#was honestly contemplating how I wanted to draw him feature wise

[chrispy-chimkin]

I know I'm late by an hour, but if no one's sent anything, how about Lloyd to finish off your collection of ninjas?

Woah, its Luh-Lloyd!

[bunny-wk-fanfic]

Hey I am glad you are doing okay, I was worried for you. I would like to request a Kagome and Dante (Devil May Cry). Maybe Dante thinks he needs to save Kagome from some demons, but Kagome got it covered with her abilities? I love when Kagome kicks ass. Stay safe.

Been a long time since I’ve done anything DMC wise, hope this still entertains you.

Leaning against the tree, he could honestly say he was enjoying the show. How could he not? It appealed to every part of him.

The job he had taken had been slightly restricting in that it brought him to Tokyo, a sudden increase in missing young women and high school girls had become a cause for concern. Especially since there were no ‘normal’ explanations behind the disappearances. So when he had been asked, he took the job.

Arms crossing over his chest, he smirked when the petite figure easily took down a brute at least three times her size, wincing in male sympathy when she brought her knee up sharply between his legs only to give him a quick kick in the head. He bet those heels gave an extra sting to the sudden blow.

If he didn’t know half the women in his life, he would question how this woman was able to do half the stunts she was pulling off in those heels. But damn, if they and her pants didn’t make her legs seem endless, the pants being skin tight also didn’t leave much to the imagination. Though he did wonder how her breezy little top didn’t shift or reveal anything so far.

He tensed when the ugliest of the bunch launched itself at the woman, it’s intent to outright kill rather than kidnap as had been obvious in the beginning. Hands reaching for his guns, he barely drew them when the woman spun, arms out and a quick burst of bright light filled the area. The creature’s screech quickly ended to echo eerily in the air as a pile of ash landed at the woman’s feet.

“What the fuck are you?” the ‘brains’ of the group cried out, quick to scramble away from the woman when she turned back to face them.

Face set in an upset scowl, the woman scoffed. “If you have to ask that, then you’re about a 100 years too young to think you can take me on.” her stance shifted ever so subtly, a stance he was familiar with, it spoke of experience in fighting. Not that he doubted she couldn’t, if what with the past 15 minutes were anything to go by.

Shivering, he felt the lingering traces of that ‘light’ it was the oddest sensation he had ever felt from a human, and he was sure she was completely human as he sensed nothing demonic from her.

“So, I’m giving you this chance and this chance only.” fingers flexed  at her sides, gaze locked on the leader of the group.

“Oh yeah? To what?” said leader scoffed, wiping a small trail of blood from his chin.

“To release the women you’ve already stolen, if they’re still in your possession, and you’ll have the ability to walk away alive.” a brow ticked when the group snickered and laughed at her proposition.

He would have taken it, knowing when to cut his losses. What the woman was offering was more than gracious, he would have simply beat the information out of them, and depending on their answers, may or may not of let them live. It would depend on his mood upon learning the truth.

“I’ll enjoy breaking you personally.” the leader smirked. “First one to get her, I’ll let them have my seconds.”

Tensing at the words, he slowly withdrew his weapons, fully intent on getting rid of the muscle and maiming the leader. He wouldn’t need the use of certain parts of his anatomy to reveal where the women were, which was hopefully holed up somewhere alive.

“Trust me woman, you’ll be a sloppy mess when I’m done with you.” he made a show of licking his fangs, cracking his knuckles to draw attention to his claws.

With a flick of her wrist, her hair was tossed over her shoulder. “How juvenile.” and just like that, she was taking them on single-handedly. Her moves were graceful, using the bare minimum of energy, in fact, she used her enemies energy against them. It was actually sort of seductive, though not in the way Trish fought, but it had its appeal. There was nothing hotter than seeing a woman kicking ass in his personal opinion, so he was content to watch. That was, until he saw one of them sneaking up on her from behind, and he finally saw fit to step in.

Drawing his weapons, a shot rang through the air causing all to turn and face him.

“And who the fuck are you?” the leader spat, snarling at this point and losing control of his human appearance.

“Just someone out for a night stroll and saw this attractive woman in a spot of trouble, so I thought to lend a helping hand.” he used Ivory to give a mock salute, grinning at the last three as he had just taken out one of the brutes.

The leader lifted his nose into the air, making it obvious he was actually scenting the air. “Helping hand my ass! You’re trying to pouch our target!”

A snort from the woman drew their gaze to her. “...like that was going to happen.”

“I gotta agree with her, looks like you were getting your asses handed to ya.” he smirked, being sure to wink at the woman when he stopped next to her. His smirk grew at her obvious confusion.

“No bitch-!” before he could complete his comment, the leader gagged when a fist landed a solid hit in his throat. Hands scrambling at the now bruised flesh, he chocked and attempted to direct the two next to him. They appeared to have some form of intelligence, if their immediate jump into action was anything to go on.

“By the Kami, he complains a lot.” the woman slipped next to him, easily keeping up to his own fighting style.

“Well you did say he was young, and brats do enjoy pitching fits when they don’t get their way.” smirk still in place, he observed the smaller brute eye him, though their gaze would shoot to the woman that was easily handling the larger of the two with some trepidation.

There was a soft snort from behind. “Speaking from personal experience?” if it weren’t for the teasing tone in her voice, he was sure she was taking verbal shots at him.

“The likes of which you wouldn’t believe, Honey.” stepping back, he folded his arms over his chest when he saw that the two brutes decided to take on the bigger threat. A woman as tall as 5’5’’, he was sure at least a couple of inches were due to her shoes.

“Honey? I wasn’t aware that we were on close terms.” with a wave of her hand, a shimmering barrier popped up around them, leaving her time to turn and face him, blue eyes shining in the dim light from the distant lamp.

“Would you prefer babe? Sexy? Gorgeous?” with a slight waggle of his brows, he chuckled at her scoff and eye roll.

“...red clad, silver haired jerks… I’m surrounded by them…” her mumbled words were curious, but he didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant as she pulled out a cell phone, making him wonder where she kept it hidden. Any attempt to find a pocket had her snapping her fingers. “Oi! You want to keep those pretty eyes in your head?”

