of you to his direction.

“I’m sorry, pastor. What was the question again?”

“What is the message in Ephesians 5:3?” He asks again and your peers, who are seated in a chair circle as the pastor stands in the middle, turn their heads towards you as they all wait for an answer.

“Uh, I… I don’t know…I’m sorry.” You shamefully look at your hands down on lap.

“That is okay, Y/N. We are all here to learn, isn't that right kids?” They all move their heads up and down, agreeing with the pastor. “Can anyone tell me what is the message in Ephesians 5:3?”

“I can.” One of the students complied.

“Yes, Abigail. Go ahead.” As soon as he calls out her name, your head shots up and you’re looking at the girl in front of you again. She clears her throat and before she begins to speak, her eyes meet yours.

“But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be onced named among you, as becometh saints;” Abby concludes, her blue eyes never leaving yours. Soon, the priest thanks her for the answer, proceeding with his class and the blonde gives you a small smile. She manspreads on her chair and you feel the blood pump faster into your veins as your body grows hot.

Abby is wearing a white tank top that exposes her strong muscles, black skinny jeans with a heavy-looking belt as well as a pair of black chuck taylor’s. You can’t help but wonder how she would look on top of you, with her blonde hair forming a curtain around your head and her big hands roaming through your body.

After spending the rest of the Bible study distracted staring at the pretty blonde across from you, the class comes to an end. “Alright,kids, that will be all for today. Go ahead and enjoy your last day here and make sure to be ready to attend the bonfire tonight!” The priest leaves the open room located inside the main cabin and soon the students follow behind. Each leaving at their own pace as they conversate with their friends. You look around you and notice Abby is still seated in her chair, like you. She smirks before standing up, making her way to you.

“You seemed a bit distracted. Anything interesting in your mind?” Abby reaches her hand out for you to hold as you leave your chair.

“Oh, nothing, it’s stupid. “ You smile shyly and hold onto her, who soon drops your hand after helping you up. She hums in response as she licks her lips and points her head towards the door, hinting you to follow her as she begins to walk.

“Well, now I need to know what stupid thing you were possibly thinking about while you stared at me the whole study.” You hide your face in your palms, cringing at how you shamelessly looked at her during the class.

“Sorry…” You muffle through your hands before dropping them to your sides again. “I didn’t mean to stare.” Abby lets out a small laugh at your reaction, loving the way you get so shy around her. You two keep walking until you reach the path that led to the area where many small cabins were scattered around.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” She quickly scans the area around, checking to see if anyone can see or hear the two of you. “I think I already know what you were thinking about, though.” Her eyes drop to your plump lips and your throat goes dry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb and Abby chuckles.

“Hm. I think we were both thinking about the same stupid things.” She raises her hand to your cheek, lightly massaging the pad of her thumb onto your soft skin and then pushing it down to your bottom lip. You feel as if your heart dropped to your core as heat and pulse grows inside your panties. Her hand teasingly grips your neck before she drops it and takes one of your hands into hers, guiding two walk towards the portable wood toilets by the end of the trail.

She looks around once again, checking for people and opens the door as she rushly gets in, pulling you with her and shutting the door closed. Your back presses into the wood as one of her hands pushes you against the wall by the neck. Abby’s blue eyes turned a shade darker, desired in them as she placed her knee between your legs, earning a small moan from you.

“You’ve been watching me the whole week,” She says as her free hand creeps under the hem of your shirt, fingers lightly tingling the skin of your stomach. “But I’ve been watching you too.” She palms your left breast harshly, flicking her calloused finger on your nipple and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “You know the expression you make when you stare at me?”

You stay silent and her grip around your neck tightens.

“When I ask something, you answer.” Abby says softly and removes her hand from your chest, sliding it down to the side of your hips, carving her short nails into your skin as she moves you to grind against her hard thigh; making you bite your lips as you feel your clothed cunt rub deliciously against the material of her jeans. “Answer me, Y/N.”

“I-I don’t know, Abby…”

“You stare at me with this really pathetic expression on your face,” The lights inside the small compartment die down suddenly before turning back on – And as you look at Abby again, a shit-eating grin appear on her pretty lips.

“The expression of someone who just really wants me to fuck them stupid.” You snake your arms around her neck and she lets go of yours, now hugging your waist as she guides your movements. “Do you want me to fuck you stupid?” Abby whispers in your ear with a rough voice.

“Yes-Yes, Abby. Ple-please.” You ask as you hide your face onto her neck, her pinewood scent filling your nostrils and you moan into her skin. Your hot breath hits against her neck and Abby feels your arousal mark a spot on her pants. A soft blush runs over her soft freckled face and her boxers start to feel heavy by her own wetness.

“Please what, angel?”

“Ple-please fuck me, Abby.” You remove your head from its previous position and forcefully grabs the back of her hair, pulling her face towards yours as your lips smack together. Abby bites and pulls onto your bottom lip and soon her tongue sneaks into your mouth, making the kiss become more heated and sloppy. She hugs your waist tighter. “I want you,” You say in between the kisses. “Jus-just fuck me already, ple-please.”

Abby lets out a moan by hearing your pleas and holds your hips still as she lower her lips to your neck. She nibbles and licks at your skin and you let out heavy breaths and pleasure filled moans. She moves one of her hands to your exposed thigh due your skirt riding up, and she slowly slides it closer and closer to your heat as she caresses your hot skin. Soon enough she cups your pussy through your dripping wet panties, the feeling of her warm hand sends a wave of electricity through your body and you moan her name out.

“I've been wanting to do this all week,” Abby confesses. She slowly drags your panties to the side and runs two fingers up your slick, collecting the liquid of your excitement. “Fuck… You’re so fucking wet for me. So ready for me, baby.” She gives you a quick and soft peck on the lips and suddenly thrusts her ring and middle finger inside your weeping cunt.

“Ah ah ah Abby!” You moan as you feel her fingers filling you. Abby begins to move her fingers in-and-out of you, starting off slow and soon she picks up the pace, pumping them fast and with precision inside you. You rock your hips, following her fingers' pace, causing your clit to deliciously and harshly rub against the palm of her hand. “Fuck Abby,,, you're–ahh fucking me so good…”

Abby lets out a quiet laugh and leans in for another messy kiss, saliva dripping off of both your chins as you make out. She soon fingers into you deeper than before, the tip of her fingers meeting that spongy spot inside you. She presses onto it and you rub your clit harder into her palm. You break the kiss, lips swollen for the biting and sucking.

“I'm gon-gonna cum,”

“I'm here, angel. Cum for me, baby.” Soon something inside you snaps and you feel your body shake as a pleasure washes over you.

“Such a good fucking girl, making a mess all over my hand.” Abby helps you ride out your high, her hand and leg drenched from you as she carefully removes her fingers from your sensitive cunt, letting out a hiccup once you feel empty again. You attempt to catch your breath, chest rising up and down rapidly as you both look at eachother. You hold her hand towards your mouth, cleaning her sticky fingers from your orgasm and she opens a small smile.

“You're so hot,” Abby says giving you one more kiss before removing her leg from in between yours.”So fuckin’ dirty for me.” You kiss her back, pulling at her bottom lip and asking for tongue passage which she happily obliged to. Pushing Abby against the wall, your hands fall to her hips, undoing her white studded belt and letting it fall to the ground. “You're gonna make me feel good, Angel?” She smirks upon seeing a naughty look on your face and you nod.

“Yeah, Abby, I'll make you feel so good…” You kiss her lips and neck one last time before you move towards her breasts and stomach. When you reach her crotch, you shamelessly rub your face against it, causing her to gasp and moan as she forces you onto the floor by your shoulders.

Abby helps you unbutton her pants and you bring them down along with her boxers as you kneel in front of her, the smell of her pussy makes your mouth water. She frees one of her ankles from the clothes, propping her leg over your shoulder and you snake your arm around her tight to keep her secure. She looks down at you, looking like a pretty and desperate little slut just for her. One of her hands goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to her glistening lips. You lay your tongue out and you slowly lick her slick bottom to top, reaching her throbbing bud and giving it a harsh suck.

“Uhmm, fuck,” She moans upon the contact, pushing her hips closer to you mouth. “Yeah, just like that, baby.” You finally bury your tongue into her cunt, exploring her as she lets out a string of breathless moans. Abby begins to grind against your face, your soft muscle lapping on her mouthwatering pussy and your nose softly and deliciously brushing against her clit. “Look at me,” She pats your head and you bring your eyes up to her but never stopping fucking your tongue into her. “Lookin’ so beautiful on your knees for me, ahh– s-so so fucking perfect,”

Abby soon feels the tension that sits on the bottom of her stomach is about to explode. Her moves become more messy and rapid as she chases your face. The leg that is up your shoulder starts to shake, the trembling of her body making her to hold onto your free shoulder for support. You notice Abby will soon break and change the focus of your thrust to her needy button, lick and circling your tongue on it and adding two fingers into her.

“D-don't stop, fuckfuckfuc–” Her hips stutter as you scissor your fingers into her, never stopping giving attention to her clit. You feel her pussy gushing around you and she soon releases her juices, making a mess on your hand and face. Abby breaks eye contact as she presses the back of her head onto the wooden wall. She closes her eyes and furrows her brows while coming down from her orgasm. You distance your mouth from her now sensitive clit and gently remove your fingers from her. She drops her leg off of your shoulder and you, still on your knees, move to help her fix her pants and belt.

“No, it’s okay,” Abby moves away from your touch, making you slowly stand back on your feet. “I can do it.” She pushes her black jeans back up and grabs her belt off the floor, quickly wrapping them around the waistband of her jeans. You quietly observe her, hopeful thoughts run around your head, thoughts about you and Abby becoming closer after today – The last day of camp. “So, uhh,” She nervously runs her hand through her blonde strands as her face displays a shameful and regretful expression.

“We should get going, th-the last bonfire will start soon…” You feel as if the ground disappeared, your heart squeezes inside your chest and tears form in your eyes. “Uhm… I'll see you around, yeah?” She quickly exits, leaving you alone in the compartment. You look down at your knees, red and swollen from all the kneeling, and then you look around the small porta wooden potty, your hand palms your face as you take in what just happened. Regret fills you for what you and Abby just did – In a damn porta potty, at church camp nonetheless – and at how easy you gave yourself to her, only to be tossed away just as easily.

ೃ⁀➷ thank you for reading! feel free to comment your thoughts, reblog, leave a heart and follow me˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

x-18 banner by @fic-dumpster

[cheetochip]

I’ve been so embarrassed to post this, but honestly I’m too fixated on both it and GF rn

This AU is literally just the events of Gravity Falls with OC-inserts (There’s change tho I promise)

SO. Without further ado, introducing: Falling River AU

What is “Falling River?” This universe essentially takes place within the universe of Gravity Falls, although it’s years before Weirdmageddon and the Mystery Shack altogether. In fact it doesn’t even take place in Oregon.

In 1974 within the small town of Falling River, Arkansas (Population of 101) Beverly Cliffs visited his close family for the Fall season, the town is infamously known for strange activity including people just disappearing altogether. But, Falling River is a very religious town. His uncle, Orion, is the priest of the church down Main Street. He’s mostly excited to spend time with his cousin Dahlia and meets others along the way. He himself is an Atheist and doesn’t believe all the things happening until he actually sees it for himself. He meets friends, foes, and makes reconnections as he tries to piece together the history of this town. Luckily his family has his back.

-

Now I’ve left a lot of things out, and most of it is on purpose-

Why the 70’s? Personally the more vintage tone is a nice contrast to modern day media.

How is this related to Gravity Falls? Well, I’ll get to that in a moment.

To clarify about Bev himself, he’s trans, but was closeted through the first half of this AU (Age 14) But in the future he finally goes by the name Benjamin in 1981 (Age 21)

-

You may have seen on an earlier post about an OC of mine, Ritch- Basically I created all of this just because back then, Ritch’s voiceclaim was Bill Cipher and I found it funny that they looked so similar anndddd boom: Here we are!

But who the hell is Ritch? This guy:

To how this relates to GF is because Ritch knows of Bill Cipher, and Bill knows of him. But they just haven’t crossed paths.

Because Bill was from the 2nd Dimension (Flatworld!) Ritch is from the 3rd

-

I would also love to clarify that I myself am not religious so there are EXTREME out of proportion and inaccuracies all over the board. I mean, Ritch is literally a demon disguised as an angel that just doesn’t happen.

-

Anyway, the reason why Ritch is such a threat, is due to his origins- He came out of nowhere, and was titled as a being of tranquility and peace, but he’s nothing close to that. No one has ever summoned him until one person: Orion. After leading him to believe that he could give him the peace he’s always wanted, Ritch tries to snuff him out and reveals his true nature. The whole reason for his television appearance was because when he was summoned for the first time- He needed a physical form. Before he was simply just a pair of eyes and wings, so an item sacrifice was necessary for him to become corporeal.

What makes Ritch different from Bill is morally, Bill wants to make a world where there are no restrictions, rebuilt for his own entertainment and for no one to get in his way of that (From what we know- Not TBOB compliant)

When it comes to Ritch, while he’s playfully and snarky he is way more sinister in what he does. Turns people against one another, leading them into insanity, considers himself above anyone and everyone, rather than toying with people he tries to wipe them out as FAST as he can. He enjoys inflicting pain on others, and it shows.

The only reason he hasn’t destroyed the dimension is due to the fact that a select few within Falling River placed a curse on him, sealing him away until the present time. Bill may have anger issues, but it takes even less to irritate Ritch, not as humorous either.

Why he exists is a complete mystery in itself, though some have theories that a warp in time caused a split of dimensions and brought manifestations of different emotions. Only the vessel they sprouted from has no emotions, just motives. Bottom line? Ritch isn’t supposed to exist.

-

Oooookay that’s enough of me yapping, I have WAYYY more info and art but if anyone is actually curious just lmk

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Some Trash Facts about the Phenirells & Rei herself

Haku/Phen 28 is actually quite scared if his own duaghter, not bcs she's more powerful than him (bcs she's rlly not) but it's mainly bcs there will be times she can become very sassy & basically just go full on roasting the old man mainly bcs he just talks about how Rei's generation is all just random when clearly Haku WAS A LITERAL WAR CRIMINAL! So yeh Rei clearly has a reason to roast her boomer of a dad. (Even if she does follow in his footsteps unfortunately).

