#and fang. clueless. is like 'money is money' & he will never say no to some easy gold

[orcelito]

lmfao

tfw this person u barely know but is friends(?) with the person u killed a prince with so theyre coming with u on the run. they go out to get clothes with said friend. accidentally nearly kill a guy & then get the town guards looking for them. & they come back to ur place so u pull them into ur room to hide out as the guards talk to ur adopted mom at the front door. and after they leave ur gonna go to look out the front window of ur room and ur like "You should hide under the bed to make sure they can't see you in here." & theyre like "Are you Serious?" & u (aka Fang) is just like. a lil snarkily, "Or you could hide in the bed. We could say you're a customer." & theyre like "Oh, don't tempt me with a good time." & then u just kinda Smirk & push them towards the bed b4 going to peek out the window as they ultimately hide under the bed and just

what . a fuckin moment . fang is not rly one to flirt outside of the job so this kinda took me by surprise lmfao. but i think a lil friendly flirt banter with a new friend is a GREAT vibe we r starting

[ornii]

My Bitter Half series? Shut up and take my money!

It's monopoly money but the point still stands!

I Never expected that short story to get such praise. But if people want more of it, I’d be glad to I love the Siblings Dynamic, so here’s part 2 AKa: (Y/n) Pissing Wednesday off for (insert number) minutes.

My Better Bitter Half, Part 2

Chapter 2: Sibling rivalry, Part 1.

“The whole snarky Goth girl thing might have worked at normie school, but here things are different. Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore's social scene.”

Enid and (Y/n) walk between Wednesday down the hall.

“I'm not interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés.”

“Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain. There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales.” She explains, they eventually reach the Quad, the main social hub of Nevermore.

“Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires. Some of them have been here for decades.” (Y/n) motions to the ones in deep dark glasses. A few of the more feminine vampires eye the Addams Twins, more importantly (Y/n). They growl and wink at him, some batting their fangs.

“That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!” Enid smiles, and the howling of werewolves echo along the annals of Nevermore.

“Full moons get pretty loud around here. That's when Furs wolf out. I suggest you pick up noise-cancelling headphones.” Enid said.

“I'm assuming Scales are sirens?” Wednesday said.

“You catch on quick.” Enid smiles, and motions to a girl, dark beautiful skin with azure blue eyes.

“And that girl, Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to royalty. Although her crown's been slipping lately. She used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. But they broke up at the beginning of the semester. Reason unknown.”

“Fascinating.” Wednesday says, obviously sarcastically.

“I know, right? My vlog is, like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip.” Enid says with a prideful gleam. (Y/n) sighs at this, until Ajax, a friend and local stoner approaches Wednesday.

Yo, (Y/n) Enid! You're not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate. She eats human flesh. Chowed down on that kid she murdered.You better watch your back (Y/n).” Ajax says to Wednesday, “You look, shorter, did you grow your hair out?” He asks.

“Ajax.” You say, “That is my Sister Wednesday, the girl who is Rooming with Enid.” You say and he peers over to her, stoned out of his mind.

“O-oh uh—“ he begins but is halted

“Quite the contrary. I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets.” Wednesday says, which blows Ajax’s mind.

“Whoa. You're both in black and white.” He says to the twins. “Like a living Instagram filter.” (Y/n) shakes his head

“Ignore him. Gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned. He's cute, but clueless.” Enid says, ignoring Ajax, the three continue to acquire her schedule.

“It's a small school. There wasn't much online about you. You should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok. I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.” Wednesday responds deadpanned.

“Are, you sure this is your sister?” Enid asks (Y/n), who grins.

“Unfortunately yes, In all her glory I’m sure.” You say coldly, The day ends and the family must bid goodbye to the twins, Pugsley hugs Wednesday.

“Pugsley, you're soft and weak. You'll never survive without me. I give you two months, tops.” She said

“I'm gonna miss you, too, sis.” He responds, he hugs (Y/n) who gladly reciprocated, and tags a “stab me.” Note on pugsleys back.

“I’ll miss you too little brother.” You say and the family leave in the car, the two stand silent before you spoke to her.

“A Word of Advice Mi Hermana (My Sister) Any plans you have of running away end right now. Mother has alerted all family members to contact her the minute you darken their doorstep, I will be watching you, closely.” You say as you go lucky attitude quickly fades.

“As usual, you underestimate me, Mi Hermano. I will escape this educational penitentiary, and you will never hear from me again.” She says, (Y/n) growls a bit and folds his arms.

“I detest saying this, but You are a brilliant girl, Wednesday, and.. as much as It annoys me, I’d… I’d honestly miss you if you left.” You admit, Wednesdays cold stare slightly warmed as you gritted your teeth.

“Mother wishes for you to stay here, you’re lucky you aren’t in prison like Uncle Fester. Don’t throw your life away over your pride.” You say and walk away leaving Wednesday to consider your words, but as siblings go, she wouldn’t take your orders laying down.

The Next day, (Y/n) effortlessly knocks Rowan down in their fencing, using his quick fencing ability.

“Coach, Coach, he tripped me.” Rowan complains.

“It was a clean strike, Rowan.” You say, “Widen your stance, build more muscle and I won’t knock you over like a twig.” You say, you turn your attention to the other novice fencers.

“Anyone wish to challenge the Prince of Nevermore?” You say, and one voice speaks up.

“I do.”

(Y/n) turns to face his sister, Wednesday. Geared to the toe for fencing. You can only laugh and tilt your head.

“Wednesday, as amusing as this would be I’d rather avoid hurting my own blood.”

“Do you? It seems nothing has changed since you left home, you’re still a coward.”

“Ooh!” The fencers say from parts of the room, (Y/n)’s smile Fades to silence and burning fury. (Y/n) snaps his fingers and the teacher looks up.

“Professor, I’d like a match with Wednesday Addams..” you say coldly and he nods, “First to three strikes.” The siblings get in position and pit on their gear. Drawing their sabres their intense glares focus on each other,

“En garde.” They say in unison and move in, the strikes were fast, fluent and held so much animosity. Each stroke inches closer to a point, before a quick jab to (Y/n)‘s neck won Wednesday a point.

“Point to Wednesday.” The Coach says, Wednesday voice was muffled but (Y/n) could hear it.

“You know what they say Brother, “Pride Cometh before the fall.” She says, (Y/n) moved in, much more ferocious and hungry for victory. The blades dance and trade before (Y/n) lands a point on her heart. The score is even.

“Let's finish this.” You say.

“Agreed. For the final point, I would like to invoke a military challenge. No masks. No tips. Winner draws first blood.” Wednesday says.

“Fine.” You respond and tear your mask off.

“I’ll apologize to mother when she visits you.” You say and Wednesdays focus was dead on you, and the final round began, the bladed tips were fast, sharp and each swing and jab were inches, millimeters away from landing a point, each attack felt so, raw, full of fury and strike, their blades clash once more and Wednesday goes for a stab, (Y/n) for a downward slash. And blood, was spilled.

(Y/n) and Wednesday sat in the nurses office together, both bleeding. Wednesday had a small cut on the top of her head, and her brother? Not as fortunate. He had his upper shirt removed as there was a stab wound in his shoulder. It was being patched up by the nurse and wrapped. The nurse leaves as the siblings sit together.

“Sorry for being a bit too, aggressive.” You say to her, Wednesday kept staring forward.

“I apologize for almost piercing your heart.” She said.

“I’ll admit, what you said got under my skin, you always had that ability to bring the worst emotions out of me.” She explains, “What’s Family good for?” You say sarcastically.

“I meant what I said though, I’d be amiss to have my other half missing. As much as you Hate it mother cares for you, as I do.” You said, you put your hand on her leg and try to reassure her.

“Just, Take what i Said into consideration.” You ask her, Wednesday turns her head to face yours. “I’ll consider it.” She responds.

“Thank you, I’m still going to stab you back though.” You say smirking, and Wednesday attempts to hide her grin.

“You’ll have to Earn it.”

[bgn846]

Marshal’s Creed FFXV Fanfic

Summary:            

Cor dresses up for the annual Halloween gala in hopes to win a bet. Can he beat out everyone else at the party with the best costume?

Notes:    

I had a fun prompt from my friend @ragewerthers for Cor Leonis getting invited to a Halloween party.... but what in the HELL is he supposed to go as?!  Do Regis and Clarus help him?  Do the boys help him?  Does he decide to go scary?  Funny?  Mythical?

I hope you all enjoy, I had fun writing this! :)

Work Text:          

“What is he wearing?” Regis asked under his breath from where they were standing near the steps to the throne.

“Not so sure, but it seems pretty popular with the ladies,” Clarus admitted as he craned his neck to see better.

“Dear six, he looks half-naked!” spluttered Regis after a moment.

“Sorta, he’s got pants and maybe something someone would consider a shirt on.” Though Clarus was still clueless as to what Cor had dressed up as.  The annual Halloween gala was always a fun event. However, the marshal never dressed up.

Ever.

It was only the quick thinking of Regis with the tempting draw of a bet that enticed their friend into wearing anything special this year. A hefty amount of 500gil sat waiting for Cor if he dressed up and won one of the sundry costume awards to be gifted that night.  The prizes given out were little awards trinkets, and the bragging rights until the next party.  Of course, Cor could care less about any of that, the only reason he’d even agreed, was to prove Regis wrong and maybe relieve him of some decent spending cash.

The king had figured Cor wasn’t creative enough to even stand a chance. Regis had merely snorted and waved him off when the marshal assured them he’d win something.  Now, as Clarus watched their friend navigate through the crowd he was beginning to think Regis might have to pay up at the end of the night.

The squeals of impressed party goers only got louder as Cor approached, as did the flash of lights from photos being snapped. The crowds dispersed once he’d reached the king.  Cor yawned once seemingly bored with the whole affair already. “You might as well give me the money now, Regis.”

“Never!” the king hissed, “You aren’t going to win, look at you! What is that, it looks like a pile of rags!”

Before Cor could answer a young staffer passing by interrupted them with a shout, “Awesome costume!” They left just as quickly as Clarus began to examine the outfit in more detail.

“I’m afraid I’m lost as to what you are, care to enlighten us?”

“Eh, this? I have no idea, Noct helped me pick it out.  Said it was the best costume to wear and had Ignis go online and order me one before I could say no.”

“You asked my son to help you?”

“Nope, he found out I was going to dress up and he nearly flipped. How could I say no, he begged me to let him help.”

“Still what the hell are you?” Regis asked in exasperation.

“An assassin I think?” Cor supplied with a furrowed brow. “Honestly, the kid was talking too fast for me to catch the exact name, but he said it was from a game.”  

“Why in the heck would an assassin wear that? Your entire right side is exposed, seems like a defensive nightmare.”

“I’ll admit it’s not exactly realistic but it’s comfy at least.” Cor offered with a shrug.

“I don’t know why you let my son talk you into this, you look ridiculous.” Regis was about to add more when another party-goer/staffer wandered by and started staring. They were of course after a picture of Cor.  The staffer was young and blushing like mad but still managed to ask for a selfie.

“I’m sorry what were you saying majesty? I got pulled away to have my picture taken because I’m going to win.”

Regis sneered and turned around to walk away.  Clarus couldn’t help but snicker at the sight. Regis was a sore loser so a part of him hoped Cor wouldn’t win, but he probably would. The marshal, though not a youthful twenty-year-old anymore, could hold his own in the looks department. He was only in his forties now but still trained just as hard. His well-defined six-pack was evidence of that.  Clarus suspected that most of the girls wandering over were trying to get a better look at what he’d been hiding under his guard uniform.

Cor for once didn’t mind the attention and even smiled for a few shots.  It was nice to see his friend out of his element for once.   “Have you seen his highness?” Clarus asked, figuring Noct would have at least had to help Cor get ready. Otherwise, the man wouldn’t have known how to wear the costume.

“Yeah, he’s coming soon, he was getting picky about his nails.”

“What?”

“You’ll see, he’ll match grumpy pants over there,” Cor announced with a chuckle. “Regis thinks sporting little tiny fake fangs makes him a good vampire. He’s so wrong.”

“Oh dear,” Clarus could only guess what Noct had conjured up. Ignis would have been key in gathering his needed elements, but the idea was most likely the princes. “What are the others dressing up as?”

Cor barked out a laugh, “I only saw Ignis and Prompto but it appeared they were wearing matching black suits.”

“That’s it?”

“Almost, if you don’t count the wolf tail they both had clipped to their belts and the wolf ear headbands.”

“I’m so confused,” he sighed. However, right as he was about to ask for more details a sudden hush overtook the room. Looking up he noticed what had caused the reaction. Ignis, Prompto, and his son were stalking over towards them. They all matched and looked quite formidable.   However, Noct seemed to be missing. The black suits had matching black shirts and ties to go with. One might take them all for security guards aside from the addition of the animal ears atop their heads. One thing Cor hadn’t mentioned was their eye color. Each had donned a pair of contacts that made their eyes look golden and cat-like.

As they neared, Clarus realized there was a fourth pair of legs hiding behind Ignis. This must be the prince. Waiting patiently as the group finally came to a rest in front of them, Clarus was treated to the reveal. A pale hand with amusingly long pointy black nails slowly crept out from behind Ignis arm.  It reached out and pointed straight at him.  Then in a move that had Clarus snorting with laughter, Noct curled his fingers and beckoned him closer.  

“You’re nuts if you think I’m letting you near me with those daggers,” he laughed.

Noct merely shook his finger and carefully leaned to the side to show his face. The prince’s hair was slicked back and someone had drawn in an exaggerated widow’s peak.

“I see you’re taking your role far more seriously than your father.”

“I shall win,” was all Noct uttered before he hissed and retreated behind his bodyguards again.

With a quick bow, Ignis led the way back out into the party.  The advisor was playing his part very well and looked like he’d snap a person in two if they even tried to talk to the prince. Prompto was fighting to hide a smile as they turned to leave. Gladio offered Clarus and eyebrow waggle and a wink before he left.  They were having fun it seemed.

“So forgive me for being a little behind on my fantasy lore, why are they all wearing animal ears and tails?” Clarus asked kindly.

“He’s a vampire and he needs his werewolf pack to protect him.”

“Ah, I see. Noct basically thought up the perfect costume, ensuring he doesn’t have to talk with anyone.”

“Pretty much, he’s clever in that way, unlike his old man!” Cor teased as Regis joined them again.

Ignoring Cor’s comment, Regis stared at Noct’s retreating party and tilted his head, “Was that my son?”

“Yep you missed the reveal; he’s a vampire with a coven of werewolves.”  

Regis simply smiled and straightened his shoulders slightly, “He takes after me in so many ways.”

Cor groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, “You wish, look it I’m gonna go mingle and get some more votes in my favor.  I’m winning this contest tonight, be ready to pay up.”

Regis tried to whack Cor in the shin with his cane, but the marshal was quicker and leaped out of the way. He laughed and casually wandered away, complete with a smug look of satisfaction.

“He’s such a brat sometimes,” Regis huffed.

“He’s only five years younger than you.”

“Shut it; let’s go see if we can convince the judges to ban him or something.”  

Cor did not get banned.

Clarus had the joy of watching his friend claim a very special award, the citadels’ sexiest costume. Apparently, the panel of judges was also distracted by Cor’s exposed right side and six-pack.  The few other contestants in that category didn’t stand a chance.  No manner of makeup could fake muscles or a square jawline.

Regis didn’t have to pout for long though when his son won the night's overall best costume design. The king was proud of his son and his friends. They’d banded together to create a memorable look.  Noct stayed in character when he accepted his award and tried to bite one of the presenters.  Gladio sprang into action and held him back.  The room erupted in laughter and cheers.

Suddenly thankful they could all enjoy moments like this together; Clarus smiled and looked over to his friend and King. Regis must have had a similar reaction as he returned a warm smile of his own and a small nod.

The rest of the night was a blur; Cor had come playfully demanding his money. Regis denied him, but Clarus knew he’d pay up in the morning.  His liege kept trying to accuse Cor of cheating since he was only wearing half a costume. The marshal would then wiggle his award in front of Regis’ face as a rebuttal.

The music soon turned up loud enough that they couldn’t talk anymore. Opting to retreat to the far corner of the room the three friends sat and relaxed.  They spend the remainder of the evening commenting on the costumes and the terrible music.

The End.

AO3 link is posted in the comments.

[izupie]

I’ve been writing a Reddie fantasy creature /  AU but I’ve got so far with it and I’m running out of steam, so instead of forcing it and not enjoying it, I’m just going to post what I’ve got so far ! I really enjoyed writing what I did though. One day I hope I’ll finish it and post it on AO3, but I might just stick it in a collection of unfinished stories at some point~

The idea was inspired by a prompt on Instagram and the old wives tale that cats can see ghosts - they say that when cats are looking really intensely at seemingly nothing, they’re really seeing a ghost. So each of the Losers would be a different fantasy creature, with Eddie being a cat that was a witch’s familiar, (but when they leave their witch they’re cursed with a human form to show that they’ve broken their commitment) and Richie’s a ghost that only he can see and touch. (He’s really just Actual Richie caught in the Deadlights, crossing partially over into another universe for a little while, which is why he’s all ghostly, but he has no memory of the world he’s come from, feels like the others are strangely familiar, and he can’t leave Mike’s bar.)

It was really self-indulgent (as all my AUs are) ahaha

--------

Eddie heaved a sigh as he all but fell onto the bar stool. It was a testament to how far he’d walked in the last few days, and how sick he was of camping, that he didn’t even care that the stool creaked noisily at his weight, and that his travelling cloak seemed to stick to the wood as he shuffled to try and make himself more comfortable. (To no success.) (No, his ass wasn’t bony, he was just going to blame it all on the terrible design of flat, hard seats that do nothing for either comfort or alignment of the spine.)

There was a man behind the bar, wiping a metal flagon with a rag, and Eddie desperately tried to not think of the rapid multiplication of bacteria within damp cloth. The bartender had long elven ears, dark skin, and an easy smile that he flashed at Eddie as he made his way over. His expression was open and friendly, and he said, “What can I get for you, traveller?”, in a deep, melodic tone of voice that made Eddie immediately want to offload his whole life story instead of what he wanted to drink. He thankfully managed to keep a lid on his lifetime of trauma and mistreatment and instead replied, “Glass of milk, thanks,” in what he hoped was the confidence of someone used to sitting in bars and ordering drinks and definitely wasn’t travelling alone for the first time in their life.

