#Bloody shares his brain cell with Fang

[h-didanart]

Hey, so like, there was this post earlier that said “Nonverbal Bloodmoon” and I saw it and reblogged it and, uh, it wouldn’t leave my head

I made a bunch of doodles of my two technically nonverbal Bloodmoons

Yeah

First off, Fang! Dear beloved. The ability to mimic voices is one Fang has but words are rather tricky, even more so when the only frame of reference there was for a long time was in vaguely Shakespearean English. Fang is basically a weird fusion of a cat and a dog, communicates mostly through body language, and is also incredibly physically clingy on account of being essentially blind in most situations. The second picture features Fang’s twin, Scythe.

And then there’s Bloody. The not-so-silly-anymore boy. Bloody does have the ability to talk, they actually do talk sometimes even, they just don’t usually do it. The reasons for this are a bit hard to explain, the bottom line is that it’s a trauma response, selectively mute if you want an actual term. He’s the more expressive of the twins and already had a bunch of little things he did before shit went down, and afterwards he’s still rather expressive if less impulsive and energetic. They too are clingy but instead of sticking to the person they’re clingy towards they will have a thing that reminds them of the person and hold it for a while. Harvest makes a little cameo here, questioning Bloody’s clothing choices.

And now their dynamic being friends. Communication between them is hard. Neither talks, Fang can’t see, when Fang can see Bloody isn’t in a good space to talk, there’s plenty of challenges to their friendship. But they can deal with those, Fang has some pretty good hearing and smell and Bloody isn’t exactly the quietest walker with all the random things he carries, Bloody can often guess the mood Fang is on by looking at their tail movements, and for direct communication Bloody will usually spell words out on Fang’s hand (yes Fang actually knows the alphabet and the letters, just can’t pronounce them)

Pictured above is a situation I can summarize like this:

PROTECT FRIEND

*makes friend uncomfortable*

I AM A FAILURE

And them officially becoming friends :3

Bonus doodles :3

(Still workshopping their color palettes, was very close to giving Bloody a blue shirt but remembered they don’t like blue, and Fang feels a bit dull :P)

[darkeninganon]

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

[monstrousaffections1]

Love Stinks  Chapter 1

It may have been the first time the police had been called to Eastview Highschool. But it was at least the tenth time they’ve had to drag Mildred Chapman down a school corridor. The teen dug her boot heels into the worn tiled floor as she thrashed from side to side, screaming incoherently. The student body had gathered into the hall, watching the scene unfold, some were concerned, but most, in fact, almost all, had taken out their phones to video the event. Saliva ran down her chin as she lifted her legs and gave kick to a locker. The men, although professionals, struggled to keep hold of the violent child. Following them down the hall, came a teacher, followed by a bunch of boys wearing the football team’s colors. “What the hell’s wrong with her?” asked the worried teacher. “She’s fucking mental Miss! Didn’t you see what she did to Jake?” One of the news paper boys lifted his camera as the police hauled her past. His camera flashing as he snapped a picture. Mildred’s eyes widen and she lunged at him with screech of pure fury. He jumped back and tripped he stepped back into a wet floor sign. As the police barely managed to wrestle her to the ground she continued to scream incoherently, murder in her eyes. That is till the sudden but familiar electric feel of a taser zapped through her body. “EEeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!” The students winced. “Oooh..” they chorused. As Mildred slumped, body spasming a little from the jolts. One of the policemen gave a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God…” The teacher covered her mouth in horror. Before turning to the crowd. “Havn’t you all work to be doing!?”