Rei only has met her other father (Room from Boisvert) a few times, mainly when it comes to family time & what not. But despite that, she doesn't have much a family-based bond with Room (making him estranged to her). She is however is pretty friendly when she does get to see him (Although it might take some sticks of pocky to actually get her motivated to do so). (Although this however won't be Canon in the AU, only outside of the AU as Room is not from the DNU)

The Phenirells, while are related by bl00d, are not all related by souls, as almost all of them (Except Rei) were either adopted by Phen 228 (Haku) or were taken in as apprentices only to become family members of the Phenirells. The true origins of the Phenirell Family comes from the fact their souls would be fused into angel-like vessels after death. The major exceptions are that of Kasinoshi (Haku's supposed younger twin sister) & Locust (who is not the same species as any of the Phenirells).

The Phenirells follow a certain naming convention givin to them by the Ephrata branch. Usually having the Aliase of "The [Noun] One". Although the major exceptions are "Helper", "Follower", "Lady of Wrath", Locust/Thumper, & Rei herself. (Although some of the Phenirells will have 2 names, example here is Priest who is also called "The Frozen One".)

And yeh those are all of the trash facts for my Modern AU of TBOP/TOE (Or just call it the frkkin Doctor Nowhere Universe). The only known characters mentioned here that don't belong to me are the main 3 Doctor Nowhere Characters (Phen 228/"Haku", Locust, & Follower) & welp.. Room from Boisvert. The rest mentioned here do belong to me.

[regina-del-cielo]

“The Old Guard” Daemon AU: General Thoughts

I’m pretty much rambling out loud to myself, and I’m still looking up things for the individual Detailed Posts, but I wanted to set down a few General Things about my TOG Daemon AU (mostly to explain my thoughts beyond... “I don’t know I like the Vibes bro”)

the Guard’s daemons may settle during their first lives, but these people are borderline eternal (or have the potential to be, in Nile’s case). And despite their age they can still adapt pretty well to changing times. This is reflected by their daemons’ shapes

they’re all extant species (although some may have had a rough time in recent centuries in the wild), known by humans since basically forever, and are either ubiquitous (Nile’s), widespread in at least two continents, if not an entire hemisphere (Andy’s, Nicky’s), or an animal that despite its relative specificity is still recognizable as something familiar by people all over the world (Joe’s, Booker’s, Quynh’s, Lykon’s)

example: Quynh’s daemon is going to be a snake, although I haven’t decided which species yet. My strongest candidates atm are either some type of cobra or some pit viper endemic to Vietnam. Now, most of these were “scientifically” described by European zoologists only in the 1800s, and before Quynh was chucked into the sea nobody outside of Southeast Asia would have been familiar with her daemon’s specific brand of snake. But snakes have a very... conserved body shape and aspect. No matter the species, anyone who met Quynh and her daemon would have recognized him as one

(did her having a snake daemon influence the witch hunters’ decision on which woman to throw into the sea? Probably. The mentality that didn’t allow Nicky to become a priest because Reparata was a she-wolf would have gone Bonkers over a not-white undying woman with a snake daemon. Especially in the time of the witch hunts)

the Guard is composed of *Copley’s voice* extraordinary individuals, just a tiny bit terrifying (affectionate). They’re not war machines nor are they heartless, but even if they weren’t immortals they would be playing on a different league than all of us

that’s why my choices are mostly falling towards charismatic, culturally significant, ‘emblematic’ animals. They’re also either apex predators or pretty high on their natural food web

except for Booker’s, but his goose hasn’t been a prey Once in her life. Booker’s daemon knows no fear and is always ready to start a brawl. That bird coined the phrase ‘peace was never an option’ and lives up to it diligently.

paradoxically, globalisation has made having a ‘flashy’ daemon easier for them. People are exposed to nature documentaries of virtually every habitat on the planet since very young ages, and even a fairly small zoo will have its share of ‘exotic’ animals. There is so much choice in the modern world that most people’s daemons are simply an expression of their favourite animal, or one they just felt a kinship to during a formative period of their life. If someone were to question a member of the Guard about their large, predator daemon, they could get away with it by shrugging and saying ‘I just think they’re cool, man’

(and honestly, looking at which animals get most of the conservation efforts in our reality, it’s pretty obvious that in a Daemon AU iconic birds and mammals (mostly carnivores) would be more common in a modern age as people’s favourites)

(Nicky is still vaguely traumatized by that time in the 90s when a bunch of people stopped him to coo at Reparata instead of side-eyeing her in distrust)

(He may have cried when a kid told him he had ‘the coolest daemon EVER’ and said kid’s daemon changed into a wolf pup to mimic Reparata. And the kid’s parents just smiled and indulged their child instead of scolding them and dragging them away from his ‘bad influence’)

(Joe is Banned from watching nature documentaries set in the savannah because he always starts weeping when he hears the narrator explain how the animal his daemon is based on is on the verge of extinction)

(if the Guard regularly makes anonymous donations to wildlife conservation groups worldwide, that’s between them and the universe)

[amymel86]

I do NOT want to be that person but are there any snippets from anything you could or would like to give us, cause our little addiction is having a bit of a withdrawal? #crackheadforyourjonsafic 😅

lol honestly, anon - please BE that person because I jump at any chance for external validation lbr...

So this is a little something from a fic I'm working on. It's a modern, college au but Sansa was raised by Lysa who is a devout follower of The Maiden. No Robb, Cat died giving birth to Sansa. Sansa doesn't know who her father is. A few of the scenes I have in mind are inspired by a horror film but there's no demonic possession or r*pist priest in this one - don't worry!

The nervous excitement had soured. Sansa blinks down at the little ceramic statue of The Maiden and the prayer book that lay atop her clothes in her suitcase.

She had not been the one to put them there.

A vibration in her cardigan pocket jumpstarts her heart into an erratic beat. She can guess who might be calling; either Aunt Lysa or Father Baelish.

“Why haven’t you called?”

Sansa resists the urge to chew on her thumbnail. “I’ve only just arrived, Aunt Lysa, I was going to-“

“Your coach arrived three hours ago.”

“I had to wait to be shown my room allocation. It was very busy. And I wanted to get unpacked-“

“You left your prayer book and Maiden, Sansa.”

“I-“ Sansa stared at the reflection of herself in the full length mirror hung on her dorm room wardrobe door. Going to college, getting away from her Aunt and her overbearing ways was meant to be a new start for Sansa; a way to finally experience some of the world – something that was her own.

There was no use arguing with her though. “Yes, Aunt Lysa,” she said, turning away from the mirror. “I forgot them, I’m sorry.”

There’s a long-suffering sigh from the phone and Sansa can quite clearly picture her Aunt standing in the old, beige hallway, receiver to her ear while she fusses with her own Maiden statue that she keeps on the telephone table, on top of one of her more elaborate handmade doilies. Going to college has been the first thing that her Aunt has let her do for herself – it’s the first thing that Aunt Lysa hasn’t had control over.

“You are getting more and more like your mother.”

It should be meant as a compliment – it is not.

Sansa has heard the comparison time and time again – she’s seen photographs of her mother who passed away when Sansa was born. She always looks so beautiful and kind in those old photos. But that’s not what Aunt Lysa is referring to.

Promiscuous

Immoral

Wanton

Whore

That is what Aunt Lysa means when she compares Sansa to her mother.

“Those places are full of temptation and sin, Sansa. Your mother was led away from her faith and went all too willingly-“

“It’s not like that, Aunt Lysa, it’s-“

“No, no,” she mutters in response, “Father Baelish and I discussed this at length and we really do think that you should return and-“

Sansa’s eyes began to sting. “Please,” she begs softly, “please don’t make me come back. I promise I’ll be good. I promise you don’t need to worry about me.”

The dorm room door clicks open making Sansa spin around. A pretty girl with brown, wavy hair flashes a smile as she lugs the biggest suitcase Sansa has ever seen over the threshold.

“I have to go Aunt Lysa,” Sansa hurriedly whispers down the phone, breaking off the call.

“Hi!” the new girl in her room says with a grin as she dumps her bags. “I’m Margaery! We’re roommates I guess!”

“I’m Sansa,” she squeaks, possibly all too quickly. Should she extend her hand to shake? That’s what you do when you meet people at the Sept on Sundays. But her palms are a little sweaty. No-one wants to shake a sweaty hand. Sansa worries the skirt of her floral dress, still wondering what she should be doing to make a good first impression.

Margaery, on the other hand has turned her back on her and is rooting around in her bag for something. She wears the shortest denim shorts Sansa has ever seen. Aunt Lysa would pitch a fit and would probably make Sansa scrub the floorboards of the whole house andthe Sept if she’d ever even dreamt about wearing anything like that.

“Welcome drink?!”Margaery spins ‘round excitedly after apparently finding what it was she was looking for; a bottle of Wildling Vodka.

Sansa’s cheeks are hot. “Oh! I... Um...” She’s worrying her skirt again and shakes her head to decline.

Margaery’s smile dims a little and her eyes slide down Sansa’s frame to take in her long floral dress and then to the Maiden statue and prayer book out on the desk. “Alright,” she says, her lips twitching. “That’s cool...uh, I’m gonna... I’m gonna go introduce myself to our neighbours on this floor.”

Sansa watches her new roommate sashay out of the room, bottle in hand and lets out a long breath. It’s probably what she should be doing too, right? Being sociable?

Creeping over to the open door, Sansa peeps into the hallway. Most students are arriving today, although some seem to have been here yesterday too. There’s all manner of person milling about – lugging bags and boxes, hanging posters on doors, blasting music from their open dorm room doors.

“Theon! No!”someone screams and then laughs hysterically. It makes Sansa jump and turn to see a boy lifting her roommate, Margaery over his shoulder and attempt to run down the hall with her.

Sansa watches him sprint a little way down the hall while Margaery squeals and giggles. All Sansa can do is stare after them... until the door to the next dorm over opens and a shirtless guy leans against the frame. His dark hair was wet and he had a towel around the back of his neck. He shakes his head at the ruckus but his lips look as though they’re fighting back a smile. Sansa’s gaze dips and she feels hot all over as she takes in the lean muscle and smooth skin – the trail of dark hair that travels southward from his navel, disappearing inside his shorts.

What are you doing?! What are you doing?! What are you doing?!

You are getting more and more like your mother.

Her eyes snap up to find the shirtless guy looking at her. Her skin feels ablaze with guilt and her heart is pumping painfully. He gives her a soft sort of smile but all Sansa can do is squeak and slam the door shut.

[shijiujun]

hey so uh, it's 110% Not Your Job, but can i ask for like a crash course on these chinese bl series that are everywhere around me but i don't know them. like i'm familiar with the untamed or however many names it has but i'm seeing two or three more???? help please if you can thank you

hello!! oh no worries, i happened to be looking for a distraction too so this was timely hahaha although it’s a pretty broad question since there are so many new live adaptations coming out (and some which have already come out which are featured as bromances), but let me see if I can like round this up for you a little. 

*i may be giving you a bit more than you need or like irrelevant stuff, but i guess i’m bound to hit something hahaha

Okay so the chinese BL series you’re talking about is The Untamed, and since you said you’re familiar I won’t get into it in detail, BUT just for like flow’s sake:

The Untamed (Chen Qing Ling) is based on the danmei (BL) novel written by MXTX, called Mo Dao Zu Shi (and yes however many like English translations to this title there is), or MDZS for short. You watched the live-action, and there’s like a lot of other versions of it e.g. the anime, the chibi anime, audio dramas etc. etc. the list goes on. In case you still haven’t seen any of those, just glance through this masterpost made by @the-social-recluse​ - In any case, right now everything is sort of already out EXCEPT:

MDZSQ - chibi donghua, cutest shit you’ll ever see

More MDZS merch 

Some teasers from MDZS mobile game which has been one year and developing

Now moving on to other BL series floating around so frequently - MDZS is the second book that MXTX wrote. So there’s SVSSS (The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving-System), which is also called lovingly by others in the fandom by Scumbag System/Villain in short, this is MXTX’s first danmei novel. Right now if you’ve seen this on Tumblr, it’s the anime (donghua) version - 10 episodes only for Season 1, available on WeTV with subs, finished airing like a few weeks ago. Translations of the novel are definitely out in full somewhere.

An absolute mess, but an organized one

Tried to do a manhua but failed

Everyone thought the donghua wouldn’t air on time either (it has a history of dropping development halfway) but it did

Would probably be the most entertaining if ever dealt with a live-action

And then there’s arguably, the most beloved child out of all three novels (at least right this moment) - TGCF (Tian Guan Ci Fu, or Heaven Official’s Blessing). This is the third and so far last (???) danmei novel MXTX has written, main pairing invented love. Strawhat-wearing scrap collector smiley angel with devoted kid-turned-adult-turned-ghost-king who follows smiley angel for like many years because he loves him. Anyway, if you’re seeing this, once again on Tumblr a lot, it’s the donghua version you’re seeing. Still airing, I think we’re midway through the whole season, the yelling starts Saturday (Asia time zone) and then extends into Sunday, sometimes Monday.

There’s like a god-tier Eng translation in full for TGCF by Suika

There is a manhua for this as well, only like 45 chapters in, but the time Jan/Feb 2021 rolls around, the donghua would have overtaken the manhua progress on the storyline HAHAHA

Apparently the director/production team who did CQL/The Untamed managed to get the rights to filming its live-action, but heh nothing much about that just yet aside from casting rumours and fans worrying that the casting will be done wrongly and also that they won’t be able to do justice to the story.