Leaning down to be closer to her height, his smirk grew when a cute blush colored her cheeks. “You think I got pretty eyes?”

She didn’t deign to answer him, instead choosing to talk to the person on the other end of her call. “Yeah, found the one responsible, he’s here with two others. Just track the GPS from this call.”

Realizing that his attempted catch was actually bait, the leader croaked out in an attempt to call the others into leaving. No sooner had they turned their backs to flee, did the barrier shift to encase them instead.

“Nifty trick. How are you doing that?” a low hiss escaped him when he wrapped his knuckles against the semi-solid surface of the barrier a few time. It stung a lot more than he thought it would!

“I thought with you being half demon, you would know what a holy person is capable of.” her cell phone was mysteriously tucked away again. Where, he had no idea though he seriously wanted to know.

“Honey, I’ve met my fair share of ‘holy’ people,” he made a show of eyeing her from top to bottom. She was attractive. Long black hair, that now looked wild from fighting these demons, framed her delicate face that housed her surprisingly vivid blue eyes, surprising in her obvious Asian features, and plump lips. She was slim, though there was subtle definition that spoke of a more active lifestyle than most women. It wasn’t as defined as Lady, but it was there. “And let me tell you, I’ve never seen a nun dress like you do.”

“I’m not a nun. I’m a miko; shrine maiden, shameness, holy warrior. Take your pick.” at his low whistle, a brow rose in silent question.

“A miko? Didn’t think any were still around. You're my first.” he stroked his chin, attempting to recall having met another like her.

Head canted to the side, she rolled her eyes. “...bet that doesn’t pass your lips often…”

Grinning at hearing the words, once again leaning down closer to her level. “Honey, you’ll need to buy me a drink and dinner before asking about my lips and their possible activities.”

Blue eyes narrowed on him, not in anger, but in contemplation. Her nose quickly wrinkled as her lips pinched. Soon she flinched back as she shook her head, as if attempting to shake off some thought, groaning only for it to end in a whine.

“You okay there, Honey?” he was honestly amused by her expressions. Trish, due to her nature, was poor at expressing herself save for extreme moments. As for Lady, she also seemed to have a set of emotions that she was willing to publicly display, everything else were kept private. But this woman, now that the three were contained, was easily expressing her thoughts and emotions.

“Please, shut up. With your words and appearance, my mind went down a forbidden path.” she quickly pinched the bridge of her nose, once again muttering under her breath.

“Miko, your ability to attract riff-raff with little effort never ceases to entertain me.” the voice drew their attention to an approaching male.

Dante whistled lowly at the amount of power this male carried with ease. The male was obviously not human, demon of some kind, wore a business suit that was tailored to his size. Despite his apparent Japanese appearance, he was tall, standing perhaps at his own height.

“Does that include you, Sesshoumaru? Remember, you came to me in the end, not the other way around.” there was a tilt to her lips, a teasing tone to her words.

A brow was merely raised as the now identified male stopped next to her, golden eyes slowly closing when he seemed to realize that her words must have held some truth. Dante blinked when those eyes turned to him. “...I’ve heard of you, son of Sparda.”

“Same, son of the General.” smirking at the slight narrowing of those golden eyes, he turned his attention back to the Miko when Sesshoumaru approached the three contained males. “He always this excitable?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” her attention was more focused on her acquaintance and the three males, waiting for a signal from Sesshoumaru. The moment she had it, the barrier was down and the three were being escorted by more of Sesshoumaru’s agents.

While he was happy that the threat was taken care of, the reason he took on this job was an attempt to find those that went missing. “What about the missing women and girls?”

“They will reveal where they are.” Sesshoumaru spoke up, pulling out a wallet as he approached them. “One way or another. I believe this was the amount this ‘job’ offered you in finding the females.”

Dante didn’t accept the money, though it was tempting. “Why give me this?”

“Allow the families to keep their money, they will need it upon the conclusion of learning the truth of what happened to their females. This paltry amount is of little consequence to me.” the money was once again offered.

Going over the words, Dante figured it was true. Learning that demons were real would be traumatizing for those women and girls, the medical bills for any injuries they suffered was also going to add up. “Alright. Guess I can take you out to dinner now, Honey!”

“We never agreed to any such thing. Nor am I interested in learning of your illicit affairs.” offering a mock salute, she spun about and began walking away, no doubt home being her destination at this hour.

“Miko.” the single utterance had the woman freezing, shoulders hunching as she turned to toss a stink eye at the stoic male, it darkened at seeing his smirk.

“Fine!” the words were growled through clenched teeth. “Come along, Oh great son of Sparda! I shall direct you to where you can receive the best accommodations in payment to seeing to the return of our missing women folk!”

Snickering under his breath, it became outright laughter when her ire was quickly directed at him. It didn’t stop him from make his way to her side, following her out of the park and to where said accommodations were no doubt going to be. “Honey, you’re a sure spit fire, I’m gonna enjoy getting to know you.”

“Don’t, you’re free to leave at your earliest convenience.” she was practically stomping along the pavement, grumbling under her breath about brats and the males in her life. “I already babysit one silver haired idiot with a fondness for red, I don’t need another in my life.” she gave him a quick look over, brows pinched. “Do you always use guns? Or do you have other weapons?”

“I have a sword, why?” he was honestly curious, wondering why what weapons he used had to do with their current conversation.

“Great. No doubt you’ll meet each other sooner rather than later and start a fricken pissing contest about who has the bigger sword.” she started mumbling again, her anger causing tiny sparks to fly from her.

Dante was honestly entertained, and so glad that this job didn’t go as planned. Normally when things didn’t go as planned, the shit hit the fan leaving him with more work to do. “Well, size is great and all, but it’s useless without technique.” smirking at the look she tossed him, it was downright venomous, and she looked ready to spit fire, he relaxed as they continued on. “But don’t worry about that, Honey, you still have to buy me that drink first.” tossing a wink at her, he laughed as she sputtered for any sort of come back.

[theadventuresofalexandjake]

The Adventures of Alex and Jake Book One: The Lone Wolf Chapter One - 3.4k~

Chapters available immediately on Patreon for $5+ Chapters available here and on AO3 one week later.