If he expected a reaction to ordering a glass of milk from a bar, he didn’t receive any, and the bartender just smiled and nodded. “Coming right up,” he said in his honey-smooth voice as he turned away.

Eddie pulled down the hood of his travelling cloak and sighed in relief as his pointed cat ears sprang free from beneath the material. He rummaged within the leather bag around his hip for a small bottle and pulled out the tiny cork with a satisfying pop. There wasn’t much of the potion left, he thought reticently, and the only witch he knew he’d left a long way back from here... But he had to keep his hands clean. Eddie frowned and his tail swished as he poured a few drops of the bright blue liquid onto his hands, then rubbed them vigorously before he stoppered the bottle once more and stowed it away again. The bartender still hadn’t returned yet, and nobody else seemed to be paying him any attention, so he licked his palms and drew them down the velvety soft fur on both of his ears. That felt better.

There were only five other customers that Eddie could see – all playing a game of cards around a large table in the corner of the room. The building wasn’t especially big, so he could hear snippets of their good-natured heckling to each other from his seat, with one voice significantly louder than the others. Eddie placed his elbows on the counter as he tried to get a better look at them – but he felt something wet and cold seep through the thin fabric of his cloak as soon as his elbow touched the surface, and he snatched his arm back with a soft hiss, flattening his ears and nearly losing his balance on the stool. He glared down at the wood, as if it had personally offended him, and then returned his attention to the others.

Only four of the five were sitting at the table with a hand of cards. Nearest to Eddie was a Satyr, judging by the dark brown furred goat legs and the two shining, curved horns on his head. He had neatly trimmed facial hair and wore an openly worried expression (he didn’t seem particularly good at bluffing). Next to him was a man sitting ramrod straight in his chair (good posture, Eddie noted) with sandy brown curly hair, looking shrewdly over his glasses at the rest of the group. Every so often two huge tawny coloured feathery wings would twitch behind him where they were folded in against his back. A woman next to him winked at the Satyr as she said something that Eddie didn’t catch, while her bright red hair flashed like a flame as she tilted her head back and laughed, revealing two long fangs. The only other male at the table gestured for quiet and examined his cards more carefully. He also had two horns on his head, protruding just under his greying hairline, but they were obsidian black, long and thin, and matched the thick scaly tail swishing back and forth across the floorboards while he thought. Eddie blinked in surprise. It was the strangest group he’d ever seen.

The only other person there chattered excitedly behind the Dragon and interrupted Eddie’s observations. He whistled loudly.

“Oh, Big Bill’s got an amazing hand. Nobody fall for his bluffs, he’s lying through his teeth. Guys, c’mon!” The guy gestured violently toward ‘Big Bill’s’ cards and moved around the table, peering closely at the others’ hands. “Stanley. Stanley. Do not let Bill walk out of this place with all this money again. For me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe that this guy was providing such an obnoxiously loud running commentary on the game, and yet nobody was reacting. He moved around the table and practically leant his chin on the Vampire’s shoulder as he loudly read out her hand, but she didn’t even blink. He stood back to his full height (Eddie realised that he was tall) and folded his arms across his chest (tall and broad) and he heaved a huge sigh as he watched the others. (Tall and broad and sad.) Only then did Eddie notice how strange his clothing was – he’d never seen a shirt that shade of bright blue before. And there were small pink birds patterned all over it too. His black hair was messy and unkempt, and he had such strange looking glasses on. Maybe he was from a different Kingdom?

The dragon slammed his hand down with a raucous cheer and Eddie’s attention returned to the game. The others threw their cards onto the table with groans of disappointment.

“I fucking told you all! Jesus. I can’t believe you fell for Bill’s bluffing again. Or maybe you’re all just bad at cards,” the strange man mused, “we all know Benny Boy can’t keep a straight face to save his life…” He continued ranting whilst the others chatted amongst themselves and threw down bags of coins that the dragon scooped towards himself.

“Sorry to keep you.” The bartender’s sudden return shocked Eddie enough to make him jump. His ears flattened against his skull and he willed the fur on his tail to lie flat again before anyone in the room noticed it bushed up. Eddie knew he was scowling, but the bartender just smiled pleasantly and placed a glass of white liquid in front of him. “Fresh milk,” he announced.

Eddie looked down at the milk, back up at the bartender’s smile, and considered the amount of time he’d been gone for. “Fresh… as in… fresh milk?”

“Can’t get any fresher.”

Eddie gagged and pushed the glass away. “Pass.”

The bartender laughed heartily. “I’m kidding. I don’t keep milk in the bar, but my cabin’s not far from here and I grabbed some out of the larder. It’s fresh, but it’s been sterilized, don’t worry.” There was a bright gleam to his eyes that melted away most of Eddie’s irritation, but his tail (no longer looking like he got struck by lightning) still swished a little angrily behind him.

He took a tentative sip, spurred on by thirst and an innate feeling that this elf was trustworthy, and sighed with relief at the cold creamy taste that slid deliciously down his throat. He grabbed a few coins out of his leather bag and placed them on the bar, making sure his fingers didn’t touch any of the mystery liquid that he’d accidentally dipped his elbow in before.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome, traveller. Hey, what’s your name anyway? Mine’s Mike.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, took another sip of milk, and finally replied, “Eddie.”

“Well met, Eddie. Feel free to stay as long as you want, Maturin only knows I don’t get many visitors.” Mike went to move away but Eddie stopped him with a jerk of his head in the direction of the group in the corner.

“Hey, uh- interesting group over there.”

Mike smiled again, but this time it really tugged at the corners of his eyes. “They’re my favourite group of people in the whole of The Eight Kingdoms,” was all he said, as they rose from the table and made their way over. Which left Eddie just as clueless as before since his poor attempt at prompting hadn’t worked.

Mike laughed as they all took seats at the bar. “Don’t tell me, Bill won again.”

“Of course!” Bill crowed, his scaly black tail lifting into the air behind him. “If anyone can b-bl-bluff their way out of anything, it’s a writer. There was that whole m-m-murder mystery I wrote last year, set around a card game. I’ve been on a winning streak since th-then.”

“Ever humble, Big Bill!” The strangely dressed guy in the glasses laughed. “Yikes, man.”

“That means drinks are on Bill today,” the Vampire said, seemingly ignoring that comment, as she tapped the bar beside Eddie excitedly. “You want another, stranger? Bill’s paying with our hard-earned coin that he swindled from us.” She grinned and her fangs glinted in the candlelight.

“Uh…” Eddie started, unsure about the sudden acknowledgement of his presence.

“Sorry,” the Satyr said gently, in a pleasantly raspy kind of voice, “we get like this when we’re together.”

“Or some of us do anyway,” the man with the feathery wings added. The soft sound of rustling feathers followed his every movement as he took off his gold framed glasses. With his glasses off it made him look younger somehow, though his bird-like eyes were still piercing as he regarded Eddie with a slightly tilted head like a bird.

“I’m Ben,” the Satyr went on.

“-Sweet, sensitive Benny-Boy,” the glasses guy sighed.

“That’s Stan…”

“-My man, Stan the Man. Even if he could hear my jokes, he still wouldn’t laugh at them-”

“This is Bev…”

“-Nobody has the right to be this hot and not have a pulse-”

“And Bill.”

“-Good at everything in that kinda way that makes everyone want to follow everything he says, but also in the kinda way that makes me want to punch him in the face just a little bit.”

Eddie snorted an unexpected laugh and quickly tried to pass it off as a cough.

“Sorry- my name’s Eddie.”

At the chorus of ‘nice to meet you’s and ‘well met’s from the group Eddie was vaguely aware that the other man hadn’t been introduced at all, and that still nobody had reacted to any of his comments. Eddie couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing over, but he was already looking back, so their gazes locked for a second. Warmth sprang to his cheeks at the realisation he’d been caught. He pretended to cough again as he pointedly kept his eyes away, squirming in his seat with his embarrassment, and tried not to think about the confused expression he’d seen on the other man’s face as their eyes had met.

He focused on the realisation that none of them had drawn any attention to his cat ears. Although he’d already started figuring out that most of what Myra told him had been lies, it still stung to have it confirmed almost daily by every new experience. It was a sad, twisted truth that his own witch had been deliberately lying to him his whole life about everything.

He took another sip of milk and placed the glass back on the bar as he couldn’t help but let his attention wander back to the man from before, while the others all chattered and ordered drinks off Mike. His magnified dark eyes were opened wide behind his glasses as their gazes met again. Hadn’t he looked away at all? What was he staring at? His ears? Eddie’s tail twitched in a show of his irritation, wondering if he should take back everything he’d just been thinking. What was this guy’s deal? Well, if he was going to stare, so was he. Eddie defiantly lifted his chin and looked straight at him, willing him to make a comment. But the guy glanced around, as if checking there was nobody else around him that Eddie could be looking at. His eyes were still opened wide and his breathing sped up as he raised a slow and shaky hand to point to himself, raising his eyebrows as if to say, ‘…me?’. Eddie’s ears twitched and his own eyebrows pulled together sharply, as if to reply, ‘uh, yeah, who else?’.

“You can…” the guy started, then swallowed loudly and took a deep breath. “You can see me?”

Eddie felt something cold settle low in his gut, understanding beginning to finally dawn on him. “No,” he snapped.

“Holy fuck! You can see me!”

“No!” Eddie yelled loudly, jumping off the stool and hissing. “No, I can’t!”

“Yes you can! Yes you can! Holy shit! Fuck!”

“Eddie?” Mike asked gently. “Are you okay?”

The others looked at him warily, while Richie moved closer – seemingly caught somewhere between awe and relief.

“No- Yes! - I mean…”

Bill held his palms up as if calming a wild animal. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotta be kidding me that this is the one thing she didn’t lie about… how was I supposed to know… never thought I’d meet…”

“My name’s Richie!” the guy nearly yelled, excitement bursting out of his voice. “Richie Tozier. Hey look, you’ve gotta help me. This is insane,” he laughed wetly, and Eddie realised he was crying. “I can’t believe you can see me. I’ve waited so long to have somebody fucking, just, reply to me, man.”

(Can ghosts cry? Apparently so.)

“Eddie?” Mike repeated, as unaware as the others at the second half of the conversation that was going on.

The mood of the room had completely changed; the others were looking at him like Myra had always told him they would. A hot spike of shame ran through him and Eddie hissed softly at them, his ears lying flat. “I’m not bad luck.”

Bev shook her head, her expression sad. “Nobody said you are, honey, just calm down and tell us what’s going on.”

“You can see him, can’t you?” Stan spoke softly, but it cut through the chaos.

“Stan?! What the fuck, you can see me too?” Richie whirled on him and pointed an accusatory finger.

“You can see him too?” Eddie echoed.

“No. But I had my suspicions. Just, a voice I could hear sometimes. A glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eyes.” Stan ruffled his wings and folded his arms. “I figured this bar was haunted.”

“And you never said anything?” Richie wiped at his face. “I’ve been going crazy talking to everyone with absolutely nothing back this whole time and you knew I was here?”

“Wait, haunted? There’s someone else in the room?” Ben looked alarmed.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Mike looked between Eddie and Stan.

Eddie sighed and resisted the urge to massage his temples. “Cats can see ghosts,” he explained in a strained voice.

“Eddie here just became my new best friend, that’s what’s going on.” Richie sidled up to Eddie’s side so swiftly he didn’t have time to react before he had slung an arm over his shoulder.

Eddie hissed and ducked away but Richie was beaming. “You can feel me too?! Get back here! Hug me!”

“Not if you were the only ghost in the whole of the Eight Kingdoms!”

“So, there is a ghost?” Bill prompted.

“Can’t believe my bar’s haunted,” Mike mumbled.

[xlehukax]

Start of Something - Thread the Needle (Pt. 6)

 -Writing a little series on here as a warm up! In accordance to @orangelegs‘s Hogwarts AU! Updates won’t be on a set time, but they’ll come eventually-

Been a while, huh? Don’t worry, I have somethin else! And some inspiration for the future, woohoo! It’s short this round, but the next chapters comin quick. 

After the match, after Patton’s ‘surprisingly decent’ cheery commentary, after a few new drawings in Virgil’s sketchbook, after Roman is yet again the hero of the game, after Logan leaves to finish his essay for Transfigurations, Patton and Virgil meet up on the way back to the dorms. 

“Hey Virge! How was it? A totally fairytale?” Patton grins goofily, nudging him. 

“Well, I made him laugh and he promised me that if a dragon came after me he’d slay it with a katana, so a success, I guess? What about you, you seem ecstatic,” Virgil chuckles. Patton does look over the moon, a nice colouring to his cheeks. He giggles.

“That obvious?” 

“You really wear your heart on your sleeve, Pat,” Virgil shakes his head teasingly, “But come on, spill,” 

“Well, we talked!! For a few hours! And he taught me all the techniques!” 

“Uh… yay?” Is Virgil supposed to be excited about that? It just sounds dull. 

“Yeah!! We never talked in class! Actually, he’d kinda just be cold to me most of the time,” Patton laughs awkwardly. 

“You like the guy who was so cold to you? Like, it’s Logan and he’s actually nice, but seriously?” 

“Well, he helped me and stuff- hey, we don’t need to talk about how he used to be okay? Now he’s so nice! He smiled! Logan has a really pretty smile!! And I made him smile! How great is that??” 

Patton’s so excited about it that Virgil can’t help but be happy for him. The mans like a Cheering Charm personified. 

“That’s pretty awesome, Pat,” Virgil sighs happily. 

“Patton, fancy seeing you here,” a voice says, silky and with the slightest hint of an accent reminiscent of money. Virgil blinks: a slim figure in a bowler hat has appeared by Patton’s side. As he turns his face, Virgil can take account of the scaled side of his features. His muscles tense. 

Deceit. 

He’s about to tell him off, to stop pestering his friend when-

“Janus! Oh, it’s been too long!! I missed you!!” Patton squeals, wrapping his arms around Janus’s shoulders in an overexcited hug. 

“I as well, darling,” Janus returns the hug contently. 

Virgil’s face scrunches. Darling? 

“Wait, Janus do you know Virgil? He’s the one helping me with Logan- remember my letters?” Patton gestures towards him actively, Virgil shrinking in his hood like a turtle. 

“Oh?” Janus casts a teasing cocksure glance at Virgil. If it was just Janus and Virgil, Virgil would tell him off, tell him to leave him alone.

But it’s not. Patton is there, smiling brightly at the idea of his two friends meeting. 

“Hello, De- Janus. Nice to… uh, meet you,” 

“Ah, likewise. So you’re the little matchmaker setting up my Patton here?” 

“I… uh, yeah- well, it’s a mutual situation we’ve got going on-” Virgil stammers his way through the sentence. Where’s Remus, you wanker, where is he when is he going to throw a fanged frisbee at my head I know he’s here somewhere- jesus, what are you up to, Janus, just leave me alone I swear to god- please dear god just leave me the fuck alone-

“How quaint. Are you enjoying yourself, Patton? Logan and Virgil treating you the way you deserve to be treated, darling?” 

“Yup! All good on my side! What about you, Jan-Jan?” Patton’s face is so bright and joyous that Virgil momentarily ignores the face that he just called Deceit Jan-Jan. 

Should he be laughing or screaming or running? I am so confused. 

“Fine myself. I made seeker this year,” 

“It’s about time! You’re so good at Quidditch! You and Remus both. Tell him I say hello, by the way,” Patton cheerfully exclaims. 

“Certainly,” Janus assures him. Patton smiles brightly at him. 

“Are we still on to go to Three Broomsticks tomorrow?” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling Patton,” Janus brushes some hair out of his eyes, his one snake pupil dilating in the light. It’s terrifying to Virgil, but Patton doesn’t balk at all. “Do you mind if I speak with Virgil for a second? It will only take a moment,” 

“Don’t frighten him too much! I’ll see you later Virge! I had a great day,” Patton is completely clueless to the fact that Virgil does not want to be left alone, and trots off towards the Hufflepuff Dormitory. Virgil braces his hands on his hips and glares at Janus. 

Janus is a slight bit taller than Virgil, especially with his chronic slouching, and makes a pfft sound. 

“Oh, little stormcloud, not happy to see me? I see the raccoon eyes haven’t changed one bit. Nice to see that some things never change,” 

“What do you want, Deceit,” Virgil hisses. Janus clasps a hand to his chest in mock horror and scoffs. 

“How rude of you to use that hurtful nickname! You know my name, why not use it?” 

“Because you’re a bastard and I don’t want to talk to you,” Virgil bites. Janus smirks. 

“I just wanted a chat- Never suspected you were friends with Patton. Are you going to try and convince him to stop seeing me? That seems like the underhanded move you’d try, hmm?” 

“No, Pat can take care of himself. He’ll figure out that you’re too much to deal with on his own,” Virgil starts to walk away. Janus catches up to him easily, snake eye winking as he takes long strides serpentine.

“How quaint. You know, I never went out of my way to lie to you- it just happened that way. The way I see it, I was protecting you from my family,” Janus muses, running his gloved hands up Virgil’s arm. He shivers unpleasantly. 

“Well, I always thought that eye of yours fucked up your vision,” Virgil grumbles, shaking off the hand. Janus shrugs. 

“Either way, I’ve noticed something quite peculiar about you,” 

“Uh huh,” Virgil glances around: they’re in an open field: it doesn’t look like Remus is here at all. Janus isn’t good for him either: too many bad memories there, but it’s better than both of them for sure. 

“Does my little anxiety ridden plum have a crush on the charismatic Gryffindor chaser?” Janus purrs. Virgil stops in his tracks and looks at him with wide eyes. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” 

“Multiple reasons. Mostly because I saw you and Patton at the party, I must admit,” Janus chuckles, taking his hat off to push his hair back.

“You asshole. You were spying on me??” Virgil grabs his forearm. 