Alright now that we’ve more or less cleared MXTX and what everyone is hyping over (for good reason), let’s move on to the other CHINESE BL stuff you could be seeing (although I feel like you might not actually be asking about this), and these will all be live-actions (I’m also only clearing SOME of this year’s stuff, so none from before 2020, don’t ask me why I didn’t leave Guardian or SCI up here):

✨✨✨ Already aired, done and dusted or maybe ongoing, just ones I see on my dash and notifs so I definitely am biased ✨✨✨

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty (Cheng Hua’s Fourteenth Year) - Many episodes, much bromance, base novel is gay af, but live action is cute af. Read more here and full translation is not yet done I think

My Roommate is a Detective - THIS IS A SPECIAL MENTION. NOT BL. Doesn’t even have like a book to go along with it, it’s just I’ve seen people getting into this again and creating content, so idk, imma just leave this here. It ain’t BL but it got the most glaring BL-esque relationship I’ve ever seen in my life. You’ll get what I mean if you watch it

The Lost Tomb Reboot - AGAIN another special mention, because many handsome young-ish men who you know, head into tombs, much bromance. Based on a huge series of novels, totally not BL, but as always with like a lot of men put into one story, ships happen. This year as well, in case you’ve seen it floating around

✨✨✨  Upcoming Chinese BL live-action adaptations, confirmed + casting + filming. You may have seen some of these because like posters were recently released etc. - As far as I know these are all slated for 2021 ✨✨✨

Faraway Wanderers (Tian Ya Ke) - A danmei novel by Priest, filming wrapped up, should be airing soon. Leads are pretty cute, although I’m sure they’ll turn this bromance. One of the male leads is known for a lot of period web dramas, and Gong Jun, the other male lead, is known for more contemporary modern dramas, but damn Gong Jun’s jawline

Winner is King (Sha Po Lang) - Another danmei novel by Priest, filming wrapped up recently as well if I recall? Posters recently released, and this is arguably Priest’s most famous and popular danmei

Immortality (Hao Yi Xing) - A super popular danmei novel called 2ha or The White Husky and His White Cat Shizun by Meat Bun. Filming also... wrapped? I think, because posters came out the next day and everyone from Earth to Pluto went mad, definitely one you should look out for next year spring i think, but I’m pretty sure there’s gonna be a hell lot more teasers, posters etc. coming up and then half of danmei Tumblr will probably go into cardiac arrest

The Society of Four Leaves (Zhang Gong An) - Ehhhh I think this hasn’t yet been filmed but casting was recently confirmed (contentiously).  Concept posters are up though. This technically isn’t classified officially as a BL. There are no CPs officially in the novel, but apparently it’s very like idk flirty etc., also slated for next year

*There are a few more by Priest, e.g. Liu Yao, but no concrete news that I’ve seen (by now like at least 60% of her danmeis either have a live-action contract or a donghua contract or both lmao)

✨✨✨  Upcoming Chinese BL donghua adaptations (2021-ish). All by Priest✨✨✨

*Throwing this in just as a by the way thing, because these are also recent news (these two weeks). There might be more but I haven’t seen anything yet personally :D

Imperfection (Can Ci PIn) - Space AU, the novel won like two national literary awards if I recall like last year? Anyway a brief trailer recently came out last week I think, and main lead is handsome af, and once again it’s space and space wars so it’s pretty cool

Silent Reading (Mo Du Zhe) - Novel is called Mo Du, and honestly I think the donghua has been like teasing fans for like idk years, but it looks like we’re finally getting to the donghua as the team previewed the first ep like... two weeks ago live to an audience? Modern crime thriller thing, there’s a masterpost going on Tumblr

Lie Huo Jiao Chou - Another Priest fan favourite, a historical + modern danmei combination. Much angst from what I’ve seen, but donghua teaser looked good also, released also last week

---

anyway hopefully some part of this or at least one part answers your question? if not, just send me another ask or like, DM me hahahaha

[luna-the-moth]

Crimson Rivulets (SFW) Pt.1

Alright, since Lucifer won first place in the poll, I’ll start off with the Avatar of Pride himself! This was supposed to be a hc/scenario, but I suppose this jumped out at me! GN! reader, and SFW. This’ll be a series, so I’ll link each part as they come out! 

Word count: 2.1k words

This is a Vampire!Lucifer AU and (SFW) Modern! CEO Lucifer AU

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Vampire!Lucifer AU (SFW)

A pureblood vampire, scorned by his father, and cast out with his siblings. From a young age, Lucifer had learned to take care of himself, along with his brothers. As the eldest, he felt a strong urgency and need to shield and protect his siblings, at any cost. Even at the expense of his pride.

Before stepping out of his father’s light, Lucifer had been one of the most prestigious vampires; the most sought-after. Fellow purebloods, half-bloods, and turned vampires alike had flung themselves at him, left and right.

In truth, Lucifer had no interest in any of them. Why would he distract himself, when he was supposed to inherit the family business and fortune? As the eldest son of the household, he was expected to be the pinnacle of class, intelligence; the embodiment for everything a pureblood represents.

He was known by many titles and honorifics, having obtained various positions of high status throughout his eternal lifetime. Governor, count, high priest, etc. But the name you know him as now, is Lucifer, CEO of Morningstar Corp.

The same Morningstar Corp., where you were going to apply for. Specifically, the open occupation of a personal assistant. You had been searching for a job close to the city, with decent benefits and stability. Which is quite odd, as Lucifer was known for his short temper, and had a reputation of going through assistants at least once a month.

Along with the fact that he was one of the most influential businessmen, it added an extra reason to be cautious. After all, he could make or break you, and if he didn’t like you? Say goodbye to all future job potential. His influence spread across the country, connections with almost every important figure of power.

The position offered a higher-than-average salary, and benefits of high worth. It was a gamble, but if fate smiled down on you, it may as well be one of the best opportunities of your life. Well, it was, but not in the way you expected.

Adjusting your tie slightly, you entered the doors of the building, a pleasant demeanor sweeping over your features. You had to be poised and professional, after all, this was a multi-billion company, if you weren’t your best, failure was guaranteed.

You had worn a simple outfit, contrasting to the corporation’s high-class, expensive atmosphere. But you were just applying to be an personal assistant after all, behind the scenes; so you wore a professional outfit, that wouldn’t stand out.

Arriving just on time for your interview, you took the elevator to the 27th floor, as the receptionist had instructed. With smooth, light jazz playing in the small space, your mind wandered to the possibility of what would happen if the job was granted to you.

Would Lucifer be a haughty, conceited, arrogant boss to work for?

Snorting, you thought, “Of course he is, he’s Lucifer Morningstar, CEO of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, why wouldn’t he be?”

Ping!

Interrupted by the signal of arrival from the elevator, you took in a deep breath, and stepped out of the elevator, hope in your heart.

The interview had gone fairly smoothly, as you answered the questions in a concise, polite manner. It was surprisingly less nerve wracking, besides the fact that your interviewer looked like he wanted to bite you-

At least, he had seemed like it. With mesmerizing, and hungry forest green eyes, you felt yourself gravitating towards him. Although, you quickly reminded yourself that this was a professional setting, and you were applying for an interview.

Seemingly pleased with your responses, the interviewer bade you goodbye as you left the office, a mysterious smirk gracing his features. Leaving the room, the image of him stayed in your mind for days, the intensity and calculation in his gaze haunting you, luring you in.

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

For a few days, you had idly scrolled through other job listings, as you didn’t want to rely on the Morningstar Corp. application. After all, you were just one of many applicants, it’d be foolish to place all your hope into that one position.

After another day or two, you got a callback. They had accepted your application, and Mr. Satan, your interviewer, had wanted you to come back and sign the official papers, along with a tour of the building.

With hope in your heart, and a lightness in your step, you entered the skyscraper of a building once again, an air of confidence about you. Well, a sense of security and assurance would be a more accurate description.

Walking down the clean, polished hallway of the 34th floor, your thoughts wandered. However, they were abruptly stopped when you heard a stern voice ring out, prideful and condescending.

“Yes, and? It’s almost pitiful, how lousy you are with your job. I hired you as an interviewer, yet all of your choices have been fired or left on their own accord.

Honestly, since you are one of the most educated and competent halfbloods, I thought you would at least have some potential. If you can’t even find a decent personal assistant for me, I see no potential for you here at Morningstar Corp.”

In an open conference room, you saw a young man, with blond hair, and seemed to be his mid twenties. With a scowl on his face, narrowed eyes were directed towards the man in front of you.

Ah, it was your interviewer, you had realized. Who else had such enchanting, deep green eyes? Focus, you chastised yourself.

“Oh please, you drive off even the most patient of assistants! Speaking of personal assistants, you can’t just call them ‘degenerate, insolent worms not worth the dirt on your shoes, much less your investment,’ because they brewed your coffee a little too long, sir.

If you weren’t such an entitled, demanding pureblood, I’d-”

Wait- pureblood?

As he was about to fire off an insult, his gaze darted towards you, eyes seemingly gazing into your soul. Your breath hitched, words barely being able to force themselves out of your throat.

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll be back later-”

Hastily turning on your heel, you attempted to leave, but were stopped by a commanding voice behind you. Immediately, you had recognized him. The same voice you had heard over and over, in press conferences, and various ceremonies.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

You turned around, suddenly anxious and on edge. Something about that voice made you shiver in fear, and...delight?

Lucifer was dressed in a dark navy blue suit, with corresponding dress pants, along with a crisp, white dress shirt, hidden under a dark blue not unlike that of the suit. To add on, a black tie was adorned around his neck, with black dress shoes.

Wow Y/n, the first thing you think about when confronted by one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, is about how hot you think his voice is, and that collar- Get yourself together!

Blinking once, your gaze meets that of a blood-red one, almost hypnotic. A deep, bloody red that was similar to that of roses, or perhaps rivulets of blood. Almost like the blood red eyes of a vampire, found in fantasy novels and mythological stories.

Although, maybe he was one, since Satan had mentioned him being a ‘pureblood,’ if I recall correctly. That could mean anything, though.

Nonetheless, you quickly snapped your focus back to the present, as you had realized you had been staring into his eyes for maybe a bit too long. With burning red staining the tips of your ears, you replied with a slight waver in your voice,

“I was just about to leave and reschedule my appointment with Mr. Satan, as it seemed the two of you were busy, Mr. Morningstar.”

Staring at each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever, Lucifer smirked, breaking the hold on your gaze to glance back at Satan. With a dignified air around him, his moniker of “The Peacock” seemed quite fitting.

“Is this the new assistant you were speaking of, Satan?”

Scowling, he nodded curtly.

“Yes, this is Y/n L/n, your newest personal assistant. Out of all of your previous assistants, they’re the most qualified, and seem to align with your standards the most. I have faith in them.”

Taken aback by the blatant praise, you dipped your head in a gesture of thanks and gratitude.

Lucifer observed with a slightly curious gaze, masked behind a cover of apathetic, uninterested layers of emotions. It was rare for Satan to praise anyone, much less a new assistant.

He couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued; after all, he held Satan’s opinion in high regard, arguments aside. If he believed in your capabilities, you had to have at least some merit.

As much as Lucifer would like to deny it, he was a demanding boss, especially since his levels of stress were through the roof. Hell, if he was human, he’d be dead from overworking and lack of rest. Fortunately for the undead immortal, he wasn’t.

“I see, well Y/n, why don’t you finish up the required paperwork with Satan, and he’ll give you a tour afterwards. Your first day of work starts this coming Monday, be here at 7AM, sharp.”

Turning away, you stole a glimpse his face once more before Lucifer left, leaving you and Satan.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in, you turned to Satan, mind clouded with thoughts flurried, flying through your head.

With  charming smile and a certain glint in his eye, Satan gestured to the conference room, with papers and files ready on the table.

“Shall we?”

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

Monday, 6:50 AM

Arriving at the building, you were huffing, as you had rushed over. Your morning had been fairly quiet, but the real issue was with traffic.

There was a car crash on your route to work, and it nearly made you late, added with the fact that parking spots were far and few to find, it was a miracle you had made it on time.

However, the sight that greeted you when you stepped into the polished office was...something, to say the least.

The first thing you noticed was a wave of iron and rust permeating your senses, filling your nostrils and causing light-headedness.

On Lucifer’s desk, sat vials of blood, and the man in question, had his fangs inserted through a vial. seeming to drink the blood through his fangs.

With closed eyes and a contented look on his face, Lucifer seemed to drink the blood like a mere cup of tea, nonchalant.

Letting out a noise of surprise, you clapped a hand over your mouth in shock; your boss was a vampire, just like from the manga you had read....

Lashes fluttering open, Lucifer looks at you with . Removing his fangs from the vial,  he swiped his tongue along his fangs, not letting a drop of blood go to waste.

Setting it down, he placed his head on his propped hand in a bored manner, a contempt expression worn smugly across his face.

“Right on time, L/n. Since today’s your first day on the job, I’ll give you a simple task. Prepare a coffee with 18 shots of espresso, a dash of milk, and a caffeine booster.

Afterwards, you will stop by the clinic on the 13th floor, and collect a vial of Aspherion from the medicinal vault. The identification program should have your information set, and should be able to identify you by the card Satan gave you previously.”

Standing in shock, your eyes were wide with surprise, firstly, because your new boss was a vampire; also, that is an inhuman amount of caffeine, how the fuck has he not died yet- plus, having a vampiric boss wasn’t included in the contract.

No wonder the benefits were so great, he was gonna drink your blood like a fucking juice box.

“What in the world? First of all, my name’s Y/n, and I would appreciate if you would call me as such. Secondly, a vampire? Do you really think I’m just going to accept that, no question?”

Incredulous, you had gestured your hands in a dramatic fashion, genuinely offended that your new boss had thought you were going to take in this new information within seconds, and be completely fine with it.

Sighing with a look of irritation flashing across his features, he gestured for you to sit in an empty seat, proceeding to prop his chin on his hands. In his eyes, shone curiosity, and a challenge.

“Fine. What would you like to know?”

[polishksiezniczka]

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna Fluff ABCs | Camerlengo x Female Reader

Il camerlengo deserves more love ❤

Notes: These take place in an AU where the Cardinal Strauss and Commander Richter are guilty of the attacks on the Vatican. 2K words.

