#[ the kids who are coming around the murder danger demon lady ]

[sylvctica]

cont from here with @icicle-dragon

"Oh, slime huh?" Namatee was quick to shift out of the trajectory path of the slime ball that was incoming, growling and throwing an equally black 'slime' ball towards the pair—which promptly missed, only due to them teleporting away. Disappointing, she always enjoyed blinding people with said 'slime'.

The dendro god on the other end was quick to shoo the frogs away that had piled around the poor (target missed) slime, mostly so they didn't catch any wrath. Okay, note to self to tell those two to not try to cheer up the 'grumpy demon lady' with any tricks or treats.

[tcfactory]

Today I remembered that Mobei-Jun is roughly the same age-range - possibly even a little younger - than the Qing Peak Lords.

[2400 words, smol bean Mobei and big bro Yue Qi traipsing through the countryside to rescue Xiao Jiu]

So please imagine young Mobei Wu, approximately ten years old, stranded in the human realm after yet another of his uncle's murder attempts and too tired or not yet skilled enough to portal back from one realm to the other without a tear in reality to capitalize on.

And instead of Huan Hua cultivators or any other danger, he stumbles into Yue Qi. Yue Qi who is about fifteen, just got out of the cave and is on the way to try and rescue his Xiao Jiu. Yue Qi would never hurt a child smaller than him, not even a demon one. Especially not one that admits, after some careful coaxing with smiles and sweet treats, that it's his uncle who's trying to kill him. Yue Qi can't imagine someone wanting to harm a child who places their trust in him, anyway please call him Qi-ge. What's your name, little one? All right, A-Wu, not so little. (He is very little. Yue Qi is very tall for his age, but this demon is objectively tiny and maybe a little malnourished too.) What a coincidence, they are both named after numbers. Do you want Qi-ge to carry you for a bit?

Yue Qi figures that the least he can do is look out for this kid until he can go home - A-Wu is very reluctant about specifying what's preventing him from leaving right now, but Yue Qi knows it's best not to push a boy that age - so they travel together for a while. He sticks cooling talismans on the inside of the little demon's shirt to prevent him from overheating or stripping off his (already too few, by the standards of human decency) layers, so for most of the journey he's carrying a halfway dozing little snowball of a child like a backpack. Yue Qi tells him all about Xiao Jiu, bolstered by the little hums Mobei Wu makes to show that he's paying attention.

"Where did you get the scars?"

Yue Qi stops mid-sentence and peers hesitantly back over his shoulder, meeting a pair of incredibly vivid blue eyes. "Scars?" It could be that A-Wu noticed the fading slave mark on his neck.

"En. I can feel them all over." So not the slave mark, then.

"Even through my robes?"

"En. They feel... spicy. Wrong." He crunches up his face as he tries to find the right word. "Like lightning."

It could only be the scars etched over his meridians, still overflowing with unstable qi. Yue Qi hesitates, but figures that demon tales are probably much more gruesome than what happened to him, so he tells A-Wu everything - the sword, the cave, the dark, all of it. It's a relief to put the nightmare into words, even if his audience is a precocious demon child who looks at him with big sparkling eyes like he's telling a tale of glory or great adventure.

"Cool. All for your... Jiu?"

"Yes." Mobei Wu seems to approve greatly of that.

"You are cool. I will help you."

It makes Yue Qi smile. Such a shame this kid will likely grow up to be something bloodthirsty eventually. He's really too cute right now.

----------

Qiu manor is gone, burned to ash, and Xiao Jiu likely ash along with it. Yue Qi's world is coming down around his ears and he can't even hear what the kindly old merchant is telling him about the incident. It's only when A-Wu tugs on his sleeve when the world comes back to focus.

"They found no dead boy. Only dead men. He can still live."

True, he can't give up hope just yet. What Mobei Wu says is really logical - but where could Xiao Jiu go from here?

The old lady finally notices the unnaturally blue tint of Mobei Wu's skin and takes a fearful step back. "...Demon?"

"No!" Yue Qi steps between them quickly, shielding the boy with his body. "My little brother just ate a cursed fruit, that's all! It will wear off in a day or two."

He's been trying to live a righteous life since he joined the sect, but to someone like him lying comes as easy as breathing.

"Oh, that's all right, then. I thought you might be like that horrible demonic cultivator who lurked here before."

The mention of a cultivator - even a demonic one - makes Yue Qi perk up. He makes some careful questions, about the fire and when they last saw the demonic cultivator in the area, where he might have left for, whether he had someone with him... By the time he says his thank yous he's certain of it: if Xiao Jiu lives, he is with this Wu Yanzi.

They regroup on the edge of the city, where Yue Qi hands Mobei Wu a stick of tanghulu and rolls out a map to figure out where the demonic cultivator could be if he's traveling on foot with a teenager in tow. The demon is fascinated by the map, asking all sorts of questions about distances and directions in as few words as possible, his face scrunched up in another frown.

"We should probably get you home before I go after Xiao Jiu," Yue Qi says with a sigh, circling the most likely area. "We are a week behind them and I can't fly by sword yet. I will need to buy a horse or catch a cart if I want to catch up to them."

Mobei Wu growls, then looks up from the map, wiping a sticky hand on his shirt before he points east. "That way?"

"Yes, I think so." Before Yue Qi can ask anything, the ground opens up beneath him and he's falling through a cold, dark void.

It doesn't last long. He lands in a lake with a huge splash, just outside of one of the cities halfway to their goal. Mobei lands on top of the water - did he flash freeze it? Such a cool kiddo - with the map safely held in his arms and a very, very smug little smile.

"So, were you aiming for the water on purpose?" Yue Qi asks some time later as he tries to dry his clothes with a fire talisman.

"En. You count distances differently than we do." It's a big lake, allowing a bigger margin of error than portaling straight into the city and getting stuck in a building, probably.

"Smart."

"En." Smug little thing. When he's smirking like that he looks almost like Xiao Jiu.

"How far can you go?"

Mobei seems to think this through, his eyebrows pinched together as he calculates from whatever metric the demons use. "2000."

"2000 bu?" That was a good distance. They could easily catch up to them with that kind of skill, even if Wu Yanzi and Xiao Jiu haven't lingered anywhere on the way.

"Li." Yue Qi chokes on air as he tries to comprehend that distance, but thankfully Xiao Wu doesn't seem to take note of it. "But only in one realm. And only after I eat."

"We'll find you something nice to eat then. What would you like?"

"Meat." A-Wu's smile widens, showing sharp teeth.

"Let's get you some dumplings then. Sounds good?" A-Wu considers it for a long time before he nods.

"En."

Having a teleporting little rascal with him really speeds up the search, even if keeping up with A-Wu's appetite is eating (heh) into his travel funds. Whatever ancestral magic this is, it takes a lot out of the kid, leaving him endearingly dazed and sleepy between jumps. They quickly establish a cover story: the demonic cultivator cursed Yue Qi's little brother to look like a demon, so he's hunting the man to force him to undo the curse. A good sob story always makes people so much more willing to cooperate, especially when it involves a cute child and Mobei Wu is, objectively speaking, cute as a button. Old grannies and grandfathers ooh and aah over him and are quick to point them towards Wu Yanzi's trail.

In the end, they find them much sooner than Yue Qi expects. They walk into a shady looking inn on the edge of a small town and he immediately spots Xiao Jiu, hunkered down in the shadow of a scarred man with a dark mane of hair.

Their eyes meet and everything becomes a blur for a while, his awareness narrowed down to Xiao Jiu. Yue Qi hold him close and murmurs nonsense reassurances into his hair - he's never letting Xiao Jiu go ever again.

Even through the happy fog of the reunion, the sound of a sword being drawn is unmistakable. "Where do you think you are taking my disciple?" Wu Yanzi asks, eyes narrowed. Xiao Jiu spins around, to yell or to fight, Yue Qi will never know, because A-Wu chooses that moment to open another portal and whisk them away. He's getting very used to the feeling of suddenly falling through a frigid void.

It's another lake, this time somewhere much further away. "Xiao Wu, you need to stop opening those underneath people," Yue Qi scolds the unrepentant demon child as he drags the angrily splashing Xiao Jiu to the shore.

There are questions and answers, tears and hugs and no small amount of yelling. They strip their wet clothes off so it's impossible to hide his scars, stark red lines all over his skin, and in the face of Xiao Jiu's anger he caves and tells him everything. While they talk Mobei Wu falls asleep curled up on Yue Qi's miraculously dry bedroll and when they are done they curl around him from both sides too, shielding their precious little helper from the elements.

When the wake up in the morning the child is gone, as if he was never there. He has left behind a string with two beads, cool to the touch from familiar chilly qi.

"A token of thanks? One bead for each of us." Yue Qi suggests.

"Don't be ridiculous. As if a little demon would thank a cultivator for anything," Xiao Jiu scoffs, but he takes one of the beads anyway.

"I hope he gets home safe."

"Think about whether we get home or not! Stupid, soft-hearted Qi-ge. Do we even know how far away we are from your sect?"

Yue Qi can't help but beam down at him, fully aware that he's smiling the awkward, lopsided smile he trained himself out of because his shizun found it unattractive. He missed his thorny Xiao Jiu.

"You are right. Let's go home."

----------

Years later, Sect Leader Yue follows indulgently after his favorite shidi, Shen Jiu deep in the middle of a rant.

"If you are worried about Shang-shidi's safety, you are allowed to say so, shidi," he cuts in with practiced ease.

"Who's worried for that shifty vermin?! I worry for the sect! There is something going on with him and I suspect a security breach." Shen Qingqiu practically kicks down the door of the leisure house, startling the man inside into jumping and dropping the armful of books he was holding. "'Shang-shidi, we need to talk."

"Shen-shixiong, Zhangmen-shixiong, this is not a good time. I'm actually really quite busy..."

"Make time for us."

Yue Qingyuan indulgently follows Shen Jiu inside, noting that Shang Qinghua's eyes keep flickering all over the room, everywhere except towards the closed door of his bedroom. Highly suspicious.

Shang Qinghua is still stammering out excuses and making pleading eyes at Yue Qingyuan to please make his shidi go away. Yue Qingyuan lets him squirm for a few minutes before he interrupts, with his kindest smile.

"Shidi, we are simply worried for your health. Your head disciple reported that you have showed up with more bruises than usual."

Shang Qinghua mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like 'traitor'.

"Shidi," Yue Qingyuan tries again. "You know that you can trust us. I promise that you are not in trouble." Shen Qingqiu huffs, but refrains from commenting when Yue Qingyuan sends him a look. "Please, allow us to..."

A lot of things happen all at once. The bead Yue Qingyuan wears on a simple string around his neck turns so cold it almost burns, and based on the low hiss coming from Shen Jiu the same thing is happening to his. Ice climbs up the walls and the door, blocking their way out of the house. The door to the bedroom is kicked open and good gods that's a very big, very muscular ice demon staring at them with very bright blue eyes.

"My king?" Shang Qinghua squeaks, his eyes bouncing between the ice demon and his two shixiongs in alarm.

The demon ducks into the room and stalks towards them, every step spreading the ice further. There is something familiar in his face, but Yue Qingyuan is much more occupied by the sight of really quite a lot of uncovered skin and the many, many freshly treated cuts all over him.

Finally, he stops just outside of sword range and almost hesitantly rumbles: "Qi-ge?"

Oh. So that's why he was so familiar. He smiles up at Mobei Wu. "It seems I really can't call you 'Xiao Wu' anymore, can I?"

Mobei Wu huffs, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that could be a smile, and the ice encroaching on the room starts melting. "Mobei-Jun." He raises his hands in a salute. "Nominally, for now. Since yesterday."

He can tell the exact moment when Shen Jiu connects the dots - that the little teleporting rascal that helped Yue Qi track him down through half the countryside is now the Northern Demon King. His carefully cultivated mask cracks and he collapses next to the tea table with a wordless sound of outrage. "Shang Qinghua!"

Their shidi startles, once again dropping the books he just started picking back up.

"Yes, Shen-shixiong?"

"Be a good host and make us tea. And then explain how this,-" With his closed fan he gestures between Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. "- happened."

"It's a long story," Mobei-Jun supplies, taking place next to the table and sprawling in a decadent, demonic fashion.

"That's all right." Yue Qingyuan joins them, briefly running his hand down Shen Qingqiu's tense back to soothe him. "We have the time to listen."

It's an unexpected reunion, but not necessarily a bad one. Xiao Wu was a good kid and when he looks carefully he can still see him in Mobei-Jun, despite the years of stoic frost that settled over his features.

There are much worse allies one could have than the Prodigious Demon King of the Northern Realm.

[kandy-sticks-zaza-blogs]

🎙️Rewrite of Alastor📻|Warning:Cannibalism,mention of racism and homophobia

When Alastor was a human he lived in a poor life with his mother that worked as a housemaid for the riches.Alastor always comes along with his mom as he decides to play with the other kids.The kids begin to insult him and asked questions that hurts him but Alastor doesn’t understand as he ignores their racial slurs they learned from their parents.

When he was peacefully playing outside he sees a man he didn’t know in his whole life as he ran inside telling his mother that there’s a weird man outside as she let the weird man in as he said he is the father of Alastor,He doesn’t believe him as he was about to shout his mother stopped him as she told him go to his room as Alastor goes to his room he heard a lot of shouting and screaming.

He doesn’t have enough food in his poor life he craves for money,power,flesh and blood of humans.

He is a weird kid that always picked up the dead body of an animal or murder it as everyone is scared of young Alastor as his mother protects him from the people who would hurt him.

The rich man slap his mother in the face as he got angry at the rich man as he murdered him at night when he sneaked out. He always cleans himself,eat the riches and the clothes when he murder someone who is very rude to the ladies or nice men(He hates men).

When he grew up,his mother passed away and became mature he lived in his own house in the forest as he committed a lot of murder around town in midnight to eat his victims and hide his identity from the radio he broadcasted due to racism he faced in the 1920s.

He wished to become famous but didn’t as he always hides his identity because of racism and he doesn't feel romantic attraction or wanting kids when everyone force him to get a wife he never really wanted in his life.

When police investigate every town Alastor heard the police knocking down his door he decided to move out and take all his belongings as he escaped into his car away from the police and Louisiana cause he would not wanna stay here. He moved a lot when he committed murders.

When he was chasing his victim he murdered his victim as he go back to his new home in the woods he got caught in the bear trap bleeding out to death as the branches are on his hair to make him look like a deer he got shot by a hunter he died and fall into the muddy pit.

When he first arrived in hell confused as everyone laughed that he looked like a deer he was oblivious at first as he walked past the reflection from the mirror he stopped as he is shocked that he’s a marsh deer demon and his voice is barely audible. He met Rosie when she killed an Overlord as she took him in to teach him some proper manners as he meet Vox that died in the 1950s as they both became business partners. Alastor left for 7 years when his soul I owned by Eve or Roo idk who owns his soul though.

When he pretends to help Charlie at the motel he think it would be an interesting joke to help the Princess of hell who is a goat puppet that came to life as her brother Charlemagne and her bodyguard Valerie they are both aware of his dangerous tendencies around the motel.

Is Alastor an overlord yes he is but he didn’t have any voodoo powers but uses magic instead he faked that he is very powerful than everyone but Lucifer is stronger than him and Charlie is aware of his manipulation but plays along. Since Alastor cannot move on with the new technology cuz he hates it that much he always uses his 1920s slangs and make up his own cuss word without saying the vulgar language.

[finxwrites]

A bard makes his own luck. It’s not quite pithy enough to be a saying, but Eddie says it all the time anyway, because none of the fancier variants he’s come up with cut so cleanly to the heart of the matter.

Some of them do let him imply he’s got luck magic, though, or saints on his side. That can be pretty fun. Demons on his side, too, which can be even more fun. Which one is more dangerous tends to come down to what the locals count as blasphemy in whatever corner of the world he finds himself in, but learning to read the room for that is part of the game.

And it’s part of what he means. Eddie knows better than most what actually goes into a magic trick, and he knows that it’s only one part trickery to ten parts sheer panache. If you know how to hold an audience in the palm of your hand, you really can spin luck out of thin air.

But not in the literal sense. As becomes painfully apparent when he’s hauled before the magistrate for the murder of a girl whose death he cannot explain without sounding like he’s gone mad, or like he really does commune with devils. He does his best, pouring out pleas and assurances and reminders that he’s known here, he’s played in this town plenty of times before, he’s not a killer, he’s never hurt a fly. He does his best, but the magistrate remains coldly suspicious, and the sympathy of the crowd is tempered by uncertainty. One of his accusers is a knight. He’d need a lot more than luck to get himself out of this one.

The magistrate might even be a fair man, because he waits until Eddie’s started to repeat himself before raising his gavel. Eddie’s heart leaps into his throat, briefly strangling his words, at the sudden swooping knowledge that this is it, his chances are through, his luck has run out.

A young voice cries out, “Wait!” 

Every head in the courtroom turns, like this is a play. Dustin stands silhouetted in the open door. Lucas is next to him, hands on his knees, panting like he’s run a marathon. 

Dustin doesn’t waste a moment. He races to the front of the room and launches right into an impassioned defense, swearing that there’s no way Eddie could have done this, no one can even place him at the scene of the crime, he has no reason to want Lady Christine dead and no history of violence—

He goes on a while. It’s really sweet. Eddie’s heart swells a bit. He’s glad he has at least one friend in this shitty town, even if it’s a kid who’s only here for the jousting tournament and who’s only actually known Eddie for…what, four weeks altogether? Stretched over several months of running into each other along the tournament circuit, because for all Eddie disdains the violent sports of his so-called betters, he can’t deny there’s good money in following them around and pandering to their crowds.

Two friends, he amends, as Lucas regains his breath and joins in. He’d honestly kind of wondered if he’d find Lucas among his accusers. Lately it seems like every time Eddie’s seen him, he’s been hanging around Sir Carver. 

Well, he probably won’t be doing that anymore, if the blistering glares Carver is shooting Lucas’s way are anything to go by. At least Eddie’s wrongful death will be good for something.

The magistrate tries to cut Dustin off at least five times, but Dustin is a force of nature. So the magistrate is as startled as anyone when Dustin catches sight of someone at the door and falls suddenly silent. 

Once again, every head turns. Dustin looks so hopeful and relieved that Eddie’s heart rises in his chest in spite of himself. 