When Mildred came to, her head ached, her body hurt and the lights were too damn bright. Groaning, she covered her eyes, laying in the cell bed. What had happened? She couldn’t quite remember all of it. Mostly she just recalled losing her shit when Jake thought it would be funny to shine a light in her eyes out of nowhere. But that was it. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and moaned, everything hurt. Outside the cell, she could see her parents talking desperately with the Chief of police. Probably trying to pay her bale. Looking in the mirror above the sink in the small room, she took in her state. Dried blood covered her hands, but it was not her own. Ah… so that’s what happened. She sighed and slouched, rubbing her hands over her forehead. Briefly she was able to pick up on bits of the conversation. “Have you taken her to see a doctor…” Then the dialogue became hushed. She rolled her eyes. Yes, she’s been to a doctor. Many times. Nothing they gave her ever did any good. Eventually it seemed her custodians were able to convince the man in charge to let her go. Getting to her feet, Mildred pulled the black hood of her jacket over her head. Staring at the concrete floor, listening as the keys jingled until the door was unlocked. Not waiting till the door was fully opened, she shoved past the chief and strode over to her parents, shoving her hands into her pockets. “So. Home then?” She declared with a smile. And with that, made her way out to the waiting room. Passing the secretary’s desk, the woman pushed a freshly made coffee across the desk for her. “Hey Mildred.” “Hey Mary.” After the fifth time she’s been in hear, Mildred had become friends with the older woman. “Beat up another kid?” “I think so, I can’t quite remember.” “Yeesh, that’s tough.” Mildred laughed a bit. “Hell yeah, I mean, I think I’m probably expelled again, but hey, nothing new.” Mary put a pencil behind her ear as she crossed one knee over the other. “Weren’t you on medication?” “I was.” Mildred confirmed. “But the school nurse found out and made me give it to her.” “Well, that’s stupid.” “Yeah, like, I can administer my own pills you know?” Briefly looking down the hall to make sure her parents were still talking with the chief. She picked up the cup and downed the coffee in one go. Instantly she felt ten times calmer. Sighing, Mildred sat down in a chair by the desk and ran a hand over her head. “Let me guess… He’s asking all the same bloody questions as last time, right?” she muttered, rubbing her nose. Mary sighs, “he’s just worried about you dear.” “Mary. Adults being worried has never given me any good. Only more grief.” It was true. Mildred could list all the times in her childhood that a adult being worried had only made things worse.

Red and blue lights flashed off as a car pulled up outside. Mildred sat up and she and Mary shared ominous looks. There is the sounds of a scuffle, shouting, and noises that couldn’t possibly be from a person. As the doors burst open, about five policemen were wrangling what looked like very large and very angry angler fish. Well… Mildred assumed it was a angler fish. Or… at least an angler fish-man. She wasn’t overly familiar with the terminology of Monsters, but she was sure she’d seen something like in one of the school’s propaganda movies. Creature of the Black Lagoon? Had it been? She wasn’t sure. But what she was sure about, was that this thing could tear apart everyone here if it wanted. She got out of her seat and called into the hallway. “Hey! I think it’s time to skedaddle don’t you guys!?” Her parents and Chief Lewis quickly entered the waiting room. Instantly her father agreed. “Yep. Time to go.” “Back door.” Mildred muttered. Chief Lewis gave her a look. “How do you know about the back door?” “Don’t ask.” The girl headed in that direction, sharing a worried look, her parents followed. It was best to get out before the Slayer’s came. Unless you wanted to witness something gruesome. But hey? Who needs a decapitated monster in their nightmares?

Once at home, Mildred quickly escaped upstairs so she wouldn’t have to deal with a oncoming lecture and suggestion of therapy. Parents, am I right? Locking her door, she collapsed onto her bed, laying on her front as she stared at the clock across from her on the bedside table. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she kicked off her boots, rolling onto her side and curling up onto her side, keeping her arms tucked into her chest. She didn’t want to check her phone yet. There would no doubt be a million texts and missed phone calls from her classmates, and let’s not forget the news. Troubled teenager attacks fellow student. In the end it would be preaching the same old shit. That she was on medication, had severe mental health issues, and couldn’t stand bright flashes of light. The interviews from teachers would describe her as a strange girl who kept to herself and gave obvious singles of trouble at home. This would lead to another visit from the CPS and then the whole cycle would start again. Running a hand through her hair she sat up. Unzipping her black hoody, she threw it over the mirror and began to remove her bra. The damn thing dug into her skin with its infernal fire. But God forbid she have to do sport without one. Pulling out her mph3 player she put the ear buds in her ears, playing a few tunes. It was a bit taboo for humans to listen to monster music, and vice versa, but hey, she lived to rebel. She was already a freak anyhow. Not that she liked monsters of course. She wasn’t an idiot. Not even an infant would trust those fanged and gnarled things. But hey, a good song was a good song. And hey, before you ask, no. It wasn’t racism… speciesism… or whatever it was called. It was actual fear. Monsters killed humans. And hardly anything was ever done about it. Because what could one do? These things had magic powers, they had strength that outweighed that of a humans’. They were so different than humans in every way. And most of the time. Very little empathy for other living things. They were known for their cruelty, for torturing people just for fun. And then being gone before the police even arrived. There was a knock at the door. Mildred sat up, not answering. She wouldn’t give them an opportunity to be let in. “Mildred?” it was her mother. “Darling?” Mildred felt her chest tighten with guilt. She hated having to shut her out. But it was easier this way. “Mildred, the principle called… you’ve been expelled again…”. The teen sighed and laid back down. This had been the last school in their district. No other school would accept her. Too much of a streak record. Ten schools. Ten of them. And each one. She blew it. It didn’t matter how long she lasted there. A month, a week, a year. In the end. Just as things were going well. Shit happened. Always when she was least expecting it. Once it got around that she wasn’t going to be enrolled anywhere anytime soon, there would be calls for her to be placed in a mental hospital. Rather locked up than let to roam the streets. A danger to society. Is what the therapist had labelled her.