((READ IT HERE ON AO3))

Chapter Two >>

I often think about what it means to be legendary. When I was in elementary school, there was this kid who could shoot milk out of his eyes. Everyone then thought he was legendary. I can’t remember his name now, but I remember the deed, so maybe he was. Still, I don’t think that’s the type of legendary that means something.

Jake gave me this journal to write down everything that happens so that we might become legends one day. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean the “milk coming out of your eye” type of legendary, but I don’t see how we can be anything more than that.

He’s a sixteen-year-old high school student who likes soccer and has a crush on my sister. I know he’s been through some difficult stuff; I found him in the woods outside of town when he was fifteen, bloody and near starvation. Clearly he has a story. Every werewolf does. But he didn’t give me this to write down his story. If he did, he would’ve told me what it was.

But I don’t think I’m supposed to write down my story either. I’m seventeen (no, sorry, I’m eighteen now. Do birthdays still count when you no longer age?), and I’ve never done anything legendary in my life. I think my father wanted me to. Ever since I was a kid I was told I was smart enough to do anything; to make millions and be successful and attribute it all to the wise teachings of my parents. That was a lot of pressure for a kid, and when I got into college I tried. I really did. But I choked.

They found me in my dorm bathtub, blood everywhere. I was supposed to die that day, but I didn’t. It was only three days later when the symptoms started that I realized what had happened. I became sensitive to light. I lost my appetite for food, but my thirst grew no matter how much water I drank. It was only when I almost attacked my sister Abigail, and she saw the fangs in my mouth that we figured out what I was.

Vampire.

That sounds pretty legendary, right? But I live in an apartment paid for by my father who has no idea what happened to me, writing freelance articles for online magazines, and I rarely go outside for anything. Me finding Jake in the woods had been a fluke. I finished the stash of blood my sister brings me too soon and grew thirsty. I went out into the woods to hunt an animal, and I found Jake instead. It’s honestly a miracle that I didn’t attack him, as bloody as he was.

He’s been living with me ever since, and I think he has the same expectations my father did. That I’m going to do something extraordinary one day.

I don’t know how to tell them that they’re wrong.

***

The ghost is Jake’s fault, naturally.

I’ve only just opened my eyes at ten in the evening to start my “day” when Jake suddenly accosts me. He jumps onto my bed and sticks his freckled face directly into mine. I can smell hamburgers on his breath. I turn away with a scowl.

“Alex! Wake up! That new club opened tonight. The Witching Hour. We gotta check it out!”

I pull the covers up over my head. “What is it about the past year that makes you think I’m the type of person to go to a club?”

Jake grabs my shoulder and shakes me. “You never go out. That’s why you should come with me tonight! It’ll be fun!”

“I doubt that very much.”

A pair of hands yanks the covers down from my face. Through strands of my dark hair, I glare at Jake, as he widens his bright blue eyes and pokes out his lower lip in a pout that I’ve never been able to refuse. With his soft white-gold curls and cheeks still slightly rounded from childhood, he looks like a freckled cherub. I know there’s mischief behind those wide eyes, but I find myself relenting before I can think better of it.

“Fine. Now get out of my room.”

Jake’s face brightens, and he beams at me. “You won’t regret this!”

“I already do.”

Unperturbed, Jake hops off my bed and bounds out the door. I lay in bed a few more minutes before sighing and pushing off the covers. Standing, I cross over to my closet, flinging it open and staring at the contents. Thanks to my father still paying rent and utilities on the apartment, I’ve been using the funds I get from my freelance work to expand my wardrobe. A rather impressive collection of clothes in black, dark purple, and burgundy greet me, and I contemplate what to wear before pulling together an outfit I deem club appropriate.

Jake smirks at me, as I make my way out of my room. “You really like to embrace the whole vampire thing, huh?”

I look down at my combat boots, ripped black jeans, studded belt, scooped neck burgundy shirt, and black trench coat. On my hands are fishnet fingerless gloves, and my eyeliner is dark and dramatic. I shrug. It’d been my aesthetic even before I was turned. I don’t see a reason to stop now. And hey, if you can’t escape it, flaunt it, right?

“What are you wearing?” I ask then, just noticing the ridiculous shirt Jake has on.

“It’s a doge!” Jake said happily, pulling on the hem to stretch it out and look down at it fondly.

“You’re seriously wearing a meme to a nightclub?”

“Why not?”

I shake my head and walk past him toward the door. “If anyone asks, I don’t know you.”

“But we’ll be arriving together!”

Ignoring this detail, I lead the way out of the apartment, making sure to lock it behind us. I slip the key into my pocket, making my way down the steps that would lead to the front door of the building. Jake bounces after me. I don’t know where he gets his energy, honestly. He’s already been awake all day. Shouldn’t he be ready to sleep after a full day of school and soccer practice?

“Hey, hey, look! It’s a squirrel!”

I grab the back of Jake’s windbreaker to keep him from darting after the creature. “Honestly, sometimes you’re worse than an actual dog,” I say, shaking my head.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t run after small adorable creatures.”

“Why would I want—”

“Hey, look! It’s Raphael!”

This time I stiffen, even as Jake runs forward to greet the young man walking down the sidewalk towards us. Raphael Mendez slows to a stop, an easy smile settling on his features, as he returns Jake’s greeting. When his dark eyes flit to me, however, his smile shifts into a smirk.

“Alex,” he says with a nod.

“Raphael,” I return flatly.

He only seems amused by this, which makes me hate him even more than I already do. One might think that I hate him because he’s the second-in-command of the werewolf gang Los Lobos Luna, but it’s not nearly that cliché. I hate him because he’s been an irritating thorn in my side ever since I took in Jake. He wants Jake for his pack, and he’s been doing everything in his power to manipulate Jake into agreeing. The only reason Jake hasn’t yet is because he knows the gang is into some pretty shady stuff, and he’s a good kid who doesn’t need to get corrupted by company like that.

Abigail says I don’t want Jake to join because then he’d be leaving me, but I’m not that sentimental.

“We’re heading to the new place that just opened up,” Jake is saying to Raphael.