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

There are so many things about you Patrick adores: your beautiful, soft smile; the curiosity and warmth your eyes convey; the feminine lilt of your voice. But most of all, he loves you for your heart. The kindness you show towards others makes you an angel in his eyes.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why or why not?)

Despite his vocation to the priesthood, Patrick would love nothing more than to start a family with you. He views the love you share as a gift from God, not something that should be disgraced or vilified. The arbitrary man-made rules of the Church which prevent him from realizing this longing—your own little family—frustrate him to no end.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

With the utmost care and gentleness. He holds you against him, reverently stroking your hair, face, and body with his warm fingers. He especially loves to admire the suppleness of you, softly kissing each and every glorious inch he can reach. While these moments are few, they are precious to him.  

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Because your relationship with Patrick is technically “forbidden,” you can’t go on dates in the normal sense. When he can, Patrick will use the secret passage between the Vatican and Castel Sant’ Angelo to discretely travel to the outside world in order to visit you. Because you really can’t be seen alone with him, you instead spend time with Patrick in your apartment, often cooking dinner, talking, and just enjoying each other’s company. Even if you can’t confess your love to the world yet, all he desires is to spend every moment he can with you.

E = Everything [“You are my ____________.” (e.g. my life, my world)]

“You are my heart.”

“You are my treasure.”

“You are my life’s greatest blessing. You are a gift from God.”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

When he imagined his life without you. The pain he felt even entertaining the notion was too much for him to bear. He knew he needed to tell you before it was too late.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

This is one of the main reasons you fell in love with Patrick—he is truly the gentlest soul you have ever met. He treats you as if you were a priceless relic, practically worshipping the ground you walk on and swearing to defend you from any harm. Not that he won’t stand up for what he believes—he is a fierce defender of his faith and possesses the ability to inspire millions with his commanding oratory. But the look of love in his eyes when you catch him watching you makes your heart flutter rapidly in your chest like a schoolgirl’s.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Secretly and with all the affection he can possibly give. He especially loves to brush his thumb across the back of your hand, squeeze them lightly, or bring them to his lips when they are intertwined. When you are alone together, he always wants to maintain this type of intimate contact.  

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

When you first met Patrick, the always-charming young priest was left speechless. Not only was he enamored of your beauty, he was mesmerized by your intellect and eloquence. At first, he chided himself for such foolish and boy-like thoughts—he was a priest, after all! But after slowly getting to know you, he realized how much you embodied perfection to him: your poise, the uncommon kindness you showed to all those you met, your deep devotion to your Catholic faith. And you couldn’t help but feel the same strong attraction to him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous much?)

Patrick is not the jealous type—he would never have any reason to be. Your love is built on trust and truthfulness, and he alone holds the key to your heart.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You were the first to kiss Patrick. You had gone to him for guidance after suffering a deeply personal anguish. His words were so gentle and reassuring, you couldn’t help but softly kiss his cheek in gratitude as tears slipped silently from your eyes. You were too numb to even feel ashamed, let alone prepare for Patrick’s response: taking your hand and kissing it lovingly, a gesture meant to assure you your feelings were reciprocated.

Because of Patrick’s profession and his constant presence in the public eye, you can’t be together as often as you’d like. But when you are, you nearly die and go to heaven from his mouth’s attentions alone. Patrick’s kisses are gentle, reverent, and full of love. He is never aggressive or rough; instead, he worships you with his lips, laying them everywhere like a starving man put before a feast.

L = Love (Who says I love you first?)

Patrick did. He was running to the helicopter to dispose of the antimatter chamber, willing to sacrifice his life for the safety of the faithful gathered in the Square and his beloved St. Peter’s. As he prepared to take off, he saw you standing on the steps at the entrance to the basilica, tears in your eyes. He silently mouthed to you, “I love you. Pray for me.” You were distraught but could do nothing but nod as tears clouded your vision and watch as he ascended from the plaza into the night sky.    

M = Memory (What’s their favorite memory together?)

One night you begged Patrick to go for a walk around the city together, like a normal couple would. You couldn’t brush away the romantic childhood notions of strolling through Rome with your beloved. He finally acquiesced to your pleas (your doe eyes and breathy implorations being of great assistance to you) and the two of you slipped quietly out into the dusky night. You frolicked at the Trevi Fountain, gazed at the enormity of the Pantheon, and shared a sweet treat from the gelateria while nestled on a bridge overlooking the Tiber River. Although the ancient city was beautiful, the sight beside him was what truly took his breath away.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Priests are sworn to a life of poverty, so Patrick does not shower you with expensive presents (nor can he afford to). But none of that matters to you because all you care about is Patrick and your love for him. Of his few earthly possessions, Patrick gifted you his late mother’s golden crucifix necklace inlaid with emerald, despite your attempts to dissuade him. He gave you the look of utmost adoration and smiled. “Angelo mio, you are the only one worthy of wearing it.” You wear the necklace every day as a secret declaration of your love for Patrick.  

O = Orange (What color reminds them of their other half?)

There are two: light pink (it is your favorite color and the color of your favorite flower, the gardenia) and white. White symbolizes purity and peace, as it is the color of the angels, and to Patrick, you are his angel on Earth.  

P = Pet Names (What pet names do they use?)

Angelo mio (“my angel”); cuore mio (“my heart”); mi amore (my love); “beloved”; “dearest”; “my treasure” ; “sweetheart.”

Q = Quaint (What is their favorite non-modern thing?)

His rosary, made of olive wood grown on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. It was a gift from His Holiness.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Ideally, he would spend the day curled up together on the sofa with you, reading, talking, or just basking in the other’s presence. Two mugs of tea and a plate of delectable pastries you had baked for him would sit on the table but would remain uneaten because of the sustenance you provide to each other. When he cannot be with you, he enjoys spending time in his study, doing research, reading Scripture, or writing his weekly homily.  

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Prayer—he always turns to God and the Saints for guidance.

Naturally, being by your side and in close physical contact immediately quells even his deepest fears. He relishes listening to your soft, sweet voice, lulling him into a sense of profound comfort and eventually, sleep.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Patrick is an intellectual at heart and loved the time he spent in seminary. He is incredibly well-versed in a variety of topics, including literature, history, science, music, art, philosophy, and theology. You could listen to him for hours and never lose interest.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

You. Patrick can be himself around you, let his guard down. He knows that he can tell you anything. Sometimes when he has a lot on his mind (responsibilities, the welfare of his Church, your future together), he simply gazes at you lovingly and observes the subtle movements you make when you’re engrossed in a task like cooking, reading, or playing the piano.

When he’s anxious and you are not around, prayer provides him a deep sense of comfort. He also relishes in your sweet scent—a small vial of your perfume you gifted him.  

V = Vaunt (How do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Vanity is a sin! 😉

But in secret, he loves showing off his Latin skills to you! You find it incredibly sensual when he speaks to you in that ancient tongue.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

On a dreamy spring night, Patrick led you up to a secret balcony near the base of St. Peter’s massive  dome—a hidden observatory shown to him by His Holiness when he was a young boy. The view is breathtaking; you can see the whole city bathed in golden light, the inky blue darkness above cut by the silver caresses of the moon. You turn to Patrick in complete awe and could hardly articulate how beautiful the view was. He pulls you close to him and whispers that he would be happy if he could never see this view again if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with you. You turned to him, overwhelmed with love, your breath hitching at the significance of his words. He then knelt down before you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, of all the blessings God has bestowed upon me, none is more precious than you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that we were meant to be together, in this place and time.” His eyes were sincere and insistent, his tone earnest as he held your hands tighter and continued: “My mind told me that we could not be together, that my vows of celibacy and chastity forbid this. But my heart tells me that if a love so pure as ours exists, is it not a gift from God, meant to be treasured? And though I may not deserve to understand, all I wish to know and feel is my love for you.” His eyes shone softly with tears.  

“Y/N, my love, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and spend the rest of your life with me? Will you be my wife?”

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Patrick loves the ancient hymns from the early days of the Church, their melodies hauntingly beautiful yet powerful. “Ave Maria” also has a special place in his heart after he heard you singing it softly to yourself one evening while preparing dinner.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Every day! Patrick is so torn between the duties of his priesthood and his intense longing to spend the rest of his life as your husband. He prays to God often about this personal conflict, but finally decides to propose to you before Him alone, indifferent to anyone else’s judgement.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Because Patrick is so easygoing and affectionate, he would do really well with dogs.

Tag: @lemairepstuff @seraferna

[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.

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

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[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Tell us about your bottled up OC lore

Everything below the cut. I’m serious when I say it’s long.

Loki x Sigyn (Logyn)

Incredibles AU:  Sigyn is a superhero and Loki is her sworn arch nemesis.  They’re flirted, fought, and occasionally teamed up to take on bigger threats. But, when an act passes forcing all superheroes to go into hiding, Loki finds it’s not fun being a villian without a hero. He finds Sigyn and the pair of them eventually fall in love, get married, and settle down with a couple of kids.  But even if Loki can’t deny the happiness his new life brings him, are part of him longs for the adventure and excitement of yesteryear.  He’s given an opportunity when a package arrives asking him for his “unique insight” on an upcoming project.  How can he resist?

Look, I just want an opportunity to write them both as parents and also have some awkward PTA meetings between him and Sigyn’s fellow hero co-workers.

Just a big ol’ Hunger Games AU that I literally forgot about until just now: Start of the revolution against President Doom lead by survivors of the Hunger Games with Steve Rogers and their new symbol. It’s just two random kids in this universe not one boy one girl.

Tony Stark: Stark is a favorite of the capitol and builds a lot of their tech.  He was taken into the games at 15. During the games he was blasted with some shrapnel and had to hide out in a cave.  There he met Yinsen and he took pity on Tony.  He helped Tony build a makeshift arch reactor to survive the games. Yinsen was killed and Tony survived by inventing weapons and blasting his way out.

Bruce Banner: Bruce is more of a hermit to the public eye, but still close friends with Tony.  He was forced into the games at 13.  Starting out as a rather timid and quiet boy he spent most of the game simply trying to stay out of everyone’s way, hiding in caves, trees and so on.  It came down to the last handful of kids and none of them were particularly motivated to kill the others since all of them had done what Bruce had done and hid.  To spice things up the game masters sprayed aggression toxin into the air.  All the kids were susceptible to it, but Bruce was the worst.  He ended up killing all the kids himself with his bare hands. Although the toxins did wear off Bruce still fears that anger inside of himself.  He suffers from PTSD and when he is angry he does become violent.

Thor Odinson: Thor is another one of the capitols darlings.  He and Loki entered the games together during an anniversary game in which if one was chosen and had a sibling that sibling must enter the game as well if they are at age. If by the end of the game both siblings are left standing, they can both live.  He was 16 at the time.  Thor relied on his strength with his preferred weapon being a large hammer. He was also one to form alliances with other members while Loki remained wary.  In the end there was Thor, Loki, and two other members of their alliance. Thor wanted to be fair and give the two other survivors a chance.  Loki took the opportunity to poison the water they stole from him and Thor in the night. Thor was at first disgusted with what his brother did, but over the years accepted that Loki did it to save both of them.  

Loki Odinson: Along with Thor he is a capitol favorite.  While Thor plays up the honorable warrior persona, Loki relies on the charming scoundrel. He entered the games with his brother at 15.  Loki relied heavily on his wits and traps to survive.  Once the alliance was broken he knew the other team would not kill him and Thor in their sleep, but they would steal some of their supplies.  Loki made sure to leave food and water in the open for them to take, all of it poisoned.  He does not regret anything he did in the games since it lead to Thor and his survival. What he hasn’t told Thor, or anyone, was that he knew that if Thor got in his way of living, he would have let Thor die.

Natasha Romanov: Game master for the reunion Hunger Games, Natasha is actually working for the rebellion as a double agent.

Clint Barton: He is one of the less praised winners; he makes less of a secret in his distaste with the capitol.  He doesn’t have any family for the capitol to threaten, so he sometimes says things he shouldn’t.  Clint entered the games when he was 14.  His brother Barney was chosen as well.  For most of the games Barney watched after Clint, both of them were skilled archers and shot at opponents from the trees.  Towards the end of the game Barney went down to get some food while Clint waited for him.  Barney was captured and tortured by some of the other kids to find out where Clint was, but he didn’t spill.  That night Clint heard a boom in the sky and he woke up to see that Barney was dead. Clint spent the rest of the games looking for the rest of the kids and killed them all.  Clint is more than ready to fight the capitol and shows it enough for people to catch on it, but not enough for the capitol to kill him.

Juliet Holden: Juliet remains out of the public eye if she can avoid it and spends as much time as she can with her family. She was forced into the games at 17 along with a girl named Beth who as 16.  They stuck together throughout the games.  Juliet used more hand to hand combat and hiding while Beth was more of an inventor.  During an attack Juliet got shocked and Beth helped her through it.  Juliet got out alright, but she lost a lot of her pain censors meaning she could take a hit longer.  Beth took inspiration and made some make shift gloves that could shock opponents to death.  Beth was eventually killed leaving Juliet the winner.  Juliet still feels survivor’s guilt about Beth since she was the smarter one between the two of them.  She hates the capitol with a burning passion, but unlike Clint has a very large family she needs to protect and care for.

Sigyn Odinson: Wife to Loki, their wedding was shown throughout the capitol making Sigyn as much as a capitol darling as Loki.  This was planned by both Loki and Thor to keep Sigyn and Jane safe.  If they were capitol favorites the capitol would be less likely to hurt either of them.  As a result she became one of the few non-winners to be invited to the capitol. She knows how to be charming and play the role of the dutiful wife.  Unfortunately with this new found confidence Thor started speaking more freely his dislike of the capitol.  President Doom knew he couldn’t hurt Thor or Loki or their wives so he turned to their children.  Jane couldn’t have kids so Loki and Sigyn’s children were forced into the games. Both boys died leaving Sigyn devastated. She no longer went to the capitol with Loki and was an adamant planner in taking down the capitol.