“Haha, you wish. No, I was going to greet Patton. Even if I have no longer any ties with you, I still have friends, Virgil. You were not the end of me. Even if I was for you,” Janus raises his eyebrows and sighs, “And all I wanted to do was offer my assistance in doing something that will please Roman.” 

“Yeah- yeah right, like you would know what he likes, you- you scaly prick,” Virgil stutters. As always, Janus has been trained in how to filet his victims with only sharp words. And, he hit him where it hurt. 

The history they had. Virgil pushes it to the back of his mind: that belongs in his nightmares, not in the shining sun of Hogwarts. 

“No, no- consider this a peace offering. I heard from Remus, don’t worry he’s not here, that Roman loves muggle musicals and general music. He’s obsessed with the brand ‘Disney’. Are you familiar?” 

“Uh- yeah, watched a few movies, but… why are you telling me this? There’s got to be something you want from me,” Virgil narrows his eyes darkly. Janus taps his chin, mock thinking, and then shakes his head with a friendly smile. 

“Out of the kindness of my heart, I presume,” 

“You don’t have a heart,” Virgil grumbles. That’s a harsh insult, even for him, but Janus takes it in stride. Just like always, he’s heard worse. Probably from his own parents, even. 

“Ah, I knew there was something wrong with my chest. I am cold blooded and all that,” he laughs. They stop in front of the door to the inside of Hogwarts. “This is where I leave you, I’m afraid. Glorious chat as always, dear,” 

“Shut up,” Virgil snaps, going ahead to enter the door. His hand rests on the wood for a moment. “But… thanks. For telling me about Roman. You better not be lying and manipulating like fuckin usual, or I’ll…” Janus shrugs, scoffing.

“I can’t imagine you could do anything to hurt me at this point. Nothing to use as blackmail, sorry to disappoint-” 

“I’ll tell Patton. About… about everything that happened. The whole thing,” 

“You wouldn’t. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to know- he’s so innocent, you wouldn’t drag him into this. Even you are not that cruel,” Janus has sunk his hands into Virgil’s shoulder, his lighthearted words growing immensely serious. Virgil shrugs his hand off. 

“We’ll see,” and with that, Virgil stalks off inside to go wait to do his homework in the library with Logan, leaving Janus looking at him in what could be determination or hate. They seem to blend together for Janus. 

But in all honesty, Virgil thinks to himself, I’ll never tell anyone about the horrors I saw with that horrible boy. 