“The Witching Hour? You know that place is haunted, right?” Raphael raises one black eyebrow, and he looks rather smug at the wide-eyed stare Jake gives him.

I roll my eyes. “There are no such thing as ghosts.”

They both turn to look at me.

“Says the vampire to the werewolves,” Jake says pointedly.

I stare off across the street, ignoring this, even as Jake turns back to Raphael.

“How do you know it’s haunted?” he asks.

“Strange stuff’s been happening ever since they started building the place,” Raphael says, sticking his hands into his tight skinny jeans. (Honestly. Why would a werewolf own skinny jeans? They’re just going to tear in half when he shifts. Wouldn’t it be more practical for them to wear giant baggy clothes? Whom is he trying to impress anyway?) “Workers falling off of catwalks, tools going missing, machines breaking down. The whole bit. Some even said they heard screaming, like a little girl was in pain.”

Jake’s enraptured. He leans in, and his bright blue eyes gleam almost green in the yellow light from the street lamps around us. He can’t honestly believe this. There has never been any evidence to suggest ghosts are real.

“Stories made up to make the place more interesting,” I say, stepping forward and taking hold of Jake’s elbow. “Come on, Jake.”

“But what if it’s true?” Jake asks, even as he allows me to pull him away from Raphael and further down the sidewalk.

“We can go home if you want,” I suggest, honestly hoping he’d take me up on that.

But Jake’s expression grows resolved, and I resign myself to a night at the club, as he straightens his shoulders and shakes his head.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost!” he declares, before dissolving into giggles.

I release him and walk faster. Jake calls goodbye to Raphael before hurrying after me.

***

The Witching Hour looks like your typical city club built to appeal to the grunge and underground type of partier. The outside is shiny and new with darkened ceiling to floor windows spray-painted with neon colors that seem to glow. The sign has what looks like a full moon for the “O” in Hour, and the “G” in Witching is a black cat sitting with its back to the viewer and its tail curving. Rather on the nose, but I guess it’s what I expected. As we draw closer to the doors, I can hear the music pulsating from inside, causing the windows to vibrate with each drop of the bass.

The bouncer asks for ID, then stamps our hands, as we walk through the door. As he does, I can’t help but wonder what’ll happen once too many years have passed for me to match my ID picture. I can’t exactly hand someone my license in fifty years looking like I do now. Will I need to keep getting new IDs with different birthdates on them? Will I have to change my name and social security number every ten years? There was no way I could look older than maybe twenty-five with my current appearance. Could I pass for thirty?

As I’m stressing about this, I find myself suddenly in the center of the club. I didn’t even realize I was still following Jake. He’s thrashing around in front of me in some sort of dance move I don’t recognize. He looks ridiculous, honestly, and I can feel second-hand embarrassment squirm inside me. I take a couple steps away, not straying too far but not wanting to appear like I’m with him, either.

“Hey!”

A girl with long dark hair streaked with blue and red highlights grins at me, her teeth glowing in the black lights. She’s bouncing and swaying to the music, not quite on tempo, and her eyes look me up and down in a way that makes me distinctively uncomfortable.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” she asks, tilting closer to me in order to shout over the music.

I instinctively step back, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the question. “Does it matter?”

“It might,” the girl says, winking this time.

I turn my gaze away to look for Jake, but I’ve lost him in the sea of writhing bodies. Almost immediately, my chest feels as though someone’s taken my ribcage and started squeezing. I turn away from the girl without answering her, scanning the area behind me, but there’s no sign of him anywhere.

“Who are you looking for?” The girl again, yelling in my ear.

I jerk away from her, bumping into a dancer behind me. It’s a taller guy, who grunts and shoves me back, sending me stumbling. My heart no longer beats, but if it did I know it’d be pounding rapidly. The music is too loud, and the air is humid with the smell of sweat and blood. I can hear heartbeats everywhere, disjointed rhythms that don’t match the music. There’s laughter and voices and colors, swirling, swirling, swirling . . .

And then everything goes black and silent.

Someone screams, which is followed by laughter. A few people groan and boo, and the DJ yells over the sound, informing us of a power outage. Everyone starts getting out their phones, using them for light, as they mill about and talk.

I still feel like I’m suffocating.

A hand grabs mine, and I almost scream. Almost. I catch it in my throat once I realize it’s only Jake, suddenly standing next to me. His curls are somewhat flattened, sticking to his freckled face with sweat. He smells like wet dog, but I honestly couldn’t care less in that moment.

“Alex!” he exclaims. “It’s the ghost!”

I scoff, glad to have something to focus on instead of my trembling hands. “It’s not the ghost. It’s just a power outage.”

“But it’s not even storming,” Jake says, shaking his head with wide eyes.

“A fuse could’ve blown. Wiring gone bad. There’s dozens of things that could’ve happened, Jake.”

“No, it’s a ghost. I can feel it.”

Almost as soon as he says this, there’s a flash of light near the ceiling. I glance up in time to see one of the black lights fall toward the floor. Without thinking, I dash over, shoving the two people standing beneath it. They shout in surprise and anger, but their eyes widen in horror, as the black light smashes onto the floor directly where they’d been standing.

“It’s the ghost!” someone yells.

Suddenly the club is a stampede, as people scream and rush toward the exits. Someone knocks into me, and I find myself falling. A foot stomps on my hand, and I grit my teeth against the pain, even as I force myself to my feet.

“Alex? Alex!”

I can hear Jake calling for me, but even as I stand, I can’t see him in the sea of escapees. Then suddenly he’s in front of me, grabbing my arms. The relief I feel is almost palpable.

“Come on,” I tell him, turning toward the doors. “We have to go.”

But Jake digs his heels in and doesn’t budge. He shakes his head. “We can’t go. We have to help.”

I stare at him. “Help? Everyone’s leaving.”

“Not them,” Jake says, shaking his head. He looks toward the ceiling, then, and I understand what he means with a sense of dread.

“No. Absolutely not. We’re not going ghost busting. We’re going home.”

Jake sets his jaw, his expression hardening in a look that I’ve come to know as his “stubborn glare.”

“You can go home if you want,” he says, releasing my arms. “But I’m staying.”