Poe Dameron x Lana Solo (Polo)

Modern AU: I wrote a sum up of it here

Bodhi Rook x Sera Darros

YouTuber AU: Linked Here

Coffee Shop/College AU: Linked Here

10 Things I Hate About You AU:

Jyn: Kat  

Sera: Bianca  

Bodhi: Cameron  

Cassian: Patrick  

K-2SO: Michael  

Baze: Mrs. Perkey  

Chirrut: Mr. Morgan  

Draven: Dad  

Male OC: Joey

Roadtrip AU:

Sera is going off the college and her adopted brother Cassian and his best friend Kay are helping her move across country.

Along the way they spot a woman having trouble with her car and offer her a ride to the nearest gas station to call a tow. The woman reveals herself to be Jyn Erso.  She’s going cross country to meet her father who she hadn’t seen since she was about eight. When she calls the tow they say they can’t get if fixed for a few days.  Sera then offers for her to join them on the trip since they’re going in the same direction.  Jyn agrees and they’re off.

They travel for about a day when the car breaks down and they have to get it fixed.  They go to a local mechanic where Bodhi is working.  As he fixes the car he and Sera strike up a conversation where she tells them where they’re going. Bodhi says that he’s going to the same school she is, transferring from junior college.  Sera then offers that he come with them since she wants to know someone when she gets there and it would be fun.  Cassian begrudgingly agrees since the car isn’t at it’s best and having a mechanic on hand would be helpful. 

They travel for another couple of days before eventually reaching a small camp sight.  They had been driving all day and all need some rest.  The nearest motel is miles always so they decide to camp out. Sera pulls what she can out of the car and makes up a camp using her blankets and sheets.  They all have a nice night bonding and fall asleep under the stars.

When they wake up the next morning they find that the car has been stolen and the only things they have left are what they took out of the car the night before.  Luckily, a couple, Baze and Chirrut, overheard they’re plight and offer them to ride in their RV.  Chirrut and Baze are both former priest road tripping across the country to see what they can see. 

Hawkeye Pierce x Elizabeth “Doc” O’Neil

Soulmate AU: Linked Here

[cinanamon]

body & blood — pjm (m)

pairing | jimin x reader

genre | angst, smut, vampire!au, high society!au, mutual pining!au

word count | 5.5K

synopsis | Jimin has been in love with you for the past century, but ever since you’ve been betrothed, he can’t help but feel guilty.

warning | biting, blood, gore. smut: body worship, penetration, unsafe sex

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally been decided for a couple decades now.”

Jimin groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Taehyung glanced around the dark walls of the stone gazebo for any prying eyes before clearing his throat.

“Jimin, look,” Taehyung paused as he caught sight of a few guests greeting each other by the decorative iron gate, cloaks hiding their figures from the waning dusk. He coaxed Jimin more into the shadows before continuing. “You guys don’t have to get along at first; it’s normal. You’re going to be stuck together for the next millennium so no one is going to expect you guys to love each other.”

“But that’s what I want, Taehyung!” Jimin lamented as he raised his head, “I’ve had a crush on her for the last century, and now that we’ve been arranged it’s like—I don’t want her to be stuck with me.”

Taehyung sighed but patted Jimin’s arm empathetically. “Well you have time on your side. She’ll have to get used to you at some point.”

Jimin wailed again as Taehyung heard sharp footfalls down the stone steps to their left before he saw Jungkook appear, his eyes glowing red as he leaned against a column.

“Are you guys ready? Your dad’s getting impatient, Jimin.” Jimin felt his cold blood freeze in his veins as he looked between his two lifelong friends.

“Why? The sun hasn’t even fully set yet!”

“Most of the guests are here already; who would miss the union of the two highest-standing vampires’ offspring?”

Jimin cried in his head that he wished everyone would have missed it, but he kept his mouth shut; instead, Jimin pressed his lips together anxiously. “How does she look?”

Jungkook chuckled, his fanged teeth shining in the pale light emitting from the lantern above. “She looks beautiful, as always; when you stop being a baby bat then you can catch a glimpse of her for yourself.”

Jimin scowled lightly but still didn’t move, simply crossing his arms and looking up at the large cathedral to their right. Taehyung looked down and sighed again. “Jimin, why do you think she hates you? You’re not a burden. Maybe you’ve been too shy to talk to her for the past decade because of your betrothal, but we still talk to her; she doesn’t hate you.”

“Well she will. We’re being married against our will. She’s probably disgusted at me and my family name.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and guffawed. “When has it ever seemed like she hated the idea?” Jimin opened his mouth to list times where you seemed even slightly irritated by him, but Jungkook interrupted him. “She never argued with her parents about the betrothal, and for Chris—“ he choked on the holy word and coughed, rephrasing, “for Dracula’s sake, she’s standing up there with your family waiting for you.”

Jimin warily eyed the peaks of the cross at the top of the church before meeting Jungkook’s eye, “she’s been ignoring me since.”

“Correction,” Taehyung butted in, his gaze pointed and brows raised, “you’ve been ignoring her since.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, “I have not been—“

“You’ve been staring at her love struck for the past hundred years, Jimin! You’re so afraid of rejection that you’ve been limiting contact with her; all she wants is to talk to you, and you refuse to open up!” Jungkook exasperatedly cried.

Jimin finally turned around in a flurry of motion, an expression of anguish and fear upon his face. “She doesn’t want to be with me! And even if she does now, she won’t after we’re married because she’ll see that I don’t live up to my family name or our pure blood—“

“Jimin, I have been hearing this for the past fifty years so if you don’t get up there now, I will make you.” Taehyung cut him off, but his voice was not affectionate and understanding like before; this one was curt and low like a growl, fitting to the warning he gave. Even Jungkook had stiffened; when Taehyung made a threat, he promised to keep it.

Jimin dropped his hands to his side and looked at his best friend helplessly. He had been friends with the boy since the bubonic plague. Their bond strengthened into the age of colonization until they finally reached the modern times of the 21st century—Jimin always thought the Victorian age had suited Taehyung best—but Jimin had learned one thing about Taehyung through all the growing pains; Taehyung always meant well.

Jimin sucked in his breath. If Taehyung thought this was good for him—that he was overthinking it all—then maybe he was, and maybe things would work out.

Jimin met Taehyung’s focused red eyes before drifting to Jungkook’s curious, waiting ones. Finally, he exhaled. “Okay. I’m ready.” Taehyung closed his eyes and sighed as he relaxed before he ushered Jimin down the gazebo steps.

Jungkook took the lead at Taehyung’s nod, who began to adjust Jimin’s suit and fix his black hair into a neat position as they ascended the steps. Jimin thought his undead heart might just start beating.

Since they were cursed by God, they couldn’t truly enter the church and hold a marriage service, so instead they had set up in the gardens just outside, so that the cathedral’s magnificence could act as a backdrop to the night’s ceremony.

“We’re behind schedule,” Jungkook warned over his shoulder as they reached the top of the steps. Instantly, all of the guests turned on their benches to focus on them with their haunting scarlet gazes. Jimin froze, but Jungkook and Taehyung patted his back roughly as they ducked to the side to take their spot by the pedestal.

Jimin forced himself to move his legs and advance towards the altar before his father could become angrier by his impunctuality and fear. He kept his gaze away from the front—away from you—and he held his breath as he took in each bench he passed.

Well, there were Taehyung’s parents; they owned a prosperous tobacco farm from when Jamestown had been established, and their family business was still going strong. And to his right were the Jungs, who had been gifted metalworkers who, during the medieval age, used to make armor and weaponry but now carved delicate and beautiful jewelry. He ticked off each powerful family in his head as he passed each row, and when he made it to the pedestal, he forced himself to step up.

Now, Jimin had to look up, and he was terrified. He swallowed harshly and lifted his gaze; first to his best men, but at Taehyung’s pointed glare, he switched his gaze to what was before him and his breath hitched in his throat.

You were waiting before the altar—or, moreso his father’s supposed resting place, but since his father was undead it was better suited as an altar—with the closest they had to a priest beside you. And the only thing coming to Jimin’s blank mind was that you were beautiful. You were wearing something akin to a wedding dress—white, even though no vampire was pure—but it appeared from the past century, old and lacy with long billowing sleeves and a long train. You peered at him with red eyes and a red lip behind a thin veil, your hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of your neck. With how many compliments Jimin received about his appearance, he still felt like he could never compare his beauty to your own.

Jimin nearly stumbled as he came to stand across from you, and although his limbs moved slowly, his mind raced a mile a minute.

You looked up at Jimin under your lashes and though your face was cold, you offered a soft simper that Jimin questioned was even real. The priestly man before the both of you cleared his throat; he could not hold a bible in his hands without being burned, so he seemed to speak from memory or from his own variation.

“We gather here today to witness the union of two children of the night; the two purest of our breed. They have been betrothed in order to strengthen the blood of our creation; it is this union that will mark the beginning of a new age.”

Jimin found it hard to swallow as he listened to the man’s words, but his eyes never strayed from you. He knew this marriage was not upon love—marriage between vampires, for how long they lasted, never did—but he couldn’t help but wish that maybe you saw this as more than a kind of business deal.

“Jimin, son of the Parks, one of the first of the pureblooded vampires: do you accept this woman to be your wife?”

You dropped your gaze from the preacher to meet his, and Jimin found your piercing gaze to be like knives that struck him to where he stood, rendering him useless; your gaze was not hostile, but they were deep, and that almost scared Jimin more. “I do.”

“And do you, matron of the night, accept this man to be your husband?”

And the vibrancy of your gaze sent chills down his spine. “I do.”

The preacher made a quick motion of his hand and Taehyung stepped up from the side to present a set of gold rings to the man. Jimin instantly recognized them as the family heirlooms of his family, the rings that had been passed down to each couple as they married for the last six eras. Jimin had little time to ponder what his parents wore now instead as the man handed the fuller band to you.

You gingerly lifted the ring so that the arriving moonlight could gaze upon it and reflect its beauty and shine before you lowered a hand to grasp Jimin’s. He jerked slightly in surprise, but you tightened your hold to raise his hand so it was between both of your chests. As you slipped the ring upon his third left finger, you fluttered your gaze to his, and Jimin felt as if he could die right then, if he weren’t undead, of course.

You kept a tight hold upon your conjoined hands, as the preacher handed Jimin the other gold ring with a beautiful diamond built into it. Jimin stared at it in a daze for a minute before he stretched out to find your free hand. You brought it up with ease, but within his palm it shook. You steadied it gently and Jimin’s eyes darted to yours. Again, they gave nothing away; you just looked upon him with a cool gaze of intrigue. Jimin took a deep breath before he let the ring glide around your own finger. Now, both of your hands were clasped between where your unbeating hearts lied.

The preacher made no cue, but now Jungkook stepped forward. From his belt he produced a thin, silver knife engraved in old Latin, with gemstones lining the hilt. Jimin knew this part.

The man accepted it and without a word, both you and Jimin opened your left hands so your palms faced upwards.

He did not hesitate and promptly sliced open the skin of both of your palms. Blood came to the surface instantly, and neither of you wasted time in clasping each other’s hands tightly, so that your blood mixed.

“Now their blood has been joined; in body and soul, these children have been wed. May they spend the rest of eternity together, till death do they part.” As if to mark the end of the ceremony, your bonded blood pooled within your hands and trailed along your skin before splattering upon the cobblestone in large, red specks.

Jimin let his eyes trace up your arm to the curve of your jaw till he let himself meet your eyes once more. They were entrancing; you already had your eyes set upon him, and he let his gaze linger as the guests began to mingle and leave the garden to retire back to his parents’ home for the banquet.

Jimin knew in regular human weddings, the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. Jimin wondered now what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your soft, red lips meld against his, to feel you whisper against his own. And even though you were now married, he felt like he didn’t have the right to do so.

He tore his hazy gaze away from your own and peeled his hand away as well; by now, the blood had begun to dry and was oddly sticky, as if unwilling to let you separate and end the wedding. Jimin winced as he looked upon his palm; the wound had already begun to heal, leaving behind a raised line where the blade had cut. Jimin closed his fist and offered you a tight smile.

You blinked at him, as if you yourself were also starting to realize the reality of your relationship and that his blood was now flowing within you. You delicately extended your hand outwards, and Jimin instinctively accepted it with his unmarked hand. He helped you step down from the pedestal, and the ground seemed to be unsteady beneath you now as you leaned into his side.

Jimin uneasily remembered his prior fears, so he subtly stepped away once you found your footing. He missed the way you looked at him wistfully as he guided you out of the garden and walked you to his family home, your new home. Would he never return the affection you held for him? Would he forever keep his distance, like he did for the past decade? You had never before desired so terribly the touch of another being.

The walk to his family’s home was silent, and not necessarily pleasant. You both snuck each other glances, but neither spoke a word of it; neither of you seemed to be so sure what they meant. Once you arrived, there were cheers of congratulations that greeted you and enveloped you in its pride. You sent back smiles of thanks, but once sat at the head table, both of your expressions were blank.

There was no true joy for either of you. The congratulations was mainly for both of your parents, for their tactful union of the purest blood. It wasn’t happiness based on love and emotion, simply strategy.

And so you sat in polite silence. You both drank the wine from your glasses and drank the blood from the lamb presented on your plates. Satisfied, you then carefully threw the meat to the bloodhounds that sat amongst your feet; the beasts greedily accepted the lamb and began to tear through the muscle, snapping the bones within with ease.

You took another sip of your wine and looked upon your new husband; Jimin refused to meet your gaze, instead studying the group of noble vampires who mingled before you. You placed down your glass with resolve; you could not live for eternity beside this man if it would be like this.

You stood and softly brushed your hand upon Jimin’s shoulder so he was forced to gaze upon you, but you only met his gaze mysteriously before ducking out of the banquet hall. No one seemed to notice the newlyweds’ absence as Jimin followed you in a hurried sense of curiosity.

You had begun to explore his family’s gothic home, and you chose not to respond to Jimin’s hushed call for you. With no response, Jimin was left to reluctantly follow and fall into step beside you. He must have realized that he would have to wait for when you were ready, and so he fell silent as he watched you study the paintings of his ancestors and the antiques.