Death Eaters are more frightening than anything I’ve ever seen. 

~~~~~

Taglist (Ask to be added if you’d like!):

@justabsbutler @shaded14space @patton-cake

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[emeraldtawny]

My Ikemen Vampire OCs

Been a while since I’ve done anything with OCs and I’m not sure if I’ll be using these boyos in fics or the like. I just wanted to add my own suitors based on some historical figures that caught my attention and thought would be cool to bring back as sexy vampires uwu~

Picrew used can be found here.

Marco Polo

Thomas Jefferson

Sigmund Freud

~Details under the cut~

Marco Polo

The Wide-Eyed Explorer

Adventurous x Oblivious

“Life's all about finding something out there in this great wide world that hasn't been discovered yet. How about it, Signorina? Want to take the risk with me?”

An explorer renowned for his treks from Europe to Asia, his documentation of his travels are known the world over. Yearning for knowledge yet grounded in his ideals, he enjoys exploring this “distant future” of 19th century France and pauses to marvel at every detail and moment he can. He accepted the taste of immortality so he could further explore the world. However, the dynamic, rocky expanse of love is one journey even the great Marco Polo wasn’t prepared for.

Birthday: September 15th

Height: 177cm (5’9”)

Occupation: Merchant

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Hobbies: Exploring, Collecting trinkets (hoarding), Taking notes

Dislikes: Staying indoors

Specialty: Storytelling, Charisma

Weaknesses: Lying

Favourite Food: Pasta

Hated Food: Ginger

Pet: Monkey named Viaggio

Random Tidbits

Wears two dangling coin earrings, as a symbol of the currency he knew before learning of and introducing paper money to Europe.

Responsible for bringing noodles - and consequently, pasta - back to Italy. One of his proudest accomplishments, he says.

Gets incredibly pouty when people doubt his memoirs or if he even made it to China at all.

Is endlessly fascinated by the different culture of this “new world” and will ask endless questions to gain knowledge.

Gets flustered and oddly prideful over how many other important figures of history looked to his experiences to guide them (Of course, he is most proud of the children’s game named after him).

Most of his memoirs were written in prison and by his cellmate. *A/N: hmmm, I wonder who comes back to smite him :3*

Is uncharacteristically frugal and likes to hoard any “unique” treasures he finds (most of them are commonplace items, but rare to Marco).

Favourite Place To Bite: Shoulder. He just gets incredible pleasure sinking his teeth into the flesh of the shoulder, and it works in tandem to muffle the groans that threaten to slip through his lips as he feeds. And if they bite him back on his shoulder, he is gone. His arms will always be snaked around their waist and whether he’s pressed against their back or front, he’s absorbed in his feeding so fully that sometimes he doesn’t know when to pull back until it’s too much.

Associates With:

Leonardo - The pureblood quite enjoys the boundless vibrant energy of his fellow Italian, and is more than happy to show him around the city and listen to the younger man’s detailed recounts of what he’s seen. They fuel each other’s insatiable need for new things to learn.

Dazai - Enjoys teasing him for his cluelessness about the world. The mansion’s residents don’t know whether to intervene, as both seem oblivious to the other’s intentions in their odd conversations.

Sebastian - Usually on the butler’s bad side for the constant clutter of “souvenirs” he always returns with. However, is rewarded with the whimsical story recounting of THE Marco Polo, so it isn’t all bad.

How He Met MC

After MC had attended dinner and was making her way to Comte’s room, she almost gets knocked off her feet as she collides with someone whilst lost in thought. Things fall to the floor and she quickly apologises and kneels down to help pick up the fallen items. As she lifts her head, she’s met with a head of white wispy locks and kind ice-blue eyes staring back at her behind his round spectacles. He takes the things back from her and they both return to their feet. “Grazie Mille, Signorina.” He says through a grin. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. You must be new around here.”

“Oh, um--”

(Is he a famous figure of history too? He looks nice enough.)

Her thoughts are cut off as Sebas comes into the hallway and seems ready to scold the young man for bringing in another assortment of useless trinkets. He pouts a little and says that these are unique and a brand new discovery that he must look into for their use. Sebas sighs, notices MC and asks if he has introduced himself to her yet. He blinks and exclaims in realisation before turning back to MC with a sheepish, boyish grin.

“It seems I forgot to introduce myself to you, Signorina. My name is Marco Polo. I’m a merchant and an explorer.”

(M-Marco Polo?!)

After MC learns the truth about the mansion and its residents, she’s on her guard as she walks aimlessly around the mansion, avoiding everyone she can for fear of them biting her. She stops as she passes the archive at the sound of a happy tune being hummed. She peeks in to see Marco cross-legged on the floor with a pile of junk in front of him. Yet the way he’s observing each piece makes her believe every single one is an irreplaceable treasure. He adjusts his glasses and inspects the map in his hands with an inquisitive gaze, his excitement of a new discovery at his fingertips vibrant and infectious. 

She’s so lost watching him that she hardly realises that she’s entered the archive, her feet naturally bringing her towards him. He stops humming and turns to meet her curious eyes with a wink.

“Oh! Perfecto! Just the woman I was hoping to see!”

He says it so heartfeltly that she feels her heart leap.

“Would you happen to know what these are? Since you’re from the future, you’d likely have a better idea than me.”

She hesitantly sits down across from him, still unsure yet compelled to help him, the kind, yearning aura surrounding him too strong to resist. [First CG of them looking over the pile of junk. Marco gesturing wide as he imagines the uses of a simple silver spoon and MC staring at him like “...it’s a spoon, not a lightning rod.”]

As she listens to him, she asks him why he finds joy in collecting these everyday items. He blinks at her...before bursting out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious!”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Really I am. It’s just I never get tired of hearing that question. To me, that question means that there are people out there who have grown accustomed to what’s around them. So much so that something they see every day has lost its beauty to their eyes. I truly believe that everything out there - discovered or not - has a story, a meaning. No matter how mundane it may be, everything has a unique beauty in this world.”

(That’s...such a wonderful outlook on life.)

...

Thomas Jefferson

The Repentant Sinner

Awkward x Earnest

“I cannot see the merits of wanting to get to know me. So, why can’t I stop you from doing so?”

A diplomat and a scholar, the one thing Thomas Jefferson cannot say he is versed in is the art of conversation. Despite this, he isn’t shy. He simply prefers to observe and document what is around him. Intelligent and soft-spoken, he seems to be more driven in his immortal life despite his tremendous accomplishments in his human life. What so greatly motivated him to be reborn as a vampire?

Birthday: April 13th

Height: 190cm (6'2")

Occupation: Diplomat don't mention the P-word

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Hobbies: Writing, Violin

Dislikes: Public speaking

Specialty: Writing documents (in silence)

Weaknesses: Conversation, His reputation

Favourite Food: Vegetables (selective vegetarian)

Hated Food: Liver

Pet: Mockingbird named Quill

Random Tidbits

Can speak 4 languages (English, Latin, French and Italian) and can communicate through writing in a further two languages (Greek and Spanish).

Wears multiple rings and a wrist cuff on his right hand, as he had dislocated his wrist in his human life yet the bones failed to set right when healing. The discomfort continues as a vampire, though less painful.

His voice is quiet, mellow and of a tenor pitch. He can barely string more than three sentences together unless speaking in private and about a topic he is knowledgeable in.

Developed mild insomnia since becoming a vampire. Coupled with his periodic headaches, some days he will be completely inconsolable.

Enjoys writing and listening to his mockingbird sing in the comfort of his room.

Completely freezes and nearly breaks down when reminded of the dark underbelly of his legacy.

Has no less than four feather quills on his person wherever he goes.

Favourite Place To Bite: Fingers. Feeding on a body part with a smaller surface area helps him pace himself and prevent more harm than necessary. But he truly enjoys piercing his fangs into the tip of the index and middle fingers, giving a cursory suck before withdrawing and taking the fingers into his mouth to suck them that way; he doesn’t wish to harm anyone with his bites if he can help it. Of course, sometimes he can’t help it when he’s lost in bloodlust.

Associates With:

Isaac - Enjoys his quiet companionship. They usually sit in the archive together, working on their different projects in complete silence.

Napoleon - Occasionally goes to the Frenchman requesting a feather from his eagle to make into a new quill. Napoleon agrees under the condition he helps him teach the schoolchildren, something he begrudgingly agrees to.

How He Met MC

The first time she meets Thomas is at her welcoming dinner. She baulks slightly at the height of him and the broad set of his shoulders being accentuated by his perfectly fitted dress shirt. He meets her gaze and nods politely towards her before taking his seat and idly staring down at and fiddling with his rings. She whispers to Napo if she somehow offended him, but he assures her that that’s just how Thomas is; not the best at striking up a conversation. 

When introductions come up, he’s one of the last to speak and definitely the least enthusiastic. He clears his throat softly and makes eye contact with MC, his gaze oddly intense as if forcing himself to meet her eye.

“Thomas Jefferson. Diplomat. A pleasure.”

(Thomas Jefferson. He was important in American history if I remember correctly. Can’t say I know much more than that.)

When Sebas (and Arthur) get it through MC’s head that she’s now in a mansion of vampires, she immediately runs out of the kitchen and just panic runs. She ends up in the foyer and almost collapses with relief because she can finally escape this place. Before she can reach the door, however, she realises there’s someone else right in front of the door, pacing back and forth as if in a trance.

(Oh great. They have someone on guard as well? Even more reason to get out of here!)

She tries to slip by, but the man notices her and stops his pacing to stare at her, saying nothing. MC feels overwhelmed by his gaze and starts to shake. His eyes widen and he goes to reach for her.

“Are you--?”

“Get away from me! Vampire! Monster! Don’t touch me!!”

She swats his hand away and makes a break for the door, but Thomas grabs her around the waist, pinning her arms down. She thrashes and begins to feel tears pricking her eyes when Sebas emerges. Thomas turns to him and asks him to take the young lady to her room. He immediately releases her from his hold and whispers a soft “I apologise for scaring you.” before walking back to his room with long strides.

Back in her room, she reflects on what happened and realises that his grip on her wasn’t tight enough to harm her and instead, he was likely as panicked as she was.

(Even if he is a vampire, it was clear he was trying to protect me. And I called him a monster…)

The next day, she asks Sebas to show her where Thomas’ room is so she can apologise to him. Sebas says to try the archive instead and shows her the way. She knocks on the door and peeks inside. 

Sitting at a desk and brandishing a feather quill, Thomas writes like his life depends on it, his eyes - while still heavy and tired with dark circles - seem focused with an intensity that leaves MC dumbfounded. [First CG of him deep in his scribing, unaware of the pretty lady who watches him with her attention rapt.]

(He writes as if he’s possessed. I feel like if I interrupted him now, I’d be ruining the very nature of his being.)

She waits until he lets out a soft sigh and sets down his quill. When he finally notices her presence, he blinks, a deer in the headlights. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

“Um...can I help you?”

...

Sigmund Freud

The Cold Elitist

Analytical x Insatiable

“Such honest eyes. Yet such boring simplicity in your actions and thoughts.”

An Austrian neurologist whose work helped to shape modern psychology. His work with brains and how they shape our conscious and unconscious mind - his book The Interpretation of Dreams using his own brain as the study - made him observant and insightful; in a holier-than-thou way in most cases. He is private and distancing, yet fiercely loyal to those he deems worthy enough to be close to him. His own findings concluded that personality and unconscious thoughts cannot be so easily swayed. Until he meets you...

Birthday: May 6th

Height: 180cm (5’10”)

Occupation: Neurologist (despises the term psychologist being attributed to him)

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Hobbies: Smoking cigars, People watching, Reading

Dislikes: Being referred to by his first name (Call him Freud or you’ll get one hell of a death stare)

Specialty: Psychoanalysis, Picking apart people’s thoughts

Weaknesses: Accepting defeat or wrongdoing, Smiling through his eyes

Favourite Food: Artichoke

Hated Food: Anything American

Pet: Frog named Ego

Random Tidbits

He has a pet frog because of his early work as a medical student, where he studied frog brains to determine the difference between vertebrate and invertebrate brains. And named his pet after one of the terms he coined of the human psyche, representing the balance of our desires and morality.

Used to smoke cigars heavily, so much so that he developed mouth cancer which led to his eventual human death. Picked the habit back up again after being revived as a vampire.

Had a therapy dog when he was human. Sneaks pets to Vic and King whenever he can.

Was quoted saying “The goal of all life is death.”, yet accepted the offer to be granted eternal life (he chuckles bitterly at himself over this fact).

Was a firm Shakespeare sceptic and remains so into his vampire life. Any conversation he has with Shakespeare usually ends with him bad-mouthing him in German and proclaiming that the Earl of Oxford was the true writer of his plays.

Continues to write books about his discoveries, yet keeps them unpublished.

Is joked as being sex-obsessed (by Arthur of all people), but stands by his claims that sexual wishes and desires play into how a person’s mentality is shaped.

Favourite Place To Bite: Stomach. The way the muscles flex and spasm around his fangs is exquisite in every meaning of the word. He enjoys slowly sliding the blouse up, letting his hands trail slowly to feel the goosebumps that prickle on the skin, before biting right on the curve of the waist.

Associates With:

Comte - The one man who may call him by his first name. Feels indebted to him for another chance at life.

Mozart - Short yet calm conversations between the two Austrians happen every so often; about what, who can say?

Arthur - Pesters Freud for psychoanalytical techniques he can incorporate into his Holmes novels. Gives him the bare minimum to leave him alone. Absolutely loathes the nickname the Brit gives him (“Siggy”).

How He Met MC

When MC first encounters him, Freud is at the dining table with Mozart, Theo, Vincent and Isaac. As soon as he hears the commotion and she enters for dinner, he abruptly stands and leaves without a word, only sparing a cold stare that she feels in the pit of her stomach.

Her first true encounter with him is after Sebas tries to tell her that her housemates are vampires and she runs into him in the hallway. She notes that his eyes of metal run just as cold as the first time she met his gaze, but she still tries to greet him (Comte told her about him briefly at dinner, saying his name is Sigmund). When she addresses him as such, his lips twitch in distaste and harshly tells her not to call him that.

Being MC, she bites back a little, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

”For a meek little thing, you certainly try to bark, don’t you?”

“Hey, I don’t need another person in this mansion referring to me as a dog!”

“Hm. Very well then, Rotznase.”

(Did....did he just call me a brat?!) *A/N: no, MC. He called you a snot-nosed brat*

She goes to bite back again, but something in his eyes stops her dead. Like they can see into her soul, see the exact way her brain ticks. He exudes a harsh aura that makes her want to run, but the power of his eyes on her has her paralysed, like a predator staring down its defenceless prey. He scoffs at her before asking if she knows what he is. When she doesn’t respond, he sighs in annoyance before grabbing her by the throat and pushing her against the wall, hard. [First CG of this kabedon-strangling hybrid. 2/10, not sexy and probably hurts too much.]

”You’re a foolish little girl. And unfortunate in your luck. If you had crossed paths with any of the other beasts in these halls, you may have gotten away with nothing more than nightmares.”

His hand on her throat tightens, constricting her windpipe and cutting off her air supply, the petrified horror in her eyes only increasing as he bares his fangs to her.

”I am not a lenient man, I never have been. And this is no dream. You’re just an unlucky human. No offence intended.”

Just as his hand tightens further and he leans over her, Arthur of all people is the one to save her. He grabs Freud’s collar and yanks him back, barking at him not to scare the bird. Freud only gives an annoyed huff before strolling away as if he never had any part in it. MC loses strength in her knees and passes out from fear, and Arthur brings her to her room before heading to Comte to tell him what occurred.

The following day, Comte invites MC out to the garden for a chat. He confirms that the residents are all men of history brought back from death as vampires, and he apologises for Freud’s less than savoury approach at drilling the message in.

”Listen well, ma Cherie. The men in this mansion may be vampires, but they all show restraint. Sigmund, however, is an unusual case. He is prone to frenzies, where he’s so consumed with bloodlust that he cannot control himself. For your own safety, I would suggest having as little contact with him as possible.”

[mobius-prime]

221. Sonic the Hedgehog #153

Oh god, is Sonic, like… okay? Is he all right up there? What horrific manner of trouble did he get himself into this time to have his face become deformed like that? Also, I like how this cover implies that Sonic is being hunted down by someone shooting lasers or something, when literally nothing even close to the sort happens within the issue. I know it's perhaps getting a bit stale to point out every time the cover art doesn't reflect the stories inside, but dammit, it makes me laugh so I'm gonna keep doing it.

Songoose (Part 1 of 2)

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

Eggman has a new agenda to enact. He's offered Nack the Weasel a large sum of money in exchange for assassinating someone very important within Knothole, and despite Nack's apparent reservations about waltzing into a place where he's wanted for quite a few crimes, he seems pretty jazzed to accept the offer nonetheless. Within Knothole, Sally has arranged a mock battle training exercise between the Freedom Fighters and the Chaotix to strengthen team bonding and combat skills, and oversees the training along with General D'Coolette, discussing the various combatants' strengths and weaknesses.

Uh oh, that doesn't sound good. In fact, at that moment they get a call from the king and queen, still halfway around the world, and apparently the king is also exhibiting similar symptoms to the general, prompting Sally to muse on whether their illnesses are related. She wonders if they should cut their trip short and return home, something which the king is against but the queen tentatively supports, but the conversation is interrupted when suddenly, the general seizes up and then collapses onto the ground. That's… probably not a good sign. Worse still, "Antoine" doesn't even seem to care, though of course we know why.

So this is actually a plot point that's kept up throughout a lot of subsequent issues - apparently, Tails' crush on Fiona is still going strong, despite the fact that he literally "fell in love" with a robot duplicate of her which had nothing in common with the real her. It's honestly a very weird detail to seize upon, as while Fiona being a real person and a unique character in her own right is interesting, and the fact that she's joined the Freedom Fighters even more so, Tails trying to like… flirt with her and become her boyfriend is just a bizarre place to take it, especially considering the age difference. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know it's not uncommon for a kid to end up with a crush on an older teenager, but multiple writers from here on out write Tails as being actually infatuated with her and unable to "let her go" after her robot duplicate broke his heart. It just doesn't feel like Tails to me and it's frustrating, to say the least. But anyway, moving on, everyone agrees it's a good idea to go to Mina's concert tonight and disperse. Sonic catches up to Fiona and tries to explain that Tails looks up to her, but she just makes a snarky comment about Sonic being one to talk about respect given how he acted the other day towards her - yeah, apparently he still hasn't told everyone that it was his evil double flirting with all the girls. Also, we never actually saw Evil Sonic come on to Fiona before, but I guess it just happened offscreen. She then admits to him that she hated him for a long time for leaving her behind in Robotnik's prison camp all those years ago, but changed her mind after seeing him sacrifice himself for the planet during the Xorda invasion, making her realize that he never left her behind on purpose. Aww, that's actually nice! Fiona has the potential to be a really interesting and complex character, and, well, honestly she's one of my favorites of the later comics, so I'm glad to see her getting more screentime.

That night, Sonic and the others show up backstage at the venue to give Mina a friendly pep talk before her show. She hugs Sonic, thanking him for the encouragement, and Ash immediately becomes very jealous and butts in to remind everyone that he's Mina's boyfriend and band manager and that she needs to go to the stage now, prompting a clueless Sonic to wonder what his problem is. However, Mina's performance actually kind of reveals that Ash has a good reason to be suspicious of her interactions with Sonic, as the sappy, lovey-dovey lyrics of her songs all reference the color blue in various ways, and are clearly influenced by her previous infatuation with Sonic. But things aren't as happy and peaceful as they seem, as a suspicious figure lurks in the crowd…

So Mina was Eggman's target, huh? Strangely enough, Nack, with a totally clear shot to the stage, misses and hits a tree several feet above and to the side of Mina. Like, it's not even played off as "oh, he was trying to make the tree fall on her, or someone bumped his elbow" or something - he just straight up misses for no reason, sets the tree on fire with the blast, and then tries to make a run for it. Some assassin you are, especially considering your alternate name is Fang the Sniper! Sonic, Bunnie, and Ash immediately race onstage to check on the startled but unharmed Mina, and Bunnie focuses on putting the fire out while Sonic races after Nack, catching and knocking him out easily. Nack wakes up hours later in Knothole's jail, where Sally and Sonic attempts to question him on his motives, and he decides to be all flippant and act like it's no big deal that he was caught, as he'd rather spend some time in prison than ruin his "cred" by giving up the name of his employer. I'm sorry, Nack, but what freaking cred are you even talking about? Like what, are you gonna go around telling prospective employers that your skill set includes missing a target forty feet away, setting a random tree on fire, and then immediately getting arrested? Sally merely points to the cell across from him, where he's quite perturbed to see the three other weasel associates who helped him kidnap her a year ago, and she invites him to go ahead and spend his time in jail sharing space with them after he knowingly left them to take the fall for his failed plan. Of course, he spills the beans on Eggman immediately.