I glance longingly toward the doors. I didn’t even want to come to this stupid club. Am I really going to stay and help Jake find a ghost?

Groaning, I turn from the doors, peering up into the catwalks above the club’s dance floor. “Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “But I swear if we get our asses kicked by this thing, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jake has the audacity to laugh. “We’ll be fine,” he insists.

“You have no way of knowing that for sure.”

The club is nearly empty now, and even the DJ has disappeared. There’s a hum and then dim yellow lights come on. The backup generator, most likely. There are only a few people left aside from us, brave (or stupid) souls taking photos of the fallen light with their phones. One of them, a boy around Jake’s age with a stocky frame and a crew cut of brown hair, looks up and sees us. More specifically, he sees Jake. With a grin, he lifts his hand in a wave.

“Jake! Hey!”

Jake looks over, his expression brightening. I can hear the way his heart rate elevates, and a faint flush colors his cheeks, as he waves back. I frown.

“Who is that?”

“Brandon Reaper! He’s from my school,” Jake explains, as Brandon jogs his way over.

He has hazel eyes, and when he grins again, I notice he has dimples.

I hate him immediately.

“Hey, man, I didn’t know you were here,” Brandon says, as the two exchange an elaborate handshake. “Crazy about that light, huh?”

“Alex and I are gonna investigate,” Jake informs him, gesturing to me.

“Oh, hey,” Brandon says, holding his hand out to me. “Jake mentions you a lot. I gotta say, you look different than I pictured.”

I raise my eyebrows, not taking his hand. “How did you think I looked?”

Brandon shrugs, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It’s a letterman’s jacket, complete with the high school’s logo on the front. A sports man. Of course. Probably a football player, from the way he’s built. He’s not massive, though, so maybe he’s on the soccer team with Jake. Though I suppose he could be a quarterback.

“Jake mentioned you were gender-neutral and looked androgynous, so I guess I wasn’t expecting . . .” He gestures to me vaguely.

I reach up to touch the dark strands that rest against my shoulder self-consciously with a faint frown. “Not every androgynous person is white and five-foot-four with delicate features and a pixie cut,” I say with a little more snide than I’m necessarily proud of.

“No, yeah, for sure,” Brandon says quickly. “It’s cool, man. Er, dude. Uh . . .”

I sigh. “Look, I’m fine with any pronouns, just don’t expect me to conform to any gender stereotypes.”

“I call Alex ‘dude’ all the time,” Jake informs Brandon, laying his hand on his arm. “It’s fine.”

Brandon looks relieved. I just look at Jake’s hand, watching as it squeezes gently before falling away. An uncomfortable lump grows in my throat, and I clear my throat to get rid of it.

“Anyway, we were just leaving,” I say, tugging on Jake’s sleeve.

Jake pulls away from me. “No we weren’t. We were going to find the ghost!”

Brandon glances between us. “Ghost?”

“He thinks there’s a ghost,” I say, emphasizing how ridiculous I think this is.

“There is a ghost,” Jake insists, puffing out his chest. “I’ll prove it.”

He stalks toward the back of the club, then, where there’s a staircase leading up to the catwalk. Brandon looks over at me, but I keep my eyes on Jake, gritting my teeth and weighing the pros and cons.

“Are you two coming or what?” Jake lingers halfway up the stairs, calling over to us as he leans over the railing.

“Guess we’re going ghost hunting,” Brandon says with another grin before jogging to meet Jake.

I watch as Jake beams happily, and that lump returns. Only now it’s in my stomach, and it feels more like a heavy boulder pressing up against my lungs. Jake waves at Brandon, as he approaches, and the two of them speak briefly. I could hear them if I wanted to, but I find myself blocking them out.

I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it.

“Alex! Come on!”

Jake beckons to me, and I square my shoulders, making my way over to them. I might not like it, but I’m definitely not leaving Jake alone with Brandon. There’s something not right about that kid. He joined in a ghost hunt without batting an eye; like it was a natural thing most people did in an empty club at midnight.

He has to be up to something.

[dentelle-grise]

Your latest trick

(Loki x Reader NSFW) Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party.

All chapters to date at AO3 (55K, NC-17)

Tagging my rebloggers, commenters and other folk who asked. Please let me know if you want in (or out) of the list: @joanbushur, @frenchfrostpudding, @lovely-geek, @wolfsmom1, @sigridlaufeyson, @lokislonelylady, @monitoroutside, @daniissuchadani, @devilbat, @deadlydreamersecrets @helenisabel, @stardustandangelsfanfiction, @ely-seum, @wendyrobson1978, @the-ships-i-ship, @shemart101, @dreamourbrainout, @sadghostomg, @lokilover2000, @blobfishington, @lynneth1968-blog, @deaddecade, @nardo94

Chapter 22 : Desperate to make amends to Loki, reader chases him through the  palace in the depths of night, but just as she thinks she’s caught up to him she finds someone else entirely.

It’s not Loki - the whole stature is wrong, Whoever this is though, you just called out Loki’s name to them.

The figure doesn’t react, just continues to advance. You want to suck back the name, deny it, but it’s too late. You stay where you are. You’ve got to see who it is you just so foolishly told.

The figure has the form of a man, but seems somehow misshapen, as though great crags grow from his shoulders, it just looks wrong for a person. That’s why it’s even more of a shock when he gets close enough to recognize.

Odin! Lined face heavy with exhaustion, hair an unruly mess, barefoot and wearing a long gold-threaded sleeping gown.

Despite the king’s strange appearance, relief washes over you. He’s the one other person who must already know about Loki. The secret is safe. He doesn’t, however, know that you know, or at least he didn’t until now. You fall to your knees and bow, dread slowly filling you from the cold floor beneath.

You get your respectful greeting ready as he approaches laboriously,

“Your majesty….” He makes no acknowledgement. He doesn’t even stop. It’s like he hasn’t seen you. He’s moving so incredibly slowly though that you easily have time to get out of the way before he trips over you. As he goes past you see what is so strange about his shoulders. There’s a raven perched on each one.

“Hugin and Munin, they’re back!”

He still doesn’t react, doesn’t falter or look at you. Later you couldn’t even say if his eye was open.