Only to come crashing down in baffled disappointment when Lord Steven Harrington, heir to the duchy of Hawk’s Grace, strides in like he owns the place.

Eddie’s higher cognitive function is replaced by a looping refrain of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. He watches in stunned incomprehension as Harrington flashes an easy smile at the magistrate and another at Carver and his little posse without breaking stride. Mike and Max trot in on Harrington’s heels, compounding Eddie’s bewilderment.

What is he doing here? Hawk’s Grace is over a hundred miles away! He can’t be here for the tournament, can he? Harrington was tournament champion three years running, but it’s been two years since he’s been seen in the lists, and he’s definitely not competing this year. Eddie would have heard of it.

Even more mystifying, and a fair bit more pressing, what is he doing at Eddie’s trial?

Harrington reaches the front of the room and cants a disdainful look at Eddie. He sighs, shakes his head in disappointment—it’s almost theatrical. Eddie’s pretty sure Harrington has never so much as glanced his way before today, not once in all the years of tournaments. Eddie would be offended—who saunters into a courtroom just to be rude to the doomed defendant?—but his higher cognitive function hasn’t come back yet.

Harrington greets the magistrate, who responds with bemused politeness. He clearly has no idea what the hell is going on either. Max and Mike have taken up positions behind Harrington and slightly to either side, like they’re squires attending their knight-master. Harrington ignores them as if this happens every day. And then he says, all aggrieved and apologetic, “Sorry I’m late, your honor. What is my man being accused of, exactly?”

If Eddie wasn’t already gaping like a beached fish, that would have done it. He made a weird little gasping noise as he tried to draw breath and failed, because apparently it was no longer just his higher cognitive function that had flatlined.

No one notices. The whole room is riveted by the spectacle of a ducal heir claiming responsibility for an accused murderer. Even the magistrate sounds a bit strangled as he asks, “Your man?”

“My herald,” Harrington says, blithely unconcerned. “I hear there’s been some confusion about a murdered woman?”

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

[mcmusing]

Another day. Another reason the X-Men films are incoherent trash.

Outside of teenie boppers Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee, why are so many of the lady mutants terrible?

Outside of teenie boppers Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee, why are so many of the lady mutants terrible and/or stupidly written?

Emma Frost is such a phenomenal telepath but she is easily swayed by darkness. She also lets herself get reduced to a side wench for two different genocidal maniacs, Shaw and Erik.

Angel Salvador was the first one recruited by Charles and Erik. Then, she was the first to betray them to Shaw after witnessing him commit mass murder. Basically, she mimics Emma in almost every way.

Kayla Silverfox may have been blackmailed into setting up and betraying Logan but that's completely stupid. She has the power of mental persuasion. How can any military grunt force her to do anything? Since she genuinely fell in love with Logan, why didn't she just tell him the full story so he could help? And why does she have persuasion powers instead of her source material healing/longevity like Logan?! It was such a slap in the face when she faked her death only to die for real in the end.

Freakin Raven.... So, in the original timeline we're supposed to believe she had one fight with her would-be boyfriend and picked a fight with her loving adoptive brother, which caused her to spend the next several decades naked and murdering alongside a sicko like Magneto?!

And on the First Class timeline, she grew up with Charles as her only family then betrays him at the first sign of conflict all because he didn't sufficiently stroke her ego? She never once checked on him, even in secret, but went around avenging Shaw's terrorist cronies?! Her lust for stupid, public vengeance almost caused the end for all mutants yet that's Charles' fault somehow? Charles who never forced her to stay, let her be for ten years, and only asked her to come home so they could find a solution together. She goes on to be petty and cruel towards him every time they meet.

Now, lets talk about the ones not portrayed by competent actresses.

In XMA, they finally made Storm a piece of crap wench by her joining Apocalypse. And don't give me mind control BS. She stopped working for him when she saw Mystique didn't think he was so cool. In the stupid phoenix movie, the ungrateful street urchin has the nerve to mouth off to Charles.

Oh frick frack, Jean 'Wet Rag' Grey. Why is it impossible to not only find a passable actress for this twat but why can no one write her remotely likeable? In both timelines, Charles was forced to subdue her powers and/or suppress some of her traumatic memories because she was such an unstable demon child. He gave her a home life most kids would cut an arm off for. But as soon as she gets a taste of significant power, she goes on a fiery rampage and turns against everyone. However, NEVER is she held accountable or painted as anything other than an innocent lost doe in the woods. Who is blamed yet again Charles.

Speaking of the magnificent Professor, no matter how much anger, pain, mental torment, or suffering he went through, he NEVER attacked or tried to hurt anyone. Even in his deepest agony, he pushed it aside to defend others. He would rather withdraw and let himself die inside than do harm, even to those deserving of it.

It's crystal clear what the takeaway from these films is. Female mutants (Rogue, Kitty, JuJu excluded) are too weak and enslaved to their emotions. Try to be honest with them about the dangers in the world, they betray you. Try to give them a chance to do significant good, they spit on you and accuse you of being the bad guy. Disagree with them in the most reasonable way, you're dead to them. Feed their narcissism, you have a devoted slave for life.Give them immense power, the clitoris corrupts absolutely.

It's quite obvious that Charles is the most powerful telepath, not only because of his intelligence and self-sacrificing nature, but because when it comes to the X gene, the Y chromosome wins. He can control himself, has independence, and a strong sense of responsibility the way real- non-genocidal- men do.

Want to scream and cry sexism? Intentional or not, the films spell all of this out.

[moonlit-jeno]

secrets | n.jm

genre/ warnings: vampire au, explicit sexual content, angst, way too much blood/ blood drinking, b i t i n g, character death (kind of), references to drugs, religion

word count: 9.5k

summary:

“I’m not scared.”

“No?” The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

notes: big thanks to @jaemallow for pushing the jaemin agenda and helping to keep me sane

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Mark grumbles at you, throwing an agitated glance over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and slow down even more just to spite him. “Dude, my dad’s going to kill me.” “He’ll be fine. Murder’s against the word of God, y’know.” You speed up despite your words, laughing at the way Mark glares at you. 

There’s a crack in the sidewalk that he trips over and you laugh good naturedly. The street leading up to the church is in less than optimal shape, littered with cracks in the sidewalk and missing chunks of cement. Mark’s dad had tried to raise money to fix the street, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Mark starts walking slower all of a sudden and you grumble, glaring at him when he grabs your wrist to yank you backwards. You’re about to ask what his problem is when you see the three figures at the end of the road, moving closer towards you two.

“You’re kidding me.” They hear it, they must, with their superhuman senses. It only makes them smile brighter. You glance at Mark. “Wanna turn around?”

“Too late.” Mark breathes, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes. You look away from him to find the three vampires standing directly in front of you, blocking your way.

A groan leaves you and you cross your arms, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Can we help you?”

The ringleader of the bunch, Jaemin, smiles. “Well, since you’re offering, I suppose I am feeling a little hungry.”

The church is only one block down but if they don’t want to let you pass, you’re not going to get there. Mark shifts nervously next to you, shaking his head when you open your mouth to make a remark. That doesn’t stop you from saying it. “You realize that just because you’re from the 1200’s doesn’t mean that you have to talk like you’re from the 1200’s.”

“I resent that.” Jaemin frowns, clutching his hands to his chest likes he’s been stabbed. “I was born in 1706. It’s almost like you don’t care about me at all.”

“Is it? Must be because I don’t.” The other two vampires are silent, though one of them- Jeno- watches with amusement. The other one is unfamiliar and looks like he’s trying to figure out to pair you with white or red wine. You shudder and turn your attention to Jeno. “Nice cross. I thought shit like that burned your skin? You know, because you’re a demon and all that.”

Jeno’s eyes smile with him and it’s hard to remember that he’s a monster. He brushes his thumb against the small mark under his eye, shrugging. “Nah, only the blessed ones. Or, y’know, the silver ones. But this one? I just wanted to piss off the church daddy who told me that I deserved to rot in worse places than the sewer.“

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Church daddy?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Church daddy, father, same thing.” A pause. “Hey, Mark, isn’t that your dad?”

Mark avoids eye contact and nods. “Yeah, but I like, I don’t like, speak for him, y’know?” He laughs nervously.

“You don’t have to.” That’s the one you don’t recognize, glaring at Mark. “We can tell it’s what you’re thinking. You don’t even have the decency to look at us?”

“And who are you? Their vampire bitch or something?” You snap to Mark’s defense, not wanting the vampires to prey on Mark’s nerves.

The boy lunges like he’s going to attack you but Jeno grabs him by the neck. Jaemin laughs. “Careful princess, that hits a little too close to home for our little Renjun over here.” To clarify, he leans a little closer and lowers his voice. Not like it matters, the other two can hear him just fine. “Jeno got carried away while feeding the other day and turned him.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and this time you don’t have a witty comeback. Vampires are monsters, yes, but they have laws. And it is very, very illegal to turn a human. “That’s-”

“Against the law?” Jeno finishes. “Yeah. It was an accident though, plus he’s from out of town! So I can’t technically get in trouble.”

“Technically.” You mock, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, we’ve got places to be so if we could speed this conversation up?”

Jaemin pouts. “So soon? You’re already late for church, why even bother going?”

You stand your ground. “Good bye, Jaemin. Make sure you do a better job of training your new puppy.” Renjun snarls at you.

“What, like how you trained your puppy?” Jaemin nods over at Mark and the boys face turns red. “Bye, y/n, Mark. I’d ask you to say hello to God for me but he doesn’t exist!”

He walks off with that as a goodbye, Renjun and Jeno on his heels. Jeno at least has the decency to smile at you and tell you to have a good rest of your day.

They’re right about one thing: going to church when you‘re already late sucks. A few people glance back at you and Mark when you sneak in, sitting in the last row. You spot your parents sitting in the front row along with Mark’s brother. Luckily none of them notice you slipping in, so they won’t know just how late you were.

Mark seems on edge and you pat his knee, frowning at how violently he flinches. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking if he’s okay. He just gives you a tight smile. Mark’s always been a nervous kid, so you figure it has to do with the little vampire interaction you just had. Or fear that his dad will yell at him for being late. They’re both pretty scary.

It’s not until after the service that you talk to your parents- your mother taking the time to hug Mark and pinch his cheeks before she even looks at you- and your father asks where you were.

“It was my fault, sir.” Mark speaks up, knowing that your parents adore him and won’t be upset. “I couldn’t find my church clothes, I forgot that they were in the wash and had to sort through all of my laundry. Y/n was an angel and stayed with me to help.”

“Huh,” Your father says, looking Mark up and down. “Well, your shoes could use a good polishing, but you look sharp, kid. Good man.” He pats Mark’s shoulder and walks off to talk to a friend. Your mother raises an eyebrow and shrugs, loading you up with tasks to take care of when you get home.

Do the dishes, fold the laundry, remember to take the store bought pie out of the container and pop it onto a plate so that it looks homemade. “Oh, and one last thing.” She stops you, turning away from her conversation about her book club meeting with some lady that she can’t stand. “I don’t want you walking through the city. Those vampires are getting braver and braver, attacking in broad daylight.”

“Okay, I’ll take the long way.” You promise her. She nods, and satisfied that you won’t die, turns back to her friends. You say goodbye to Mark and a handful of other people- most of whom you don’t like- and head home.

You have absolutely no intention of taking the long way home. It adds an extra half an hour to your walk and you swear you always get attacked by bugs. Besides, vampires might be dangerous, but it’s not like you have a high chance of encountering one. The three you’d talked to earlier were harmless, two of them attending your same university.

Jeno did medical research, occasionally stepping in to teach if the professors needed help. He’s technically a doctor, but he finds ways to multitask. The benefits of being immortal, you suppose, is that you learn a lot, especially if you’ve been alive since the 1100’s. He was nice enough by himself, though he would never answer your questions about history. Not that he wouldn’t try, but the poor guy would just get so confused that he would end up rambling about a completely unrelated topic.

Jaemin was a little different. He took classes, though his goal was to learn about interesting topics and keep up with the culture, not to fit in like Edward Cullen and prey on teenage girls. For someone so old, he’s surprisingly good at the technology classes, learning how to use a camera faster than your much younger parents. Jaemin also holds tutoring sessions for struggling students, pretty much offering help for every subject. Sometimes he assists Jeno with his research, though he never says what they’re researching. It’s always the same vague answer: medicine.

You know them pretty well, and yet you wouldn’t say that you’re friends. Vampires and humans coexist, but it’s not always that peaceful. There’s a definite divide between the two, a definite feeling of “we’re better than them” coming from both sides. And you can see why that divide is there, you can understand why.

After all, it’s not like you’re too fond of vampires yourself.

Cursed to hell, is a phrase used too often by your parents, by the church. God’s reject’s is another. And when you look at them, it’s hard to disagree with those statements.

They don’t burn in the sun but they can’t touch silver, can’t say God’s name, can’t enter a building without explicit permission. They catch on fire when they enter holy places (they’re fine to enter the one across town, but that’s another story).

Similar insults are used to describe humans. “How can you call us God’s rejects when you die so easily?” One vampire had countered when you were in middle school, pointing out that vampires couldn’t get diseases or die of natural causes like a human. He’d called you weak. You’d thrown a cross at him. Both of you had been suspended.

Still, you don’t hate vampires. And you especially can’t hate vampires now, not when you’re failing your chemistry class and your only option for help is Na Jaemin.

Mark has a different opinion. “Y/n, you can’t go to his house! He’ll kill you!”

You laugh. “Mark, come on. It’s either he kills me, or my parents kill me when they find out I wasted my tuition on a class I failed. It’ll be fine.” He still looks unhappy. You wiggle your fingers at him. “Look! I have silver rings on. I’m wearing my cross. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to be the one telling your parents you were killed by a vampire, y/n.” He sounds dead serious and you raise your eyebrows. 

“Mark, I’m helping with a research project. I’m not deciding to work for the food bank.” You point out. “This is the only way I can make up my grade, Mark. It’s generous of my professor to even let me do this.” He sighs, knowing there’s no arguing with you, and pulls his necklace off. Walking closer, he drapes the silver cross over your head. “Fine. Just, please be careful.” You smile and pat his cheek, tucking the charm under the collar of your shirt. “I always am.”

Jaemin lives in a pretty nice house on the top of the hill, which sucks because your calves are burning by the time you get up there. It has a pretty view, though, and it’s a decent distance away from his closest neighbor. You always joke that he could kill someone up here. Going up alone, that joke doesn’t seem as funny.

He’s got an old fashioned knocker on the wooden door that you only use because you’re not too fond of digging splinters out of your hands. It makes a pretty solid sound, and it barely takes five seconds before Jaemin answers the door. He looks good, wearing a dark blue button up with his hair pushed off of his forehead. Almost like he put some effort in. He obviously catches you giving him a once over and he grins.

“Eager to see me?” You tease, stepping past him into his house. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, of course. The world revolves around you, I just had to get a glimpse.” Jaemin drawls. 

“Alright, what’s the research project?” You ask, wanting to get straight to the point. “I’m only here because I need to pass my class, Jaemin.

He takes his time flipping through a book on his coffee table before glancing up at you, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms. “The effects of vampire blood in humans.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket. “If you say that you’re making me drink your blood, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Fucking hell, y/n. I know you humans have a problem with vampires, but I’m a researcher. I do research, and I do it just as responsibly and professionally as human researchers.” Jaemin snaps, and it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard him not use a flirting or teasing tone. “And besides, we already know what that would do. It would only turn you.” You swallow thickly at the thought of being turned. “Then what do you need me here for?” “We just need a few of your cells and a tiny blood sample.” Jaemin says, moving to where you stand next to the counter. “We’re researching if vampire blood has an effect on strengthening human cells, or preventing undesirable circumstances that affect humans. You know, aging, disease, the like.” He hands you some paperwork and you glance over it briefly. There’s nothing about him draining you dry of blood, so you sign it. “Great. We won’t be taking the samples today considering we’re at my house, but I’ll walk you through the basics of what we’re doing. You know, assuming that you’re smart enough to understand it.” “I’m not fucking dumb, Jaemin.” You snap, glaring at him.

“No, of course not.” He sympathises, smiling down at you. “Just a little slow. Come on y/n, you’re failing one of the easiest courses at the university. You’re not exactly smart.”

You shove the papers over to Jaemin, purposely letting your silver rings graze his exposed skin. Jaemin flinches back from your touch, a sharp hiss leaving him as he grabs at his wrist. He glares at you. “You fucking serious?”

It’s mean, but what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You meet his gaze head on, eyebrow arched. “What’s the matter, leech? Can’t take the heat?” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to ground himself. It’s probably not smart to goad him, but that’s exactly what you do. “Aww, don’t ignore me, leech. It’s rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you any manners?”

All the air in your body leaves you with a whoosh as Jaemin pins you up against the wall, wrists held over your head by one of his hands. A dull pain radiates through your body and you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your back from the impact, not that Jaemin seems to care. The boy stares down at you with dark eyes, standing way too close for comfort. 

“My parents died 300 years ago.” Jaemin snarls. “But yours are still alive. Didn’t they teach you to respect your elders?”

“You’re not older than me.” The words are intended to be fierce, defiant. They come out shaky, timid. “You’re a dead man, Jaemin.”

That makes him laugh, though you don’t think he’s found your words funny. “Yeah? Do I seem dead to you?” He tightens his grip on your wrist and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, make you look him in the eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat, little girl. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You are. He knows that.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side before dipping down, letting his mouth hover over your neck. “Not even now?”

You shake your head, swallowing down a whimper. He’s right about your heartbeat, it’s fluttering so frantically that you can hear it in your ears, feel it under your skin. You’re scared, but not for the reasons he thinks you are.

Jaemin smiles at you, fangs on full display, and moves even closer to your neck. The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

He scrapes his fangs along your neck, an action that’s painful in the most pleasurable way, but doesn’t break the skin. His tongue darts out instead, soothing over the pain before his lips press to your skin in an open mouthed kiss. Your fingers flex above your head and you ache to touch him, to fist your hand in his soft hair and pull him closer.

A moan leaves you and he pulls away, pressing his thumb to the area. Jaemin can feel your pulse from there and he smirks at how frantically your heart beats.

“You’re not scared?” Jaemin asks, the question condescending. He doesn’t believe you. “You do realize that I could sink my fangs into your pretty little neck and drain you dry, right?”