It wasn’t until you were thoroughly lost and deeply satisfied with your search that you spoke, your voice soft, mellow.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Jimin’s eyes widened and he snapped his neck to look at you directly, but you had still not taken your gaze off of the wall. Your face began to glow a warm yellow as you approached another wall light at a leisurely pace, but Jimin felt as if you were glowing from within. After all, this was the first time you had directly talked to him for the last ten years. Whether that was his or your fault, he didn’t want to claim.

When he failed to respond to you, you finally turned your head so your eyes could meet his. Instantly, the closer half of your face fell into a blue shadow, and Jimin’s breath hitched at your narrowing gaze. “Did you not hear me or do you not reciprocate?”

“I—“ Jimin fumbled over his words; he couldn’t think straight around you. What were you thinking? What was appropriate? “I heard.”

Finally, you halted in the center of the hall. He couldn’t help but think that you seemed to replicate a picture of his great grandmother in her own wedding dress on the wall behind you, her expression stern and bouquet limp in her hands. Or maybe you were more akin to a ghost as your figure swayed in the luminosity of the moonlight, shining on your pale skin as if it were a pearl and rendering the lace of your gown transparent.

Jimin didn’t seem to have enough time to ponder as you frowned and your firm voice filtered through his ears again. “Did you not wish to be wed to me?”

He choked. Where did you get that idea? “Not at all!” He eyed you incredulously before he took in your appearance; you looked so bitter as you wrung your hands, as if you were sure he didn’t want to be with you. He couldn’t bear to see you as such, so anguished, and so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You didn’t interrupt him as he gathered his thoughts; you simply watched him with a guarded sense of hope.

Jimin, for once, let go of all his fears and doubts; if he had guessed wrong, then you could spend the rest of your marriage hating him. As long as he came clean, he could live with it.

He finally opened his eyes and let out a long, drawn out sigh. His eyes trailed to you and you seemed to accept the tired yet emotional intensity in their depths, as if he was too tired to keep anything from you anymore. Again he sighed; a soft, lovesick sigh as he let himself openly admire you as he admitted, “Truly, I’ve wished to be wed to you for as long as I’ve lived.”

You stiffened. Your hands clenched each other at the base of your torso and your lips were taut, but your eyes never left his own, searching for some kind of clue that he was being untrue. “You have not so much as dared look at me for the past ten years.”

“I have,” Jimin countered without missing a beat. Where was this confidence coming from? He took a cautious step closer to you and he bit his lip. “I’ve fancied you from afar for a century; it was the engagement that terrified me enough to pull away.”

“Why?” You breathed, and your voice cracked as you felt his hand slip into yours. “What would terrify you about our betrothal? Wouldn’t that make you happy?” Tears began to prick at your eyes.

“It would,” he carefully said, his eyes peeking up at yours as he drew closer. You could feel his breath fan across your face as he whispered, “but this betrothal wasn’t made between us. It wasn’t for us.”

You felt Jimin’s other hand gingerly wipe a stray tear from your cheek, but you never looked away from his red eyes as you understood, your lips parting. “Do you wish it was a marriage sealed with a kiss instead of blood?”

And Jimin inhaled sharply as he rested his hand upon your cheek to caress it. He tilted his head so your lips lingered an inch away from his. “Yes,” your hand tightened around his, “I do.” And then he pressed his lips to yours.

It was not hasty or rushed at your sudden confessions, but rather slow and gentle, simply relishing in the feeling of each other’s lips against your own. After all, you did have all the time in the world.

It was a strange change, for as long as you’ve lived, you have never indulged in such feelings with another vampire. It was common for vampires to fool around with humans as they came of age, but moreso because it was an easy way to get humans to let their guard down enough to drink their blood. But to kiss without ulterior motives, to kiss based on emotion, was foreign to your race. But it was a pleasant change, you now knew for certain as you felt Jimin’s plush lips slip against your own, his fangs gently nipping at your lower lip.

You raised your arms from your sides so you could glide them along his shoulders, where they then settled on either side of his neck to hold him close to you with gentle caresses. Jimin was still slow in his movements as he mimicked your sentiments to drape his own arms over your waist, his hands firmly planting themselves on the small of your back.

Though your tears had dried, you still felt the pricking sensation at the corners of your eyes as you separated. You both kept your eyes closed as you breathed together, your noses brushing against each other. When your eyes did flutter open, you felt swallowed by the adoration in Jimin’s gaze. You mindlessly let your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, and his own grip tightened upon you as a cloud passed before the moon, casting you both in shadow and the minimal yellow glow of the wall lights.

In the darkness, Jimin’s red eyes seemed to shine even more radiantly, pulling you to him like a lighthouse pulled in ships at sea. And it was unspoken as you disentangled yourselves enough for him to grab your hand and guide you behind him, farther into the maze of the gothic home.

He escorted you into his bedroom, and the moon seemed to know what your plan was as it beamed upon the bed, the white sheets gleaming under its scrutiny. Jimin’s touch was gentle as he pulled you towards him so your fronts were flush against each other, and he caught both your wrists within his hold as he chased your lips.

This time, the kiss was a little firmer, proving that you were there and he was true. His hands seared their way down your forearms and under the billowing sleeves of your dress. It seemed to prove as another hindrance as Jimin dragged his lips below your jaw, but could not venture farther behind the turtleneck collar.

Jimin exhaled audibly through his nose, but he carefully turned you around. You complied and waited with bated breath as you heard the tight buttons down your spine begin to pop open, one by one. The prickling sensation of each was quickly replaced by his pillow-y lips, and he must have felt the shiver that traveled down your spine in the same direction his butterfly kisses were headed. His hands crawled up your shoulder blades as his lips explored, and they began to peel the dress off your shoulders. And as his lips met the curve at the base of your spine, the rest of your dress followed suit as it bunched you around your hips. You heard Jimin’s quiet chuckle but you were too focused for blood to rush to your cheeks. Jimin smoothly drew the dress the rest of the way down the expanse of your legs, and he knelt so it was easier for you to step out of it.

The second you were fully free of the gown, you found yourself gracefully sat upon the edge of the bed. Jimin’s eyes glimmered as he took you in, as if he still couldn’t believe that he was the one you chose to accept as not only your husband, but as your lover. To the both of you, that made all the difference.

Something seemed to burn within him suddenly, and he tore off his overcoat and hastily unbuttoned his dress shirt. You greedily took in the sight of his exposed and toned skin, and you couldn’t wait to let your hands explore it much the same as your eyes did. His chest rose up and down rapidly, as if gulping for air as he met your gaze heatedly again.

Though, you took note, he had not risen from his knelt position yet; instead, he moved closer to you and gently cupped your heel within his palm. Just like at the wedding, you simply studied him with a calm gaze of curiosity; you and Jimin were too sure of each other now to be ashamed.

Jimin kept his gaze trained upon yours as he lowered his lips to caress your ankle. He lowered his eyes as he brushed his lips upwards, under your calf and briefly mouthing at your knee before traveling along your inner thigh. Your hands found their place in his hair now, gently tugging his attention from your leg back to your face. His pupils were dilated and you were sure yours were blown just as wide, from lust and devotion. Your hand skimmed down over his cheek until you reached the lips he had just worshiped you with. You thumbed at the slowly reddening skin, softly pulling his bottom lip down until it slipped back into place.

Jimin let out a shaky breath before he began to stand up, pushing you down into the bed in the process till he loomed over you and between your legs. Again, it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of your lungs as you admired Jimin’s flushed cheeks and his undoing. You went to cup his cheeks in your hands, but Jimin’s will was stronger than your own as he grasped the hand over his mouth and pulled it outwards.

You were left to watch as his attention fell upon your conjoined hands, your palm upwards. His eyes studied the matching scar from the blade in silence with a sort of reverence as he stroked it softly. He then lowered his head and—just as he did to your leg—he pressed a light kiss upon it. He took the gentle, meaningful pecks down the extent of your arm, the hollow of your elbow, and up to your shoulder till his dark hair tickled your jaw.

You let him continue his ministrations in silence, for you trusted Jimin; Jimin had never been one to be dishonest or disreputable, for the hundreds of years you had known him. And now, he was your husband, even closer than so; Jimin was to be your other half, whether your kind realized that or not.

You closed your eyes as Jimin traveled from your collarbone to the curvature of your throat, where he had wanted to be before when your dress was in the way. He planted another loving kiss upon your neck before you felt his fangs prick your skin. Your eyes snapped open and widened as he bit you and began to drink a small amount of your blood.

You couldn’t recall a time when a vampire had bit another; there was no need. Blood was a food source, and was only substantial when taken from a living being. You were not alarmed for it was only Jimin, and the bite ended nearly as soon as he began, but it still left you perplexed.

As Jimin pulled away and dislodged his fangs, he let out a low groan in the quiet of the room, his hands subconsciously tightening around your forearms.

You kept your gaze trained on the ceiling instead of straining yourself to see him below your jaw, and you stretched your neck subtly, the muscles within flexing. “How was it?”

Jimin chuckled lightly, and it tickled your throat. “Your blood is delectable.”

You raised a brow and let out a quiet, airy laugh. “Truly? Better than the lamb’s at dinner? Better than a young mundane woman’s?”

Jimin lifted himself now, and the humor within you died at the seriousness and intimacy of his gaze as he leveled his face with yours. “Truly,” his bangs skimmed along your forehead as his eyes bore into yours, causing your throat to go dry. His eyes lidded as he lowered himself, his lips moving against yours as he whispered, “It is sweet.” And once more, the heavens graced you by having his lips against yours.

It was one thing to give your blood in union with a vampire, but it was another to give your body. Your own moved against his without either of you needing to consciously think about it, your bodies naturally in sync to reach an end goal of ecstasy. Jimin’s hands loosened around your arms to push your legs farther aside, and you took the chance to trace along his ribs, to caress where his abdomen and chest met.

Jimin separated from you with a gasp, and he hastily began to kiss down the length of your sternum and between the thin, lacey band of your bra. He pecked the top of your stomach before he pulled away fully, his chest heaving and skin just as sweaty as yours. He pulled your panties down the expanse of your legs before he undid his belt and pushed his trousers down to his knees to discard of them off the side of the bed.

Once there were no more barriers, Jimin lunged back over you with a new vigor to connect your lips harshly. The air of intimacy had shifted from soft and unbelieving to passionate and desperate; you didn’t have a true preference between either as he settled his elbows on either side of your head and entered you.

Your back arched and hands flew to his shoulder blades as you tried to stifle a low moan. Jimin hungrily accepted your sounds with his unforgiving kiss, and they seemed to act as encouragement for him to pick up a quick pace. Though it seemed merciless in action, you knew Jimin was ardent and tender; your pleasure was his goal in his bruising pace.

You kept your lips pressed together firmly for the duration of your race to finish, and your hands were frantic on each other, taking hold of whatever heated skin you could touch.

Your finally gasped and your legs tightened around Jimin’s middle, keeping him tight against your core. Your hands nearly choked Jimin by their strength around the back of his neck, and he managed to open his bleary eyes enough to witness your pleasure. He moaned at the sight and feeling of you pulling him in, and his own sounds grew higher in pitch and in frequency before he himself let go, his hands coming to seize your hair in his grasp as he scrunched his eyes tight.

You both stayed in place for a few moments to catch your breath, your eyes staring into each other’s depths as your chests pressed together with every heave. With a soft groan, Jimin separated himself from you enough to give you room. He searched around the vicinity of the bed for anything to clean you off with, but when it turned up futile, he reluctantly pulled up the sheets and dragged it across your inner thighs to wipe off any of his release mixed with your own; you were both too hot for the sheet anyways.

He settled back down beside you with a sighed huff, and you instantly curled into his side so your head was upon his chest; instinctively, his own arm found its way around you to keep you close.

You both stared out the window at the moon who, since you were married earlier that evening, regarded you with its silent approval. Neither of you spoke, and Jimin lowered his head enough to place a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Your shoulders stiffened slightly as you turned over them to meet his gaze again. It was easy to get lost in his glowing eyes, for they told of an overflowing amount of emotion for you that would scare any other vampire.

You chose not to reply with words, instead lidding your gaze and gently pressing your lips to his like you did in the hallway; soft, plush, slow—the simple feeling of each other together.

To the rest of your vampire clan, your wedding was only another successful union of blood.

But to you, you and Jimin knew that your wedding was only sealed by a kiss.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@minsprings​ said “vampires” and I lost it

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {19}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: This one is actually pretty fluffy, friends. You’re welcome.

“It's a rare person to face who they are and not run from it - not be broken by it.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“What do you think of an October wedding?”

Rhysand was flipping pancakes in the skillet - it was breakfast for dinner night. He’d already made a plate piled high with bacon. “Sounds nice.”

“This October,” Feyre clarified, scrolling through her newsfeed on her phone from the barstool behind the island.

Rhysand glanced over his shoulder. “As in...three months from now?”

“Yeah,” Feyre said, smiling. “Why not?”

“Don’t weddings take ten years to plan?” Rhysand asked, turning off the stove top burner. 

“Usually, but I don’t want anything big,” she said, setting down her phone. “And, I always wanted a fall wedding. Early October will allow us to do it outside before it starts getting too cold...and I don’t want to wait a whole year and a half to become your wife.”

Rhysand turned around and leaned against the opposite side of the island. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there, waiting for you at the end of the aisle.” 

Her grin widened. “Good answer.”

Rhysand winked. “See? I’m making a good husband already.”

“I never doubted that you were husband material,” Feyre said, eyes softening. “I have to tell the girls. Oh, fuck, there’s so much to do in three months time. Okay. I need a notepad.”

“A notepad?” Rhysand chuckled.

“Yes,” she said, giving him a pointed look as she dug through a few junk drawers before finding a small notepad and a pen. “Alright. I need a dress. I need bridesmaids...they also need dresses. We need to pick out wedding bands. Oh, and an actual band to play at our reception. Food. We need food. A place to get married. A priest. Oh, Mila will be the flower girl, of course. What else….alcohol! We must have wine.”

Rhysand stared as she listed off item after item after item.

“You realize all this needs to be done in three months, right?” he asked. “If you must get married this October.”

Feyre nodded, slowly, looking uncertain as she looked through her final pages that made up her list.