There’s no sound in the corridor but for your hammering heart and Odin’s shuffling steps. Did he not see you, or pretend not to? Did you just get away with it?

Where is Loki?

The only movement is the shimmer of Odin’s nightgown as the moonlight catches the golden parts.

You return to your room. It’s the quietest part of the of night and but there’s no sleep to be found. Will Loki return? Against the unfamiliar feeling of being alone it all crowds in on you, the argument, the secret, the lies you’ve told to all around you, and what could possibly be waiting for you tomorrow. Telling Nara was one thing, but Odin, you know well what he’s capable of.

The day breaks and there’s no royal summons, no questioning, nothing.

You go about your business as normally as you can. Except it’s not normal. It’s eerily quiet. Perhaps Odin really was sleepwalking. You know better than to relax, but later you hear that the King isn’t even in Asgard, but making a diplomatic visit to Svartalfheim. Methodically you go through your day, not thinking about any of it but fearful of any of the royal guard that you see.

Loki doesn’t come back that night, leaving you with a mix of worry and guilty relief What is he doing? Is he in Svartalfheim with Odin? Loki on an official visit? Surely not…unless. Perhaps they know the truth on Svartalfheim. Perhaps some hail him like a hero even? Like his beautiful elf… No you don’t want to go there

But then why play dead before his own people. His own brother!

Thor!

If ever Asgard needed him its now. But what could he do? You can imagine the ensuing conflict with his father should Thor try to tell Odin to leave the Aether alone.

And if Thor was here, would you tell him the truth? It’s starting to feel like you’ve got to tell someone. But every time it crosses your mind you see Loki’s anger at you, his hurt. You cannot.

After the whirlwind that has been, this lull is a shock to the system. Despite the pang of loneliness, you can never be sure you are alone. If Loki’s not on a mission then is he watching you? You’re back to imagining him around every corner and waiting for you each time you go home.

It feels too quiet. Like a calm before a storm. There’s no more crazy experiments, no more obscure injuries. The girls slip the odd question about your mystery man, your mother too, but you manage to deflect them. How long can you keep them at bay? In a world where Loki was neither felon nor hero you suppose you and he being together would have been applauded, even considered normal.

Nothing about Loki or this situation is normal. But nothing will stop you wanting him back.

The first night alone you told yourself its was a chance to think clearly. By the third you are downright worried, above all because Odin is back but there’s still no sign of Loki. Is he angry with you? Doubtlessly. But if he wanted you to chase him in the corridors, why disappear. He wanted to be caught and comforted. Right? Or did you misread him?

What if he never returns, must you keep the secret forever?

On the steps up to the palace you can see your father and it fills you with joy. With him, everything is simple. He won’t ask you, won’t badger you about your ‘budding relationship’ and if there was anyone you could safely confide in you know it would be him. If there is someone who finally you could tell… The sky seems to brighten at that very second. He sees you and though he’s too far off to see his expression you are sure he’s smiling. You start running.

But, as you get nearer you see he is not alone. He’s with Odin who was leaning over some papers on a folding table beside them. Its a pile of plans of some sort, but now both men are focused on you. You don’t falter in your course and draw to halt before them. The king looks hale and hearty and not in the slightest like the crumpled specter of the other night. There’s no knowing look either when he meets your gaze. It’s as though you dreamt the whole episode of the other night. You hope your inquietude isn’t visible. Before you can as much as greet them, Odin speaks.

“Ah, just what we need. A deciding opinion.”

Your eyes fall on the plans. They are all pictures of Frigga.

“This is where her statue will stand, the question is, in which direction should she face, toward the morning or the evening sun.”

You feel sure Papa has already made a suggestion but you can’t guess at what and Odin probably wants the opposite. You only hope, whatever you say will meet with approuval. Compared with the type of questioning you expected it’s a picnic. You simply need to answer the most honestly you can and from your heart. You look at the position, the light in the sky, the pictures. Then it comes to you.

“Both. You say with some satisfaction.” And you watch as a smile breaks over your father’s face.

“She should face the city and the people so her features might be caught by both the morning and evening sun in turn.”

“A wise choice” says Odin, actively appearing to contemplate it. “From a clever girl.”

“Thank you your majesty.”

“We should play again at Midgardian War.” It’s not a question and the easy escape you’d expected shrinks to a pinprick.“Tonight.” Odin eye fixes on you. It’s the look you’d been dreading. Like he knows something, everything even. You are used to people looking at you, with envy or desire or even amusement, but he’s unreadable. This invitation is not as harmless as it might appear. You hope against hope you won’t be left alone with him.

“And then I will play the winner.” Papa puts in, with a chuckle and you release the breath you’d been holding. He will be there. If the worst comes to the worst, and you have to confess then you will have ally. Papa will make it alright.

You don’t have long to think about it because the rendezvous is only a few hours away. You wish you could get your father alone before then, somehow warn him about what might transpire, but he’s suddenly surrounded by suppliers and clerks here to set up the work site. If only you had gone to him sooner.

“Svartalfheim was once beautiful. Well…perhaps not to our eyes, but it has been burnt by the light itself.”

You’re seated in a cosy salon in the royal quarters under the warm light of lamps and a fire.

“But what if there were trees, Sire.”You think of the absolute blackness you can find in the depths of a forest. That lingering memory of losing yourself there in a blackness so thick… ”Wouldn’t they stop the light?” He looks at you as though this was the naive imaginings of a child, endearing but misguided. Then he stops.

“A charming idea, but first we would need to stop the ground itself from shifting. It moves constantly, the surface is little but a desert.

“And the elves…” you father puts in “It would be prudent to consider if they’d consider such help as ’meddling’”.

“We will, nonetheless be establishing a settlement there.”

He has made no mention of your encounter in the corridor, and you conclude, finally, that he did not notice you. You would be relieved, but the vast difference between that Odin and this one puts you on edge. There’s something forced about his smile. You ignore it and so, you think, does Papa. Judging by the state you saw Odin in that night, he perhaps risks to fall again into the sleep, but is fighting it every step of the way. If that happened how would Asgard cope. Would Loki come out of hiding? Would Thor return?