The mention of him biting you drags a keen out of your throat, and you find yourself whimpering out a “please” before you can help yourself. It has Jaemin pausing, eyes roaming over you as he reassesses the situation.

“Oh, you really aren’t scared.” Jaemin smirks. “Who knew that you were so fucking filthy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, dipping his head down and trailing the tip of his tongue up your throat. It feels nice, so, so nice, but it’s interrupted by a burning pain, a sob ripping from you at the intensity of it.

You thrash against his hold, but then the pain starts to get replaced with a pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and you slowly melt into his touch, arching against him to expose more of your throat.

Jaemin pulls away eventually, licking over your wound a few times before pulling back to give you a bloody grin. “Feels good, yeah?” You nod, and the bliss must be apparent on your face because Jaemin chuckles darkly before leaning back in. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yeah, want it.” The words are breathless and slur together, your body thrumming with heat, begging for more. Jaemin does the opposite of what you want and steps away.

“Be a good girl and take those fucking rings off, then.” Jaemin commands, and you swear you’ve never moved faster than you’re moving now, carelessly dropping your jewelry to the floor. Mark’s necklace lands near his foot and he scowls at it, crushing the piece of metal beneath the heel of his shoe.

You immediately grab for him when you’re done, but Jaemin doesn’t let you pull him forward. He just scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the sofa. You end up straddling his lap, his back pressing into the couch, and he wastes no time before sinking his fangs back into your neck.

“God,” You breathe out, winding your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to you. “F-fuck, Jaem, that feels so good.”

He just hums against your throat, continuing to suck and lick at the wound. There’s a little bit of blood on his lips when he pulls away and you wipe at it with your thumb before letting the digit slip past his lips. He sucks on it slowly, gazing up at you with dark eyes, and lets his fangs graze the skin. Arousal jolts through you and you whimper, pulling your hand away and dragging him back to your neck.

“Baby wants more?” Jaemin teases, not waiting for an answer before sinking his fangs into you, this spot even more sensitive than the last. You whine loudly, tugging at his hair and feeling your eyes roll back in your head at the euphoria spreading through your body. Your head feels fuzzy and there’s so much heat coursing through you that you can barely function.

“Mhmm, yeah.” You pant out. “Want more. Oh my God Jaemin, I’m so fucking wet.”

Jaemin groans at your words, one of his hands sliding up your thigh before moving inwards, cupping your pussy over your clothes. He pulls his hand away when you try to grind down, grabbing onto your hip to stop your movements.

“No.” He growls, the simple word vibrating through your entire body and making you shake. “You come from this, nothing else.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you hold onto him for dear life, your core clenching desperately around nothing. You hug him tighter, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to expose more of your throat, your lips parted to let Jaemin drag sound after sound of pleasure out of you. It feels good, way too good considering the action, and you lose yourself to the feeling.

The collar of your shirt is tugged down and then Jaemin’s lips are attaching to the top of your breast, fangs sinking into the delicate flesh. You keen and shove your chest further into his face, not knowing what else to do besides hold onto him for dear life. Your body feels heavy but your head feels light and it’s such a startling contrast to the euphoria coursing through your veins that it makes you dizzy. It’s hard to see straight, let alone think straight, and your pussy throbs with every little bit of blood that Jaemin takes from your body. Your hips rock against nothing but air, desperately searching for some sort of friction, something to fill your needy cunt, but you can’t find anything and it has you sobbing out in frustration.

More bite marks are left, more electricity shoots through your body, more wetness drips out of your pussy. You swear you’ve never felt this good in your life, and that’s only confirmed when Jaemin seals his lips over the first mark he left, licking and sucking at the wound until it opens all over again and you feel yourself falling, white flashing behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. You grab at Jaemin as tightly as you can, screaming his name and babbling incoherently as he drags out your pleasure, lets you get high off all of his kisses and bites.

It lasts forever, and it takes even longer for you to come down to yourself, Jaemin stroking your hair and your back. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you, his face clean and dry of any blood. It takes you a while to notice that there’s an ice pack on your neck and a plate of food on the table in front of you, and you vaguely wonder how long you were out for if Jaemin had time to do all of this for you.

“Don’t move too fast, baby.” Jaemin cautions, noticing you struggling to sit up. “I took way more blood than I meant to, you’re gonna feel a little weak.” “A little?” Your muscles feel like jelly when you try to push yourself off of him and you collapse back onto Jaemin’s chest with a soft groan. Jaemin huffs a laugh and helps you sit up, turning you around on his lap so that your back is to his chest. He drops a soft kiss to your ear and your eyelids flutter. 

“Here, take these.” Pills are dropped into your hand, a bottle of some energy drink you don’t recognize. “It’ll replace all the nutrients and stuff you lost.” Jaemin watches you down the drink in one go, tossing it across the room when you hand the empty bottle back to him. “How are you feeling?”

Your vision is much clearer than it was, though you still feel lethargic and would like to do nothing except lay down in a soft bed for the rest of your life. “My head hurts.” Jaemin hums. “Okay. I would rattle off some instructions for you to follow but I know it’ll just make your headache worse. I’ll write them down for you instead, how’s that.” “You’re so self aware.” Reality hits you when you feel the bruises on your throat, on your chest, and realize that yes, all of that did just happen. “Um. I didn’t know it could feel that-” You trail off, hand waving vaguely in the air. “Good?” Jaemin offers, laughing when you nod. “Mhmm, did they not tell you about that? I’m sure they make it sound like being bitten by a vampire is the worst thing imaginable at that fancy church you go to.” You look away, embarrassed, and Jaemin laughs. “You know that humans make drugs out of our saliva, right? That’s why there are hunters.” Your eyes shoot open in alarm. “Really? That’s awful.”

 Jaemin hums, nodding. “Yeah, well, when it’s profitable...” He laughs bitterly. “Anyways, it’s an expensive drug. And you just got that shit for free.”

“I feel so honored.” You laugh, snuggling into him. He pushes you back. 

“Y/n, I need you to understand something.” Jaemin says, tone suddenly serious. His eyes burn straight into your soul. “That was a mistake. I’m not- we can’t do that again.”

It shouldn’t hurt you. What you just did is considered shameful by many, you should be relieved that he’s telling you it can’t happen again. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with a vampire. “Oh. Yeah, yeah of course.” You nod, looking away from his intense gaze to blink back your tears. “Yeah, we just got carried away.” Jaemin looks like he wants to say something else, lips parting for a second before shaking his head, offering a tight smile instead. “We got everything done that we needed to get done. You should rest now.” 

He doesn’t mean now as in right this second, which he made especially clear after telling you that it was a mistake, but you can’t help it. You’re asleep in seconds.

When you wake up for the second time, Jaemin is nowhere to be found. You’re in your own bed, tucked in nice and neatly, and you smile as you realize it meant that the vampire had carried you home. There’s the list of instructions that he’d promised you on your nightstand, signed with nearly illegible hand-writing. Your smile grows before promptly dropping off. Vampires can’t get into a house without being invited. You’ve never invited him in, which means that he must’ve either asked permission from Mark or your parents. Neither is good.

The gravity of the situation hits you when Mark walks into your room, jaw set, arms crossed. He blanches when he sees your neck, the sight clearly making him uncomfortable. “Holy- y/n, I told you that you couldn’t trust Jaemin. You’re lucky I was here when you brought you home because I can guarantee your parents would react way worse than me.”

“Jaemin was fine. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” You see the exact moment that those words process in Mark’s mind, his face going from worried to angry.

“You let him drink from you? What were you thinking? Y/n, you look like you got mauled.” Mark sounds disgusted and you try not to shrink into yourself.

The bruises ache when you press over one of them and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment washes over you at how it makes you shiver. “Relax, it’s not like I let him turn me. We just got caught up in the heat of the moment. Mark, it felt so good.” Your eyelids flutter shut at the memory, snapping back open when Mark scoffs.

“So what? You want to be their blood bag now?” Mark’s voice rises in pitch as he yells and the sound grates on your nerves. “Wanna be a vampire whore for the rest of your life? Live in a dusty ass attic and let whoever walks by have a go at you?” “Mark, what- do you hear yourself? What the fuck is your problem?” Mark’s been your best friend since you were five. Never, never, have you heard him talk like this. It hurts.

“Do I hear myself? Y/n, I should be the one asking you that. Here you are, creaming yourself while talking about letting some fucking, some bloodsucker tear your throat open! It’s disgusting.” Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just as bad as Do-” He cuts himself off suddenly, but you know what he was about to say. “Just as bad as who? Donghyuck?” You shake your head, feeling hot tears prick at the back of your eyes. “It must run in the family to become filthy disappointments, then.”

Mark’s eyes soften and he grabs your wrist, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. “It’s not too late for you. Let’s go to the church, you can pray for forgiveness.”

You feel numb when you nod, letting Mark wrap a scarf around your neck and lead you down the road. He sits next to you in the pews, rubbing your shoulder while you rest your forehead on your hands, pretending to pray. But you can’t focus, can’t stop thinking about your brother.

Donghyuck was Mark’s best friend before you were. The three of you would hang out a lot, though you only joined the two because as Donghyuck’s younger sister, he felt obligated to include you. The two boys were inseparable, and then one day, they weren’t.

Your parents say that he was tainted by the devil. Mark’s father says that he betrayed God. You think Donghyuck simply fell in love. And love is a beautiful thing, but not when it’s between a vampire and a human. Your brother was forced to choose between his family and his love.

In the end, he chose love. 

That night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to stop thinking about your brother. If he’s alive, if he’s a vampire. If he’s dead. What you would do in his situation. Not that it matters, because you wouldn’t fall in love with a vampire, but you can’t help but wonder. Is it really that bad? They were once human, too. 

The thought doesn’t leave your mind even when you go to the lab, meeting an uncharacteristically quiet Jaemin, and a very excited looking Jeno. “Y/n! Thank you so much for doing this!” “Yeah, well, gotta pass my classes somehow.” You laugh. Jaemin doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at him, keeping his gaze just a little too low and frowning. 

“Seriously though, this is great. I’ve been trying to get permission for this experiment for ages, the fact that the administration finally caved is insane.” Jeno says, turning to ruffle through some papers on the desk. You shoot a curious glance at Jaemin, finally realizing that he’s staring at your neck. Or well, your covered neck. He’s trying to see the marks. With a glance towards Jeno, you carefully slide the fabric of your turtle neck down, laughing silently at how Jaemin inhales sharply, lips parting slightly. You yank it back up when Jeno turns around. “Jaemin informed you of the experiment, correct?” You shoot Jaemin a look. “Yeah! You just need to take a couple of blood samples, right?” Jeno shakes his head, tilting his head at Jaemin. “Not exactly. We’re going to need you to take microdoses of vampire blood.”

It takes a moment to register. “You want me to drink vampire blood?” You screech, eyes bulging. “That’s going to turn me!” Jeno shakes his head, laughing. “With the amount we’re giving you? No. It’ll only turn you if a vampire drinks your blood, and you die. You’ll be fine.” Next to you, Jaemin stiffens. You bite your lip. “Um. Like at the same time, or?” “It doesn’t have to be at the exact same time. If you’ve been bitten before, you can’t drink any blood or you’ll be turned. But again, that’s only if you die.” Jeno tilts his head. “Have you been bitten before?” “Jeno.” Jaemin draws his attention away before you can respond. “It’s just a microdose, right? Like, barely enough to have an effect?” He considers this. “Well, I mean, not enough to have negative effects.” 

You and Jaemin share a long look. Jaemin had drunk your blood not even a week earlier. It's dangerous. But it’s a small amount. Jeno said there wouldn’t be any negative effects. And you can’t fail this class. You send Jaemin a pleading look. Jaemin swallows thickly and looks back to Jeno.

“She’ll be fine?” Jaemin’s voice is shaky. 

Jeno nods. “Caring for a human? That’s odd, coming from you. But yeah, she’ll be fine.”

You exhale heavily. “I’ll do it.”

There are more papers to be signed, more blood to be drawn. Though this time Jeno takes it in a much more professional manner, drawing it out and putting it into a test tube. Next to you, Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut and you watch his jaw clench. You want to tease him but you can’t, not in front of Jeno.

Despite Jeno’s reassurances, the worry doesn’t leave you. He doesn’t know what you and Jaemin did, doesn’t know that you’ve been bitten by a vampire. And maybe it doesn’t matter- it’s not like you’re going to die or anything, which is what needs to happen for you to turn- but you need some sort of comfort. 

That’s how you end up bailing on your Friday night dinner with Mark’s family, saying that you need to finish a project that’s due that night. Your parents roll their eyes and scold you for not taking your studies seriously, but let you skip the dinner. Mark shakes his head at you, disapproving of you working with a vampire, but keeps his mouth shut. 

If Jaemin’s surprised when you show up at his door, he doesn’t show it. He just smirks at you, leaning against the door frame. “Hey blood bag.” You scoff and shove past him into the house, dropping down onto the sofa you sat on last time. “When did you start calling me that, leech?”

“When you let me drink from you.” Jaemin says plainly, sitting next to you. “Is there a reason you’re here? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but-” “But we didn’t tell Jeno you drank from me.” You interrupt. “We need to tell him. He’s been waiting forever for this, he’ll be devastated if we ruin it.”

Jaemin nods, considering it. “Y/n, you know you’ll get kicked off the project if we tell him, right?” You nod, biting your lip. “Look, Jeno’s been my best friend for hundreds of years. I hate keeping this from him more than you do.” “Then why are you?” It doesn’t make sense. You’re certainly not friends, or at least you weren’t before last week. 

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are dark and it looks like there’s a war raging behind them, but he doesn’t elaborate on what’s bothering him. The sharp points of his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bites it nervously, blood beading at the cut when he finally looks back at you.

You don’t think when you bring your thumb up to swipe at his lower lip, skin coming away red. Jaemin watches in fascination as you bring the digit up to your own mouth, sliding it past your lips, sucking the blood away. He swallows thickly.

“Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” You ask, glancing from his lips to his face. He shakes his head gently.

“It feels good for you because of our saliva.” Jaemin explains. “But it doesn’t feel bad when you do it, it’s just-” He makes a vague gesture with his hand as if trying to pull the words out of thin air. “It’s very intimate.”

He licks his lips, then, digs his teeth back into his bottom lip. It’s a subconscious movement but you still lean in to press a kiss over where the blood pricks up, nipping just hard enough to have a growl rumbling in Jaemin’s chest before soothing the wound with your tongue. You pull away and smile, licking the blood off of your lips. 

You don’t even have time to make a witty remark over how affected Jaemin looks because he’s pulling you onto his lap, crashing your lips together with enough force that you’re sure they’ll bruise. It draws a moan from you and Jaemin eagerly drinks it in, fisting his hand in your hair and deepening the kiss. 

A gasp leaves you when he pulls away, trails his lips down your throat. You tense in anticipation, a whine getting trapped in your throat when his fangs just barely scrape the skin. He leaves a wet kiss there, pulling away to look up at you. “Want me to bite you, baby?”

“God, yeah.” You moan out, tilting your head to expose more of your neck. 

“Ah, I’d rather you didn’t say that name in my house.” Jaemin laughs. He moves back to your throat, digging his fangs into the spot he’d marked. There’s less pain this time, pleasure coursing through you almost instantly. You whine and tighten your grip on his hair.

Electricity runs through your veins as Jaemin takes what he wants, marking up your body. You breathe out something along the lines of “want more” and Jaemin takes it to heart, scooping you up and carrying you to his room in record time. He tosses you onto the mattress, crawling over you not even a second later to press his lips to yours. 

He fits himself easily between your legs, rocking his hips down in a rare show of desperation. You can feel exactly how affected he is, his hardness pressing deliciously against your core. Another plea of “more” is whispered against his lips and he doesn’t need any more encouragement, pulling away to move further down your body. He kisses and nips his way down your torso, pushing your shirt up to reveal more skin to him, dropping kiss after kiss to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants. Your core throbs at the feeling of having him so close to you and you squirm, trying to spread your legs more, trying to articulate that you need something, anything. 

“J-Jaemin, take them off.” You whine, pushing at the waistband. “I need you.”

The coldness of his hands brushing against your skin when he drags your pants down has you shivering, squirming. He tosses your clothing to the floor and wastes no time attaching his lips to the inside of your thigh, holding you down when you squirm. 

“Is this okay?” Jaemin asks, concern mixing with his arousal. He brushes his index finger over your pussy, making your back arch in an effort to get him closer to where you need him. 

“More than.” Despite your assurances, Jaemin doesn’t touch you. He moves his hand up to your abdomen, flattening his palm to keep you pinned down. You whine in annoyance, but the teeth dragging over your inner thigh has you shutting up. A gasp leaves you before he even sinks his fangs in, your pussy absolutely throbbing with need. He presses another gentle kiss to the skin and, raising his gaze to make eye contact with you, bites you.

It’s more intense than when he bit your neck or your chest. It sets your body on fire in the best of ways, leaves you writhing under his touch. Your eyes roll in your head and your hands flail in an effort to grab something, anything to ground yourself. It’s amazing, and just when you think you’ve reached heaven, he touches you.

You’re soaking wet and Jaemin’s fingers slide into you effortlessly, fill you up so well. It’s too much effort to keep your eyes open and so you let them drift shut, let yourself fall into the bliss. There’s pressure against your lips and you open your eyes to find Jaemin hovering over you, sliding two fingers past your lips. You didn’t even realize he’d stopped biting you.

“Suck.” He commands, and who are you to disobey? You wrap your lips around the digits and hum at the taste of yourself, at the weight of them in your mouth. “Taste good, baby?” “Mhmm, yeah.” Your words are slurred around the digits and you suck even harder around them, letting your tongue trace patterns around them. Jaemin swears softly and grinds down against your thigh. 

He presses one more kiss to your lips before sliding down your body. “My turn to taste.”

Maybe there should be some sort of alarm going through your system when Jaemin lowers his mouth to your core. Some sort of reminder that he has some very sharp fangs, that he has just bit you in multiple places, and that his fangs are right in the place that fangs should never be. But it feels heavenly when he licks a stripe between your folds, when he fucks his tongue into your hole. His hands keep you pinned to the mattress, super strength coming in handy to control your squirming. 