She could hear her mother sigh on the other side of the wood. “Look… Mildred… I..” she stuttered. She knew just as well as her daughter did what would happen if she wasn’t enrolled. The teenager waited for the words, what would she say? ‘I’m sorry.’? ‘This is for the best.’? Heh… no. What came out of her mother’s mouth was ten times worse than any form of apologetic hopelessness.

“Mildred… We’re going to enroll you in Spooky High.”

Seven years ago

Mildred sat back stage with the other girls, furiously scratching her pink leotards. They were itchy, itchy, itchy! The music blared loudly as the older girls came to the climax of their performance. Swan Lake. Soon their turn would be up, Sugar Plum Fairy. Mildred scratched her hair, making a muck of her neat ballerina bun.

The little girls giggled and whispered in hushed but excited voices; this was one of their first recitals that wasn’t for babies. There was a round of enthusiastic applause and flashing of cameras, Mildred whined and covered her face. The noise felt like ice picks being driven into her brain, she pulled her knees to her chest and started to rock a little. “Miss Lemming! Mildred’s being annoying!” Little blonde Sarah had announced with a snooty voice. The middle-aged woman quickly snapped. “Mildred stop rocking.” It seemed to be a learned trait of ballet teachers to be strict and mean. Mildred’s parents would often joke that they could hear their daughter’s name being yelled quite often from the parents’ lounge. Though Mildred didn’t find it very funny. The little girl fixed Sarah with a glare as she tucked her black hair behind her ears. As the sixteen-year-old Swans trotted like primmed poodles off of stage, the teacher gestured for the little fairies to get up. “Ok, girls, just like we rehearsed, straight line.” The youngsters got in place and trotted out onto stage. A chorus of coos came from the audience. Mildred held arms with the other girls as they were meant to. The music erupted loudly from under the stage, it was much louder hear. Upon the same moment, an array of camera flashes burst from the darkened audience. Mildred shrieked as for a moment she was blind, her head racking with ruckus. Then, blank. All rational thought left her body and she lunged for Sarah, tackling the other girl down onto the stage and started to tear at her hair and face. Sarah screamed and started to hit back, grabbing Mildred’s earing and pulling. Mildred shrieked and landed a hard punch into the other child’s nose. The other girls screamed and some ran off stage, the camera’s kept flashing and the music kept playing, boys in the audience started laughing and cheering as their parents tried to hush them. Miss Lemming ran onto the stage and Mildred’s parents rushed along the row of seats. The two girls screamed and grappled, neither wanting to let up as the adults wrestled to get them apart. After about ten whole seconds, were they separated and carried kicking and screaming off the stage.

Mildred sat on the hospital bed, a bandage around her ear. In the room next to her, Sarah had cast on her nose. Outside her parents were restlessly talking with a woman in a suite. The child stared silently. She didn’t like the look of this woman. Eventually, her mother entered the room and sat on her bed. “Mildred. There is a lady here to see you.” The young one tilted her head. “Why’s that mummy?” “They just want to have a chat, ok darling?” Mildred blinked with curiousness. “…ok.” She crossed her legs and hugged the pillow to her chest as the suite woman entered the room. “Hello Mildred,” She was friendly, but the she could tell something was off. She didn’t quite know what it was, just… something. Later, after a few years, Mildred would finally find the right words to describe exactly what this lady was. Poisoned Honey. “Hello…” the little girl greeted, feeling queasy in the gut. “I’m from child protection services, would you mind if we had a little talk?” “….am I in trouble?” “No, no dear. Not at all.” Heh, yeah right. After a little while, the woman had been able to worm out of the child all the dirty little secrets.

It ended as one might suspect, with a mandatory evaluation from a therapist, and a three-day institutionalization until they could come up with a proper diagnosis. In the end, they had been unable to find out what was wrong. Or rather, not in one specific category. The doctors said she was autistic, the nurses suggested she was going through zombification, the therapists pondered if she was schizophrenic. Upon finding no clear classification, they had just scratched their head, put her on anti-psychotics and had sent her home. Everything went back to normal after that. For a while that is.

But in the end, not for very long at all.