“Hey,” Rhysand said, quietly. “We can wait.”

“No,” she said, setting the list down and looking up at him. “Rhys, I wanna be your wife, and I don’t wanna have to wait. You asked me to marry you, I said yes, now we’re going to get married. And I don’t want to wait. As much as I love calling you my fiance, I’m already ready to call you my husband.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “Alright. Give me the notepad, then.”

Feyre slid the notepad and pen across the island, along with her ridiculously long list. Rhysand starting writing out a new one, and when he was done, he handed two sheets to Feyre and kept two for himself.

She raised her brows. “What’s this?”

“I split it in half. You and the girls take care of what’s on that list, me and Cassian and Az will take care of what’s on mine. You wanna get married in October, then we’ll be ready to get married in October.”

A small smile appeared on Feyre’s lips. “I constantly wonder how I became so lucky.”

“As you should,” Rhysand muttered. “I’m fucking awesome.”

With a roll of her eyes, Feyre stood from the barstool and ran around the island, into Rhysand’s arms. She kissed him, long and slowly, before grabbing a plate off the counter and loading it up with food. They ate on the couch, watching a ridiculous, old rom-com. 

Feyre thought that if this was a preview of the rest of her life, she was, truly, one lucky woman.

~~~~~

Mila was playing with Elain’s new kitten in her living room while Azriel sat with Elain in the kitchen.

They had spent the last few hours clearing out Elain’s guest room, which they had just unpacked the week before. Nesta would be moving in for a while. Elain had offered, and Nesta had jumped on the opportunity.

“It sounds like she’s doing well,” Azriel said. “All things considering.”

“She will be,” Elain said, nodding. 

Azriel moved his chair closer to hers. “And how are you doing? Still okay?”

Elain nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The first week after she stopped her diet pills was hard on her body. She woke up every morning, feeling sick, starving for the first time in ages. She had tried to get on a regulated, healthy eating schedule, but her body was adjusting.

As time went on, though, it grew easier. 

“Lain!” Mila called from the living room. “Can I watch t.v.?”

Elain looked at Azriel, who nodded. When she left to help Mila turn it on, Azriel stood from where he was sitting and wandered around the kitchen. There was a picture she had put onto her fridge of her, Feyre, and Nesta in high school.

Not much had changed.

In the picture, Elain wore her cheerleading uniform, Nesta was wearing a black cropped top and jeans, and Feyre was wearing Rhysand’s Letterman jacket. It was after a basketball game, taken outside among the falling Autumn leaves. He wished he would have known Elain, then. Wished he would have found her sooner.

“Admiring me in my cheer uniform?” Elain asked, coming up behind him. When he turned and wrapped his arms around her, he was grinning.

“If you still have it, I wouldn’t be mad if you put it on.”

Elain laughed, shoving him in the chest. “Keep dreaming. I remember watching you play. Basketball. You were good.”

“I loved it,” Azriel said. “Smoked too much pot, though, to ever make anything of myself playing. At least, that’s what coach used to say.”

Elain chuckled. “Well, little did he know you would turn into such an amazing man.”

“You think too highly of me,” he mumbled, leaning down to capture her lips with his. The kiss was soft, but it lasted a while, Elain melting into his touch, Azriel’s arms tightening around her waist. 

He lifted her up and set her on the edge of the counter. Her slim legs immediately wrapped around his body, pulling him closer to her. His tongue swept between her lips, and he only hesitated when he heard Mila laughing at something on the t.v.

He’d forgotten she was there.

Azriel jerked back, feeling guilty for melting into their own little world, but Elain was laughing, quietly. 

“I suppose we should keep off each other while the little one is awake,” she whispered.

Azriel nodded, then kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, one final time. “Maybe so.”

“But when she goes to sleep…” Elain trailed off, running her fingers down his chest.

Azriel grinned, eyes lighting up as he said, “Tease.”

“Only for you,” Elain muttered, wrapping her arms around him in an innocent embrace.

Even though innocent it was, Mila thought it was horrifying.

“Ewwww, I’m right here!” she yelled, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Azriel laughed as he spun around, narrowed his eyes, and started running toward Mila. She yelled and started running the other way, but Azriel’s legs were just a little bit longer. He caught her and threw her over his shoulder. 

“Let me down!” she giggled.

“Never!” Azriel cried, but he threw her down onto the couch before tickling her tummy. 

Elain stood in the doorway, watching the sight with a full heart.

~~~~~

Cassian had just gotten home from work when he saw Nesta, coming out of her apartment, struggling with a bigass box.

It had been almost two weeks since Feyre had spent the night at her sister’s apartment and Cassian had been trying to keep his distance. He had noticed, too, that Nesta hadn’t been home much. She had either been with Feyre or Elain. She couldn’t trust herself to be alone.

“Need help?” he asked.

She stopped, and although he couldn’t see her over the box, he assumed he was the last person she wanted to see.

“No, it’s okay.” There was nothing hard in her voice, just exhaustion. Feyre said she was detoxing - which, judging by the amount of drugs she had pulled out of Nesta’s apartment days before, Cassian wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t mind,” he said, taking the box from her before she could protest. “Moving?”

She sighed, finally able to meet his eye once she was free of the box. She grabbed another one, a smaller one, from just inside of her doorway. “Going to live with Elain. She has an extra room.”

Cassian nodded, surprised, and a small, selfish part of him was upset she was leaving the apartment across from his.

“Well, I can help you carry some of this down to your car. And, if you need more room, I don’t mind helping,” he said. “I do have a truck.” 

She smiled, softly. “Thanks.”

Nesta closed her door and started walking toward the staircase, Cassian close behind. When they made it to her car, Cassian shoved the giant box into her trunk.

As they began to walk back up the stairs, she cleared her throat. “Cassian…I’ve been meaning to come by-”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting her off. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. She stopped in front of her apartment door to meet his gaze. 

Cassian said nothing. He just leaned against the brick building with his hands in his pockets.

“What I did to you wasn’t fair, and I know that, but I just want you to know that it had nothing to do with you.”

It’s not you, it’s me. It was the oldest line in the book; but, for once, Cassian knew it to be true. Even if it did make him feel guilty.

“I should have been there for you,” he said, then. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you fucking kidding? I pushed you away. You had every right to react as you did. I wanted you to react as you did. I wanted you to hate me. And I was glad when you did.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me,” Cassian whispered.

Nesta nodded, and leaned against the wall opposite of him. She blew out a long, slow, unsteady breath. “It’s easier when people don’t like you.”

Cassian thought of all the times he had told Nesta how he felt about her. Not once did she tell him that she liked him back; and when he had told her that he loved her, she wouldn’t even let him finish. 

“Maybe so,” he agreed. “But it’s lonely.”

“I’ve always been lonely,” she said, simply. 

Cassian nodded. “You don’t have to be, though. Start letting people in, Nesta. You’ll find it’s a hell of a lot nicer that way.”

She huffed a laugh and looked out at the parking lot, where the sun was setting. “Maybe I’ll give it a try.” 

“Good,” Cassian muttered, and when she looked back at him, he was already watching her. “Need help packing up?”

“You just got home from work,” she said. “You should go relax.” 

“I never relax,” he countered. “I’ve got nothing to do. Amren is out walking Bryaxis. Last offer.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, but there was a small smile on her mouth. “Okay. Sure. Thanks.”

He nodded before following her into her apartment. She had already packed quite a bit up. Boxes of all shapes and sizes sat around the living room and the kitchen.

“All I really have left is my bedroom and the bathroom.”

“Boxes?”

“At the end of the hallway. A Sharpie is there, too.”

“Right,” Cassian said. “And if I forget to label a box?”

“I’ll know it was you who forgot and I’ll kick your ass.”

Cassian laughed. “Holy fuck, Nesta Archeron made a joke.”

She looked over her shoulder as she padded down the hallway. Her eyes were bright. Weary, but bright “It wasn’t a joke.”

Humored, Cassian walked after her and into her bedroom. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You’re tall,” she began, “mind getting all the stuff from the top of my closet?”

Cassian nodded, grabbed a box from the hallway and taped up the bottom before getting to work. 

“So, how are you feeling?”

She didn’t answer for a minute, and as another minute passed, Cassian thought he had pissed her off. But, then she answered, “Decent. Thankfully, Feyre found the hard stuff before I could really get into it. Most of what I took were those pain pills...Last week was hell. I was miserable. But the last couple days…” she shrugged. “The last couple days have been decent. I’m really fucking tired, but my head is clear...Even though my thoughts run a little more wild with a clear head. I’ve got a long road ahead of me, and I’ll have to fight for myself, every day, but, for the first time, I look forward to that.”

“That’s good,” he said, and when Nesta gave him a curious look he said, “Not about being tired and feeling like hell, about...you know. You just...You look good.”

She gave him another curious look.

“Not in like a sexual sense. I mean - you look good that way, too, but, I meant...you know. You look….hydrated.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “Hydrated. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, then quickly faced her closet to stop whatever words were wanting to come out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Just when he thought Nesta couldn’t have any more books than the ones that had been displayed in her living room, he pulled down stack after stack from the shelf at the top of her closet. There were also photo albums, which she refused to let him look through, and old CDs. There was one thing that really surprised him, though, that he found in the back of the closet. 

“You play the violin?”

Nesta stopped what she was doing by her desk. “You sound surprised.”

He looked at her, from the top of her head to her socks that were covered in black cats. “I just….never saw you as the violin type. Or, you know, the musical type in general.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I haven’t played in years. My mom gave that to me, though, when I played nearly every day. Can’t get rid of it. Maybe I’ll pick it up again some day.”

Cassian unhooked the case and looked inside. It was made of a red wood, the bow was well worn. With a smile, he shut it safely inside and placed it in the top of his box. “You should. Pick it up again.” 

“Do you play anything?” Nesta asked, her back turned to him, once more.

“No,” Cassian answered. “I sang in choir in high school though.”

Nesta’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You can sing?”

“Fuck no,” Cassian said. “I was horrible.” 

As Nesta’s laughter filled the room, Cassian taped the box shut and wrote in big, obnoxious letters, Top Closet Shit. He underlined it three times before putting the lid back on the marker and tossing it on her bed. 

She watched him, brows raised.

He shrugged. “At least I labelled.” 

Cassian stayed with her all night, helping pack the rest of her belongings. He did most of the work as she ordered him around, which Cassian was happy to do because he could tell she was exhausted. She seemed to be doing well, though. But every now and then when he looked at her, when she didn’t know it, her eyes were distant, heavy. But when she smiled at him, it was true. Genuine. And when she spoke, he knew she meant the words coming out of her mouth. For once, she seemed excited at the thought of going to live with her sister.

As midnight rolled around, everything Nesta owned was packed away in a box. She walked Cassian to her front door.

“Thank you for helping,” she said, eyes still bright from their night of talking about useless shit and laughing about nothing, even though that exhaustion lingered. “Truly. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I care about you, Nesta,” he said, voice quiet. “And I’m proud of you.”

Her smile faded, and she nodded, blue eyes shining. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be here in the morning to load the back of my truck up,” he promised.

“Great,” she whispered, smiling once more.

Cassian turned to leave, but when he opened the door, Nesta called his name.

He turned around and she had taken a step closer to him.

She shook her head as she said, “I was falling in love with you, too. For whatever it’s worth.”

Cassian froze before closing the distance between them and pressing his mouth to the top of her head. 

After one last smile, he left, and let himself into his own apartment.

Amren watched as he closed the door and leaned against it.

She asked him a question, but he didn’t hear it.

Nesta’s words were replaying in his mind, over and over and over again.

I was falling in love with you, too.

Cassian smiled.

When she said it, her eyes were clear, her voice sturdy. 

She was sober.

Nesta was sober.

Friends may be all that they remained, but that confession would stay with him.

For whatever it’s worth.

It was worth everything.

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

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[angesradieux]

Upended

Summary: Another fic in my modern AU, because I’m just having too much fun with it. Floki is just an interesting person to talk to. It's nothing serious--at least, it isn't supposed to be. But a kiss calls all of that into question and leaves Athelstan floundering, struggling to decide what he wants and how to reconcile burgeoning feelings with his sense of self and his faith.

The beep of the microwave summons Floki back to the kitchen, and he returns in short order with a bowl of popcorn. Finally, he sits back down on the couch. “So, Dracula Untold? You’re sure you wouldn’t rather watch Saw?”

“Positive.”

Athelstan reaches for the popcorn as Floki hits play, but his hand swipes at air as Floki jerks the bowl away with a laugh. “You thought this was for you? Nope!”

“Jerk.” The quiet scoff is devoid of any bite of anger or hostility, and even the disapproving glare Athelstan tries so hard to conjure is far too amused to be taken seriously.

“Guilty.”

Still, with a smirk Floki offers the bowl to Athelstan. The banter quiets as they settle in to watch the movie. Although the way Athelstan leans forward a little, resting a fist beneath his chin and the soft, skeptical, “Interesting,” leaves little doubt that the conversation will resume soon enough.

His eyes narrow just a little and he exhales a puff of breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Athelstan waves a hand dismissively, but the hum that follows says otherwise. “It’s just… Why bother to research if you’re not going to go below the absolute most surface level?”

Floki shrugs. “Because no one except you would know the difference?” Athelstan turns his whole body to face Floki, who pretends not to notice. Instead, he muses, “Seems fine to me. Except not nearly enough blood.”

He gives a huff, but turns his attention back to the screen. For the most part, he manages to quell his righteous indignation on behalf of the historians who must have absolutely despised working on this film, although as the first vampire makes his appearance Athelstan can’t quite bite back the hushed exclamation of, “Really?” He groans, so focused on everything wrong with the movie that he doesn’t seem to realize that Floki has spent more time watching him than the television screen.

With an amused smile, Floki returns to the kitchen for another beer.

It’s an almost herculean task, but Athelstan does his best to keep his grumbling to a minimum, although Floki’s encouragement makes it incredibly tempting. Still, he manages to mostly hold it together until the credits roll. He sighs and slumps back, as if the effort of sitting through the movie has utterly exhausted him.

“Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“You’ll make fun of me!”

“Probably. But out with it, I know it’s killing you.”

Athelstan rolls his eyes. “I mean. There’s nothing! Absolutely nothing there that’s even close to vampire folklore! And they researched! I know they did!” Floki’s eyes glitter as he just gives a hum, gesturing for Athelstan to continue. “I mean, come on! They cast Dracula’s brother! No one does that. They obviously researched enough to know he had a brother. And Mehmed the Conqueror! How many Dracula movies even mention him? But even that was… I mean, yeah. They existed and Dracula fought them. But even that was mostly wrong!”

“Mmm. So you’re a Dracula scholar now?”

“I at least know vampires! And—”

“But they aren’t even real!”

“The folklore is! It was a thing! You can read about alleged vampire sightings in Greece, from the seventeenth century. They took it seriously enough that word of it came back to France. It fueled arguments about theology!”

Floki doesn’t interrupt, and that’s all the encouragement Athelstan needs to continue his tirade.

“I mean, seriously! A Catholic priest observed it. And he was convinced it meant that western Catholicism was the true faith, as opposed to Eastern Orthodox, because if vampires appeared in the east, obviously it meant their souls were corrupt. Meanwhile, the Greek priest argued that the appearance of vampires was a good thing. Because the devil was trying to corrupt their souls, and if he wasn’t trying in the west, it meant their souls were already corrupt and the devil needn’t bother. It’s fascinating!”

“So the church says vampires are real, does it?”

Athelstan’s brow knits and he shakes his head. “Well, it did at one time. I mean, they were seeing something, weren’t they? I’m sure now there’s a scientific explanation for it—I think it’s the stories from Serbia, there’s some speculation that what they saw was actually the effects of death from scurvy?—but it meant something to people at the time. And when the source material is so rich and interesting, why wouldn’t you use it!”

His hands wave as he speaks, voice raising in volume as his frustration mounts, spurred on only by his own interest in the subject. Floki rests his chin on a hand, eyes glittering in amusement as he allows Athelstan to continue to dismantle an opposition that exists in the confines of his mind rather than anywhere in the room. Athelstan comes alive when he argues. If this is the result, then sitting through a lackluster movie was more than worth whatever minor suffering it caused.

“It’s a crime!”

He hasn’t noticed that Floki’s come to sit just a little bit closer. It doesn’t register until suddenly lips brush against his, surprisingly gentle. He stiffens momentarily, but then finds himself relaxing into it. There’s a second, however brief, where he starts to return the kiss. Just a second, and then he stops, pulling away.

“Stop.”

“Hm?”

Floki obliges, watching him curiously.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” Floki says. There’s an air of mischief about him as he adds, “And I’m an excellent teacher.” He leans in again, but Athelstan just about leaps off the couch.

“I have to go.”

He looks rather like a frightened rabbit as he rushes for the door.

He hears his name, but he neither stops nor looks back. Floki hasn’t chased him, and yet that doesn’t stop Athelstan from locking his car immediately once he’s settled in the driver’s seat. He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes. For a long while, Athelstan just sits in the silence of his car, waiting for his heart to stop racing and allow him to calm down at least enough that he trusts himself to drive.

That night, Athelstan sleeps poorly, but he can't say whether it's the tender softness that shrouds his dreams or the burn of hellfire that fills his nightmares with brimstone that disturbs him more. 

It’s barely past six when he rises, giving up on a restful sleep. He rolls over and turns on the bedside lamp. He grabs the laptop from his nightstand, settling it on his lap. If he’s not going to sleep, maybe he can at least get some work done. However, no matter how hard he tries to gather himself enough to crank out a few pages for the next chapter of his dissertation, his thoughts remain scattered.  It’s fine. It doesn’t need to be good right now, anyway--that’s what editing is for. At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself.

His fingertips remain still upon the keyboard as words refuse to come, chased away by the feeling of lips brushing against his own and the burning shame that comes from the realization that he may have put a stop to it, but he hadn’t wanted to. 

Clearly, this is all an exercise in futility and soon the laptop, just like sleep, is abandoned. Instead, Athelstan gets up and gets himself dressed. He scarcely takes the time to run a brush through his hair before making his way to St. Joseph’s church.

The doors are open. Father Cuthbert likes it that way, providing a refuge in the early hours for those who need a moment of quiet contemplation before diving into the hustle of daily life. The sanctuary has its own distinctive scent, incense that lingers and the warmth of smoke from candles lit for loved ones lost that hangs itself about the shoulders of the faithful. In the past, it has always been a comfort, a familiarity that seemed to welcome Athelstan home, centering him and calling his mind to the task of worshipping the Divine. 

Today, it leaves Athelstan sick.

Read the full fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963424/chapters/73761141

[theparanormalperiodical]

Everything You Need To Know About Zombies, And 5 Sightings Of The Real-life Walking Dead We STILL Can’t Explain

At this point, I’m not sure anything would surprise me.

In fact, a zombie apocalypse would actually make sense at this point. But even if the grand finale of 2020 was the dead rising from their graves, it wouldn’t actually be the first time.

According to those that practice Haitian Voodoo, zombies exist. And according to scientists, zombies exist.

But the thing is, Hollywood has gotten our favourite flesh-eating, apocalypse-heralding monsters wrong. The folklore behind these monsters is actually rather different than men and women foaming at the mouth as they mummy-walk towards you.

The reanimated corpse didn’t take its first steps with the debut cinema screening of Night Of The Living Dead (1968).

It started with slaves.

Today we are going to cover everything you need to know about zombies from forgotten folklore of years gone by, to the rumours of the living dead among us in preparation from the incoming apocalypse...

What Are Zombies?

It’s pretty simple: a zombie is someone who was dead and is now not-so-dead. According to an official definition they are corpses which have been brought back from the grave to haunt the living.

Yep - they’re just like ghosts. But instead of wafting gently they have to lump around this great hulking cadaver which is in the midst of decay.

Zombies can be traced back to Haitian Voodoo which claims that a dead body can be reanimated by magical rituals. This supernatural take on the walking dead, however, is at odds with more modern fictional beliefs which centre on science.

Parasites, diseases, and viruses (*looks into camera*) feature as the main causes of zombies taking over the world in Hollywood’s take on the beast. This new zombie first pulled itself out of the ground in 1968 with Night Of The Living Dead, but the term ‘zombies’ was only applied by fans after the release of the cult classic. They were originally known as ‘ghouls’ in the film, confirming the premise that zombies exist to haunt the living.

Following this on-screen debut, the horror genre was overrun by zombie films with Dawn Of The Dead and Thriller going down in history as some of the most iconic movies of all time. The genre waned towards the 90s, however, and was due a resurgence just before the millennium thanks to predominately East Asian video games.

28 Days Later and Shaun Of The Dead resurrected the genre at the turn of the century and shaped what zombies are now known most for: the zombie apocalypse.

The terrifying claims of a civilised world being brought to its knees by walking corpses is now a pop culture staple, but more recently its been given a makeover and shopping montage as a part of its rom-com redo. Warm Bodies and iZombie are a novel take on the horror must-have and incorporate a human-zombie relationship that is an emblem for the sexual liberation of the era.

The severed relationship between supernatural zombies and the sci-fi alternative doesn’t just take place on Netflix. There is evidence that both could exist.

Zombies In Haitian Voodoo

In 1819, poet Robert Southey was the first to use the term ‘zombie’ in his history of Brazil. This heralded the emergence of zombies in Haitian Voodoo which chimed with a concept even more terrifying than the prospect of a zombie apocalypse:

Slavery.

According to Haitian Voodoo, bokors - or witches - would use necromancy to revive a dead person. This zombie would then be under their control as a personal slave and would have no personal will.

Bokors were also known to capture ‘zombie astrals’ - part of the human soul - in a bottle which would provide the owner with extra luck or healing properties, for example.

These beliefs were rooted in Voodoo traditions brought to Haiti by enslaved Africans: they believed Baron Samedi would take them to an African heaven after they died. Those that offended the Ioa (a Voodoo god) would be a slave forever - AKA a zombie. This fear of eternal slavery was reinforced by slave drivers who were often also voodoo priests; to prevent slave suicides, they would threaten zombification.

It was this widespread belief in zombies as slaves that would spread beyond Haiti’s borders during the US’ occupation of the country in the early 20th century. A number of case studies reporting zombies came to the US’ attention, such as in the William Seabrook’s The Magic Island (1929): he cited an article in Haiti’s criminal code which recognised zombies’ existence, (it essentially said even if you murder someone and you make them come back as a zombie, it is still murder).

It was shortly after US forces entered Haiti that one of the most famous cases of an alleged zombie emerged. We will get to Felicia Felix-Mentor’s story later in this article.

Zombies In Science

Zombies are deeply rooted in some of humanity’s darkest chapters in history - but they also have a place in our natural history, too.

Technically, zombies do exist. Sure, if you made the claim for human zombification via Voodoo priest scientists would counter with claims that these ‘zombies’ are schizophrenic, in a catatonic state, or are suffering from a mental illness that mirrors how we believe they would act. But if you made a similar claim for other animals - namely insects - they’d believe you.

In fact, there are numerous known cases of such instances.

Whilst there are no known insects that practice Haitian Voodoo, these cases follow the basic plotline of zombie cult classics - parasites infect them and alter their behaviour or use them to their advantage. The parasites effectively make slaves out of those they target, mirroring what we saw in Haiti.

Take zombie carpenter ants, for example:

A fungus enters their bloodstream, hijacks their mind and grows around their muscles. Within one short week the ant is compelled to leave its colony and seek higher ground which has the right temperature and humidity for the fungus to grow in. It then forces the ant to bite down into a leaf, grows a stalk through the ant's head, and cuts off the ant’s muscle control.

The ant’s corpse still moves its legs vigorously as the bulbous capsule of fungi spores grows through what’s left of its body to infect the ant colony below.

There are many more examples just like this with most parasites having their own unique - and uncomfortably brutal - method of killing off wildlife.

Scientists are unable to refute claims that a parasite might mutate and have a similar effect on humans one day, reducing us all to the zombie hordes seen in the movies.

We just have to wait and see. 

Cases Of Actual, Real-life, Not-so-living-n-breathing Zombies

Although scientists don’t support claims that Haitian voodoo can in fact raise the dead and create personal slaves, various sightings and reports suggest that human zombies do exist.

Question is - do you believe them?

#1 - Felicia Felix-Mentor

In 1936, the owner of a farm in a small village in Haiti woke up to quite a shock.

A naked woman staggered towards them with her raspy voice mumbling and slurring that this farm belonged to her farmer. But the most terrifying thing about this strange woman that stumbled her way through the village was that she looked rather familiar.

In fact, they were pretty sure that this was a woman who had died and had been buried many years before.

19 years before.

Zora Neale Hurston - an anthropologist - investigated this alleged case of zombification and met Felicia Felix-Mentor at a hospital. The doctors were convinced she was a zombie and her husband confirmed this was his wife.

Even Hurston admitted that she believed what they were telling her:

“I know that I saw the broken remnant, relic, or refuse of Felicia Felix-Mentor in a hospital yard.”

#2 - Clairvius Narcisse

30 odd years after Felix-Mentor first wandered up to her father’s old farm, a 40 year old man admitted himself into hospital in Deschapelles, Haiti. Doctors, however, were unable to work out why he had a fever, was clearly fatigued, and was spitting up blood. He died 3 days later.

20 years after he died, a man claiming to be Narcisse approached Angelina Narcisse, his sister.

He told her and other villagers private, personal information in an attempt to convince them that he was in fact Clairvius and had been turned into a zombie for use on a sugar plantation. He had been paralysed for the duration of his burial and then dug up to be put to work as a slave.

He described in detail the process of his alleged zombification, claiming she was given a paste made from hallucinogenic chemicals which scientists would later use to refute most claims of zombies as simply a drugged state. When the bokor died and he was no longer fed the concoction, he regained his sanity and thus his free will, and returned to his family.

Much like Felix-Mentor’s story, Narcisse is actually widely believed to have been a zombie. His death was documented by 2 American doctors unlikely to follow Haitian Voodoo folklore, and even the man who investigated his claims - Lamarque Douyon - believed to some extent zombies could be real despite dismissing supernatural claims.

He brought a sample of the powders or paste used by the bokor back to the US to investigate whether ‘zombies’ were actually people who were drugged and then revived.

#3 - Woman from Port-au-Prince

Only known as FI to The Lancet, the journal investigating cases in southern Haiti in the late 90s, she was discovered 3 years after her death wandering near the village she once called home by a friend.

FI was mute and unable to feed herself but she was still recognised by her family, her fellow villagers, and the local priest by a distinct facial mark and other features.

The local courts opened her tomb to investigate the fact that she had apparently risen from the dead and found it full of stones. Her husband was accused of zombifying her after he caught her having an affair.

Despite local claims of supernatural goings-on, she was later admitted to a psychiatric hospital in Port-au-Prince.

#4 - Son of a secret policeman

WD (mentioned in the same study by The Lancet) was 18 years old when he became ill. He developed a fever, his body swelled up, and his eyes went yellow. They thought he was dying or at least already dead.

His father asked his brother to get advice from a bokor but WD died 3 days later. 19 months after he was buried, he reappeared at a cock fight and recognised his father before accusing his uncle of zombifying him.

#5 - Unknown young woman

MM (also mentioned in the same study by The Lancet) was joining her friends in prayer for a local who had been zombified when she fell under a similar affliction. The 18 year old became ill with diarrhoea and fever, her body swelled, and she died.

Her family immediately suspected a sorcerer had had their way with their daughter.

13 years later and MM reappeared at the town markets, claiming not only had she been a zombie in a village 100 miles away, she had had a child with another zombie.

When her bokor died, his son released MM from their control and she travelled home.

What do you think?

Are zombies real? Or are they merely a fictional beast haunted by the forgotten history of slavery?

If you liked this post I’m pretty sure you’ll love the other articles I post every Saturday! Make sure you hit follow if you want to see ‘em.

Can’t wait ‘til next weekend for a new hit of horror? Check out this online archive of paranormal experiences…