The pleasure consumes you and it’s so much, too much, and your eyes want to squeeze shut but Jaemin looks up at you and his gaze is magnetic, making it impossible to look away from him. Your body’s on fire, burning brighter with every flick of his tongue, every moan he lets out into your core. He pulls away to drop his head to the apex of your thigh, digging his fangs into the delicate skin there, and you can’t fight the scream that rips from your throat. You’re babbling, chanting incoherent words as you try to explain how good it feels, how you never want him to stop. His hair is soft in your grip and it’s the only thing keeping you anchored, the only thing preventing you from drowning in pleasure. 

“You taste so good, baby.” Jaemin moans, pulling away momentarily to make a show of licking his lips. “Everything about you is so delicious.” He returns to your core, lapping at your hole before flicking his tongue over your clit, laughing at how your body jolts. There’s nothing but hunger in his eyes as he sucks your clit between his lips, fucking two fingers into your needy cunt. He does it again, hitting all of your sensitive spots, making you scream with bliss as you finally tip over the edge. 

Wave after wave of euphoria crash into you and your lungs burn as your gasp for air. You’re drowning in the best way possible, surrounded by nothing but pleasure and Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

He works you through it with gentle flicks of his tongue, hands smoothing over your thighs to bring you back down. You manage to find enough strength to shove at his head when it gets to be too much, tiredly sinking into the mattress when he pulls away. Jaemin wipes at his mouth and bends down to kiss you lazily, nipping at your lip just to hear you whine. He smooths your hair down and brushes a few strands out of your face, smiling down at how fucked out you are. And you’d be content to lay wrapped in his arms, with Jaemin cooing softly at how pretty you are and petting your head, but you can feel how hard he is.

“Jaemin,” You murmur, shifting in his hold. “Jaem, wanna make you feel good.” “It’s alright, you don’t h- oh, shit baby- you don’t have to.” He has to fight to get the words out, a groan interrupting his sentence when you grab at his cock. You pout at him and manage to tug his pants down just enough for you to pull him out. 

“But I want to.” You smile, leaning up for a kiss. Jaemin doesn’t bother replying, just presses his lips back to yours and melts into your touch. The way you jerk him off is lazy, your energy drained from how intense your orgasm was. Though with the way Jaemin groans against your lips and tightens his grip on your hip, you don’t think that he minds.

He moans your name when he comes, a beautiful sound that has your stomach twisting with heat. White spills over your knuckles and onto his stomach and you bring your hand up to your mouth, licking at it curiously. Jaemin watches you with heavy lids before collapsing onto the mattress. 

“Fuck,” He sighs, eyelids drifting shut. “Why’re you so good to me?” “Why are you so good to me?” You mumble back in response, curling up into him. “Thanks for not biting my pussy.” Something  about that sets Jaemin off and his body shakes with the laughter running through him. A giggle leaves you. “What?” Jaemin shakes his head, still laughing. “Nothing. Come on, gotta get you some food.” 

And that’s how it goes. You and Jaemin continue to hook up, although he does end up saying ‘fuck it’ and attempting to actually teach you chemistry. Despite Mark’s fears, he doesn’t end up killing you. He’s a lot of fun to be around, plus he keeps his pantry stocked with various snacks. Sometimes he even cooks for you, if he’s feeling nice.

“What’s a vampire doing with all this food?” You ask one day, watching him make fried rice. He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the pan and offering you a shrug, though you swear you see him blush. 

Your professor raises your grade to a C. It’s not stellar but it also isn’t failing, which you will happily take. There’s only a little bit of guilt when she beams at you while telling you how happy Jeno is with your dedication to the project. 

Jeno continues to take blood samples, and you continue to not tell him that you’ve been bitten. It eats you up inside, but Jaemin’s always there to reassure you. Whether he’s trying to comfort you or himself more is up for debate.

Everything stays the same except for Mark.

He gets more distant, grows a little more resentful. There’s no smiles or teasing jokes, except for the polite ones he flashes in front of your parents. He starts to make up lies, too, which is something you promised to never do. Excuses to get him out of plans, saying there’s nothing wrong. And your best friend, the most timid, nicest boy you’ve ever met, begins to pick petty fights with you.

You’re over it, and it bothers you even if you try not to let it show. Jaemin rubs your back and tells you it’ll be okay, but you know it won’t. Because Jaemin’s the reason that Mark’s distant. And you have no plans to stop seeing him.

Talking to Jaemin, you’re sure Mark would have liked him if the circumstances were different. If Mark didn’t hate vampires so much, or if Jaemin were just a regular human college student like you. But those aren’t the circumstances, and so you have to deal with Mark’s whiny ass showing up at your door to drag you to church.

“Mark, it’s Thursday night.” You groan, shaking your textbook at him. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, you also have praying to do.” Mark snaps, grabbing the book out of your hands. “Not like you even understand this.”

Which, ouch, that kind of hurts. Especially when Mark knows that you’re frustrated that you can’t get the subject down even though you try. You glare at him and reach for the book. “Mark, give it back. And I actually do understand this, Jaemin’s been helping-” “Helping what? Taint you? Turn you into one of their blood whores?” Mark grabs the book back and throws it across the room. “Y/n, come on. I’m not letting this happen to you too.” He pulls you after him despite your grumbling, though he at least has the decency to let you put shoes on. Just because you go freely doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, complaining as Mark drags you through the city. “Jesus Christ Mark, has it ever occurred to you that Donghyuck had free will? That he willingly chose to be with her because he loved her?” You’re fed up with Mark, fed up with everyone. “God Mark, they’re not that bad!” Mark stares at you for a moment. “What, they’re brainwashing you too? How is it that both you and your brother are so dumb? I know you weren’t raised like this.”

“Well at least I wasn’t raised to be such an ignorant asshole.” You snap. “I have the ability to make my own decisions, something you apparently lack.” “Oh, so what’s that supposed to mean?” Mark stops walking suddenly, crossing his arms as he waits for an answer. You open your mouth to yell at him when a flash of movement catches your eyes. Squinting, you make out a group of guys, and they’re close enough that you can hear them laughing when one of them wipes… is that blood on his mouth? “Mark, we have to go.” You whisper. The vampires don’t see you and you’re hoping that you can get the two of you out of there safely. “Come on-” “No, tell me what you mean!” Mark yells, stubbornly standing in place. You groan and try to drag him away but he doesn’t budge. “Come on y/n, tell me what you fucking mean.” You shoot a worried glance over your shoulder, surprised when you don’t see the vampires. There’s a second of relief, lasting only until you turn around to find them standing right behind Mark. You squeak in surprise. Mark freezes too, one of the men having grabbed him by the shoulders. His face presses way too close to Mark’s neck and you jump when you feel hands on your own shoulders.

“Aww, lover’s spat?” The guy holding Mark laughs. “That’s okay, we’ve all been there, right guys?” The rest of his friends cackle in the creepiest way that you can imagine. “Come on, we can resolve this.” You and Mark look back and forth between each other worriedly. There’s no way out of this, you realize. No way to even try. 

“Don’t you wanna know how we can resolve this?” This time the guy holding you speaks and it’s so close to your ear that you flinch, nearly jumping out of your skin. He laughs and his fangs graze your skin, but it doesn’t send pleasure through you like when Jaemin does it. It sends chills down your spine, makes you want to cry. “Answer me.” “N-no.” You stutter out, eyes squeezed shut in fear. “Please, just let us go.” The guy sighs and lets go of you. “Alright.” You and Mark share a look before bolting, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Freedom only lasts for a second before you’re being grabbed again, yanked backwards. 

“Stupid girl. I don’t appreciate being told no.” You whimper and you can hear Mark screaming your name, screaming for help, screaming for anything.

It’s the last thing you hear.

“Jaemin, you’re an idiot. Literally the dumbest person I know.” There’s a familiar voice swimming through your head and you try to move towards it, finding your entire body feels drained.

“Yes, I’ve been told.” Is that Jaemin’s voice? It sounds a lot clearer, drags you out of the darkness. “But look, it ended up being good, right? She’s alive.” You finally manage to pry your eyes open and immediately regret it, slamming them shut and curling into yourself. A groan leaves you and the two stop talking. “Y/N? Baby, it’s me.” There’s a hand on your cheek, brushing against the skin gently, and you press into his touch. “How are you feeling?” “Bad.” You croak out through a dry throat, cringing at how dry it feels. Jaemin laughs softly and something presses to your lips. “Here, drink this.”

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you get the first taste, and then suddenly you find the strength in your body to take gulp after gulp of the drink. It brings a little bit of warmth to your body, makes you feel less achy. You even manage to pry your eyelids open.

Jeno and Jaemin greet you, both men looking relieved. Jaemin beams at you, dipping down for a kiss. “Hey baby.” “What happened?” You frown, trying to remember how you got to Jaemin’s couch. “Did I- I was walking to the church and we were attacked.” Oh shit, you weren’t alone. You search frantically around the room. “Did Mark- is he okay?” The thought of your best friend- no matter how strained your relationship was at the end- dying is too much for you to handle. 

Jaemin smiles. “He’s the one that brought you to me.”

“He’s okay?” Jeno nods in confirmation.

“They only wanted to kill for fun, guess you were enough.” Jeno says. “Speaking of killing, Jaemin has a lot of explaining to do. And since I don’t trust him to do a good job, I’m going to stay here!” You look between the two. “Kill? Am I- I’m dead?” Jaemin makes a face. “Fucking- I’m a vampire?” Your words come out shrill and the two boys cringe.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “My bad. But, um, I’ll take care of you! Don’t worry.” Then, to Jeno: “Come on man, can’t we have a second of peace? I literally never thought I was going to see her again.” Jeno sighs, glaring at his friend before walking away. “Dramatic.” 

You’re in Jaemin’s arms in the next second, held close to his chest. “Fuck y/n, I’m so sorry.” His voice is shaky and he keeps his face pressed into your neck. “This is all my fault, I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you.” “We’ll figure it out later.” You tug at his hair to get him to look you in the eyes. “I almost died, Jaemin. Give me a headache later. Right now…” You trail off, letting your lips stretch wide. “Kiss me.” It draws a snort from Jaemin. “You were dead like an hour ago and now you want to fuck?” “No!” You whine and smack his chest. “I just want a kiss, get your mind out of the gutter.” Jaemin teases you some more, making you laugh and smack him to stop before you finally say fuck it and pull him closer, smashing your lips together. He smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. You have a lot to worry about, but you’ve also got all the time in the world to worry about it. It makes you sick to think about, and for now, you want to just relax. Not that Jaemin seems to mind, happily letting you curl into his chest, stroking your head. You’re not alone, you have Jaemin, and you know he’ll help you through this.

+ You’re not expecting a welcome home party. You’re also not expecting to find all of your belongings scattered across the front yard, having very clearly been chucked from your bedroom window. 

“Lovely.” You scoff, staring at the mess. The front door has the biggest cross you’ve ever seen nailed to it, complete with the silver door knob that you promptly burn yourself on. You stare at the door, wondering if you should knock. It swings open before you make your mind up.

Mark stares back at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Hey, Mark.” You smile, tight lipped. “Jaemin told me you saved me.”

Mark looks like he’s about to say something but then his mouth closes and he shakes his head. “Y/n, you- you’re a vampire now. I can’t.” Mark doesn’t look you in the eye when he says it and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” You mock, shaking your head. “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you would fucking look me in the eyes.” He doesn’t. “You know it’s your fault I’m like this, right?” That gets him to look up at you. There’s fire in his eyes this time. “No, it’s your fault for whoring around with vampires.” You shake your head. “Who made me go to church that night?” He looks away and doesn’t answer the question. “Good bye, Mark.”

[obeymeshallwedate-latinplayer]

Piñata (Seven brothers GN!MC)

Hello everyone! I saw this video of how they break a piñata in the USA and they compare it with Mexico and other countries, and omg I laughed so so so much about it you guys are so cute, so I thought “How would the demos brothers would react toward that?” Here I´ll leave you the video, and let´s start!! https://youtu.be/HMo2IqJ-JV8

[The brothers are invited to a Mc cousin´s party, the child it´s 9 years old and they need to cross the last and most dangerous road of them all. The piñata…]

Lucifer:

He is sitting in next to Mc, and his brothers, when an aunt of Mc came running into them, asking nicely if they could help her, as the avatar of pride, Lucifer said “Sure How shall I help you ma’am?”  

After listening to Mc´s aunt he hesitates about the idea of pulling the rope that connected the piñata to the ceiling. Mc, just laugh at him, and stayed close to Lucifer so they could explain how he needed to move the piñata.

“So, you want me to pull the rope and let it go, so the children can´t break it?” he smiles when Mc nodded at him with a big smile. “And they need to jump?” again another smile.

He is the uncle that makes it hard for everyone and tease them until they break the piñata. But while he was making his job as perfect as he could, the piñata started to leak some candies, and even if one child was there hitting the piñata, others would enter the territory and sneak out the candy. He was amazed, they were fearless little devils.

When Mc disappeared of his side, he saw them with the broom stick ready to beat de “s” out of it. And they did, he only saw how the children started to push each other, bite each other, and the environment became a war environment, with the MC on the ground protecting their candy as they life were meant to be.

He enjoyed looking to that picture and he swear, he even saw a stronger demon around the candies, that was Mc.

Mammon.

He stayed with his younger brothers; he was staring at the weird looking piñata. Trying to reveal “Who was that character?!” When they lift the piñata, he had tons of Flash Backs.

He decided to stayed next to one of Mc´s aunt, and a small child scold him, that if he didn´t sang the song he won´t get any chance of hitting the piñata, and that meant “No candies for him.”

“Dale, dale, dale, no pierdas el tino porque si lo pierdes, pierdes el camino, ya le disté uno, ya le diste dos, ya le diste tres y tu tiempo se acabó!” After that explanation he started to get excited, he is like a child, so he is happy while everyone is singing, they can´t tell him that he looks childish, because everyone is singing!

He gets along with the children, and they love him. After the first whole that the piñata got, and after watching every kid wanting to take the candy that flew out he started to write down every single one of the movements they did, so he could imitate them in the devildom.

He got his turn of hitting the piñata, Lucifer didn´t made it easy but he did broke it, and he swears, it was hell in life, his friends attack him for some candy, Mc bite him so they could pass through him, and the candy that felt into his head hurt more than any of Lucifer´s punishment.

He ended up with only a “Pica fresa”. But it was worth it. He fought a kid for it, and he won! He kept that candy as his treasure, for eternity.

 Levi:

Poor baby stayed with Mc´s young female cousins that likes Ruri-chan. And with Mc´s otaku cousins, he is at home, or that´s what he thinks, until the greatest Ruri-chan fan took his hand and with puppy eyes asked him if he could accompany her to the piñata. He said yes.

It was like a videogame! He felt like the Lord of Shadow, and his crew, even his Henry was there for him (aka: Mc) and the adventure just started. Or so that thought.

He was embarrassed while singing, and he even envy Mammon for being so free, he was with his crew, until… Until the catastrophe, his small friend ran into the war field just for a candy, and she wasn´t even hit by the person beating the crap out of the piñata. She was a true hero!

Mc´s little cousin gave Levi the candy she got, and he almost cry in the place, but the lord of Shadow wouldn´t cry in front of his crew, so he kept his tears for him. (When he returned to his room he teared and cried a lot.)

As general of the demon army demon, he had seen tons of bloody and ugly scenarios from war. But the one in front of him was the scarier scenario he could admire in his entire life; it even gave him nightmares after seeing that.

His little friend was punching and hitting someone, Mc pushed that little girl and he saw how they were fighting for candies. It was worst than war, and when it ended the fearless little girl went to see him and with a big smile, he saw… She lost a tooth.  Levi baby got traumatize after that.

Satan.

He was with the philosophies uncles that each family has, you know, the one that can make an opinion out of everything and anything and they ruin the mood. Yep, he was with those uncles.

Until the uncles stand up and told him that it was war time, he thought they will murder each other and boy was hi in. He was getting excited when he saw the broom stick, he could punch Lucifer and nobody would ask him questions, this was the most satisfied day of his existing.

But he saw the piñata, and thought that the song was a type of incantation so the children could have a power up. He really focused on the song and we might say that he sings it every time he needs strength.

After watching the suicidal kids (nick name that he chose for them) he wanted to try it, and he did, he got a “Paleta payaso” and damn he was rejoicing, he even show off in front of Lucifer.

He smiled when he saw the entire war scene, he laughed at it, after that he understood why Mc was so reckless and fearless, apparently chasing the death is obligatory curriculum in the country. Now that one mystery was solved, he could rest that night.

He just loved the idea of beating something, and got excited when he was told that he could beat the piñata, he might or might not had let go the broom stick towards Lucifer, but we would never know.

Asmo.

On the contrary of Satan, Asmo stayed with the aunts of Mc, you know, the one that live for drama and gossip. He was so happy there listening to the ladies and gasping everyone in a while, he was surprised that humans couldn´t have many partners at the same time and that the prettiest aunt got a divorce.

When the aunts started to move quickly, he wanted to be part of that too! So, he followed all the aunts of Mc, and saw how they took their precious children and talked to them firmly, so he dragged his Mc and took their hands with his and stayed there for a moment.

For Mc, that action only bring them memories of how their mother would scold them before the piñata, that made them a little nervous. And even if they wanted to ask about it, Asmo was already gone.

Asmo saw everything with shock, he swears that he saw Lucifer sweating, and that meant problems and panic for him and his brothers, he wanted to hug Mc, so they could comfort him but he saw them kicking a small child. So, he didn’t get close them.

Mc gave him a bubble gum and they left with a big bag full of candy, while Beel carry them in his shoulder… WAS THAT A TEETH IN THE BAG?! MC WAIT, WAIT!!!

He gets worried about the mental stability of Mc.

Beel.

Baby boy is having a panic attack, baby boy needs hugs and kisses and attention. He is the one that eats, and eats a lot in the Taquiza so when he saw every single dish he was the happiest demon alive, he drank with Mc´s uncles and ate with Mc grandmothers, and they don´t tell him his a glutton, they serve him more and more food. Because… “Mijo, tas muy flaquito, toma otro plato, come bien.”

He stays with the children and they play, Mammon and Beel are the greatest friends the kids have, Mc´s cousins are begging them to marry one of them, no matter who really, they just want a cool cousin in the family. He is a happy baby boy while he is playing with them.