“What news of Thor?” you ask, conscious you have been quiet too long.

Now, you know very well that they’d had their differences, all Asgard knew. But you just wanted to know, if someone could help the situation…

“On Midgard, with Jane.” Her name, Odin uses her name, not ‘that mortal woman’, hissed with distaste. No he said ‘Jane’, her little name, like Thor would. Just that is enough to tell you that he has accepted the alien woman. But then he looks grave and adds. “Tis a shame she won’t live.”

Odin stares into the fire and though in that moment you see the warmth in the light falling on his weathered features, it reveals see a great sorrow.

“But who of us can boast eternity?” he concludes.

Although the words are wise they are stark and the anguish in his face easily readable. You know he is thinking of Frigga, perhaps of himself or even…

It’s at that moment a doubt starts to tug at you. Does Odin really know Loki is alive? What if Loki never told him? What if you are the only one. Loki never mentioned being on ’a mission for Asgard’ not ‘ a mission for Odin’ but you always thought his father knew. If not, is Loki still a fugitive. Odin imprisoned Loki, it makes sense that Loki wouldn’t trust him. Hence the secrecy. But if Odin doesn’t know Loki survived, then does he know Malekith survived.

You try to calm your panic, Odin must know, why else would he be preparing new weapons with such zeal. He knows. He must know. But why not then tell Thor? You school your features before your confusion can show. Fortunately Odin is momentarily distracted by the arrival of the chess board.

As he thanks the attendants, you watch the lines and furrows of his face, shadowed into mountains and valleys in the firelight. You can look on him for a few moments without the feeling that he’s scrutinizing you, either with his remaining eye or the missing one, but you’re aware of Papa watching you as you do so.

The chess game is a disaster, an unmitigated one. The only good thing you can say about it is that it’s over quickly. Though your hand is steady, you are shaking inside and you stumble through the opening moves like a beginner leaving your king open to attack and easy to trap. You try to compensate but you’ve lost concentration and your actions on the board are desperate and obvious. The best you can do is show nothing on your face. Papa’s questioning gaze on you a further source of stress. You wish you’d had time to talk to him. By keeping the secret you could be risking all Asgard, but by telling you would be betraying Loki.

Odin held diplomacy meeting with the elves didn’t he? Things must be alright.

You can act like normal but you can’t play like normal and the mere thought that you’re pretending spirals you further. You feel sympathy for Odin, and not. The imprisoned Loki! No wonder if Loki won’t trust him.

So did Odin meet the elves who are against Malekith, like Loki’s elf? Odin must know about Loki. So why the secrecy?

But what id he doesn’t, what if he was duped by Malkith’s allies? And where was Loki?

Where is Loki?

Checkmate.

As promised your father takes your place, you try to follow his elegant moves as it’s clearly now your family who has the upper hand. But the real game is so much bigger. Why did Odin wish to play you at all? If Papa wasn’t here would he call you on the events of the other night. Papa is victorious and so both he and Odin can celebrate a win. If you have anything to celebrate it’s that Odin has said nothing about Loki. But the relief is not enough, you still carry the secret. And for what? Loki is avoiding you.

The next day, you dine with your parents. Your mother seems happy despite the lack of progress in the armory. She’s unusually quiet and, except for a few complicit smiles, makes no allusions to you mystery suitor. You’re feeling a lot calmer about last night, it’s to be expected to be nervous in the presence of Odin after all.

“You know the king asked me to tell you he’d like another game.” Papa seems to be asking a question as he says it (Do you really want to little love? I can get you out of this) but your mother positively beams.

So Odin wants to see you again tonight. Well, it’s not like you’ve other engagements.

“But, I played terribly.”

“You must have impressed him the first time, No? That private game I didn’t see.” The question lingers in his voice.

“Well it’s good to see you with a serious pursuit.” says Mother brightly and the utter ridiculousness makes you clench your fists under the table.

“I believe the king is lonely.” Papa adds with a sigh.

It can’t be that. Odin will ask about Loki. He’s going to ask and you cannot lie to your King. Not when the safety of the realm is in the balance. If Odin pushes you, you would betray your lover and the thought sickens you.

Chapter 23

[stillebesat]

Writing Based Question: Any tips on how to write Logan and Roman dialogue? I can get down Logan's internal monologue like straight off, but I'm worried about his dialogue and I'm worried about making Roman too much... Just wanted to see if you had any advice! Thanks!

()_() Oooo Difficult Question…let’s see…. 

*ponders for forever* Alright, difficult because I don’t quite know the scene or background of this story you’re working on, because often, the setting and situation of the story will influence the character…

But general wise… and this is just my personal opinion. 

Logan speaks rather normally, all things considered. 

He’s just a bit more…formal in his speaking. He’s like…that first email you send to a teacher/boss sort of formal. He’s reserved, he’s polite. And if it’s in face to face conversation he probably tends to listen more than he speaks at first because he’s gathering ‘data’ to better understand how he can join in on the conversation and keep the conversation going. 

He tends to shy away from slang words and while he loves learning them, will withhold using them unless he’s a) confident he’s using it correctly or b) he’s comfortable enough around the people he’s with to not mind being corrected.  

He’s also well read. So Logan will every now and then use a different word to describe how he’s feeling because he has that word bank at his disposal. (Synonyms are your friend here.) So like it could be he chooses to use Solanum lycopersicum instead of ‘Tomato’ or he would use “melancholy’ instead of ‘sad.’ It’s not because he’s showing off his ‘knowledge’ it’s because he knows enough words to know that one word will better describe what he wants to convey than the other. 

Logan is also more likely to take things literally at first. He’ll take words at face value, and only upon thinking it over or having it pointed out to him will he realize that the words weren’t meant to be taken so ‘on the nose.’ 

And because he tends to take words more seriously, he doesn’t always realize when people are a) teasing him or b) trying to flirt with him.

He’s kinda the person that will assume you have a problem, and he’s just there to help you solve it and give you the answer. 

Since he is Logic, he often uses Logic based thinking. If A happens then B must also happen in order to get C as the result. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t emotional though. He has feelings, he has passions, he’s just less likely to show them to a stranger than he is with his best friend. 