Well… I suppose that's not even out of character for Eggman, considering his original counterpart also hated music. Sally decides to assign Sonic as Mina's personal bodyguard for now, while the other Freedom Fighters keep an eye out at the next night's concert to make sure nothing comes near Mina. Ash isn't pleased at all with Sonic being close to his girl, and stomps off, with a bemused Sonic commenting to Mina that he's pretty sure her boyfriend doesn't like him. Gee, what gave you that idea, Sonic? Sally's caution is warranted, however, as back in New Megaopolis we see Eggman preparing his next plan of attack in the wake of Nack's abysmal failure - he's rebuilt Heavy and Bomb, and is ready to sic them on Mina! Man, it's been a while since we saw those guys, huh? Now that I think about it, after they got reprogrammed by Eggman before, Sonic just kind of straight up killed them when they tried to attack the royal family, and no one seemed upset about it at all. Well, maybe with them back, they'll get a chance to be freed and find redemption… or maybe the writers still don't care and they'll get fridged again. Guess we just gotta wait and see!

Fairy Tale (or the Adventures of Pirate Sally)

Writer: Romy Chacon Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Josh Ray

Wow, it's been quite some time since we last had a "telling a bedtime story based on real events in the storyline to kids" episode, huh? Apparently, Rosie's three young charges have caught a bad cold, and as she brings them medicine to try to help them sleep they all start begging for her to tell them a story. She's reluctant, claiming she's not good at stories, but relents when they persist in asking. She invents a magical world of pirates and wizards, where the "Elfen Fox" falls onto "Pirate Sally" and "B-Bot's" ship, having had one of his two magical tails stolen by the "Rogue Assassin," who doesn't really live up to her name if all she's doing is going around stealing things. Man, what is it with wildly ineffective assassins this issue? Pirate Sally and B-Bot decide to help out the fox, and along the way meet their new allies Ant the Foole and the Blue Knight, who help them defeat various baddies based on the main villains of the comic's storyline. Finally, they make it to the Evil Wizard Kintobor's lair, whom they fight against as a team and help the Elfen Fox take back his missing tail.

I actually love this story, entirely because of the way the kids just start roasting Rosie's storytelling skills as soon as the whole thing is over. Hey, look on the bright side Rosie - now that they're preoccupied with coming up with a way to fix your terrible story, they won't be pestering you for more anytime soon!

[polarishq]

Meet NADEZHDA “Nadia” STERANKA. They are SIXTY years old and hail from ODESSA, UKRAINE . Nadia embodies the star, CAYREL’S STAR. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is STAV STRASHKO.

Cayrel reminds me of messy ponytails, childhood crayon drawings, radio static, scraped knees and dirty feet from running barefoot, glass coke bottles, a lucky pair of socks, smudged eyeliner, a daughter in nothing but title, cracked mirrors (seven years bad luck but who’s to say its your bad luck?), wishing wells, a love of all colors but red, iced coffee as the superior beverage, moral ambiguity, and carefully tended grudges.

BIOGRAPHY

The thing about little girls (even little girls raised in the tail end of communism ; even little girls once mistakenly thought to be little boys) is that they know how to embrace the world as their playground. Nadia was born to a flaky mother and absentee father, but her circumstances were inconsequential. What she lacked in wide open fields, she made up for in creating an imaginary world that stretched as far as her street’s long row of Soviet-era apartments. What she lacked in decent parental figures, she found in the care and acceptance of her maternal grandfather. What their community lacked in wealth, Nadia replaced with an imagination that turned their limited space into her own fairytale world 

It helped that her grandfather (unlike her mother) encouraged her in everything she did, even when communism tried to dictate everything outside of their home. All Nadia need to do was ask, and he’d do whatever was in his power (both figuratively and literally, using magic) to make it happen, up to and including the day Nadia asked that he stop referring to her as his grandson. A few memory charms on the people they interacted with on a regular basis (to simply reintroduce Nadia by her gender identity would’ve been dangerous for the time), and that was that. Looking back on it, Nadia can note the distasteful switch in her mother’s interactions with her after that point, but did that really matter? To her, no. Her family was her grandpa and their neighborhood, and what remained were footnotes to her story.

Nadia never had to learn of the existence of magic — it was all around her from day one, so most of her formative years were spent awaiting her own star mark. When it finally appeared though, in the crook of her elbow at age twelve, no one could really tell her what it meant. Which sucked, but at least it meant Nadia had powers, and that was something, right? The entire story of how she discovered her magic is rather simple. She’d been walking down her apartment hallways, idly thinking about a pair of earrings she’d seen on a model in a magazine, when she stopped to look in the hall mirror. When she saw herself exactly as she was, except wearing the same earrings she’d been imaging, she had to reach out to make sure she was really looking in a mirror. Her hand passed clear through the glass, and then back towards her with the earrings folded in her fist.

You shouldn’t give a twelve year old that kind of power, much less a twelve year old growing up in that environment. She knew enough not to go overboard after trying a few more times to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, but she did abuse it more than she cares to admit. A nice new hat for her grandfather, a slice of honey cake from her favorite bakery when she couldn't make the trip, a very specific looking collar for her cat — small things, but enough for Nadia to know that she had it made.

As she grew older (and, as her grandfather grew older), Nadia learned to use her abilities for... not necessarily good, but for good intentions. All she had to do was imagine a high price item and it would be hers with just a pluck. Her building was full of people willing to help her sell her new goods, no questions asked. And her grandfather, thinking the world of her, rarely questioned here Nadia came up with money to help support them. No one was getting hurt. That’s what she told herself... until her grandfather unexpectedly came home while Nadia was hands deep in another dimension. She’d not told him about her powers, so to be discovered caused her to panic. What followed was her waking up on her bedroom floor, looking up at her grandfather and the living breathing person she’d dragged through the mirror, now stranded.

Everything after that seemed to crumble. Her grandfather refused to accept anything she gave him without proof of where it had come from, so she couldn’t help provide for the household like she once her. Her feelings for her flake of a mother became twisted, resulting in endless screaming matches on the rare occasion they were in the same room. Her new roommate/foster sibling/dimension buddy was... a complicated matter, we’ll leave it at that. It wasn’t until the fall of the USSR in 1991 that there was a shift, and their little cohort immigrated to the States a few years later.

What they don’t tell you about being a little girl with an active imagination is what you grow into an adult with much the same. And when simply imagining something is enough to create a new dimension for your picking, it’s hard to resist temptation. Nadia’s grandfather passed away in the last decade, and although it broke her heart, she has since started to slip back into old habits. Moving to Polaris Village was a business move, really, even if most of her time should be focused on school. The people at Polaris rarely care where you get something from, so long as they can get it.

Nadia is something of a walking black market nowadays — if you need something hard to find, just give her a description and she’ll pluck it from another world. And in return, she gets paid. She had her limits, of course — nothing fang will cause another person harm, no illicit materials, and nothing living (not again). Her grandfather would be disappointed, she knows this. But, as always, Nadia justifies. The more practice she gets, the closer she can get to dimension hopping. And that means she’s one step closer to sending her person back home. So in the long run, she’s doing a good thing. Pocketing the money is just an added bonus.

INCLINATION

As one of the oldest known stars in the universe, Cayrel’s Star knows that there are endless other universes to be seen. The witch or wizard is capable of accessing alternative realities via mirrors, and in a manner of speaking, can control which multiverse they’re peering into. The witch or wizard looks into a mirror while craving an apple fritter? Their reflection becomes the alternate universe version of themselves that just so happens to be eating an apply fritter at that exact moment. Then, it’s simply a matter of reaching through the mirror and bringing the object from Universe B into Universe A. Some sponsees have even been able to move through dimensions, though this is highly prohibited. The bigger an object, the more energy is needed to bring it into this world.

CONNECTIONS

Half-Sibling: Nadia’s mother was largely absent from her life, so she really knows nothing about the woman who gave birth to her. One thing she is clueless about is that her mother had another child (either older or younger, I’m not fussed!) that she gave up and let be raised either as an orphan or to be adopted out. Whether they somehow know about Nadia is entirely up to you, but they would at least know their birth mother’s name. Do they want to know more? Does it not matter to them? Will they and Nadia ever meet? YOU TELL ME.

Mirror Mirror: The tricky thing about interdimensional exchanges is that you have to be very careful about what you grab. Nadia learned this lesson when she accidentally dragged someone rather than something into this universe. Having no idea how to either reimagine their universe or to return them, the only solution was for them to stay with her. They can have become close friends or maybe they deeply resent Nadia for displacing them. Maybe they’re close friends while also resent her. Who knows!! (Since this person is from a completely different dimension, there’s a lot of leeway in their magic. They may even be an alternate dimension version or the alternative sponsee for another character, but make sure to get permission first)

Frequent Buyer: Someone (or multiple someones) who enjoy hard-to-find items, otherwise known as Nadia’s specialty. They pay her on time and have established a good enough rapport that, who knows, maybe she’ll soon be willing to break some of her own rules regarding what she brings back.

Penned by Jeanne ★

[nalufever]

You and Me

What sort of trouble can some walking and a bit of camping get one dragon slayer and one celestial mage into? Truth be told - lots. Adventure can be fighting bandits, solving a mystery, or simply admitting your feelings. Natsu and Lucy are in for the adventure of their lives. My entry for the 2019 @nalu-week , all prompts in one story. Fluffy but rated teen for some light cursing.

Natsu gave Lucy one of his patented looks of misery and she sighed, defeated. Instantly. All it took was a woebegone expression; the one where he emulated a freshly kicked puppy. Dammit. He knew exactly how to push her buttons.

She threw her hands in the air, exclaiming, “Fine! You win! No train, no cart - just you and me on the road!”

“Yosh!” Natsu’s green hue disappeared. “I told Happy you’d cave.”

Happy flew a lazy loop-the-loop over Lucy’s head. “Lushi always caves!”

A wicked smile on her lips, Lucy stood with her hands on her hips. “Speaking of Happy…”

“He’ll love camping out and -” Natsu stopped talking, Lucy was wagging a finger in front of his nose.

“No, just you and me, and you already agreed. A dragon slayer never goes back on his word.”

“You’re being weird about this.” Natsu pointed to the massive pile of luggage at Lucy’s feet. “You’re telling me you’re gonna haul around all that without an extra pair of hands?” He smirked. “You shoulda resisted that dumb Heart Kreuz sale.”

“Blasphemy!” Erza conjured a dozen swords and then reconsidered. Natsu had slandered her absolute favourite brand in all Fiore. Heart Kreuz. Eighty-eight more swords popped into existence, glinting in the noon sun, showing off razor sharp edges. “You take that back!”

“Easy, Erza!” Lucy spoke softly to the swordswoman but did nothing else to restrain her. “Natsu doesn’t understand great fashion.”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot.” Gray scoffed, not even trying a little to hide his look of derision. “Case in point, what’s he wearing? His ever-present scarf, a vest, off-white pants, and a stupid grin.”

“Better clothes than you,” Natsu shot back, “and way more, you naked popsicle princess. And I’m wearing sandals.”

“Goddammit.” Gray sighed and grumbled, “My train ticket is in my pants pocket!”

“I’ll make sure your luggage makes it back to Magnolia, Lucy.” Erza clapped one hand on Gray’s shoulder, making him tremble. “Find your clothes, fast. The train leaves soon.”

“Yes’m!” Gray sprinted away.

“Excellent! Everything is settled.” Erza vanished her swords back into her requip space. “See you two later.”

Lucy dug into her pile of belongings and pulled out her overnight bag, took a few things out of some of her other luggage and repacked quickly.

Lucy smiled and gave Natsu a thumbs up. “I’m ready, let’s get on the road.”

><><><><><

Lucy lost her easy grin somewhere between the third and fourth time she had to fish out a pebble from her sandals. It wasn’t only that - Natsu was dreaming out loud about what he wanted to eat and now her stomach was rumbling. Even so, all in all, Lucy had it good. Natsu was carrying both bedrolls and the majority of the camping equipment.

“If we hurry, we’ll reach Iris Village before sundown.” Lucy interrupted Natsu’s listing of delicious foods. “And while sleeping in the great outdoors is super fun, it looks like it might rain.” The clouds overhead darkened further and thunder rumbled. A lone raindrop struck Lucy’s nose; the wind picked up, the temperature dropped and more rain pelted the mages. “Greaaaaaat.”

“Yeah, I love a good storm.” Natsu lifted his face to the sky and sighed. “I’d trade every train ride in the world for this.”

Lucy glowered. “I wouldn’t.”

“It’s not just not having motion sickness, Luce.” Natsu turned to give his partner a single-fanged grin. “I like being alone with you too.”

A wild thumping inside her chest made Lucy self-conscious. How could Natsu say something so sweet? Gah! How should she respond? Thanks? That would be dumb. Oh, he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. The moment was gone.

Natsu ran ahead a bit and then stopped in the middle of the road and sniffed the air. He turned to the left and to the right, searching for something. “C'mon Luce! There’s meat grilling up ahead - and it’s greasy. Exactly how you like it!”

Lucy scowled. “Hey! I do not!”

Natsu jogged back and grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry about being a weirdo. I like you the way you are.”

Caught between the urge to wail ‘I am not a weirdo’ and blush because Natsu had said he liked her, Lucy allowed him to tow her down the path. They ran, whooping in the rain.

Natsu’s nose led them to a hut made of rough-hewn logs with a thatched roof. On both sides of the front door grew a collection of unique flowers - with no two alike in shape or hue and a few that seemed stunted compared to most which were easily as tall as Natsu. Even stranger, there was a woman wearing a voluminous and heavy cloak tended a blazing grill. “Can I help you dears?”

“Do you have any extra meat?” Natsu ignored Lucy’s unsubtle elbow to the gut and continued talking. “It smells so good!”

“I’m Lucy and this,-” she pointed at Natsu, “-is Natsu. His manners are better when he’s not hungry.”

The woman smiled as she flipped the sizzling skewers of meat. “It does smell incredible, doesn’t it?”

“We can pay, if that’s what you’re worried about, we don’t expect you to suffer a loss.” Lucy rubbed her stomach; the aromas were even more delicious than before.

“Oh goodness me! I couldn’t charge…money.”

“Yosh!” Natsu threw an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “It’s your lucky day.”

“All I require is assistance with an important task.”

Natsu and Lucy exchanged perplexed looks. “Huh?”

“Let me feed you and explain.” The woman smiled, piling a large platter with everything she’d cooked. “I have a bit of prescience and it told me I should grill meat to bring heroes - though I had no idea you’d be such a cute couple! From the amount of food I felt compelled to buy, I was thinking it would be a whole crew of ravenous young men!”

“Natsu’s got a real appetite,” Lucy said, her eyes just daring Natsu to contradict her or add anything.

Happily clueless, Natsu nodded. “And Lucy could out-eat two crews of guys when it comes to greasy meat!”

“Come, sit.” The woman removed her heavy cloak revealing a long purple dress. “Since we’re dining together, I should give my name and learn a little something of yourselves.”

“I’m a dragon slayer and Lucy is a celestial mage!” Natsu threw his arm around Lucy. “She’s the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only partner you’ve ever had!”

“Nuh uh! You’re forgetting Happy!”

“I wish I could.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “He’s more of a pest than a partner.”

“I know you’re joking, Luce! You’re just crabby when you’re hungry.”

“That’s so sweet. You two can call me Lavender.” Oblivious to the bickering, she focussed on banking the fire.

“Allow me!” Natsu sucked in the flames, his gut bulging until he turned his head and belched. “Delicious!”

Lucy grinned weakly at Lavender. “Trust me, that was mild.”

“Okay…” Lavender smiled and shrugged. “Follow me, let’s get comfortable on my patio. I’ll explain exactly why I need help for some poor lost souls.”

Natsu and Lucy settled themselves on the patio at a table already set for a dozen people. The flowered tablecloth fluttered at the table edges in the evening breeze as the rain increased. An awning protected them from getting wet - to a degree.

Lavender set the platter down, excusing herself to fetch drinks; upon returning she was amazed to see the giant pile of bones where once had only been grilled meat. “You do have a big appetite.”

Natsu covered his mouth and burped. “And my manners actually improve after eating.” He grinned, leaning forward on his elbow and gave his partner a wink. “Lucy’s a good influence.”

“I don’t know about that.” Lucy rubbed her forehead. “But I’m very curious about this important task.”

“I have the gift of foresight as I mentioned already.” Lavender wrung her hands. “But there are times when I don’t understand what my visions show me until it’s too late.” She sighed, sadness chasing away the tiny smile she’d worn. “This is not my home but another’s; a handsome young man with a dark spirit. He enchanted people into flowers for his own purpose. Why? I do not know.”

“I have a celestial key who’s good with information.” Lucy slipped her hand into her collection of keys and fished out Crux.

“Can’t it wait until I’m done eating?” Natsu complained.

“If you weren’t such a big eater, you’d be done.”

“But this is delicious!”

“My dear, can this key bring knowledge to break their curse?” Lavender wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t even know if they are still human. I don’t know anything else beyond the last words Ranulf Mershim screamed as he ran away. I defeated him, but can’t do anything about those he harmed and it brings me great sadness.”

“Oh?” Natsu wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Gildarts told me about a guy he knew a long time ago, his name was Ranulf too - but he musta been old. Lavender, you said a young man?”

“Handsome and young.”

Natsu shrugged and turned to beam at Lucy. “It’s a good thing you’re a celestial mage. Crux is real good at finding out anything and everything.”

“No time like the present!” Lucy held Crux’s key high and summoned her helpful spirit. “Open! Gate of the Southern Cross!”

Crux appeared in a big display of sparkles and bowed to his mistress. “How may I assist?”

“We need some information about a curse that has turned some people into flowers.”

“Let me check.” Crux became motionless, appearing to be sleeping, blowing bubbles from his nose.

“While we wait, we should finish eating.” Natsu placed another portion of greasy meat on Lucy’s plate. “You need your strength!”

Lavender sniffed back fresh tears. “You two are so adorable!”

Crux’s eyes suddenly opened and his whole body trembled. “The Flower curse is a powerful curse indeed!”

“But are my friends okay?” Lavender’s gaze swung wildly from Crux to Lucy. “I’ve been taking care of them…” She bit her lip and sniffed back tears. “As best I can…”

Lucy patted Lavender’s hands. “Crux, what can you tell us? Can we free them?”

“They live.” Crux sighed, looking as sorrowful as his weird face allowed. “But to break the curse requires sacrifice.”

Natsu frowned. “Fairy Tail guild members don’t kill.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” Lucy glared at Natsu and then smiled at her spirit. “How exactly were they cursed? That’s always part of the cure.”

“My sources say they failed a trial; tricked with words and an empty promise.” Crux opened his book and flipped pages until it showed a bent, wizened figure carrying a tiny mirror. Natsu, Lucy, and Lavender peered at the picture. “Find the mirror and the magician to release his victims.”

“Uh, you said this Ranulf Mershim was young and handsome, yeah?” Natsu scratched his head and pointed to the illustration. “This guy’s wicked old.”

“Mmmm.” Lucy closed her eyes in concentration. “Curses are always made to steal from people and the caster benefits.” She opened her eyes wide and clutched at Natsu. “You said Gildarts knew a man named Ranulf, but it was a long time ago. What if the curse is to steal vitality and youth from the victims?”

“Okay, so we know who we’re looking for and what he wants to steal.” Natsu pounded his fist into his palm. “But where are we going to find him so I can kick his ass?!”

Lavender took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I didn’t want to admit this, but I have no other choice.”

Lucy, Natsu, and even Crux stared at Lavender in confusion.

“When Ranulf came to Iris village we struck up a friendship that was close in nature to what you two have. Despite our age difference.” She pointed at Natsu and Lucy, smiling weakly. “Or so I thought. He gained my trust, betrayed me and those people planted at the front door of this house.”

“Then you must have an idea of where he would have gone.” Lucy dismissed Crux and put her keys away. “We’ll take on this challenge and do our best to break the curse.”

“You still wish to help?” Lavender somehow looked hopeful and resigned. “Ranulf and I always talked of running away together to the mountains of Avens. I had thought it a joke…” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

“That’s not even that far!” Lucy jumped out of her seat. “In the morning, we’ll get an early start.”

><><><><><

After feeding her heroes a hearty breakfast Lavender gave Lucy a packed lunch. She left and returned leading a sturdy packhorse harnessed to a cart. “Fred can ease your journey.”

“No thanks!” Natsu shuddered and rubbed his stomach. “I don’t travel so good on vehicles.”

“It’s true, he gets the worst motion sickness - which is why we were walking back home after our last mission.” Lucy moved next to Natsu and stroked one of his clammy cheeks. “I’d rather we walk than you get sick, you know that.”

“Adorable,” gushed Lavender, “Now what about magic brooms? Can you use those?”

“Do you expect us to sweep our way to Mountain Avens?” Natsu stopped rolling his eyes once Lucy’s elbow made sharp contact with his gut.

“Dear me, no!” Lavender clapped her hands. “These fly!”

“Um, that’s not so good either.” Lucy turned and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “Every mode of transportation gives my partner motion sickness.”

“That’s awfully inconvenient.” Lavender wrung her hands. “How do you manage?”

“Compromise.” Natsu shrugged into his backpack and grinned. “We use the train when there’s no other option and with no time constraints, we walk.”

“You mean if I feel sorry for you we walk.” Lucy huffed. “It’ll be faster to not argue and get going.”

“I’m not arguing!”

“If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and swims like a duck - it’s a duck!” Lucy responded with ire.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but let’s get going.”

Lavender waved at the bickering couple and murmured to herself, “They’re so perfect for each other.”

><><><><><

Natsu and Lucy were high up Mountain Avens by late afternoon. A merchant going the same way had chanced upon them and insisted a dream had told him to give them a ride. With poor grace Natsu had agreed - so in the span of a few hours, they covered the distance that would have otherwise taken a full day.