Until everything became a war field, children were screaming, the older ones were laughing, he just wanted some candy, but when a five-year-old push him for the candies he just got depressed and wondered… What king of food those children were eating? Does he needed to call child service?!

After he was pushed down into the ground, Belphie tried to take a nap over him.

He reacted and gently moved his twin, he needed to save Mc, those children were a danger for every living thing in the planet, but oh surprise when he saw his MC pushing, screaming, biting, and kicking the children just for candy.

Low key, he feels proud of the human, but he needs to save the small ones, so he carried Mc in his shoulder, while they were laughing with their bag full of candies and a tooth.  Baby boy got a Dulcero Instead.

Belphie.

The one recording the massacre, he is having the time of his life, he can know more about Mc and punch Lucifer. The adults can have a piñata too?! REALLY?! Satan give me the stick I´ll beat the f out of Lucifer.

He is enjoying the party, and he adored the party even more with the scene. He is so happy that they made him came into this. He is happy until he saw a five-year-old pushing Beel, no one bully his twin, but also… “I need to call social service?! Are this even children?! They knock down a demon like Beel!!”

Trying to calm down during the adult piñata, just like Satan he “accidently” slipped the broom stick towards Lucifer while hitting the piñata. He took a mental note about not messing around Mc, not only they broke the piñata, but they also broke the broom stick.

After his turn, he wanted to sleep so he tried to get over his twin, Beel move him so he could save Mc.

Enjoyed watching Mc in a war mood, they were so cute angry, he needed to record that for prosperity, “Satan come look at this! Lucifer is sweating cold!”

After that, he tried to have a piñata every once in a while, so all the brothers could start to practice the art of stealing candies and beating the crap out of small children. In their defense, it was worth it.

Let´s learn some Spanish. 

Piñata: Game that consists of hanging a clay or cardboard container, usually full of sweets or fruits, at a certain distance from the ground, to break it with sticks

Taquiza: A taquiza is a traditional Mexican banquet. Everything that you can put in a tortilla goes there. (Rice, mole, slits with cream etc.)

Dulcero: Bag full of candies.

Dale, dale, dale, no pierdas el tino porque si lo pierdes, pierdes el camino, ya le disté uno, ya le diste dos, ya le diste tres y tu tiempo se acabó!:

Paleta payaso: A marshmallow lolipo cover with chocolate and a face of gummie.

Pica fresa: Strawberry gummi covered in tamarindo.

Mijo, tas muy flaquito, toma otro plato, come bien.”: My son, you are so skinny, here, have another plate. 

[penguinkinggames]

“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part III: The End

This is the third and final entry in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. The first two parts can be found here:

https://tumblr.penguinking.com/post/646498084013195264

https://tumblr.penguinking.com/post/646788426842128384

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

The First Leg of the journey has ended, and the Lady in Blue is the Seeker. She remembers her past: she was a small-time crook who left the City by the Sea to kill her murderous, thieving sister. Having pieced together her past, she has until arriving at Cerebos to decide if she still wants to kill the Lady in Red.

The Unqualified Robot, Tinderling, and the Lonesome Seafarer won’t find the answers they were looking for in Cerebos. However, they’ve ridden the rails with the Lady in Blue long enough they may have learned something else. Aiding her in her journey may clarify their own futures.

Tinderling and the Unqualified Robot hope the Lady in Blue will kill her sister. Actions have consequences and violence is sometimes necessary to restore balance. The Lonesome Seafarer has had enough pain. She hopes the Lady in Blue will be able to move on – or find common ground with the woman who did her wrong. 

Sixth Round of Train Actions

Tinderling notices an enormous marble building in the distance. From its Greek pillars and statues of Justice, it’s probably a courthouse. None of the travellers are on especially great terms with the law, but the train stops anyway. This journey isn’t just about them. There are other passengers too!   A trial is in session when the passengers arrive, and it requires four jurors. As outsiders, the travelers are unbiased. Wigged functionaries encourage them to attend the day’s arguments.   It’s the trial of Hodur, Norse god of winter and accidental murderer of Baldr. Baldr is testifying when the jury enters: “My death was absolutely necessary! My death was all part of a larger plan!” He cites Romulus & Remus, Osiris & Set, and other famous examples of fratricide. Sometimes a death is necessary for the greater good.

Tinderling’s player spends 1 Momentum to create a Danger 2 Stop as a Saintly Revelation. She doesn’t want to make the journey to Cerebos more difficult for anybody, but she does present the Lady in Blue with an argument to stay the course.

As with the previous Stop, the other travelers should have received a Train Action before arriving at the courthouse. The GM had been keeping an eye on the clock and made an executive decision to ensure the trains kept running on time. The whole session, including several snack breaks, fit into a four-hour session with only fifteen minutes of overflow!

Stop Actions: The Trial of Hodur

The Unqualified Robot has decided to Seize the Opportunity to divest itself of its past wares. It is defined by actions now, not junky gadgets. It offers gadget after gadget from its backpack to passing barristers, seeking some way to communicate. It rolls a Success and scores a giant foam finger with “FRATRICIDE” written on it. The new jury is fitting in with the trial, so the Danger reduces to 1.  

The Lonesome Seafarer waits for a lull in the trial and vaults out of the jury box to cross-examine Hodur: “Did you mean to kill Baldr?” She rolls 1 + 5 = 6, but spends a rank of Tunnel Vision to really focus on the heart of the matter and eliminate all obstacles. The rerolled 1 becomes a 5, netting the Lonesome Seafarer an Inspired Success -- and one Momentum to her authoritative hat for rolling doubles!   Hodur begins to weep under the incisive questioning: “I could never have done it if I had known! Even if I had to for a better future, I couldn’t kill my brother!” The Stop Danger is reduced to 0. Had Tinderling paid an extra Momentum while setting up the Stop, the Unqualified Robot or the Lonesome Seafarer would have received a keepsake for their efforts.  

Tinderling, disgusted by Hodur’s breakdown, starts carving something rude in the juror’s box with her bird bone sewing needle. She’s learning that she’s really into this justified violence thing. How come these people don’t understand progress is impossible without sacrifice? She rolls to Release the Touchstone – a symbol of peace – and succeeds.   The needle snaps. She burns with clarity and gains one Contemplation.  

The Lady in Blue isn’t in danger. She rests, shakes hands with a few visiting gods, and loads up on jury cookies. She removes one Momentum.

The court is in an uproar over Hodur’s outburst. The travelers aren’t interested in being further embroiled in someone else’s problems, so they sneak out back and return to the train.

Sixth Round of Train Actions (Continued)

The Lonesome Seafarer triggers a Revelation to counter Tinderling’s full-throated endorsement of fratricide. Two high-pitched voices begin shouting from the next car: “I hate you! I wish you weren’t my sister anymore!” The fight spills over into the travellers’ car as two six-year-old girls shove and cry into each other. It’s a Danger 2 Event demonstrating that just because siblings fight doesn’t mean they have to be enemies.  

The Unqualified Robot triggers its Saintly Revelation. Since leaving the courtroom, it has been busy building an effigy – a new sibling – from its unsold junk and extraneous body parts. If it can’t communicate with people, maybe something closer to its temperament will do the trick.   Calamity strikes! After a disagreement, the Robot and its twin begin to fight. Encouraged by the violence they’ve recently observed, it escalates. Presumably the twin was at fault. The Robot’s player explains, “I think the moral here is the danger siblings hold and how they must be destroyed.” The Robot Battle Event is Danger 5, threatening to strip the train to its bones. Luckily, Cerebos is in sight!

Since the Saints and Demons have introduced their Revelations, it’s time for the Endgame. Cerebos arrives! Its towering spires of crystal and neon illuminate the night. Squabbling siblings, a pair of robots engaged in an all-out hurly burly, and passengers who have begun to take sides pour from the train, attracting the attention of a number of station agents armed with stern frowns and truncheons.

Normally, the gates of Cerebos are a Danger 2 Stop, but the unresolved Events from the train boost it to a worrying Danger 4. 

Stop Actions: The Gates of Cerebos

Tinderling stands on a barrel and fans the flames of animosity, pulling unrelated passers-by into the fight: “Hey! This is what happens when you have an evil twin. Monsters are monsters and they don’t change!” She Causes Trouble to boost the Stop to Danger 6 and extend the scene. Everyone receives an extra cycle of Stop Actions.  

The Lonesome Seafarer also trusts her words to address the growing riot, arguing for peace. She draws on the harsh lessons she learned from Scurvy, her missing mate: “You have to give people a chance to change!” It’s like shouting into a storm. Fists and rocks fly as she takes Damage, her words unheeded.  

The Unqualified Robot briefly breaks free from its apocalyptic struggle with its evil twin. These… emotions are just holding it back. It tries to Release its last remaining expression slide, a smiley face defaced by angry eyebrows.   An Ugly Break. Communication is easy when it involves throwing things. It gains Momentum on its whiskey flask and gains Contemplation. It thanks Tinderling for introducing the path of rage.  

The Lady in Blue lays into the fray with elbows and right hooks, clearing people away from the Unqualified Robot. They’ve shared whiskey. Everyone just needs to stand back. She takes Damage and reduces the Danger to 4.  

Tinderling is taken aback at the chaos she has unleashed. It was all going so well, but the Unqualified Robot is taking a lot of hits. It’s burning too bright! She Seizes an Opportunity and starts laying into station police and onlookers alike. Even spending Burns at Both Ends to flare up like a hero, she takes Damage to reduce the Danger to 3.  

The Lonesome Seafarer pushes through the thinning crowd of combatants to the main event: robot vs. robot. She engages the evil twin with watertight logic and the Coat of Thesus Trait: “That robot is made out of your same parts! Why would you fight yourself? That’s not fratricide. That’s suicide!” After a string of unlucky rerolls, she ekes out a Partial Success, taking Damage while wrestling the Evil Twin off the Unqualified Robot. Danger 2.  

The Unqualified Robot scrambles back, throwing everything in reach at its evil twin: unsold junk, garbage, rocks. It’s not enough. The only way to end this is to carry its actions to their logical conclusion.   The Unqualified Robot tears off its head and flings it at the effigy.   The effigy, stunned by the extreme act of violence (and the high-velocity assault) explodes. Danger 1.  

The Lady in Blue needs a moment. Watching her travel companion tear off its head to kill its sibling is a lot. Battered passengers and station police slink off. A siren wails in the distance.   The Lady in Blue turns to the squabbling children from the train, who stayed focused on one another the whole time the battle raged around them. “Kids. Let’s talk. What happened?” she asks.   The sisters explain a very long, very important story that involves teasing and boysenberry (or possibly poisonberry) tea. It is ridiculous.   The Lady in Blue sighs long and deep. “It’s not like I’m not already headed to Hell. Try this, kids. This is what real poison tastes like.” She offers them each a sip of whiskey, transferring their animosity to her as they taste the rough, foul drink. Two-vs-one isn’t fair, but the Lady in Blue weathers their coughing and shin-kicking.   Failure. The Lady in Blue takes stress Damage and the round ends: “I solved a fight between two children and I feel terrible about it.”

Epilogue

Tinderling, the Lonesome Seafarer, and the Lady in Blue walk the backstreets of Cerebos. They don’t glisten with empyrean light like the main thoroughfares, but neither are they patrolled by gendarmes searching for whoever it was who started the brawl at the train station.

The Lady in Blue takes out her revolver, spins the cylinder, and stares down the barrel. She pops out the last bullet, sheathes her gun, and leaves her fellow travelers. She has chosen the Devil’s Path, deviating from her initial goal thanks – in a strong part – to the tragic brutality of the Unqualified Robot.

Everybody looks at their goals, laughing at the fresh round of revelations. The only thing left to do now is tally up Momentum and Contemplation to make epilogue rolls.

The Unqualified Robot died doing what it loved: throwing something. The end. No moral.  

Tinderling is a member of the Walking Wounded, unable to settle down in Cerebos, which seems just as bad for workers as the City by the Sea. Nevertheless, she’s gained a newfound appreciation for robot rights.   Before leaving for Cerebos, robots were machines, jerks, and scabs to Tinderling. But the Unqualified Robot taught her that treating robots like tools would only lead to calamity. Maybe her redemption lies in solidarity with all workers...  

The Lonesome Seafarer’s epilogue roll is similar to Tinderling’s. Scurvy isn’t in Cerebos, but she’s found moderating influences elsewhere: “That robot ripping its own head off has taught me some valuable things about myself.” She still hopes to find her missing mate someday, but it isn’t quite the obsession it once was. In the meantime, she’ll keep traveling.  

The Lady in Blue rolls a 4: Self-Actualization! She acknowledges the wrong the Lady in Red did to her, but finds peace in putting aside revenge. She’ll live her own life, not one controlled by a further descent into bloodshed.   Strolling the streets of Cerebos, she sees Tinderling passing out leaflets and the Lonesome Seafarer inspecting a ship-in-a-bottle in a shop window. She feels a fondness for the Lonesome Sea Captain, perhaps from the adventures they’ve had or perhaps because it was she who first directed the Lady in Blue to Cerebos.   “Captain,” says the Lady in Blue, taking the captain’s arm. “How do you feel about having a whiskey with me?”   “I’ve only had grog before,” the Lonesome Seafarer hazards.   “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

The Lady in Blue and the Lonesome Seafarer walk through the electric streets, arm-in-arm, in search of drinks.

[i-love-hobbies]

(This isn't an anti-Eda, anti-Lilith or anti-Bump post. Just read this fully, please!)

Murder and violence are not ok!

This whole thing started literally after s1ep2 where Eda murdered a dude on screen.

What am I talking about?

"It's just a cartoon. Don't read too much into it."

I don't have a very strong opinion on this but I'm not a fan of normalizing murder. Also "Heroes that are genocidal maniacs, kill the villain cause he's awful." sounds extremely cringe.

And why are you reading a post that analyses a part of a cartoon right now?

"Death is normal on the Boiling isles, so that makes it ok."

Woah, woah! WHAT?

If everyone used that logic, slavery would still be a thing.

Just cause it's normalized in a culture doesn't mean it's less harmful or that everyone that comes from that culture does it.

It can be used to explain someone's actions, but not excuse them.

The ignorance of context.

1. Eda's murders

First I wanna point out that it was never emotional, it was all calculated. Remember when Tibbles scammed her, she didn't attack him back. None of her kills are revenge. She has always had something to win from them.

She has murdered two people, probably more, Adegast and Tibbles.

If she didn't kill Adegast. I can see this going two ways. He would starve to death, which means she put him out of his misery or he would slowly go back to full power which ties with Tibbles.

Batman kills the Joker.

No they are not as bad as the Joker but they would have continued trying to hurt her untill they got the idea of killing Willow and Gus in their sleep. TIBBLES KNEW THEIR ADDRESS!

Also if they were willing to do this. Who knows what else they have done to other people too. By doing this she has saved more lifes than she has taken (mostly kids).

Plus this willingness to kill is probably the reason Luz can go to school. Eda's enemies know that if they become an actual treat, things won't end well.

Her enemies are criminals. They are not stupid enough to think that she is helpless without magic. Especially now that she isn't running from the law.

- Now on to almost killing Amity in s1ep5 by making Luz cheat. That was messed up but not that badly.

Witches are harder to hurt, there were healers around who would help a Blight. She saw Amity use abomination so she knew mainly her traps were gonna be activated by a non-living thing.

Luz was going to be injured if that didn't happen. Amity was not in control of her strength and I don't think Lilith thought this trough. Though both sisters would have probably intervened when this got out of hand.

She also isn't the one to force Luz into the fight as many people have said. She has never on screen forced her opinion on someone else except in s1ep9 which was to protect her from school and changed in that episode. Luz just couldn't leave cause quitting ment never being able to perform magic.

Now I know that the right thing to do here was for her to try talk things through. I'm just saying it's not as bad as it seems.

2. Eda's scamming

To get my point across I'm gonna compare it to Wordlob.

Hers is the equivalent of you trying to buy gold and getting plastic. His is the equivalent of you're desperate for a cure and he promises to give it to you and then steals all your money and leaves you to die.

You're not going to try to buy gold when your desperate are you?

Scamming can take different forms and hers is the least harmful.

And consider this, what else can she do to put food on the table with her two adopted kids, Hooty and Owlbert. She can't find a legal job, cause that would be helping Belos, she'll die before she does that and she definitely knows ways to disguise herself but that puts her at risk as well.

3. Lilith's redemption arc still works

Yes, she did murder a bird in s1ep18, but the way it talked and acted. It seemed like it was mimicking speach.

Yes, she did almost kill a child, but she has made up for it probably in that week and a half that we didn't see considering this is the Boiling isles and everything is trying to kill you.

Plus, Eda only talked about the curse, considering "You hurt Luz, you cursed me!" She is not the person who would forget about her kid.

Bonus, she did make up for it on screen as well. In s2ep2 she saved King from Eda's experiments. In s2ep3 she saved Luz and King with her ice glyphs, when she could have just left, giving time for Eda to get them out of there. If Eda didn't show up Lilith would be dead.

4. Bump's jokes

- Dissecting Luz

I don't know why everyone talks about Bump and Amity trying to dissect Luz. They weren't certain if this was going to kill her. They weren't certain if she was alive. All they knew was that the lie will be broken if this would kill her.

Yes, they did try to catch her later on, but not to kill her. They wanted to make sense of what's going on and hopefully find her parents so she gets at the very least a talk on why she shouldn't do this.

Willow just overreacted which in return made Luz do the same.

- Bump's detention room

This room is a hypnosis one. Hypnosis is a job in real life. It can be dangerous but that can also be said about therapy if the therapist is bad. Depends on who does it.

"Impressive still alive!" This is a joke.

If a hypnotic session is stopped in the middle, you'd be too relaxed to be able to move. He was fine, he just needed some time.

- Bump's add

Everything that attacked Matt was alive. He probably did something to piss them off. But yeah Bump should have done something.

- Detention track

Guys knowing what he did for Willow in s1ep3, it's obvious that he was in a lot of stress. If he did what he did in that episode regularly. You just touch an orb and byeeeeee. Then this place should have been crowded.

Plus the wall with troublemakers' names had what six names and a portrait of lord calamity. Eda left school before three decades. And that's all we got.

He was probably not gonna keep them there even though he said so. He probably wasn't even planning that.