But as he relaxes in a relationship he is more likely to be….more dynamic? There’s always going to be that slight ‘formal’ air to him. But he’d be more likely to toss nicknames (You Malodorous Centurion!) or be more descriptive “Flames on the side of my face. Seething. Seething fire!” with those he’s close with/ comfortable with as oppose to an acquaintance. 

There’s also his passions. If he’s talking about Space or the Ocean or even Crofters, he’s going to have a ‘geek out’ override. Where he’ll just…go all out ‘gaga’ over the subject he’s passionate about. “PLUTO SHOULD BE A PLANET!!” “Crofters. The only Jelly I WILL PUT in my Belly.” “But what is at the bottom of the ocean, can you imagine? We’ve explored more of our solar system and know more about our MOON than we know about our ocean. Who knows what could be lurking down there undiscovered!” 

Honestly…if you have any friends who are the Zodiac sign of Cancer…(which I am of that sign) Logan will most likely fit into this category rather well. He has a shell, and doesn’t often let people see his emotional turmoil because he doesn’t want to get ‘shut down’ or ‘hurt’ because people aren’t ‘interested’ in him and his problems. So his dialogue will reflect that, at least at first. He’ll come across as uncaring, but he probably cares rather deeply, once he’s confident that investing in another won’t lead to heartbreak or problems.

Roman….

He can be similar to Logan in the fact that there is a ‘wall’ you need to break down when you’re first getting to know him. 

Except where Logan is formal, Roman is…dynamic. He’s going to be more vocal about his emotions and show them more readily…at least the emotions he wants you to see. He’s often going to try and put the ‘best face’ on things. So He’ll take the more optimistic outlook and downplay any hardships. “Pssh, this hard? Ha! I’ve fought a Dragon Witch and THAT was hard.” He’s a wall of confidence hiding his insecurities. His wondering of “did I do good?” “was that good enough?” He gets a lot of his value and self worth from the feedback others give him. He’s an extrovert for the most part. (he does have his quiet contemplative moments)

Where Logan would be quite happy to spend all day alone with his books, Roman will thrive in a crowd. If he’s in the spotlight he’ll thrive even better. It’s not to say that he craves popularity, he just loves being around people. He’s an entertainer. He loves to make people smile, to laugh, to move them to tears with his performances. 

So with those he doesn’t know well, he’s going to seem like that ‘popular kid’ the one who’s always loud, always drawing attention to himself, always making a scene. The one you go to if you want to be entertained, find a smile.

But with his close friends, he’s probably really sensitive. Caring. He’s a Prince after all. (So he’ll often use Knight/Prince-like dialogue. “Well of course, my good sir!” “I’ve successfully completed your quest! Here are your nachos!” *flourishes box of nachos and goes down onto one knee to present them* )

He’s going to be on the lookout for opportunity to give …’gestures’ like “romantic gestures’ or gestures of ‘good will.’ He’ll be the one to give you his coat in the pouring rain and laugh off the fact that he’s going to get soaked. He’ll hold the door open for you, go on a midnight run for snacks if you’re not feeling well. He’s going to be that movie buddy where you could either sit in silence or throw commentary throughout the movie. Though getting him to not sing along to the songs is next to impossible. ;) 

And if he’s comfortable with the other person, perhaps then they’ll see his insecurities, his quiet moments, his moments where he let’s his “popular Prince” persona drop and you just get to see “Roman.” Roman who quietly plays the piano, who will tear up at the end of a movie, who will hug you and make you feel safe without needing to say a word. 

So…. 

Dialogue. 

A Beginning/first meeting between the two would possibly go something like this: 

Roman straightened, raising his hand to gesture to Logan. “What’s this! An interloper in our midst?! Hark. Who goes there?”

Logan paused, placing a finger on the page to mark his place as he looked up with a slight frown. “Is this not Room 334A? There is a scientific mee–” 

“Ah, A lost wanderer from the Nerd Squad.” Roman smirked and bowed. “Alas, your group needed the larger auditorium this evening, that’s room 449 if you’ve never been there, while us poor stage performers were shunted aside to this dank and dark quarters to do our run through.” 

“So…I need to go….to room 449?” Logan asked glancing for a sign on the door to show that this over exuberant man was telling the truth. 

“Yes, didn’t I just say so?” 

“Perhaps,” Logan mentally marked the page of his book, shutting it fully as he turned away. “It was difficult to acquire the knowledge necessary through your flowery monologue to know for certain.” 

While a more ‘relaxed’ ‘close friends’ meeting would possibly be like. 

Roman sprawled on the bed, head hanging upside down over the edge as he stared at Logan, a contemplative look crossing his features, fidgeted with his cuff sleeves as Logan finished the spiel. “Well, Lo, I don’t see what you have to worry about, it sounds like you know the material.” 

Logan huffed, slumping into the desk chair, pulling off his glasses. “But do I sound like a dying whale is the question? Is it too boring? Will the Kids think I’m…Lit… or a talking corpse?”

Roman snorted. “You are more articulate than a Zombie, Lo, and while you may not be Lit” his eyes twinkled. “Coming across as the Man isn’t a bad thing in this case.”  

Logan made a face, sticking out his tongue. “It is if I don’t want to be booed off the stage.” 

“Nah, that’s my job to be booed off stage.” Roman winked. “You’ll be fine, remember, you’re facing a bunch of other Nerds. They came because they want to learn, as crazy as that sounds.” He sat up, twisting to face Logan. “You’re not in Shakespeare’s time, the crowd isn’t going to have tomatoes to throw at you if they don’t like your presentation.” 

“If…you say so…” 

“I do say so! and hey, you’ll have at least one supporter there.” 

Logan blinked. “Who?” 

“Me!” Roman grinned holding up his hand dramatically. “I will be there, my dearest Microsoft Nerd, bouquet of roses in hand, ready to sweep thee of thine feet the moment thine performance has concluded!” 

A slow smile spread across Logan’s face as his cheeks took on a pink tinge. “Well…that’s…ah…Thank you….Roman…” 

I hope that helped at least a little Anon!! ^^;; 

Let me know if you have further questions or if there’s anything I can clarify. :D