“You gotta admit, the view sure is something amazing from up here.” Natsu waved grandly after his fulsome praise. “Almost as pretty as you, Luce.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Natsu!?” Lucy pretended mock outrage, going so far as to shake her head and glare at her partner. “Are you getting heat stroke?”

“Nope, don’t be a dope. I’m a fire dragon!” Natsu took hold of one of Lucy’s hands and pulled her close. “And sometimes you forget that, and like all dragons, I work hard to protect my treasure.”

“You get weirder every day.” Lucy scoffed. “We’re here to break a curse and save some poor souls who’ve turned into flowers!”

Suddenly as serious as she’d ever seen him, Natsu gave Lucy a contemplative look. “Treasure is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Such a beautiful notion.”

Lucy whirled around in surprise. She’d thought they were alone - but the male voice interrupting their conversation was loud even if they couldn’t see him.

“More like happiness is a chance you take because you want your own person to treasure. And when the woman of your dreams turns you down, you have to leave town because she can’t stand the sight of you.”

“Who’s there?!” Lucy peered into the dense foliage lining the path up the mountain. “Show yourself!”

“He’s ten meters up ahead and he’s been trying to circle around for the last twenty minutes,” Natsu told Lucy with a casual shrug. “We could’ve stopped but I thought you could use the exercise.”

“Remind me to yell at you later.” Lucy struck Natsu in the chest with one stiffened finger as a warning. “And we’ll be taking the train the rest of the way home just for that comment!”

“Excuse me?” A handsome young man, undoubtedly Ranulf Mershim, stepped out from behind a tree. He smiled and swirled his cape in a bid for attention. “I couldn’t help but overhear your whole conversation, because I was listening on purpose.”

“Tch. Even I know that’s rude.” Natsu crossed his arms and gave Ranulf a challenging look. “It’s best not to admit that sort of thing.”

“Are you trying to befriend this guy right now? Save that for later.” Lucy tapped her foot. “We’re here to save the people you enchanted into flowers.”

“I gathered that.” Ranulf lazily waved his hands in a shooing gesture. “But I’m not about to let you break my mirror. If I live long enough, I’m sure to find another woman I can let my guard down with.”

“Oh, we don’t need your permission.” Natsu cracked his knuckles and moved his body into a relaxed about-to-fight posture. “Me'an'Luce can solve any problem together.”

“That’s oddly sweet, Natsu.” Lucy smiled and approached Ranulf. “We can solve any problem together.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“We’ll use my brain and your brawn. First, we talk to Ranulf and try to sort this out peaceably - and if that fails, you get to kick his ass.”

“Oh?” Ranulf arched one perfect eyebrow and gave his two opponents a haughty stare. “I’m not going to break the mirror because you ask nicely.”

Lucy shook her head. “Nope, of course not. But I did more research last night and dug up some interesting facts about the Flower Curse.”

Ranulf boasted, “So? I’ve been stealing youth and vitality for decades.”

“And I listened.” Lucy’s smile softened into pity. “You’ve been extending your life to find love. And you’d found her, at Iris village. Lavender. She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“She refused to join me.” Ranulf looked close to tears. His lips thinned, pursed tight and he sighed before speaking again. “I left because I couldn’t bear to add her to the others.”

“You’re not that bad of a bad guy, are you?” Natsu turned to Lucy with a grin. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I can!” Lucy grinned at Natsu. “But he’s going to have to compromise.”

“Compromise? And what do I gain?”

Lucy opened her mouth to answer, but Natsu beat her to the punch. “Uh, we don’t kick your ass for one, and for two, have you not been listening to Lucy? She’s figured out how to help you. Don’t you want to reunite with Lavender?”

“Natsu, I appreciate your support, but Ranulf has to agree on his own.” Lucy touched Natsu’s upper arm and he calmed. “He’s got to really want to be with Lavender.”

“I do, but she refused to join me.” Ranulf pouted. “Together we could have harvested more people and remained young forever.”

“Do you want to keep running?” Lucy shook her head. “She won’t join you, but you could join her if you give up the mirror.”

“What do you mean?” Ranulf frowned but it was more contemplative than angry, and his expression softened with thoughts of the woman he’d left behind. “She's…she’s too far out of my reach.”

“But you love her beyond reason, don’t you?” Natsu addressed his words to Ranulf but the smile on his face was for Lucy. “You’d do anything to keep her happy - so you ran from her and didn’t harvest her friends. Even though your enchantments could have cursed her too.”

“You’re right. Tell me, Lucy, how can I join with my lady love?” Ranulf reached beneath his cloak and withdrew an ornate mirror, and offered it to the celestial mage.

“Keep it.” Lucy flourished Sagittarius’ key and donned the archer’s star dress. From the quiver on her back, she produced a special arrow, notching it to her bow. “I cannot tell you more, but to break the spell, you must be willing to risk all.”

Ranulf gazed into the mirror. He traced the image of his face with one finger and sighed. “I’d rather be dead than alone. What use youth without love?” Now resolute, he squared his shoulders and held the magic mirror over his heart. “I’m ready.”

Lucy pulled the bowstring taut, aiming for the center of the mirror. The arrow glowed and she released. It shimmered as it flew through the air, shattering its target and Ranulf flew backward, collapsing in a heap.

Natsu went running to Ranulf but Lucy shook her head and held him back. “It shouldn’t take long, we’ve got to wait.”

Ghostly glowing forms released from Ranulf’s body. They danced around his still form, joined by more and more spirits until it resembled a writhing cloud. Soon the activity slowed and then it calmed completely, dissipating in a burst of sparkles.

“What a way to lay bare his heart.” Natsu gazed at Lucy, his expression inscrutable. “Did you want me to remind you now or later to yell at me for the exercise comment?”

Lucy gasped instead of answering Natsu. Ranulf was standing, but he seemed to have shrunk. His dark, thick hair had thinned, receding from his forehead - as if in fear, and he’d gained a few decades in the blink of an eye. While the wrinkles didn’t detract from his otherwise still good looks, he was obviously older.

“I’m like how I was before I took up the cursing mirror.” Ranulf examined the backs of his age-spotted hands. “Thank you! Thank you! Thanks to you both!” He smiled and it lit up his blue eyes. “I have to go back to Iris village and talk to Lavender!”

“Start with an apology,” Natsu advised. “End with one too.”

“Go to her and have that talk.” Lucy returned to her normal clothes. “Good luck.”

Natsu and Lucy waved good-bye as Ranulf began to jog down the mountain path, picking up speed and beginning to whistle merrily.

“He wasn’t that bad of a guy. He’s lucky 'cause I coulda kicked his ass so hard!”

Lucy laughed and leaned against Natsu when she ran out of breath. “You never change, do you?”

“Why would I change when I’ve got everything I could ever want, Luce?” Natsu looked around the idyllic mountain path they stood on, the birds singing sweetly - the wind rustling the tree leaves - and back to Lucy’s smile. “It’s you and me. Together.”

Lucy blinked. Natsu was looking at her in a way that made her stomach flutter and knees feel weak. She stood still, uncertain but loathe to break the mood.

“Is it what you want?” Natsu tilted his head a little to the side and nervously bit the corner of his mouth. “Do you feel the same way?”

“You and me…” Lucy nodded, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. “I like the sound of that.”

“Together?”

Lucy licked her lips and Natsu’s eyes were drawn to the motion. Slowly and inexorably Natsu lowered his mouth to Lucy and kissed her. He kissed her with tenderness and restraint. Lucy moaned and clutched Natsu’s shirt; wordlessly begging for more - and Natsu delivered.

Together was a mighty fine way to express 'you and me.’

[simonlovelazy]

Saeran/Reader Halloween Fic

This is my very late contribution to the Halloween craze!!!

(Hey, it’s still Halloween here, ok?)

Title: The One Without a Costume

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Saeran/ Reader, Saeran/You

Tags: Teen and up audiences, mostly crack, attempt at writing something hot lol

Word count: 2452

Summary: You have a theory about people going to costume parties without costumes, but maybe Saeran will manage to change your mind?

takes place somewhere in the secret endings or whenever you want it to

   AO3 link

  The One Without a Costume

You would need way more fingers to count how many times you've heard the good old "don't judge a book by its cover" speech. But there is at least one situation when the rule does not apply. If you're at a costume party, a Halloween costume party to make the sin of dullness even more pronounced, and see a guy sporting his casual clothes, you know exactly what kind of story he is.

        You wait for Halloween the way kids wait for their Christmas gifts, and you’d happily buy yourself an Advent calendar counting down the days of October instead of December, but you don’t think anyone has ever come up with an idea to produce one. You always think what you’re going to dress up as in advance; it takes days to gather the supplies and fabrics, and then even more days (and nights) to sew and glue things together. While the process in itself is a joy, the costume party is the crowning moment, and this you enjoy the most.

          Some people can’t spend so much time or money on their costumes, or they simply don’t care as much as you, and it’s perfectly fine. A bandage mummy and a sheet ghost are not a repelling view – you enjoy the last-moment costumes and giggle at these conveying a pun.

        But the ones without a costume? They don’t attend these parties to have some fun, no, they’re here to announce how much they despise dressing-up, you, and the notion of having fun altogether. Excuse me, sir, but is this too much fun for you? Should we turn the music down? Or maybe, take our stupid costumes and get out?

        You shift from foot to foot. Who would have thought your mouth would turn into the Sahara after a song or two of dancing (and violent singing along)? And this guy! He isn't even pouring himself the damn punch!

        That's it. You readjust your protruding fang, grab a hold of your cloak, and march in the direction of the notorious punch-stirrer with a sense of dignity, head held up high.

        The tactic is to intimidate him with your sheer presence, so without a word, you stand next to him and wait. You have to give him that – even if nothing says “to hell with Halloween” more than a basic black and white raglan t-shirt, the atmosphere around him is saturated with gloom. You’re almost grateful he’s ignoring you and hasn't even looked up from the damn bowl. If his stiff posture and silent determination in stirring can be any determiners, his glare must kill on the spot.

        And so he looks up. "What?"

        You gasp.

        You were right about intensity of his stare. But boy, are his eyes a spooky surprise! One gold and one mint eye narrow at you. The only thing today you expected less than this was the guy who suddenly detached his hand and threw it across the room, scoring well-deserved three points and a little round of applause when it slapped the host across his beautiful face.

        Oh, and also:

        "You look just like this dude running around in a dress! The one with wings and a halo."

        He closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

        "Take what you need and go away."

        You do a once- over at the table. Melting ghost-cupcakes, cookies with yellow pumpkins made of watery icing, and... you actually don't know what cups of dirt are supposed to resemble, or if they're edible at all. Really makes you wonder how much Zen splurged on catering this year.

        "Yeah, but no, just wanted something to drink. Are you done with this?" you ask, pointing at the punch. He hasn't let go of the ladle for a single moment.

        "No," he answers with a scowl. "Still haven't found it."

        "Found what?"

        "My other lens."

        Suddenly you're not thirsty anymore. How do you lose a contact lens in a bowl of punch is a mystery you don't venture to solve.

        "Are you going to put it back in your eye when you find it?"

        He actually dumps the ladle and throws you the most incredulous look you've ever been gifted. He has quite a repertoire of glares, you must say.

        "No."

        "Then, why not forget about it and enjoy the party? But first, maybe flush the whole thing down the toilet, 'cause if someone chokes himself to death, I'll be the first one to point at you to the cops."

        "At least if someone chokes, we’ll have one convincing ghost in here," he says half-smiling, which suits him in a devilish kind of way. And he’s kinda right – the ghost girls in short skirts may be cute, but they have small chances to scare anyone present.

        You're about to make a brilliant remark when he grabs the massive vessel and walks off.

        "Come on, you'll open the door for me," he throws without turning his head, and you find yourself scurrying behind him before you have the time to question it.

The trip isn't long which isn't surprising considering the size of the apartment. The problem is that there are more people squeezed on one square metre than it should be physically possible, and still more and more guests pours in and, naturally, at least half of the gathering is partying in the line to the bathroom. There's Aladdin and his Carpet (she's not having a good time, you can tell), a promiscuous cat, three colourful feathery beings, and yes, you have found Wally, and guessing by the colour of his face, he really needs to go in asap.

        "Kitchen?"

        "Kitchen."

When the punch is finally gone in the kitchen sink, or more precisely, spluttered all over the mountains of the dirty dishes (still no signs of the lens to be seen), you start shifting uncomfortably. It must be a Halloween miracle (or rather a trick of fate) because there’s no one in the kitchen save for you and the guy without a costume.

        Only the muted echoes of music reach in here, so when you clear your throat, the sound is deafening. “I think I should go now.”

        “Why so fast? Is anyone waiting for you?” he asks. He's leaning on the counter, the tap behind his back letting out droplets like a metronome. One silence, two silences, three silences...

        In the pale light of the full moon, seeping through the window on the side, the shadows on his face become more pronounced and sinister. Even though he's not wearing a terrifying disguise, or any disguise at all, he gets a shiver out of you.

        “I came here with a friend.”

        “But?” he initiates, raising an eyebrow. Maybe he noticed how you were dancing alone on the makeshift dance floor.

        “But the last time I saw her, she was getting handsy with a werewolf in the parking lot.”

        He hums thoughtfully. “She shouldn't have left you alone.”

        It may be an attempt at consolation, but the way he says it earns another shiver from you. Was his voice low like this earlier?

        You step back to lean on the fridge and fold your arms, trying to mirror his casualness.“What are you doing here, anyway? You don't strike me as a costume-party animal.”

        “Wasn't really my choice. I had to come because I'm in the same organisation as our Zen.”

        The only organisation that comes to your mind is the RFA, but again, he doesn't look like a guy doing charity work. Not that you have time to mull it over with him lazily leaving his spot and coming in your direction.

        Suddenly you understand the infamous toil of breathing in a corset.

        “And you? A musical actor, perhaps?” he asks, jumping on a counter next to the fridge. You don't like how his new spot allows him to look down at you.

        For a terrible second you think the hand he's reaching out will be placed somewhere on you, and you freeze in both panic and anticipation. You only allow yourself to breath out when it lands above your head and starts playing with magnets.

        It’s hard to tell if he's playing with you or being clueless.

        What was the question again?

        “Haha, no. The werewolves-favouring girl is. I'm just the unnecessary plus one.”

        He takes his hand away from the fridge, visibly pleased with the rearranged magnetic letters. You twist your neck to see better, and surely enough, they spell some nasty words. How old is he?

        A warm breath tingles your exposed skin where the high collar has slid down a little, the stranger still hovering above your head. You will yourself to face him again, but then, oh Lord, his playful smirk can't mean anything good.

        This time his hand aims for you, you can tell by how his funny eyes never leave your face. He's not hurrying anywhere, and you can't stand the anticipation; it's hard to stand still as he closes the distance between you even more, ever so slowly.

        Against your better judgement, you pucker up your lips, but his hand doesn't cup your face like you hoped it would. Instead, he gets the hold of your chin with his thumb, and the next thing you know, the soft pad of his index finger traces the outline of your lips. He brushes your cupid's bow with a feathery-like delicacy, grazes your bottom lip, and pushes it slightly down. You open your mouth just a little, paying no heed to the gasp escaping it in the process, and only then you realise that the poking out fang has been painfully biting on your lip the whole time.

        “I wouldn't say–”

        “Saeran!” Someone turns all the lights on. “Stop hiding out like that, my costume is incomplete without you!”

        You jump away from said Saeran, adjust the collar of your cloak in the name of decency, and wholeheartedly hope that your pale make-up manages to cover the blush underneath.

        Saeran's clone creeps in the threshold, clutching a hem of his white gown with an unexpected skill and grace.

        “Oh! Am I interrupting something?” he asks innocently, but comes a couple steps closer to the two of you.

        “Yes, yes, you are!” Saeran growls, straightening. You can't help but share his annoyance. What it was exactly and where it was going – you don't know – and now, you may never get the chance to find out.

        “Sorry~” Saeran's clone wears a mischievous grin which doesn't quite match the halo on his head. “At least put on these,” he says, throwing something in your general direction. Only when Saeran catches it, you can take a better look. It's a head-band with devil's horns attached to it.

        So he has a costume, after all. Not the most elaborate, but still better than nothing. He doesn’t look too keen to wear it, though.

        "No horns, no party!” the one in a dress yells enthusiastically.

        "I’ll choose ‘no party,’ then."

        "Not an option! Sorry, I’m not the one making the rules. So, suit up and come – let's get this party started with some conga line, whaddya say?” he's about to leave when he turns around once more, “The vampire princess is also invited~”

        And with the last wiggle of his eyebrows, the dress-clad guy is gone.

        You snatch the horns from Saeran's hands – it's the cheap-plastic kind of deal you can get at any festival. And surely enough, you find the switch. The glowing red horns land on his head, sticking out almost seamlessly from his dishevelled red locks.

        “And now you too?” He tries to throw it off, but you stop him.

        “Oh, c’mon! Make my millennium.” You step back a little to give him an assessing look. “Suits you.”

        Saeran shakes his head in a feigned disbelief, “There’s a special spot in hell for sinners like you.”

        “I’d love to find out what you’d do to me if I got there, but I’m afraid I’m immortal.” You say in, what you hope is, a seductive whisper.

        From this angle, the red lights glimmer in his eyes like a warning.

        “We'll have to make do with the time we have tonight,” he says.

        It must have been flirting done right because he grabs you by your waist, bringing you closer to him.

        “Wanna get out of here, princess?” he murmurs to your ear, the timbre of his husky voice shattering your facade of composure.

        You only manage to hum in response, but it’s enough, and soon you find yourself lead out the kitchen and through the crowd of sweaty bodies, his hand never letting go of yours. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you’re looking around afraid that Saeran’s brother will appear in front of you to ruin the fun.

        It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and somehow Saeran seems to be a perfect person to be irresponsible with. God, you needed this. You run and giggle at how stupid it is that you’re dressed up as a vampire and yet feel so alive.

        When you finally reach the door, you still keep an eye on the surroundings, making sure you’re out of radar range while Saeran is skimming trough the overflowing hallstand. You came here wearing only your cloak, but something tells you, you won’t be cold tonight. He finally pulls out his leather jacket from underneath the tons of other clothes, but he’s not done there until he fishes out car keys from some other jacket’s pocket.

        “It’s not yours, is it?” you ask, but he only smiles in a truly devilish way and goes out.

        Yes, definitely, he’s not the bore you took him for. The party hasn’t even started yet.

        You only catch him up at the end of the staircase leading out of this weird underground apartment. He pushes the door open, ready to go into the night, knowing that you’ll follow, but you tag at his arm stalling him in place.

        “No, wait!”

        He turns to you with an adorably puzzled look, and you do the only logical thing. His jacket isn’t zipped up, it barely hangs on him, and it’s almost too easy to stand up on your toes and aim where every vampire would. The contact ends in a blink, but leaves you gasping for breath.

        Your dark lipstick leaves a mark on his pale neck. He looks pleased, but still very much puzzled, and the recognition lights up in his eyes only when you jingle the keys in his face.

        “I’m driving.”

~~

On that day, Yoosung promised himself that under no circumstances will he ever take care of party snacks again.

[imjadebeom]

A Love To Kill Pt. 5/?

Title: A Love to Kill  Author: Me, imjadebeom Pairing: Jaebum x Reader (Feat. Jinyoung) Genre: Horror (Vampire AU) Word Count: About 1.6k words Warning: Nothing Spicy don’t worry friends :) Summary: You have been severely injured and rescued by a beautiful man. You cannot remember anything prior to the accident. Will you be able to remember your past before it’s too late? Moodboard: xxx Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, (5)

Your eyes flew open at the commotion happening outside. You wanted to yell for help but your throat was raw. You started to move around hoping that would make some noise but the pain shooting through your limbs caused you stop. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to make a commotion. If the person out there hurting was able to face Jinyoung, perhaps they may be a danger to you too.

“Where is she?” The voice sounded distressed.

“Dead already. I sucked her dry. She was a fine meal. Too bad I ended up breaking her.” Jinyoung snapped back.

You were alarmed. The person out there knew who you were. Adrenaline starts coursing through your veins. You move every single part of your body trying to signal for help. After a few minutes, you give up. Nothing you do will be heard over the sounds of the fight occurring in the rest of the house.

The fight circulates the house. One moment, you hear fighting above you, the next thing you know, it’s right in front of your door. Something slams up against the door, causing a nasty cracking sound. You flinch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wish more than anything that this is a savior and not someone who wants to kill you. If there was anyone out there that could save you, you hoped it was them fighting Jinyoung. You hoped even more that they would win. The next thing you knew, a full body slammed through that door. Jinyoung is laying on the floor. His arms looked twisted, broken. You looked towards the doorway and see nothing but a silhouette.

Slowly, the silhouette walks through the doorway. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Tears immediately well up in your eyes. Jaebum. It was truly him. Jaebum doesn’t even look your direction. His eyes were trained on Jinyoung. He walks forwards to Jinyoung’s motionless body which was twisted up on the floor like a pretzel. He deserved whatever he had coming to him. As Jaebum walks over to deliver the final blow, Jinyoung grabs his leg and pulls. You hear a familiar sound. The breaking of bones. Jaebum yells loudly and hits the floor. Jinyoung pulls forward to a position where he is on top of Jaebum. Jinyoung has him pinned down with no way of escape. Jinyoung bares his fangs and you have to look away.