- Grom was very messed up. I have nothing to say except I wouldn't be surprised if the Emporer's coven forces this to be a thing and refuses to send actual adults, so the kids learn from a young age or whatever.

- Same with the photomemory class.

- "Bosha got away with murder. I can't say I approve, but at least she's trying new things."

This was a joke. Bosha's parents definitely have influence. His hands are tied like usual so he has learned to make jokes out of it. Plus since when are principals responsible for what happens out of school grounds.

5. The bat queen

She is a protector of palismans and I don't think she started to kill until the government was against her (I'm talking about her cave having bones all over it.)

I can't say it's completely justified like I did with Eda. But I don't see a way out of it where palisman wouldn't be extinct.

Now let's see our vilians' behaviour

1. Adegast

He was trying to kill Eda for his business by using a child as a bait.

2. Tibbles

He almost murdered four children so his stand is revenged.

3. Piniate

Is keeping people captive and literally is making them helpless as a punishment for not writing a book.

4. Demon hunters

They were gonna trow kids off a cliff. I'm not sure why actually.

5. The cat ladies

They were kidnapping children for their cafe.

6. The "coven" inspecture

She was stealing all the magic from none other than kids for power.

7. Wordlob

Who knows how many people have died, lost their jobs and so one, cause of his scams. All for money.

8. Warden wrath

He cut Eda's head so she goes out with him. Captures people for nothing.

9. Odalia and Alador

Alador was not stopping Odalia from trying to kill Luz. In their mind this was gonna help in combination with their child abuse, with their daughter helping their business. Everything they have done for now is for their business.

They backed up when Alador saw an opportunity for THEIR BUSINESS.

10. Kikimora

She tried to murder a child, cause of jealousy. Uses her authority to make the system even worse, cause how dare them look in her direction.

11. Belos

Is abusing a child and abused Lilith. Is the reason that palisman are getting extinct. Wild magic= death sentence. Basically created a horrible authority system that has created a lot of suffering and who knows how many it has killed. Probably all for power, though we don't know completely.

[feitansluver]

Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

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

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

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They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

[krinsbez]

The Heroes, Future Season Picking

maxw@jcogginsa @skjam, @maxwell-grant

As it would appear discussion of Season One has come to a halt for the moment, this thread is for discussing Season Two.

Some ideas proposed thus far...

By @jcogginsa:

As I said previously , my idea for this one was to have the principal characters come together for Keane’s funeral before getting sucked into the season’s plot. To expand on that, what I think should happen here is that Keane was familiar with several other great detectives. After they leave his funeral, they get sucked into what looks like an Agatha Christie style whodunnit, which is eventually revealed to be something of a more supernatural flavor. The big name of this season could be an aged Sherlock Holmes, but if we don’t go with that, Watson would be a fun pick.

- General Zaroff, the antagonist of ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ sinks a cruise ship, which he believes Doc Savage is aboard, believing that Savage will survive and make it to Zaroff’s island, where he can hunt him for sport. Unfortunately, he’s misinformed, because the Savage aboard the ship is actually Patricia Savage, not Clark. She, along with other pulp heroes who were aboard, then have to deal with Zaroff. Possibly with the Wolfman and Tarzan involved

- The aforementioned “The Shadow vs Lovecraft” season. This would be a later season, since I think it’d be good if Fu Manchu had a more sizeable role in it, to show that while he’s a bad man, he’s not a “wants to end the world” kind of Bad man. Additionally, as a late act twist, I think it’d be nice for a Golden Age flavor of Superman to show up, as he is thematically a foil to Lovecraft

- While most of the seasons would be stand alone, I did have an idea for a loosely connected Trilogy of seasons featuring Sun Koh, the Nazi Doc Savage. One Season would deal with a search for Atlantis, and end with Sun Koh arriving in the present day. Then the season after that would featuring Conan battling Sun Koh in the distant past, and then the season after that would see Sun Koh suffering his final defeat at the hands of Doc Savage.

- A season set on Mars, featuring John Carter attempt to stop the Martian Invasion from War of the Worlds from getting launched

By @krinsbez:

-News of the Underworld: Belgian boy reporter Tintin is back in New York City, doing a ride-along with Justice, Inc. when they’re called in to investigate a gang that’s been robbing museums. But then their leader becomes convinced that one of the artifacts is posssesed by a demon and is talking to him (I think it should be ambiguous if he’s delusional or not), and begins planning something more grandiose than mere thefts, the Avenger calls upon…not sure. Someone with knowledge of mysticism and the occult, but not so much that no ambiguity exists.

-Skull and Crosswinds: In the midst of WWI, the 20th Phantom discovers that Robur the Conqueror’s ahead-of-his time flight technology has fallen into the hands of the European branch of the Singh Brotherhood, who plan to use the war as cover to plunder the continent from the skies with impunity. To stop them, he must somehow convince G-8 and Hans Von Hammer to work together.

-Black As Night And Red All Over: In ‘70s NYC, Shaft, Blade, and Vampirella join forces to defeat Blacula. Given the pun of the title, I thought about throwing in Kolchak, but A: I don’t know that much about him ATM, and B: What little I do know suggests he lives elsewhere?

Comments by @maxwell-grant:

Funny you mentioned wanting to bring Superman into the “Shadow vs Lovecraft” season, because I’ve been tinkering with my own Shadow - Superman crossover idea for a while now, that whole text I wrote about crossing The Shadow with Lovecraft spawned out a Shadow meets Superman text I haven’t finished yet.

The inclusion of Fu Manchu though? I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Although The Shadow, Fu Manchu, and the Cthulhu Mythos are such massive properties, such quintessential pillars of pulp fiction as well as fiction in general, that Superman’s inclusion might be either too much, or perhaps the right ingredient to pulling it all together. Definitely something I have a lot of ideas for but maybe better saved for later.

“The Most Dangerous Game” starring pulp heroes definitely sounds fun though. I think one of the things I most enjoyed about these posts is that they got me to think and write about characters I’d never given much thought prior. I’d definitely like to do more with further obscure choices.

@krinsbez

Here’s an idea for that Tintin x Justice Inc crossover. When The Avenger and Tintin investigate museum robbers who run afoul a mystical artifact that might be driving them to more sinister plans, they need someone who’s familiar enough with the occult and also with historical artifacts, and so they call…Indiana Jones. Benson would have preferred calling someone else but they are in a hurry and Jones was easy to reach. Indy wants absolutely nothing to do with the dead-faced creep who names his knives and the little kid running around in a trenchcoat and demonic artifacts and whatnot, but then he gets involved and goes along complaining about being dragged into another supernatural bullshit adventure, as usual.

Comments by @skjam:

The really obvious proto-Superman for pulp stories is Hugo Danner from “Gladiator” by Philip Wylie.  He dies at the end of the book, but this can easily be handwaved; perhaps a Snake Plissken-like “I heard you were dead” from everyone who recognizes him?

“Most Dangerous Game” with Pat Savage?  If you want to make things really tough for Zaroff, team her up with Jane Clayton, Lady Greystoke.  By the third Tarzan book, Jane’s the second-best person in the world at jungle survival.  (She drops back to third once their son reaches his teens.)

Additional comments by @jcogginsa:

Been thinking more about the great detective pitch I made, and I think good characters to use for that season would be Sar Dubnotai (who I only know of because of Maxwell Grant’s Pulp tarot), and Inspector Ginko from Diabolik

Additional comments by @maxwell-grant:

@skjam I think Hugo Danner is an interesting enough character that, while I do have some plans for him, I wouldn’t just use him as a Superman analogue.

@jcogginsa Sar is definitely a great choice, in fact it’s a logical choice to have him enter the scene as a response to Ascott Keane’s murder, since Sar is an occult detective as well, far older, more powerful and resourceful than Keane, and generally being a far more interesting character too.

I haven’t yet had a chance to read the original Sar Dubnotal stories but something I really enjoyed about the Tales of the Shadowmen stories I’ve read with him is that they emphasize him being a psychologist on top of everything else, so he lends himself into scenarios where he uses his magic to help characters dig into their pasts and deal with their trauma and so on, which is definitely something that sets him apart from other pulp heroes, even those with mystical powers.

The fact that he can speak with the dead could also allow us to include characters from different time periods. For example, maybe Holmes did die a while before the story began, but Sar has been receiving visions and guidance from Holmes in the afterlife that sets him on a trip to America where he has to help some of his detective friends deal with the aftermath of the murder of an American occult detective. That way, not every character we want to include outside of their time period needs to be immortal (although Sar may be, as even in his original 1910 stories he was hinted at being much older than he appeared, and now he’s going to be appearing in the 1930s presumably unchanged).

Sar can very well serve as the link that binds different characters and storytelling elements together.

Some thoughts of my own.

-On Hugo Danner: I have to agree with @maxwell-grant that just using him as a Superman analogue is not a good idea, not least because, asides from powers they are very different characters. Not sure using Superman is the best idea either, since he’s as close as you get to a bright shining line where Pulp Heroes stop and Super Heroes begin (given that there are plenty of superheroes who are 100% Pulp Heroes as far as I’m concerned, it’s not much of a line, but still)

-On what to do next: Obviously, I’m partial to my own ideas, but of @jcogginsa‘s ideas, I like the Detectives or Most Dangerous game one’s best. Which sentiment appears to be shared by the rest of you, so let’s go for it.

-On Detectives: Unfortunately, I’ve never even heard of Sar before, so I’m not confident of my ability to do stuff with him.

-On Most Dangerous Game: I love the concept, but I can’t buy Gen. Zaroff by himself as being a legitimate threat when Tarzan is involved? (as far as I’m concerned. kidnapping Jane is a form of suicide)

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part eight Word count: 1900± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range,  Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her  demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to  be her final hunt. Part eight summary: Sam finally arrives in Nashville and is about to begin the search for his father, when an unexpected call comes in. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and   flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Nashville, Tennessee      December 3rd, 2005 - Present Day

     With a sigh, Sam gets off the bus. The rain beats down on him straight away, but instead of being annoyed by it, he finds it refreshing. Finally, he’s in Nashville. It’s  taken him three days to get here. Three days of torture - which included waiting for his damn transport to arrive in the first place, being forced in a seat made for someone who is 4’8, and having to change twice to get to his final destination - but he’s in Nashville. 

     Of course, he could have hopped on a plane for a journey of only several hours, but he had a hunch he would have a bit of trouble getting through customs, carrying a duffel loaded with blades, guns, and ammunition. He might always be complaining about his brother’s driving skills or his collection of Metallica, Motorhead, and Black Sabbath tapes which he plays over and over again while he sings along, but seventy-six hours of traveling to get from Texas to Tennessee wasn’t a joy either. 

     He watches the touring car take off into the night, continuing its trip, the droplets that run down the side catching the light of the overhanging streetlights. The sound of the engine fades as the carrier merges into traffic again. Suddenly, he feels alone, left behind, and not just by the bus. It’s not the first time he experiences this uneasiness, because Sam has pondered about the fight he had with his older sibling more than once. Truth be told; he never expected Dean to leave him on the side of the road. He called his bluff, and when his brother didn’t give him an inch, he himself refused to surrender as well. If he’s completely honest with himself, he started regretting this impulsive act the minute he saw the Impala drive away, but he couldn’t let it show, he couldn’t let Dean win. He is so tired of being bossed around and being treated like a little kid. Stubborn? Maybe. Guess it runs in the family.

     Sam can take care of himself, but tracking his father will not be an easy task without Dean. When it comes to Dad, the oldest son knows him best and Sam realizes he’s going to be missing him on this search. He hopes the woman who set him on this path will call him again, because he could use a lead.

     So, what now? He decides it will probably be best to settle down in a motel and get online, see if he can find some information, then he will start asking questions. There’s not much he can do right at this moment, considering it’s 2.30 AM. It’s going to be quite a task, finding a man in a city covering 550 square miles with over 600.000 citizens. And all he has is the word of a girl he has never met, of which he didn’t even catch her name.      “This is insane,” he mutters, looking around.

     A voice of reason whispers in his ear again: go back. Dean’s words had some truth to them. What if this is a trap? What if he’s walking straight into it? Sam’s doubts will not make him turn around, though. He is here and he is not going to stop searching until he finds Dad. 

     Sam keeps his head low and buries his hand in his pockets, protecting himself from the rain as he shivers. It’s not particularly cold for this time of the year, but 39 °F isn’t anything near Texas. Raindrops bring down the temperature as well and continue to fall down on the hunter as clouds block out the moon.

     He starts to walk in the direction of what seems to be a hotel. The interstate, which lays directly next to the parking lot, crosses Highway 70. Lines of cars travel by, their white headlights and red tail lights lighting the road like it’s Christmas already. 

     Through the curtains of water, the young Winchester spots a neon sign at the entrance of the building he’s approaching. He was right; it is a hotel, funnily enough one from the same chain where Zoë spent the night in Paragould. The Hampton Inn Bellevue looks like a fancy place from the outside, and remembering the luxurious room of the huntress, he reckons this hotel will not be any different. Sam doesn’t like to waste money, but he will do anything for a decent bed after being crammed into that touring car like a canned sardine. Not that he’s planning to sleep much; he has better things to do. He has to find Dad, it’s all he can think of. 

     Right when he’s about to enter the establishment, he hears his cell phone ringing. Hastily, he takes his Blackberry from his pocket, hoping it to be the anonymous caller who tipped him off three days ago. The display announces the caller as ‘unidentified’, it might not be so far fetched. Sam picks up immediately.      “Hello?”      A relieved sigh sounds from the other side. “Hey, Sam.”

     It’s a feminine voice alright, but it’s not the ‘mysterious lady’, as Dean called the woman who passed him the information about their Dad. He does recognize the person on the other end, though. She is the last human being on earth he expected a call from.      “Zoë,” he concludes, stunned.      “Yeah… hey, listen,” she cuts to the chase. “I’m in deep shit.”

     Sam stops dead in his tracks. He thought she might be after she left so abruptly back in Arkansas, but the fact that she’s admitting that she’s in trouble means that this is serious.

     “Where the hell are you?” he asks.      “I’m just outside Darrington, Washington State.”      “Are you hurt?” Sam asks worriedly.      “Yeah, but that’s not the point.” She pauses for a moment, knowing what she is about to say might come as an unpleasant surprise. “Your brother’s here.”

     Completely staggered, Sam stares ahead with his phone still close to his ear. What did she just say? Dean is there? With her?! A million questions pop up in his head, but he finds it difficult to choose the first one to ask. 

     “What?!” is the only thing he can cry out.      “Yeah, I thought you might say that.”      “But, how the…? He went out to do Dad’s dirty laundry!” he recalls, stunned.      “Are you calling me dirty laundry?”      Sam’s eyebrows reach his hairline, remembering the coordinates John sent his brother. “You are Dad’s dirty laundry?”      “Apparently, but it doesn’t matter.” She interferes before the receiver of the call has the chance to ramble on. “Listen, Dean’s life is in danger. If he stays here with me, he’ll die. You have to get him out bef--”

     Now, it’s Zo who gets interrupted. Puzzled, Sam stares at his phone for a moment, assuming the connection might be bad. When the display shows three bars in the right upper corner, he presses the Blackberry against his ear again and listens carefully, trying to identify the sounds he hears. It seems like Zoë is fighting someone over the phone, then he hears Dean in the background.      “Give me the damn phone! Give it!”      “No! Let go!”      “Zoë!”      “Don’t Zoë me, you son of a--”      “Hand me the fucking phone!”

     The line cracks, but then the noise of static stabilizes. Dean has apparently won the fight over the device, because he can hear his voice loud and clear.      “Sam?”      “What?” he replies coldly.      “Whatever you do, don’t hang up,” Dean pleads before Sam does something he will regret later.      “I thought you were on Dad’s job?” the younger brother confronts, still angry with his brother.      “I am, this is the job. The coordinates led me to Zo,” he explains. “This is not some ghost hunt, Sam. This is unlike anything I’ve ever faced before.”

     The hunter hears the concern in his sibling’s voice and he immediately swallows back the smart response he had waiting for him.      “I need you to get over here, and while you’re at it look up everything you can find about hellhounds,” Dean demands, calm but stern.      “Hellhounds?” Sam repeats, perplexed. “As in the actual soul claimers of the crossroad demons?”      “Yep, and we’re on the menu.”      “How did that happen? You have to make a deal before they claim your soul at the arranged time,” Sam remembers from one of the lore he studied.      “They were let off the hook,” Dean claims. “Sam, you have to find out a way to kill them.”      “You can’t kill hellhounds, Dean,” Sam replies.      “No, you don’t understand. You have to find a way to kill them,” Dean repeats slowly, making sure the words sink in.

     The youngest gulps, realizing how much trouble Zoë and his brother are in. He has read some books that mentioned these creatures, but he never found anything about killing them. He turns around and stares up, letting the rain fall down on him, the water clumping his brown hair together in strands. The hunter scoffs; and he thought he made it to his final destination. He just traveled half the country to get east, now he has to travel all the way up north?

     “This better not be some excuse to get me away from Dad, Dean,” he warns.      “I wish it was, Sam,” Dean says, concerned. “Hurry it up, will ya?”      “Will do.”      “And - uh, about what happened down in Texas…”      “That’s not important now. We’ll talk about it later,” Sam replies to Dean’s unspoken words.

     Knowing they both can bury their pride and work this out, the younger brother closes his eyes as a burden falls off his shoulders. It must, for him to be able to carry a much heavier weight on them. Zoë’s and Dean’s life will depend on him.

     “One more thing,” Sam states, before hanging up. “You do know what happens when these things catch you. You don’t just die…”      “I know. You go to hell,” Dean finishes.      The young Winchester nods his head, although his sibling can’t see that. A short silence follows, after which Dean ends their conversation.      “See you soon, Sammy.”

     The line disconnects and a tone beeps in his ear, but it takes a few seconds before the young hunter actually lowers the phone and puts it away. Well, that changes things. There is no time to lose; he needs to get to Washington State and fast. 

     Determined, he stalks back onto the parking lot, observing his surroundings. No bus ride this time, he needs faster transportation. His gaze glides over the parking lot. Then he spots a silver 2005 Chrysler Crossfire Roadster amongst them. He nods, approving, knowing that the vehicle would make good time, but his conscience kicks in soon enough. He can not just connect some wires and steal a car like that! Or any car! But the thought of his brother and Zoë ending up dog food because he was too civilized to go grand theft auto isn’t something he could live with either. He’s left with no other option. 

     Reluctantly, Sam groans and eyes the vehicle, but then steps towards it while shaking his head and mumbling to himself, “I am so gonna regret this.”

Thank  you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee. Link in bio at the  top of the page.

[writingblock101]

White Flag (Jason Todd x Reader)

I’ve never written for DC before, but I’m a big fan of the Robins, especially Red Hood and Nightwing. This is long, so I broke it into two parts. The title comes from White Flag by Bishop Briggs. Rough sex is cool and all but you know what else is cool? Laughing during sex. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. 

Summary: One night, while staking out the Joker who’s making moves in Gotham, you get captured. 

Word count: 5,000 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, violence 

There are defining moments in one’s life: falling in love, getting married, graduating from college, having a child, but unfortunately, they aren’t always happy memories. You experienced your first defining moment when your brother was murdered. 

Gotham was an infamously dangerous city, crawling with thugs, thieves, and criminals. Murders, rapes, and bombings were a common staple on the news, but despite the well-known danger, no one ever expects them or a loved one to be the next victim. 

As you stood over the grave of your beloved older brother, your parents made plans to leave this forsaken, wretched city, but you knew you couldn’t leave. This city owned a piece of your soul and buried it six feet underground in a coffin. You stared at your brother's headstone and made a silent promise: You would do everything in your power to prevent this tragedy from happening to anyone else. 

Your parents left years ago, but you stayed and finished your college degree. In the wake of your brother’s death and your parents' departure, you withdrew from everyone. Your world paused, stuck in one spot while the rest of the world, the real world, continued to move. Your friends graduated, your parents left Gotham, and your brother’s body decomposed in a pine box six feet under, leaving you as an empty husk of a person. 

Then you discovered your powers. 

Ironically, in one of your lowest moments, you discovered your ability to emit a blinding light from your whole body. The initial discovery was an accident that left you temporarily blind for two days, but then you learned control and slowly began to crawl your way out of the six-foot hole you dug yourself into. 

You took fighting classes, graduated from college, and bought a gun. You had watched your life pass by for two years where you played an inactive role and passively watched murders, robberies, and rapes continue to plague the news, but now, you had a promise to keep. 

The Lightning Strike was born. 

Although the Lightning Strike filled your life with new purpose, it didn’t chase away your demons, but things got better after you met Jason. 

You’d just finished loading your car with groceries and was going to return your cart when a thug snuck up behind you and held a knife to your throat. 

“Give me your money, lady!” The man demanded. 

You sighed with an eye roll but raised your hands in surrender. I should’ve just waited to go grocery shopping until the morning. 

You grabbed his wrist, yanking the knife down and away from your throat, then stepped backwards and flung the thug over your shoulder. He slammed against the ground with a grunt then you pulled out your handgun, pointing it in the man’s face. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun and he froze in place. 

“Fuck off,” You growled. 

The thug nodded frantically and stumbled to his feet then sprinted away in the opposite direction. 

“Well,” A voice interrupted. “I was going to offer to help, but you don’t seem like the damsel in distress type.”

You turned to see a handsome man smirking at you with dark hair, deep blue eyes, and tall broad shoulders wearing a worn leather jacket. You chuckled, clicking the safety on your gun. 

“I always hated those stories as a kid, besides, there’s no such thing as damsels in distress in Gotham, only dead bodies.” 

The man raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re not wrong. It’s always nice to see when someone fights back.” 

“I can’t let Batman have all the fun.” 

He chuckled. 

“That would certainly be a crime. I would hate for that Glock to get dusty.” 

You raised your eyebrows, impressed. 

“You a gun guy?” 

He shrugs. 

“I know my way around. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out late in Gotham?” 

You glanced over at the grocery store with a smirk. 

“Oh you know, doing what anybody else would be doing at a grocery store… Hunting for elephants.” 

The man laughed with a shake of his head. 

“I guess I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?” 

You shrugged with a smile. 

“A little bit, but you’re cute enough that I can let it slide.” 

His eyebrows shot up at the compliment and another confident smirk crosses his face. 

“Yeah? Well, I am cute enough to get your number?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t usually give my number to random strangers in grocery store parking lots,” You trailed off with a coy smile. 

“Stranger danger,” He agreed then held out his hand. “My name is Jason.”

“I’m Y/N,” You introduced, shaking his hand. 

“Well, Y/N, now that we aren’t strangers, how about that number?” 

You tossed your head back laughing, a blush crossing your face. 

“Sure, Jason.” 

Giving Jason your number was one of the best decisions you ever made. While your relationship isn’t perfect, you make it work. Jason helped you reform who you once were and you taught Jason he is worthy of love. It seemed almost like fate when you two discovered both of your shared “hobby”.

For a long time, you did the vigilante thing by yourself, then a close friend, Mia offered to join the operation as a second set of eyes from behind a computer screen. While the addition of Mia was nice, having Red Hood as an extra layer of protection set your mind at ease. Despite handling crime in Gotham with different methods, the other is always there to help in a pinch. 

. . .

You wake up on Jason’s chest, morning light filtering through your curtains. You lift your head to check the time (9:45 am), then sighed and lay back on Jason’s chest. He shifts, his arm curling tighter around your back. Your thoughts drift to your mental list of errands to complete before either of you patrol tonight. 

We definitely need more groceries, I’ve got to drop my mom’s birthday present off at the post office, and I need to pick up my dress and Jason’s suit from the dry cleaners… Maybe Jason can do that and drop the package off for me then I’ll get groceries. Ugh, our apartment is a wreck, we need to clean. 

Jason’s arm flexes, pulling you closer to him as he takes a deep breath then opens his eyes with a groan. He looks down to see you lying awake on his chest and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Good morning,” You smile, tracing your fingers across Jason’s autopsy scar. 

“Good morning,” He whispers back in his hoarse morning voice. 

Jason catches your hand tracing across his scar and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“How long have you been up?” He asks, linking your fingers together and running his other hand up your spine. 

“Not long, I was just thinking about what we need to do before going on patrol tonight.” 

He hums in acknowledgment, trailing his hand under your shirt and kissing the top of your head. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly. 

“Is that my shirt?” Jason asks. 

“Maybe,” You tease. 

“Hm, looks good on you,” He whispers, and leans in for a long kiss. 

You kiss back then Jason releases your hand to run his calloused hands up your thighs, pulling your body flush against his. You run your hands down his chest, your thumbs pressing into his pecks then one hand slides down his body and begins rubbing his morning wood, trapped in his boxers. 

Jason groans into your mouth, his grip on your thighs tightening and his hips pressing into your hand. You smirk through the kiss then feels Jason’s tongue running along your lower lip. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss then Jason pulls you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. His hands slip under your shirt, following the curves of your sides before finding your breasts and gently kneading them. 

You pull your head back, your eyes closing with bliss and a soft sigh falls from your lips as Jason continues to rub your breasts, his fingers playing with your nipples. He uses one hand to guide your neck to his mouth and begins sucking a hickey on your soft skin. You sigh again, tangling your fingers into Jason’s thick hair and grinding your hips down on Jason. 

He smirks against your neck, and slides his hands down to your hips, guiding your thrusts, breathy sighs falling from both your lips. You push back against him hard, the head of Jason’s dick brushing against your clit through the fabric of his boxers. 

You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and press against Jason harder. He groans, running his hands up your muscular thighs. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asks. 

You smile with a light blush, continuing to push down on Jason. Jason drags your hips against him, adding his own thrusts. One particularly hard thrust causes your body to jolt and you let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh, Jay,” You breathe out. 

He grins in satisfaction, pulling you down for a kiss. 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” He mutters against your lips. 

You giggle, kissing him deeply. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

Jason’s eyebrows rise as a cocky smirk graces his features and you sit up again, continuing to roll your hips. 

“Handsome, huh?” He asks, driving another hard thrust against you that causes both of your breaths to catch in your throats. 

“You-you heard me,” You sigh, your voice stuttering. 

“I don’t know about all that,” Jason trails off. 

“Well, I do” You hum, laying on top of him and pressing kisses down Jason’s jawline. “I think you’re gorgeous,” You press a kiss to a scar on his eyebrow, staring into his pretty dark blue eyes. 

“Thank you,” He whispers back, kissing you on the nose. “Let me up.” 

You roll off him for a moment, allowing Jason to sit up with his back against the headboard and push the covers down to his knees, revealing his boxers before pulling you back onto his lap. You cradle his face then presses a long kiss against his lips. Jason’s hands slip under your shirt again, stroking your sides and breasts then drags a hand down your body, his fingers finding your clit. 

You gasp into his mouth, bracing your hands on his shoulders and grinding against his hand as he rubbed small circles against the sensitive nub. Your hips twitch, pressing down hard against Jason who presses against you equally as hard. 

“Fuck, Jay,” You moan, tossing your head back. 

Jason takes the opportunity to suck another hickey onto your neck continuing to rub your clit then his hand slides down to your entrance, pushing a finger into you. He strokes your walls, just barely swirling his finger around. 

“Mm, so wet, who got you like that, baby?” Jason asks into your neck. 

“Some guy,” You smirk, sitting back to look Jason in the eye. “Really sexy.” 

“Really?” Jason hums then leans in and drags his teeth down your earlobe. “Tell me about him,” He whispers then sits back with a cocky smirk. 

“He’s got a jaw that could cut glass,” You run your finger down Jason’s sharp jaw. “And the body of a Greek god,” You press your hands against Jason’s chest. “The dark, brooding type, you know?” 

Jason chuckles kissing you. 

“You’re a dork,” He grins. 

“And you’re my angsty teenager,” You boop him on the nose. “Did I mention he’s got a stubborn streak a mile--” Jason crooks his finger inside you, rubbing your G-Spot causing you to choke on your words and gasp loudly. 

“What was that, princess?” Jason asks, kissing your jaw and adding another finger. 

You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

“You seem to have choked on your words there,” He murmurs, speeding up his fingers. 

You moan again, your eyes squeezing shut before Jason slows his fingers and pulls out. 

“You’re an ass,” You breath, resting your forehead against his. 

“And your ass,” Jason slides his hands to the back of your thighs to squeeze your ass. “Is spectacular.” 

You grin. 

“Must be all the jumping off buildings,” Your hands find Jason’s muscular thighs. “It’s probably where you got these bad boys.” 

Jason chuckles. 

“You know, I never expected you to have a thing for my thighs,” He admits. 

“With thighs like these,” You squeeze his legs. “It’s hard not too.” 

Jason grins then kisses you again. 

“Sit up, baby,” He murmurs against your lips, helping pull you to your knees. 

You comply, sitting up on your knees long enough for Jason to pull his boxers off, freeing his erection. He squeezes your thighs again and gives you a long kiss as he guides you down. You slowly sink down him, both of you gasping once you reach the base. 

“Shit, baby,” He moans. “You feel amazing.” 

You pant for a moment then Jason pushes up into you, causing your eyes to fly open and dig your nails into Jason’s shoulders. Your mouth falls open as Jason does it again, staring you in the eye, the eye contact turning you on more. 

You push down on him, smirking when Jason’s mouth falls open, cursing quietly. He presses a searing kiss to your lips as he thrust into you again, you pushing down equally as hard. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groans, bitting your shoulder. 

You let out your own moan, bracing your hands on Jason’s shoulders and slowly bouncing. He pushes into you, the two of you working in slow tandem. One of Jason’s hands trails down your stomach, finding your clit again and rubbing slow circles on it. You curse, grinding down harder against Jason. Your hips jolt with each circle and your forehead rests against his shoulder as you continue grinding down against Jason. 

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good, so tight.” 

You lean back again, your movements getting shorter. Jason speeds up his fingers and thrust into you harder, knowing you’re getting close. 

“Ah, fuck, Jason,” You moan, your hips moving in their own accord. 

Then you pause, your nose itching. You stop, sinking all the way down on Jason again and pushes his hand away from your clit. Jason frowns. 

“You okay?” He asks, running his hands up your sides. 

You frown, your nose twitching and eyebrows furrowing. 

“This is going to be an interesting sensation,” You comment, feeling your face scrunching up. 

“What?” Jason asks then you sneeze into your elbow, causing your whole body to clench around Jason. “Holy shit!” He curses, digging his fingers into your sides. 

He pants for a moment, leaning his forehead to rest against your shoulder, his fingers still digging into your skin. 

“Sorry,” You giggle, running your fingers through Jason’s hair. 

He takes another breath, loosening his grip on you then chuckles and leans against the headboard. 

“Bless you, I guess.” 

You giggle. 

“Gotta say, that was a first,” You chuckle. 

“Me too,” Jason agrees. “Holy shit. I almost busted my load. How lame would that have been?” 

You grin, biting your lip. 

“You’re sexy enough that I think I could let it slide.” 

“Good to know my looks are good for something,” He rolls his eyes with a smile. 

You grin. 

“How’s that for keeping things interesting in the bedroom?” 

Jason throws his head back laughing, smacking a hand against his forehead. He straightens up, still grinning. 

“I don’t think there is anyone I could enjoy sex with more.” 

You lean in and kiss him, long and sensually. Jason slides his tongue into your mouth again, pulling your hips forward. You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips again. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it again and the two of you found your rhythm one more. 

Your kisses morphed into bumping teeth as you both grinned through your kisses then Jason catches your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully. He pulls your thighs up and thrusts into you at a new angle, brushing against you G-Spot causing your breath to hitch. 

“Fuck, right there,” You breath, digging your nails into the back of his neck. 

Jason complies, moving his lips to your neck, and thrusting at the same angle. You push down, feeling Jason’s fingers move faster on your clit as your organsm rapidly builds. 

“I’m close,” You say, gasping again. 

“Me too,” Jason groans against your neck. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you in for a long kiss. Your hips stutter and your back arches, pressing your chest to chest with Jason as his thrusts become sloppier. You gasp into Jason’s mouth then moan as you cum, your forehead against his. 

“Ah fuck, Jason,” You curl your fingers into Jason’s hair. 

He bites down on your shoulder and thrusts hard into you before cumming as well. He presses a weak kiss to your lips to which you reciprocate with an equally blissed-out kiss.  Jason pulls away from you, leaning his head back against the headboard as he pants, coming down from his organsm. You, also breathing heavily, lean forward and rest your head against Jason’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead before barely lifting you to let his rapidly softening dick slip out of you. 

You two lay against each other, Jason running his fingers through your hair while you trace Jason’s autopsy scar. He leans down and kisses you, then reaches for the covers, and pulls it over the two of you. You shift your legs to drape over one side of Jason’s legs, one of his hands resting on your thigh, the other wrapped around your back. He rests his chin on your head, occasionally pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

“I need to go grocery shopping,” You say. “Can you pick up our dry cleaning?” 

“Yeah,” Jason’s chest vibrates as he talks. “What about that present for your mom?” 

“Do you mind dropping that off at the post office for me?” 

“Does it have the address on it?” 

“Yeah, it’s good to go.” 

“Then consider it done,” He turns to his cheek on top of your head. “You patrolling tonight?” 

“Mhm,” You hum. 

“You still watching the Joker?” 

“Mhm,” You say again and feel Jason’s jaw tighten. 

You turn so your straddling Jason again and look him in the eye as his hands find your hips. 

“I’m not going after him tonight, just gathering intel,” You clarify. 

“Why bother? Let’s just take him down.” 

“I’m waiting to see if he’s working with anyone else.” 

“He doesn’t usually play well with others.” 

“Yeah, but since getting out, he hasn’t been making any noise which is weird because he always wants to make sure we’re the first to know he’s running around again. I’m making sure I’m not about to go in unprepared.” 

“Why don’t I go with you? Just in case.” 

“There’s no need,” You reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’d just be wasting your time.” 

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time if it meant I knew you were safe,” He tightens his grip on your hips. 

“I’m not going after Joker tonight,” You slide your hands down to settle on Jason’s waist. 

“Not until I’m there with you,” Jason stares you down. “I’m serious, Y/N.” 

“I won’t,” You promise, brushing his hair out of his face. 

“Good, because I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” He pulls you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head. 

“I’m going to be okay, Jay,” You tell him, kissing his ear. “I’m going to be careful, just like I always am,” You sit back, cradling his face. “Okay?” 

His hands come up, holding your wrists, and staring at you for a long moment. He finally sighs, giving in. 

“Okay. But if anything starts to go even slightly off-plan, you call me.” 

“I promise I will call you.” 

Despite your promise, Jason still looks unsure, but you know he will never be fully on board with your plan. It’s the Joker, he’s always extra cautious when it comes to that deranged clown. You lean in and kiss him sweetly. 

“I love you,” You smile. 

“I love you too,” Jason smiles back, giving you another kiss. 

“Come on, let’s go take a shower,” You say, swinging off Jason’s lap. 

He tosses his legs over the bed as you stand up then smacks your ass as you walk by. You jump then roll your eyes. 

“Come on horndog, we got shit to do,” You call over your shoulder.

. . .

After stopping a few muggings, car robberies, and preventing the rape of an extremely grateful teenage boy, you make your way to Joker’s warehouse. Once arriving at the warehouse, you scale the building to reach the long row of windows that run along the perimeter of the warehouse.

“M, you copy?” You double-check your comms. 

“Loud and clear,” Mia responds. “Any movement?” 

“Nothing I can see yet.”

Despite the lights being on, there appears to be no one inside, then the west side doors burst open and the Joker skips in, followed by two armed men dragging someone between them. 

“Shit,” You curse. “He’s got a hostage.” 

They drag the rather small hostage further into the room, but your breath catches in your throat once catching sight of the hostage’s face. 

“Fuck! It’s a kid!” 

“What?!” 

The little girl the two men are dragging can’t be any older than five. They toss her on a chair positioned in the middle of the room and tie off her hands and ankles, her head slumping forward. One of the men says something to the Joker that you don’t catch, but it causes the Joker to clap his hands together with delight and leave the room. 

“M, find me a way in,” You order, climbing to the roof. 

“Don’t you think you should call Red—” 

“I’m not going after Joker, I’m just grabbing the kid.” 

“But the Joker is in there! You know what he’ll do to you!” 

“Yeah, and I know what he’ll do to that kid the longer we argue!” 