Jaebum was no match for Jinyoung. Jinyoung was a vampire after all. You felt at peace knowing that someone had come in the end. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out what was coming next. You heard a loud yell and a final break and then there was silence. No one touched you. Nothing was happening. You open your eyes and see him standing over a lifeless form, light shining on half of his face, blood dripping from his mouth, fangs bared. Jaebum.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and confusion (mostly confusion) that all you could do was stare at him. He looked like some kind of tragic painting, like a man who had single-handedly ended a war. He finally looks up at you, eyes glowing red, fangs out. It sent chills down your spine. You felt like he was the hunter and you were the prey as he slowly makes his way over to you.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s Jaebum. I’m here to save you.” Jaebum said the words softly in an attempt to not scare you more than you already were. He wipes the blood away from his mouth as he takes a closer look at you. Horror was written all over his face. “Y/N… What has he done to you…?” Jaebum tries to pick you up to maneuver you into his arms. The pain was so severe you wanted to scream, but no noise would come out.

“Y/N? Say something. Are you okay?” Jaebum asks, worry taking over his usually steady voice. You looked up at him as tears streamed down your face. You slowly shook your head no and buried your face in the arm that was cradling your neck. All you could do was silently sob in his arms.

Without saying another word, Jaebum turns to leave. He could tell that Jinyoung had fucked you up. He knew you would never be the same. It was time to go home. You wondered how he was alive. Jinyoung probably lied about his death just to hurt or scare you. Or maybe he really expected Jaebum to be dead. Also, Jaebum is a vampire. That’s something to think about. Could you trust him? Would Jaebum do the same thing to you that Jinyoung did? Billions of questions were swirling in your brain to the point it was giving you a headache. You’re sure that wasn’t the only thing giving you a headache.

You arrive at a sleek black car. A Mercedes. Nice. Jaebum opens the back seat and slides you in. He runs to his trunk to get some pillows and a blanket. After making sure you were at least somewhat comfortable and secure in the back seat, he starts to drive.

“Y/N, I’m taking you to a hospital. I’m going to say I found you on the side of the road. I’m going to need you to lie, okay? I need you to pretend to have lost your memory. I can’t directly give away the existence of vampires and I don’t want them to think I did this to you. Do you understand?” He looks in the rearview mirror and you can barely make eye contact. As he drives, you are overcome by sleep. Throughout the night all you could do was have unpleasant nightmares. You could only see Jinyoung and you kept reliving the nightmare that was your life over and over again. When you woke up, Jaebum was not in the car anymore. You break out in a cold sweat.

Five minutes later, Jaebum comes back to the car and brings a nurse with him. They slowly lift you into a gurney and take you into the hospital. After the doctor assesses you, he explains to Jaebum that you have excessive blood loss, muscle damage, broken bones and are malnourished. You were fading in and out of consciousness during the assessment. The last thing you remember is Jaebum leaning down to tell you that the hospital would take care of you and then you blacked out.

You wake up in an all-white room. You hear beeping and see Jaebum sitting in the corner, pretending to read a magazine but he is furiously tapping his foot. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched. You try to move your arm but can’t, it’s in a sling. You attempt to clear your throat and noise manages to come out. Jaebum immediately stands up and looks over at you.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Jaebum runs out of the room, yelling. Soon, a nurse comes rushing in and starts examining you.

“Hi sweetie, how are you feeling. Where does it hurt?” the nurse looks at you with a gentle gaze.

You open your mouth to speak, “My legs and arms hurt,” you say in a hoarse voice. It took you by surprise.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate the pain?” the nurse inquires.

“I would say an eight,” you replied.

“I’m sorry, honey. We can give you something for that later. Now, what do you remember?” the nurse looks up from her clipboard as you remained silent.

“Umm… “ your voice trails off.

“It’s okay, I know it’s hard but please, try your best to remember who did this to you. We can help you. That person can’t do anything to you here.” she was trying really hard to get you to open up. Her voice was sweet like honey and her gaze was inviting. Her genuine personality made you want to trust her but you couldn’t tell anyone what happened to you these past few days.

“I’m sorry ma'am… I can’t remember anything. The last thing I remember is this man pulling me off the side of a highway and then I woke up here.” You said, putting on your best clueless expression.

“Do you remember anything about yourself? Your name or where you’re from?” the nurse questioned.

“No.” you answered.

“Well, we need to treat you but if you can’t give us any information about yourself, then I’m not sure what we can do for you…” the nurse looked down a little hopelessly. Jaebum stepped behind her.

“Ma’am. I will take full responsibility for her. I want you to do whatever needs doing to bring her back to health and I will cover the costs. I cannot leave here knowing this woman cannot receive treatment.” Jaebum stepped in. He was a good man. You didn’t know what to think of him at this point in time but you know that no matter what he had initially planned for you, a psychotic kidnapper that planned to kill you would never bring you to a hospital and pay for treatment.

“Okay sir, please come with me. We are going to need some information about you to proceed with treatment.” the nurse said grabbing her clipboard and walking out of the room with Jaebum. She almost looked a little too excited about that.

Over the next few weeks, doctors and nurses come in and out of your room. They gave you painkillers, food, water, brought you fresh blankets and pillows. You don’t know what kind of money or threats Jaebum gave but you were being treated like a VIP. It was all very nice except for at nights when you had to sleep.

Your nights were filled with glowing red eyes, fangs and blood. These nightmares would not stop. Every morning Jaebum came in, he would ask if you were okay. Every morning you answered the same way, that you had nightmares. Jaebum always told you the same thing. That Jinyoung couldn’t hurt me anymore and that I was safe. Yet, every night you thought to yourself, “How could I live the rest of my life like this?”

[colleydogstar]

A Ranger’s Tale - 12 - A Brief Walk

Our Canine Demihuman’s adventure continues with a brief walk and an introduction....

While separated from the city of Estorly in an arcane sense, the manor house and palacial grounds of Silberschmidt's home still follows the same time as the city that surrounds it. And in the days after Pritchard's victory in a duel, it has been open to the guests while the master of the house is recuperating inside in private. Which is why Prichard has asked Rhodie to walk with him one early morning, alone. He is out of his woodsman's attire, wearing the waistcoat and trousers more fitting his time as a guest in Silberschmidt's home given his economic and professional position. As the cat, for lack of a better term, has been let out of the bag on such matters. He paces the carriage road, waiting and looking into the distance at the slice of sunrise breaking over the treeline of the heavily forested manor grounds.

Rhodie has been taking the past few days to get a better grip on some personal situations, as well as events that have transpired since their arrival at the manor. She's wearing one of the newer outfits she received from the Estorly seamstress, white skirt, green vest with gold trim, even a headband with a long blue feather hanging to the side of one of her ears, might as well take time to try and break the new gear in, right? Her tail wags lightly behind her as she watches the sun rising. "As different as this world is, it is kinda comforting to see that sunrises are still rather pretty."

"So they aren't different where you're from?" Pritchard asks, turning to walk alongside Rhodie down the carriage path to a ring road along Silberschmid'ts estate. "Curious what things are so great that they ring true in multiple worlds." He wonders aloud as the pair walk. "I shouldn't badger you on the matter of your world. I've already asked so much. I think it may well be my turn to offer unto you," he says. "If there is anything of my world you wish to know." He pauses a moment, half hesitating before quickly adding, "I do mean about where I'm from and myself, I don't mean to turn this into a natural sciences lecture."

"Honestly, I kinda like doing the compare and contrast thing with our worlds. It's kinda helpful figuring out what exists here that I might already be familiar with." She laughs, "Though I suspect Ember might be getting annoyed with my constant 'does this exist?'" Those long fangs at the front of her mouth are more exposed as she smiles, "I have no problem natural science lectures, or your magic talks... but.." She bites her lower lip, hesitating herself before going ahead, "...So do you try to hide your background to keep folks from treating you a certain way?"

Pritchard is quiet for a moment, his stray bangs cross down by his eye when he looks downward. He fixes the hair to buy him an extra moment before answering. "Generally," he says. "The Geistmacher name carries a degree of weight. My father and mother are well connected people and my family is well-heeled for their financial prudence. Having an affinity for magic, and a magus title, that adds all the more to it." He smiles just a small amount. "On a more practical not, being moneyed is of little use in a forest, so it tends to not come up in casual conversation with young women."

There's a small laugh after the forest bit. "For what it is worth, it's kind of a cool last name, I think," Rhodie says. "Very distinct." She puts her hands behind her head as they walk, looking off as if trying to pick her words before she speaks again, "I'm.. yeah, I'm glad I got to get to know you before that little revelation. Might have caused some stereotyping in how I saw your behavior early on. We're kinda bad about that where I come from.." She doesn't seem to proud of that part, but continues. "But I got to get know you with a blank slate, and aiding clueless dog girls who threw a fit aside, you're a pretty cool guy."

"Really?" Pritchard asks, laughing at the interest over his name. He rests his hands behind his back as he walks with Rhodie through the forests of Silberschmidt's grounds. "We are not so free from social prejudice here. Though I suspect in some ways there are differences in action if not concept." He looks back at Rhodie for a time as he walks. "I'm glad I haven't turned you away. You're a very interesting woman, Rhodie," he tells her, stopping in his walk and looking into the distance back toward the carriage road.

"Heh, slowly getting used to being one. I think yesterday was the first time I saw my reflection in the bathroom and actually didn't feel like I was looking at someone else in the room besides myself," She says. "And really, just glad I haven't made you all kick me to the side of the road. I know I haven't been the easiest to deal with. Panicky actions, emotional outburts, questioning everything..." Rhodie's face scrunches up a bit, "Oh God, I HAVE become a teenager again."

"We wouldn't have. Not without crime or cause," Pritchard assure, stopping to put his hand on her shoulder. "Look there," he says. A carriage approaching Silberschmidt's home, bearing his symbol wrought in silver on the side. "Our host has sent a carriage for someone," he says. "Do you think you could move quick enough to get a view of them?"

That tail begins to wag faster at the contact, then she notices what he's pointing her toward. "Huh..." She looks around at the road, back to the carriage, and takes a breath. "You know... I have been wanting to see just what this body can do for speed." She steps to the side, and begins to try and get some quick stretches in. "OK, lemme just get ready here." She looks up, though not at anything in particular, "And this is not a cue to go full Irish Setter, Inner Dog." She readies herself at the side of the road, waiting for the carriage to pass.

The carriage is pulled by twin horses dressaged in silver threading and crimson ribbon. The carriage races by the pair along the carriage road. The driver holding his hat at the speed at which the vehicle races toward Silberschmidt's home. In a brief moment, the man inside is seen in profile. A human, his long hair tied behind him in a tail. His face shadowed by the dark inside of the carriage. "Go," urges Pritchard. "Let's see what our scout can do."

Rhodie takes a starting stance as the carriage gets closer. She steadies her breathing, watching the figures as they pass, and then at Pritchard's word... takes off! She thinks to herself, 'OK, Body, you've been saying you wanted to cut loose and run since day 1. This is it, we got a wide open road, and a focus. Just you and me, show me what these canine legs got!' She feels her feet kicking up dirt, paws and arms pumping as she runs, trying to push her legs harder.

It all comes so easily to her. Breath coming deeply and steadily. Each press of a paw against the rough carriage road carries her forward. And for all the restriction of the dress and vest, Rhodie is simply a knife through the air. The horses are moving quickly at a trot, but Rhodie is swiftly gaining on the carriage. As it clatters ahead, she gains and gains on it and when the carriage slows to a stop she quickly on top of them. Fast enough that she's at the carriage before the door opens up and a man in a dour suit steps out into the carriage road. A severe looking man that casts a severe looking eye on Rhodie as she gains on the carriage.

The Irish Setter demihuman manages to stop herself near the carriage, thankfully without tripping herself up at the end. Slow down, don't just stop. You're not Wally West and able to stop on a dime... yet. She can feel her heart beating, blood pumping, slightly winded, but feeling like she could easily do that again. "Hoo, not a bad start, legs." Rhodie makes sure she's not standing in the man's way, and gives a small bow of greeting. "Sir."

The man looks at Rhodie and straightens his sleeves and breeches. He looks up  the porch of the manor. "Are you Rhodie Michaels?" he questions. "Erno Bruchhausen. I am Meister Silberschmidt's solicitor. And as of today, your solicitor as well. It is a pleasure to meet you." His words are dry and measured. "Kleiner, to the door!" he calls out to the driver. The man on the carriage moving quickly and toward the front of Silberschmidt's manor. While Bruchhausen takes Rhodie in visually.

Rhodie is initially taken aback by him knowing her name. "O-Oh. OH! The legal kind and not the-AH, yeah, that would be me, Mr. Bruchhausen." She watches the other man take off for the door, and then back to Erno. "It's very nice to meet you as well, sir. I'll uh, try to not make your job too big of a hassle when dealing with me." She thinks, "Other than what it may be already?" Slight nervous grin. She never knows what to say around legal types.

"It's a matter of paperwork," Bruchhausen says, turning from Rhodie and heading for the door. "I should warn you, however," as he starts up the stare toward the door and his footman. "A state where the monarch requires a lawyer is a free one. But the power of the laws extend only insofar as the people are willing to follow them."

She listens, and nods. "Understood, sir." Paperwork. Ah, this must be what was being discussed the other day with the duel. "I would like to think I'm one that will try to follow them to the best of my abilities." Granted, that's going to require learning all the new laws and regulations in this world...

Erno Bruchhausen looks back at Rhodie. "Ms. Michaels, as your solicitor, no matter what you do, it is my job to believe you are in the utmost legal right," he tells her, "I am trying to tell you that whatever legal standing Meister Silberschmidt bestows for you, there are those who will ignore it for their benefit."

Good job misunderstanding there, Rhodie. Her ears twitch and she frowns. That would make sense. Folks knowing what she could do, looking to exploit it and her for their own gain. "So.. something else for me to keep my guard up for then. That is definitely something to be concerned for. Thank you for the warning, sir."

[adventuresinthespace]

Parallels

You’ve been in The Space for two days. It’s not the most ideal situation to be stuck in but you think you’ve adjusted quite well. Mere minutes after your arrival Angelo had showed you around, not that there was much to see except tables and chairs. The moment you had mentioned you were kind of hungry Angelo had dragged you for what seemed like half a mile to the so called cafeteria area which wasn’t really a cafeteria at all but part of the Space that seemed to have an unusual number of picnic tables. The food was laid out buffet style on several tables put end to end and covered in various cloths. You recognise only a handful of items being served by people who appear to be cooks of some kind, moving constantly through occasional bursts of steam.

“Who are they?” you ask, careful not to stare openly at one of them. They are tall with soft lavender fur, long twitchy ears and a cat-like face with a snout.

“The triplets,” he says offhandedly grabbing a plate and a couple of bread rolls. You look back to the people behind the tables. Beside the purple cat person there is a many limbed creature that looks like a crab crawled out of its armour rearranging empty plates and new ones, and one that seems to be a human woman, though you are uncertain. If these people are from everywhere she could be a vampire or something, in any case she certainly didn’t look related to the other two.

“Huh?” You cringe at how clueless you sound. Angelo sees your confusion and gives you another lopsided smile. 

“You’re right, they’re not actually siblings.” He tears into one of the rolls, “But they don't seem to mind it,” he says. “They’re never apart for more than an hour or more.” He’s talking more to himself than to you now, as if he were trying to remember every occasion he’s seen the triplets. You look at them again, the woman is bringing up a new dish from underneath the table. It’s something with blue tentacles covered in a bubbling golden sauce. The tentacles make you recoil slightly, but then you catch a whiff of its scent and your mouth waters. Angelo thrusts a plate into your hands and nods toward the dish encouragingly. There are many others huddled around the food, jostling you slightly and causing your face to heat as you step onto several feet. When you reach the seemingly-human-lady she smiles kindly at you. You don’t see any fangs. She is fairly short and plump with fine chocolate brown hair tied back in a bun. She has full lips but small grey eyes set over rosy cheeks that hold a broad nose between them. You return with an awkward smile of your own before staring fixedly at the tentacle soup.

“Want some?” The woman asks, picking up a ladle.

“Umm...” you mumble. Why are you this nervous? It’s not like she was asking you to reveal your deepest, most darkest thoughts, she just wanted to know if you wanted some weird soup stuff from another world.

“It’s alright,” she says “A lot of people get a bit scared being here.” She smiles warmly, and gestures once again toward the ladle. You take a big gulp of air.

“Um, what is it?” You sniff again, it’s heavenly but that doesn’t mean you trust it. 

“Gushir. It’s a kind of sea creature from the Frijjor region of Sunka. The sauce is a local creation of theirs, I have to buy it instead of make my own because they won’t tell me what’s in it. It’s possible that they’re using something illegal but it tastes good.” That’s a lot of information to take in, and you have no idea where she’s talking about. She sees the lost look on your face and takes matters into her own hands, spooning a few of the tentacles onto your plate and handing you a fork with five tongs. “Try it.” She nods enthusiastically. You carefully pick up a mouthful, reassuring yourself that it can’t be that bad because other people in the Space must have eaten it, besides you don’t want to insult one of the triplets, they seem to be the only source of food in the place. You close your eyes as you take a bite. It’s...odd, but delicious. It’s tangy, and sharp. The sauce is creamy and sweet but with a hint of something peppery. You open your eyes again and the woman is looking at you like a proud mother. She holds out a hand, “I’m Elsie, of Earth number 36″

“Earth?” you ask taking her hand and balancing your plate on the other.

“Number 36,” she confirms. You frown and take another bite of Gushir, listening to Elsie as she explains.

“I’m sure Angelo,” she glances over at him with a fond expression on her face, “has told you that everyone here comes from different worlds. That means worlds you would call ‘alien’ and also parallel worlds.” She absentmindedly scoops more Gushir onto the plates of others who have gathered around you. Someone who seems to be a ghost of some sorts apologises to you as they pass through your arm making you shiver. Elsie scrutinises you for a moment. “You look human to me, am I right?” You nod. “Well then, you’re from Earth, so am I. But not the same one, one that’s slightly different in minor ways.”

“Different how?” You ask, curious.

“Well that depends,” she cocks her head to the side, “which Earth are you from?”

“I don’t know.” You realise you’ve eaten all your Gushir and Elsie ladles another helping onto your plate.”

“Who’s the American president right now?” You grimace.

“Trump.” She mirrors your expression.

“That narrows it down. Are manatees endangered?” You take a moment to think, you’re sure you read this somewhere.

“No.” You don’t sound very certain at all but Elsie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay, down to four. Now finish the title of this famous novel, ‘We need to talk about...” Your silent for a fair while thinking about this one.

“Kevin?” you ask hopefully.

“Aha! Earth number 87.” She offers you a glass of something black and slightly fizzy, you take a sip and realise that it’s just Coke that’s gone a bit flat.

“You guys aren’t so different from us, we don’t have Trump but our politics are somewhat the same.” You nod, fascinated and slightly jealous. “Our animals are different too, we have some that are just myths to other Earths. Kelpies for example.” You feel your eyes go wide with wonder, fantastic images flying through your mind’s eye. “You’ll find a lot of parallels like that, only one or two things that are different. Sometimes the differences aren’t that exciting either, I met one guy from Earth 23 and there was no difference between our worlds except they never invented the dishwasher,” She shrugs “This is what we do here, talk to each other and learn about their world, their culture, it’s fascinating how big and weird the universe is.”

“Elsie!” It’s the purple cat person; their voice is deep and husky and you hazard a guess at male.

“What is it Kuvasz?” Elsie asks sweetly turning away from you.

“It’s been two Carnava, the Hellbengry market will be open and the Chvka move fast.” He nods to you as though you understand the seriousness of the situation.

“Okay,” She turns back to you, “I’ve got to go, Kuvasz gets anxious if we don’t have any Chvka in stock.” She pulls a forest green cloak from under the table and wraps it over her shoulders. “It was nice talking to you, come see me again and I’ll bring you more Gushir.” She grins broadly then strides off into the crowd, vanishing from sight. You wave a hand in a weak goodbye. Your plate is empty again so you turn back to the food table. 

“Making friends?” says a voice in your ear. You jump violently, dropping your plate and sending remnants of sauce flying. Angelo catches it before it smashes on the floor, and hands it back to you, giggling.

“Not funny,” you mumble, scowling at him.

“Aw c’mon,” he slaps you on the shoulder, “I was only joking. Anyway, how was your conversation with Elsie? She’s from Earth like you, right?” You nod and reach for your drink. “Hey, if you get in her good books she’ll bring you cake.”

“Where do they get the food from?” You ask, frowning at the dozens of dishes all along the tables with new ones being brought out every so often.

“Beats me,” Angelo shrugs and turns back to the food “They just turn up with it, we don’t pay them or anything, not that we have money here.” He picks up a couple of sticks with what looks like chicken on them and hands on to you. “I find it’s better not to ask questions and just be thankful.” You take a bite out of the maybe-chicken, it tastes like a combination of fish and beef. “Just enjoy the weirdness of the Space, my friend.” He takes a bite of meat off the stick and promptly spits it out onto the already stained grey floor.