“I don’t want you to get killed!” 

“I can handle myself!” You argue. “Geeze, you’re worse than Jason!” 

Mia sighs but you hear her typing in the background. 

“On the right corner of the roof, there’s a row of grates. The third one is the ventilation shaft that’ll take you directly to the room she’s in.” 

“Got it,” You confirm. 

“Be careful.” 

You jog over to the grates then lift the covering off the ventilation shaft before carefully lowering yourself down. 

At first, it’s a tight squeeze and awkward angle, but you manage to maneuver yourself into a crawling position and follow Mia’s directions to the main space of the warehouse. A few turns later and you are staring down at the top of the little girl’s head through another grate. The two armed men that brought the little girl in stand nearby on guard.

You lift the grate off the opening as quietly as possible then set it aside and reach for your gun in your thigh holster. You dig into one of your jacket pockets and pull out a silencer. The silencer won’t completely quiet the gun, but it’ll hopefully quiet it down enough to not alert the Joker. 

Once screwing the silencer on, you quickly shoot both men then gracefully swing down so you are dangling from the edge of the vent. You swing your legs then release and catch one of the iron support beams along the ceiling. You then fire your grappling hook and swing to the floor.

You rush to the little girl, squatting in front of her and cradling her face. 

“Are you hurt?” You ask, but the little girl doesn’t lookup. 

You frown, figuring she may be in shock, then use your other hand to lift the little girl’s head to check for injuries but your eyes widen at the maniacal grin on her face.

“Joker Toxin!” Mia yells in your ear.

“Shit!” You curse, as the little girl starts giggling and slowly stands up, seeming to have never been tied to the chair. 

You jump to your feet and yanked your Joker Toxin antidote out of your jacket. Once you started staking out the Joker, you were sure to stock up on the antidote, knowing it’s one of his deadliest weapons, but any plans to injected the little girl go flying out the door when she pulls her hands out from behind her back to reveal a large revolver and pulls the trigger. 

“Oh fuck!” You curse, diving out of the way of the shot. 

The little girl shoots again, but you dodge it again, your mind racing about how to disarm the little girl without hurting her. She tries to shoot again, but luckily for you, the little girl isn’t a good shot and misses, probably because she’s five. 

“This is so fucked up,” You mutter to yourself as you dodge another shot then rush forward and yanked the girl’s arm holding the gun into the air. 

She fires another shot at the ceiling, but you snatch the gun from her before she can shoot again. Now unarmed, the little girl giggles wildly then bites your arm. 

“Ow!” You yell, not used to your opponents trying to bite you. 

You nearly smack the girl but remember she’s five and instead yank your arm out from the little girl’s mouth and inject her with the antidote. The girl stumbles away for a moment, becoming disoriented from the antidote then a shot rings out, hitting the girl in the stomach. 

“No!” You yell, grabbing your own gun from its holster and shooting the armed man who just entered the room, but another man appears behind him and shoots, this time hitting the little girl in the head. 

The little girl hits the ground, blood leaking from her head as more men wearing tactical helmets flooding the room. You shoot one of them with your gun then try to fire the revolver, but it seems to be out of bullets, so you instead pistol whips the next closest man and toss the gun to the ground. You take a running jump and kick two men simultaneously in midair then emit a blinding light, attempting to blind the men, but their helmets seem to protect their eyes. 

You growl to yourself, shooting two men. One tries to tackle you, but you flip him over your shoulder and shoot him in the arm. Another tries running toward you but you jump up and drive a powerful kick to his collarbone, sending the man to the ground. 

“M!” You yell. “Find me a way out!” 

You throw four explosives that stick to four of the men then it blows up, taking out a few surrounding men with them. One man throws a strange gadget at you. You raise an arm to shield your face, but the gadget buzzes and pops then falls to the ground before hitting you. You lower your arm, confused by the gadget but then the comm in your ear starts to sizzle and pop. You yank it out of your ear and throw it to the ground, watching as it self destructs. 

“Son of a bitch,” You curse, searching for an exit yourself.

You spot a door that none of the men seem to be entering through on the opposite side of the room, of course. You roundhouse kick a man in the face then pull out your grappling hook, but before you can fire it, someone shoots your hand. 

You drop the hook in pain and use your other hand to shoot the man that shot you. You holster your handgun then fire your grappling hook with your opposite hand and swing to the other side of the room. Before you can open the door, it flies open, revealing two gigantic men. 

You grit your teeth and spring up to jump over the men but one of the men moves faster and catches you midair, holding you up by your neck then slams you into the wall. You claw his hand with your nails and kick your feet out, attempting to kick the man, but he’s too big. He tightens his grip on your neck, cutting off your airway. You cough but manage to get both your legs around his arm. Before you can finish the move, the other man slammed his elbow down on your knee.

You cry out, hearing a loud snap then the man slams you into the floor and pins your arms down under his heavy boots before you can grab your gun and begins repeatedly punching you in the face. Your head slammed against the floor repeatedly with more force each time then you hear a loud crack along with an explosion of pain along your nose after a particularly hard hit. You struggle under the man, attempting to free your arms, but he presses down harder, grinding your elbows into the floor. 

You emit another light, blinding the man, then bring your legs up to your chest and kick the man as hard as you can. He goes flying backward and you stumble to your feet, your head now ringing, your version blurry, and your knee throbbing. The other huge man dives at you but you easily duck under him, but you don’t duck in time for another person to tackle you to the ground. 

You try to free yourself again then your eyes widen when you look up to see the Joker had you pinned to the ground, holding a crowbar and grinning maniacally. He lifts the bar and you try to duck out of the way, but you’re pinned and the bar comes slamming down on your face. Your vision blurs again, your face burning, but the Joker swings again. You feel skin tear off your cheekbone, everything getting darker. It only takes one more hit for your world to go black.

We love a good cliff hanger, hope you enjoyed! I apologize for any grammtical errors, I originally wrote this with an OC but I think I changed everything. 

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow! Let me know if you would like to be tagged! 

Part 2

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Prompt List #9 - Historical Aus/Prompts (Requested)

@viseriyen I know your focus was more 18th century France, but I never covered that during my degree, my focus was more 19th century Britain. This has a variety of historical aus/prompts, they won’t all be relevant and I can’t guarantee their historical accuracy for France, but I hope they help, give you ideas etc. 

“I can’t...you know I have no control over my marriage. I can’t even divorce him...I have nothing to hold against him.” “Then give him something to divorce you for.” “And tarnish my good name?” 

AU in which character a is desperately in love with character b, but can’t divorce their husband because divorce laws make it nigh on impossible for ‘wives’ to divorce their husbands without a ‘legitimate reason’. 

Intense heated love letters because we have to keep our distance and can’t do anything that would jeopardise our positions or our reputations. But, I can send you lusty love letters that you hide under your pillow instead. 

Illegitimate child/unwed pregnancy and the trials of being together, loving your child together but knowing they have little standing in society and the way people treat you because of that.

Fan language AU -> https://raulersongirlstravel.com/language-of-fans/#The_Language_of_the_Fan 

My parents are trying to marry me off and you're the latest person they’ve brought to show me off to and I don’t want to like you, but I kind of do. You clearly don’t want to be here anymore than me. 

The smallest touch is the most intense. 

You went off to war and come back after a long campaign the papers have been reporting on. You have appear gruff, mean, and cold to everyone else, but are soft with me. 

The typical trope of hardened, gruff character a who melts around character b. 

(19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. 

Sweetheart trinkets, like embroidered handkerchiefs, engraved jewellery, hidden message rings, carved trinkets etc. Especially a ‘here I made this for you or I had this made for you’. 

Letters that were never sent. After character a’s death the letters are found and posted to or given to character b revealing the unsaid feelings. 

We compete for top spot in school in spelling, mathematics, science etc. School rivals.

Character a bathing in a river, character b awkwardly stumbling upon them all apologetic or alternatively character a bathing in a river and character b protecting them from some no good ruffians. 

Horse rides; for leisure, maybe character a was stranded and has to share a horse with character b, being stuck in a carriage together. 

Childhood rivals who finally see each other after years of being apart, maybe because of boarding school/finishing school or otherwise. The horrible realisation that your rival is now hot and also can keep up with you in conversation. 

Those gentle kisses to the top of a hand or gentle touches between gloved hands. Gentle hands!!! Gentle kisses!! All demure and totally appropriate but with hidden meaning and heat. 

Childhood friends who haven’t seen each other since they were little and are now betrothed and oh my, you’re beautiful/handsome and I am not prepared for this.

We’re betrothed but have only ever communicated through letters and this is our first ever meeting and i’m petrified you aren’t going to be the person I know through letters

Perfume scented letters, secret code, love poems, and dried flowers. Sent long distances to you with love. 

Contraception catalogues and the very specific packaging of sheaths (aka early condoms) as things like pill boxes, ladies power boxes, cigarettes, etc. to hide them. Do with this as you will. 

I am spinster, you are a bachelor and we have a rivalry because how dare you get paid more than me and while i’m compared to a rotten egg. Alternatively, I am spinster by choice and refuse to marry, but you are making this very very hard. 

Gals being pals, boys being ‘mates’, the known cases of boarding school love between same sex couples and also we’re both spinsters/bachelours and work together in our intellectual studies and we’re totally not in love...no sireee. 

Oscar Wilde had a thing working class and military kink so do with that what you will, i’m sure you could make a upperclass/working class au/couple. One’s rough, resilient, hard working, and one’s dainty, far too spoiled and brattish but they both like each other somehow. 

You’re gruff and rough/snappy, rude, but I can see how sweet you are to horses, animals, kids, and I know there’s a softer side beneath all of that. 

It’s my first ‘season’ and you save me from all these men/women sniffing around me trying to get my attention. 

Scandalous private time i.e. we’re supposed to be chaperoned but here we are in the garden on our own together or in the woods alone or in a small corner without a chaperone and what would people say. 

Character a defending character b’s honour. 

You’re my second in a duel/I’m your second in a duel, please don’t die

All the duels, duelling each other, duelling for the other, defending the other’s honour etc. 

You look beautiful but dear god why are there so many layers! 

I just spent an hour drawing you a bath bucket by bucket because I love you, but i’m a hot mess right now as a result. 

You break social convention for my comfort. I.e. something like you forgo allowing people to watch our wedding night because you want me to be comfortable or you refuse to allow some other stupid tradition that you know scares/intimidates/upsets me. 

Over the top professions of love. 

“I would die, without an answer to my feelings. I would die here. My breath would choke in my throat, my blood run cold, and my selfish heart stop. I cannot live without answer, without knowing whether my feelings are returned or not.” 

Character a being the dotting husband/wife/partner and helping character b get out of all that ridiculous clothing so they can cuddle and sleep. Who needs maids and servants when you have a life partner. 

I want a partnership, a kindred spirit, a soul mate, not a servant.  You want the same thing. I am awed by this.  (possibly + we’re rivals, childhood enemies etc.) 

Your family don’t approve of me, and mine don’t approve of you. I wish we could simply run away, but that’s a foolish dream. 

Educated woman expects man to talk about her wandering womb and how education will make her insane and barren, instead finds man actually wants to hold an intellectual conversation with her and they strike up and unexpected friendship and then love. 

Character a denying themselves of character b because they don’t feel good enough or because they feel it would be selfish maybe because they’re in a war or because they can’t provide what they feel character b deserves. Character b is not here for this bullshit. 

We get trapped in a small cabin in a snowstorm together wild west au. 

We get trapped in any small space in any time period au

I would say we should stop having children but I love each and every one of them and I love you too. Large family AU.

We’ve just lost our child in infancy, grief, hurt/comfort. 

You’re in labour and i’m terrified for you. I am not allowed in the birthing chamber and the midwife would murder me if I tried. 

Alternatively, I refuse to not be present for the birth of our child and don’t care what anyone says. I'm here to support you and will be physically in the room. 

You’re competing for my affections but you never had to compete because you always had them. 

You do not have to duel everyone for me over the smallest slight, look now you’ve gone and hurt yourself and I suppose I’ll have to give you my favourite handkerchief to deal with it.

I am pro royalist and you are pro-republic. I should hate you, you should hate me, but god if you aren’t all consuming. 

You’re one of my suitors and the gifts you bring me aren’t jewels or flowers, but books, microscopes, telescopes, knowledge. I like the way you think and seem to seem me.

I am nearly trampled by someone’s horse in the street, but you step in just in time to get me out of the way even though it puts you in danger yourself

Despite the cost of sugary treats you always turn up to my parlour with some sort of sweet and I know they’re not the cheapest. 

Anything involving a copper bathtub is a vibe. 

I always look for your seal on my letters. Yours is the first letter I read and the one I treasure most. 

I have kept every note, every little, every little thing you’ve ever written or drawn for me.

If images inspire you you might find my other blog @theillustratedmagazine helpful. It has 20th and 19th century illustrations. 

[scary-lasagna]

Slender-Sitter Part II

Part I : https://scary-lasagna.tumblr.com/post/190427192730/slender-sitter

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The dull of your shoes against the marble was basically white noise as hours passed searching for this little heathen. This place you were in, well, the outside was an understatement to its generous indoor space. 

Slender, the eldest, decided it was best to look after his youngest brothers while you found Offender.

Easier said than done.

This little asshole is the best escape artist you've ever seen. At one time you thought you cornered him in a closet, but when you opened the sliding doors he was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn't until Slender mentioned that he likes riding on the backs of doors that you actually found him.

"Let me go! This isn't fair."

"You destroying the entire damn house is not fair." You heaved Offender under the armpits as you started the descend the stairs. "Now go watch tv like a normal kid until your mother gets home." You chucked him on his feet towards the direction of the living room by the grand staircase.

But as soon as you put him down he ran past you, squeezing into a little divet behind the stairs. He must've flicked a lever, or pushed a button because a section of the stairwell slid open for Offender to hide into. The faster you ran towards it, the faster it seemed to close.

"Let me in!"

"Suck peepee!"

You leaned your forehead on the door, wondering if your life is really worth it to look after these kids until nightfall.

You retreated to the living room, knowing Offender can't get out without you hearing the creaking of the marble.

You sat down onto the couch, and Splendor was immediately shoved into your arms.

"What, you don't like him?" 

"None of us do. He's gross, he laughs too much instead of crying, and he's part human." Slender crossed his arms, leaning too far into the leather of the couch. It looked like it was eating the frail boy alive. “No offense.”

"But he's still your brother, kid, you're going to have to learn to like him because you're going to be stuck with him for the next 17 years. Or whatever 17 years is in your time."

Slender pushed out what sounded like a scoff. And Trender was too preoccupied in trying to shove a circle through a square hole.

Kids are such dumbasses.

You joined him on the floor, kindly showing him how to put the circle through the circle hole. He stared at you the entire time and didn't even pay attention.

"Jesus- dude. Look," You tapped plastic shape against the wood, and he looked down for like 2 and a half seconds before returning to staring at you.

You sighed and placed it in the hole yourself, leaning back against the couch.

"How old are you again?

"Eleven."

"So why are you watching the news?"

"Mom doesn't let us go out, so I like to see what's happening in the human realm." Slender shifted on the couch, trying to free himself from the leather prison he was being sucked into.

"I'd say cartoons are more fun." You looked at the news report of a nearby murder on the screen. One that was in your town.

"You know what else is fun? Finding Offender." You looked back at Slender with a scrunched up nose.

"Well, he said he was hungry earlier, so I suppose I could make something as bait." You chuckled and pushed yourself up. But that was a mistake because Trender started babbling with his chubby arms outstretched. You whined, yourself, not knowing if you could carry more than one child at once. 

But to your surprise, Trender formed a pair of lips which soon started quivering. You stomped your foot and swooped him up in your other arm, hurrying to the kitchen so you could set them down. A few moments later and Slender was looming on the sidelines.

"Did you guys not eat breakfast or something?"

"Deliberate isn't a good cook."

Ah yes, that asshole. The one who got you into this mess. You'll just have to show him up then. 

But when you opened the fridge for ingredients, there wasn't any.

"You have to say or think something before you open it." Slender mentioned, and he had to pause when hearing the marble of the stairs scrape against each other. "But all of the ingredients come out raw."

"Spaghetti then?" You cocked an eyebrow and reopened the fridge, blinking a few times to make sure your eyes didn't deceive you.

Faceless kids, human slaves to eldritch creatures, and now food that materializes out of thin air.

A package of noodles, cups of water, sauce, and rounded, raw meatballs sat neatly on the first shelf of the previously empty fridge. Offender kept creeping closer with each ingredient you started to prepare, eventually sticking his nose on the counter to watch you stir the sauce. 

"You like food, huh?"

"It's my favorite thing." He mumbled into the granite counter, his unseeing gaze still staring at the wooden spoon stirring the pot.

Then the wooden knocker of the front door rattled the entire house, and even Splendor stopped chewing on his foot long enough to observe the sudden loud noise.

Had Mother returned home early? It's only around two o' clock.

You kick a stool from beside the dinner table towards the stove, "Here," You handed Offender the wooden spoon, "And don't put your grubby hands in the pot or I'll throw you out the window."

You didn't stick around to hear him giggle at your joke, because you were already running off to answer the door.

"One moment!" You called from the other side of the door, struggling to figure out what the locks do. But you realized they were locked from the outside as well. Mother trapped you here to keep you in.

Well, that's not very nice.

But the guest paid no mind and knocked again.

"You'll have to come back later when the lady is home!"

Another knock, but this like it was louder and more aggressive. You got a sinking feeling in your gut, a dangerous, primal feeling of predatory fear. Had that murderer from earlier found this place?

You walked over to the window and shoved the curtains to the side to see who was so adamant about being let in.

You were about to scream, but you held it back for the sake of the kids who were peeking in from the kitchen.

You never thought you would be able to literally feel the color draining from your body as you did at that moment.

The creature was well over 8 feet tall, and its skin was neither faceless nor pale white like the rest of the abnormal creatures you've seen today. It looked like a demon straight out of a horror flick, with deep crimson and pitch-black skin accents, and topped off with five-inch-long teeth that were poking past its lips and a curled set of horns that grew in various directions.

You didn't even bother lingering on his triple jointed legs as you closed the curtains as quickly as you opened them, and paced past the door to close the other set of the long gray curtains. 

You just hoped the creature would find someone else to harass while you made spaghetti.