Thank you for reading the next instalment of The Space. I was trying to go for some more world-building here and also a bit of explanation about how The Space works and the people in it. I know we’ve only talked to humans so far but don't worry we’ll get to know some other species later on. If you have any suggestions for characters you’d like to see or maybe just a comment (or even constructive criticism, I don’t mind!) feel free to say so.

The next instalment will be posted in a couple of weeks and will be titled Selkie, in which we meet a rather more unusual character (actually one of my favourite characters). Again, thank you for reading!

[roxy-davenport]

Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez (Let the Good Times Roll)

Pairing: Benny x Reader

Word Count: 3,943

Beta: @raspberrymama

A/N: This was written for @mamaredd123’s Birthday Challenge with the prompt, True Blood. I bridged both worlds together and based the description of Fangtasia on True Blood season 1 episode 4, the first appearance of the bar. The vamps in True Blood had the ability to walk very fast thus appearing in front to someone in a second. I figured I‘d make Benny have the same ability. Thank you to @bcr36 and @willowing-love for helping me capture Benny’s Cajun accent. SMUT, Dom!Benny

Also on A03 

 “Trust me you’ll love it.”

  “Which part?” you asked your bestie as you walked over to Fangtasia. You noticed there was a huge line to get in and groaned at your bestie, throwing her a glare.

  “What? That line? Puhlease, that’s for the newbies. I come here all the time.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very serious. It’s my go-to weekend activity.”

  You frowned at her. “Your mysterious boyfriend that you consistently deflected questions about this whole month...is a vampire?”

  She shrugged and you rolled your eyes in response.

  She sighed dramatically, “Look, loosen up a little. Trust me. You’re looking at a fun night. Vampires are hundreds of years old. Think about how much experience they’ll have. And when they drink your blood while you orgasm...O-M-G it heightens everything.”

  She playfully shoved you when you gave her an incredulous look. When she continued, she said everything fast, her tone excited with a million hand gestures. You were starting to worry that maybe she was addicted to all this.

  “Not to mention when you drink their blood, it’s incredible. You feel connected to them, to the universe, to everything. It’s the most amazing high you’ll ever experience.”

  You threw your hands up. You clearly were not going to win and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. You’d been arguing with her for the better part of an hour. If she wanted you to go here, so be it, you were here. You’d drink with the best of them but you didn’t think you’d enjoy it. You were a hunter after all. How could you enjoy a vamp bar? You just killed a huge nest a week ago. You really hoped no one recognized you, since things would go south quickly if they did. You had little hope that there would be a kind, non-human-drinking vampire there. Those “mainstreamers” as the vamp community called them, were few and far between. You put on a smile, intent to make the best out of a bad situation.

  Your bestie bounced up and down excited, walking haughtily past the giant crowd. They all gave her glares but she held her head high, pulling you along. You noticed the protesters outside and gave them a sympathetic look before you were shoved into the chest of the bouncer.

  Your bestie giggled. “Hi Carl. I brought a friend.” He gave you a grunt of acknowledgement before she barreled on through into Fangtasia with you at her heels.

  You quickly looked around at the rather opulent setting in shades of red and black. There were strippers in all the corners that were clearly vampires. No human could move that fast. You suppressed a chuckle at seeing a man with a big package forced to wear tiny shorts along with an open vest exposing huge muscles. He looked like he desperately wanted to get out of those clothes. He wasn’t your type but there was no harm in looking.

  You gaped at the back for a while, noticing they were selling merchandise. As if this was a tourist stop. You had to make sure that Sam and Dean never met your bestie because if she blabbed about this place, they would go ape shit and probably burn it down with every vamp in it. You supposed the deranged groupies were asking for sex and exchanging their blood freely. There was no direct harm coming to any human, so maybe this place was in the gray?

  You were so busy looking around that you weren’t looking directly in front of you and you bumped into a gorgeous corseted female. You looked up into her eyes knowing immediately what she was. Your body was tense, getting ready to fight if need be. You could see the thoughts flitter across her mind before she wore a mask of indifference. She knew what you were. How, you had no idea but she knew you were a hunter. Her eyes darkened as she looked over at you before glancing to your friend. Your friend didn’t waste a beat and grabbed the vampire into a tight embrace.

  “Oh my god, Pam! It’s great to see you again. This is my friend Y/N.”

  Pam released your friend holding her at arm’s length, her eyes never leaving yours.

  “I see. ID please. We cater to everyone, every taste but not minors.”

  You nodded your head slowly, not convinced. You pulled out your ID and covered everything except for your birthday and your picture.

  Pam looked down and sighed heavily glaring at your ID.

   “How cute. Worried about little old me knowing too much? Adorable friend you have here, dear. He’s waiting for you in the back,” Pam stated to your friend.

  Pam’s eyes returned to you as she slowly stepped in front of you blocking you. She stepped closer to you once your friend walked away. Pam ran her manicured fingernail through your hair as she inched her face closer to your neck, surreptitiously smelling you. Whatever she smelled must have pleased her because she smiled back at you.

  “Don’t get into trouble now dear.”

  “Didn’t come here for trouble.”

  “So you’re not a hunter?” she mused, already knowing the answer.

  “I’m a vegan and I don’t own a gun,” you stated feigning ignorance.

  Pam chuckled. “Adorable. I’ll be watching you,” Pam said, her eyes raking over your body.

  “I imagine you would,” you said as you stepped to the side of her, brushing against her shoulder in your haste to get away from her and make your way over to the bar.   

  You sighed heavily as you slid into the stool, staring at the bartender while trying desperately not to laugh. How stereotypical can you get? He had long hair, piercing eyes and an open black leather vest. What was it with this club and leather? It took you a minute to reign in your opinions of this place and build a suitable poker face. “Screwdriver please.”

  The bartender stared at you, so you stared at him. “Look, I didn’t come here for trouble. Came here because my bestie apparently is a regular and she brought me here. I just want a drink. I got money and it’s your job to make my cocktail. Unless you want to continue with the eye fucking? But I should tell you now, you’re not my type.”

  “That so?” He asked with a growl.

  “Yeah.” You look over your shoulder and saw someone watching you. You nodded your head in the man’s direction. “Now this guy, he’s my type.”

  The bartender laughed and nodded, holding up his hands. He makes your drink smirking at you.

  Benny sidles up to you. “I’m ya type, Cher?”

  “That you are. Maybe my friend was wrong after all. Maybe I will enjoy the evening. I saw you watching me as I entered.”

  “So I was too obvious,” he noted to himself.

  “I have no problem with a man who knows what he wants.”

  “And I want ya?”

  “Don’t you?”

  The bartender brings you your drink. Benny’s arm goes to the back of your stool. The bartender looks at you again, about to say something but Benny’s glare stops him. “Put it on ma tab.”

  The bartender nods and moves to the other side leaving the two of you alone.

  “What was that little display?” you inquire, glancing behind you at his arm caging you between your seat and the bar.

  “Pam was giving ya trouble ‘cause you’re a hunter. We can all smell it on ya, Cher. Your clueless friend mightn’t know but we do. You may not have been lookin’ fer trouble, but ya are trouble here. Ya kill our kind --- now don’t get it twisted, darlin’, they’re not my brethren.” He holds up a bottle of O Negative.

  “Thank you-.”

  “Benny.”

  “Benny? As in Benny Lafitte?”

  Benny squints his eyes. “One an’ tha same, Sug.”

  “I did a job with Dean a while back. He mentioned a Benny that just got out of Purgatory but fuck, you’re a lot more handsome than Dean let on.”

  “Small world.”

  “Indeed it is. So why are you here?”

  “Why is a vampire at a vampire bar? Really ya have to ask?”

  You spit out your drink, turning a few heads to the both of you. “Fair point. What I meant is you stick out. I mean, look at these people. All fashion goths who happen to be real vampires. But you drip charm;

you’re a southern gentleman with morals, not dressed in leather but in comfortable clothes that fit you well. Mainstreaming with the best of them. Not the type to frequent places that this.”

  “I could say tha same for ya.”

  You tilted your head and gave him a look.

  “Just looking to pass the time with a woman that don’t mind tha fangs. And I happen to love True Blood.”

  “Women would mind? Look at yourself.”

  Benny sighed exasperated. His fangs slowly descended and his face looked harder, more viscous but not scary like other vamps. His face just looked rough and weary like a tired man who had seen and done too much evil. He watched you watch him. After a bit, he smiled, his fangs retreating. You couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Been havin’ some bad luck with women. Not many are okay with da fangs comin’ out. I like to bite and feed when I have sex and women don’t like dat much. An’ hunters -- well, they all just as soon kill ya than fuck ya. Why y’here, darlin?”

  You smile up at him shrugging your shoulders before you speak. “Well originally, I was here because my friend dragged me along. I wanted a fun-filled Friday and she took me here.” You shrugged again. “She swears by the sex, saying that drinking vamp blood is the best high there is and letting a vamp drink from you is the best orgasm you could ever experience. I was sure I was either gonna get myself killed or bored but it seems neither is happening so I guess now I’m here for kinky sex.”

  It was Benny’s turn to spit out his drink. “’Are all hunters dis forward?”

  You smirked at him, looking him up and down while you sipped your drink from the small red stirring straw. You took the straw out of your drink and slowly licked it up and down. You watched Benny’s jaw clench as his hands white knuckled on the back of your chair. You cocked your eyebrow at him. He bent down so he could whisper in your ear.

  “You be startin’ somethin’ Cher?”  

  “I’d love to start something with you.”

  Benny looked around and saw several people looking at the both of you. Even if Benny asked Pam for access to one of the back rooms, he couldn’t guarantee your safety in a room full of vampires who hated you. He had to get you out of here. He pulled you gently into his arms. You instinctively wound your arms around the back of his neck. He looked down at you with a hunger in his eyes. He motioned to the bartender for another O Negative and before the bartender could say anything or question what was happening, Benny and you were gone. Benny used his vampiric power to speed walk over to the woods. You held on tight for dear life. The wind whipped through your hair as you saw blur after blur, until finally you arrived in the middle of a forest.

  You looked up at the trees blocking the sky above you. You smelled the beautiful night air, listening to the insects chirp to one another. Benny placed his bottle of O Neg on the ground before taking off his coat and laying it down on the moist ground.

  “How chivalrous of you.”

  “Always, Cher.”

  Benny eyes glided over your figure. You stepped forward and grabbed

his shirt planting your lips on his. You knew that as a gentleman, he was waiting for you to make the first move. You knew he wanted to be sure you wanted this, which you most definitely did. Benny responded immediately to your kiss, pushing your back into the tree bark behind you. You moaned at the slight scrape of the bark against your back. You moved forward tearing open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. He growled a low and deep growl in response. He quickly shoved you back against the tree; hand on your throat, his body pressed up against yours.

  “Ain’t you a little firecracker?”

  He looked into your eyes watching for any sign that he went too far, finding none, he kissed you hard and you moaned into it. One hand went to your hair caressing it, while his other hand held your neck loosely. He withdrew his lips from yours, staring at you, chest heaving. Your eyes alight with mischief and longing. His hand moved from your throat to your waist to hold you upper body back against the tree as he kneeled down in front of you, sliding your pants off in a rushed fashion, desperate to taste you. He threw your pants behind him, landing somewhere near his torn shirt. His hands slide up your body starting at your ankles until they came into contact with your panty-covered core. His hands wound into your panties slowly sliding them down your body, delicately gliding over your recently shaved legs. He held your black lace panties up to his nose smelling you on them, which made him moan. You bit your lip watching his reaction. He pocketed them and you raised your eyebrow at him. He simply chuckled darkly.

  “Kinky.”

  You were about to say something when his nose brushed up against your clit and you moaned, closing your eyes. He licked a stripe, his eyes going to yours watching you throw your head back against the scratchy bark and close your eyes, a breathy moan coming from your lips.

  “Good girl.”

  Your hand wound into his hair but he shook it off. His mouth left your pussy as he slowly stood towering over you. His arm reaching out over your head to cage your body between him and the bark. His body language predatory and one look at his face told you he was a bit annoyed with you.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, Cher, but I think ya want a man to take over and control your feisty little ass for a bit. Tell ya what to do, move your small body where I want it, what’d’ya say? That whatchu want? To give over control to the kind of monster ya hunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “You gonna be a good girl fer ya vampire master?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes who? Got a name, Cher.”

  “Benny.”

  “Good girl. I could kill ya. A hunter trustin’ a vamp?” He made a “tsk” sound with his tongue and shook his head at you.

  You nodded your assent.

  Benny thrust his clothed cock against your core and you mewled.

  “You wouldn't harm me.’”

  He ground his clothed cock against your bare pussy again. The friction feeling wonderful against your cit. Another breathy moan left your lips.

  “I wouldn’t but I could. I’m dangerous.”

  “That’s why I picked you,” you answered in a breathy voice.

  He licked his lips as he looked you over, his eyes darkening. His tongue dove out of his mouth to lick and smell your neck. He breathed in your scent, letting out a shuddering breath as his eyes closed and his fangs descended. “This’s whatcha do to me,” he growled against your neck.

He grazed his fangs against your collarbone before he slid down your body, licking his way down to your core.

  You’re so needy for him you start to beg wanting his mouth desperately on you clit. “Yes, please Benny.”

  “I like when ya beg, Y/N. You sound so pretty.”

  He was happy to oblige, licking and sucking your clit as he watched you moan before he moved to your thighs and bit into one hard enough to break the skin. Your mouth feel open, shocked, totally not expecting a bite just yet.

  As if he could feel your slight apprehension, his fingers returned to your pussy. His thumb pressed down on your clit while his fingers dove into your pussy, arching them to press onto your g-spot as he started sucking the wound he made, drinking your blood hungrily. It had been a long time since he had real human blood to drink.

  Your bestie was totally right, him drinking your blood while fingering you heightened the experience.  Blood drinking and sex really did go together. You were feeding him while he was getting you off, how hot was that? You suddenly felt things more sharply. Every thrust of his fingers onto your g-spot made you moan wantonly. You desperately tried to hold off your impending orgasm. You didn’t want to come just yet but it was getting harder and harder to hold it back.

  Your thighs started to shake, signaling that your orgasm was coming. Benny’s head shot up suddenly. He growled at you and slapped your other thigh. “No Cher, you’re not comin’ yet. You’ll cum in my mouth...and not before, ya hear me?”

  The look he gave you told you there was no wiggle room. He didn’t even say he would punish you. He just let you know that the answer was no. Damn. Benny being this dominant over you was so hot. You nodded and bit your lip as he added another finger. Benny licked your wound causing it to close immediately. There was still smeared blood on your inner thigh. You looked down feeling scandalous, about to fuck a Dom vamp with blood on your thigh. What would the Winchesters think of you now?

  “Ya blood tasted delicious, sweet like a cherry pie.”   

  He moved to your pussy and attacked your clit mercilessly, sucking and licking it non-stop before adding another finger and sliding them all into your pussy over and over again, stretching you out. You moaned continuously, happy to be as loud as you wanted because no one could hear you. It was just good rough sex, nature and your vampire. He was a master at this and you felt yourself spiraling towards an intense orgasm. He could feel it too and with his mouth still attached to your clit, he looked up at you directly into your eyes as if to say, “Now.” You moaned and nodded back at him. He didn’t let up and actually grabbed onto the back of your thighs, pushing them into his face, making his fingers go even deeper inside you. You came in a scream of his name only seconds later. He worked you through it effortlessly, not letting up for a second. You felt like your orgasm lasted ten minutes, it was that extraordinary. The second that you came down, he cut his arm a little on his extended fangs and placed his arm on your lips. He nodded at you and you obediently licked his wound.

  “That’s right, Cher. Taste me.”

  Your orgasm hadn’t died down completely. You closed your eyes and moaned at the taste of his blood on your tongue. .

  “How do I taste, Sug?” Benny took away his arm for a bit, watching his blood drip down your chin, your teeth stained with his essence.

  “A bit metallic but sweet.”

  He smirked down at you and shoved his arm over your lips.

  “Yer not done yet, kitten.”

  He moaned at the feel of your tongue licking his arm.

  “You taste delicious too, sug. I don’t think I’m gonna be lettin’ you go. I think I’m gonna have to make ya mine darlin’.” He licked his lips at you, his gaze predatory like he wanted to devour you.

  He withdrew his arm from your lips, undressed quickly using his vamp powers and not a second later, slid into your pussy, stretching your walls. You opened your eyes letting out a loud moan. The colors around you were more intense -- deeper greens, darker browns. You could hear all of the animals in the forest, smell Benny’s masculine woodsy scent and everything around you both. You could feel his cock sliding into your pussy fiercely. Actually, it was enough to make you come right there but you held off. You felt so connected to him in that moment like you were one person, melded together.

  Pleasure coursed through your body and you moaned, not feeling your normal reality in the moment. You felt like you were floating around the forest experiencing everything all at once. Colors swirled together as he picked up the pace. You left out a stream of moans that sounded like his name. He chuckled as he saw your blank blissed out state.

  “Ya friend was right? Ya feel amazin’ with ma blood cursing through you, right Cher?”

  You couldn’t speak so you just nodded.

  “It feels amazing with my cock thrusting into your pussy don’ it?

  “Mm hmmmm.”

  “Now don’t go gettin’ addicted sweetie, although I reckon I’m gettin’ addicted to you. The way your pussy feels around my cock and the way you’re takin’ me. I’m big, nine inches of thick cock, Sug and I can fuck you against this tree as hard as I can muster and here you are moaning, taking all of me over and over again like a good girl. You’re gonna have me coming back fer more fer sure.”

  His thrusts picked up exponentially.

  “I’m gonna fuck you all night, Cher and make you remember that you’re mine now. Mmm hmm, want that?”

  “Fuck yes, Benny.”

  “Good girl.”

  He thrust faster and faster inside you.

  “Close...”

  “Are ya now? A vampire fucking a hunter hard and fast is enough to make ya lose ya shit?”

  “Uh...Benny.”

  “I know, Sug. Ya real close, huh?”

  You whimpered in response, your toes curling in your boots.

  “Give it to me. That’s right, fuckin’ come on my big, thick cock.”

  He thrust into your faster, harder, and deeper with each thrust, pushing you back against the tree trunk every time. You could feel your orgasm coming like a wave threatening to take you under. You closed your eyes and submitted to it, let it wash over you. You felt your body shake as an intense feeling pulsed through you, drowning out every other sensation around you, save for sheer bliss. You could only feel him inside you, only smell Benny and that was it, you were coming in a moan of his name. Your body felt limp but his strong arms held you up against the tree trunk. His hand gripped your hips as he thrust into you, going deeper each time until he came inside you with a growl of your name. You moaned as you felt his fangs descend onto your neck, tearing at your fragile skin. He started to drink your blood again. That action alone prolonged your orgasm and actually prompted another one a few moments later. You passed out at some point and when you woke up, you found Benny hovering over you on the dirty, wet forest floor, drawing circles onto your stomach. You lay on the semi-wet grass, on his warm coat, naked, staring up at him tired and impressed beyond belief. He, in turn, stared at you with a surprisingly gentle and sweet look on his face.

  “I meant what I said here. I want ya to be mine. I want us to go on a proper date. I really needed this. I never found a woman that was okay with everythi’ we did. Everthi’ I said.”

  “Well aren’t I the luckiest women in the world.”

  Benny chuckled and ran his hands over your cheek gently. “I wasn’t too rough?”

  “I like rough.”

  “I know dat but-.”

  “Just rough enough Benny,” you answered. Your hand reached out to caress his cheek before you planted your lips softly on his. You smiled up at him.

  “Get some rest, Cher ‘cause I intend to please you the entire night.”

  You smiled and curled up into his arms feeling safe, nuzzling into a vampire, in the middle of the forest. Who would have known that this would be the way your night would end. Benny, the mainstreaming vamp and was now all yours.

   Tagging

Forevers: @purgatoan, @killerofthesouth, @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @chelsea072498, @everyday-supernatural-af, @neversatisfiedgirl, @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @one-shots-supernatural, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @deals-with-demons, @mamaredd123, @act74, @hamartiamacguffin, @donnaintx, @love-kittykat21, @impala-dreamer, @evansrogerskitten, @lucifer-in-leather

Benny: @wheresthekillswitch, @jesspfly, @tennessewhiskey, @faith-in-dean, @ruprecht0420, @vintagevalentinexx, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @theficlibrarium, @itsemmyb, @bowtiesandapplepie, @ezauraemmaline, @castielspahdehrah, @deandoesthingstome, @gryffindorable713 @crzcorgi, @manawhaat, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @amaranthinecastiel @fandommaniacx, @samanddeanwinchester67, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @olitzsbae, @the-morning-star-falls, @shortandlongstories, @chrisatplay, @magpiegirl80, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @bkwrm523, @krebon17, @lipstickandwhiskey. @sleep-silent-angel, @zanthiasplace, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @not-so-natural-spn, @skybinx-blog, @feelmyroarrrr, @beachy2014, @fandombooknerd, @tia58, @katnharper, @sams-little-toy, @deansleather, @castiels-forbidden-angel, @sunriserose1023, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @winchesterswoonathon, @jotink78, @notnaturalanahi, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @babypieandwhiskey, @mysaintsasinner, @marasficrecs, @pinknerdpanda, @inmysparetime0, @hexparker, @whydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @wi-deangirl77, @oldfashioncdvillain, @bohowitch, @magpiegirl80