Present Day

It was Wednesday morning. Mildred sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s car. She clenched her fists, gripping the bottom of her black hoody tightly. As they entered the school zone the car slowed. Mildred briefly brushed her hair to hang over her face from under her hood. She just knew this was going to end so badly. “Mum, if you wanted me dead. You could have just hired a hitman.” Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes. “Mildred… please promise me you’ll try and make a good impression.” “Why? It’s just a meeting today… not like I’m probably gonna be accepted here…” “Well… you never know.” The sixteen-year-old avoided her mother’s disappointed gaze and stared ahead. Her chest tightened with self-loathing. “Isn’t the principle a spider or something?” Her mother tried to chuckle. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.” They turned into the parking lot. Two individuals stood by the changeable copy board. She tilted her neck a bit to try and read the message. ‘Copiers can sense fear. Stay calm and speak to the machine in low soothing tones.’ …. What… Mildred’s mother lowered the window. “Excuse me, can you tell us where to find the administration’s office?” as the fellow teens turn to face the car, well… lets just say that it looked like they were the ones who had seen a ghost. Which was saying something as… well, one of them was a ghost. Mildred tensed and wanted to facepalm in embarrassment. There was nothing worse than standing out. Let alone drawing attention to oneself. The ghost smiled brightly. “Oh Sure!! Uuhh Just over there I think hehehe I’m drunk.” The monster beside her… a.. uh… Mildred wasn’t sure what it was, but it was purple and had a green eye in it’s chest with a head full of tentacles. Anyway, the monster besides the ghost nodded it’s head vigorously in agreement. “Yeah! That way!” and pointed with a tentacle arm. “Ok.. thaaanks..” Mildred nodded and as the car moved forward, she fixed her mother with a expression that can only be summed up as, Are you Serious? Parking under the shade of a tree, they got out and started to walk along the footpath towards the screen doors ahead of them. Surprisingly, the place was well furnished, it looked just like a completely normal school. Sunlight shining in the windows, the football club’s slogan painted on the floor. Student art projects up on the left wall, and a trophy cabinet on the other side. “Doesn’t look.. that bad.” Her mother commented and smiled. Mildred snorts. “I highly doubt.” Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she looked up at the sign on the wall. “Heh, no necromancy permitted on campus, charming.” Mrs Chapman sighed. “Come on, I think the administration is this way.” And follows the sign that points to the main office. Rolling her eyes, the teenager follows, putting her ear buds in to play some music.

After asking directions from what seemed to be a deranged bear janitor, they finally found the main office. Mildred crosses her arms over her chest and frowned as her mother spoke to the harpy sitting at the front desk. Briefly looking around, the human walked over to a few staff pictures on the wall, she gnawed her lip as she took in the concoction of monstrosities. Although they were only head shots and not much to go off, they still gave a good view of the oddities of this place. “Mildred?” Her mother whispered and gestured to a seat in the waiting room. With a roll of her eyes, she sauntered over and slumped down into the chair, resting her ankle on her knee with disinterest. Nodding her head to the beat thrumming in her head, she almost didn’t hear the principle’s office door open until Mrs Chapman shook her arm when she didn’t respond to her name. “Mildred.” She snaps softly. “huh?” The teen jerks out of her trance and quickly presses pause, removing the buds from her ears. “What?” Her mother looks like she wants to slap her. “Mildred. This is Principal Webber.” Wrinkling her nose, the girl looked up, and up, and up, at the very large, very giant, bipedal arachnid. “Whoa!!” she exclaimed with surprise. “Heh, The brochure wasn’t kidding when they called you a giant spider!” Mrs Chapman facepalms. The large arachnid chuckles in that way they always do when it comes to children. Happy but condescending. The entire meeting was pretty straight forward. Her mother did most of the talking, telling the spider their situation, and sugar coating her condition. Mildred had put her ear plugs back in not even half way through, closing her eyes and nodding her head. When she opened her eyes again, she caught her mother’s relieved expression. So, it was safe to say she was accepted.

After enduring an detestable and lengthy lecture about her rudeness and making false promises to write a letter of apology to the principle, Mildred had successfully blocked out her mother’s nagging. Once home she had excused herself to her room to go on her computer, Tibbles joining her by laying on the desk. Locking her door behind her she looked over her room. It was common that her things were gone through when she wasn’t home. Ever since the accident with the sharpened toothbrush. Her room was painted a dark purple, a fluffy pink carpet on the floor and a black bed against the wall. Most kids liked their beds against windows. But not Mildred. If someone ever tried to break in, well, the last thing she wanted was to be fell upon the moment they entered the window. Lowering her hood she went to her desk and turned on her laptop, turning up the volume on her mph3 player she typed in Spooky High. …. Huh…. There has been a lot of fires apparently. And a large number of student-on-student murders… Apparently the campus has had to be rebuilt 15 times due to catastrophic catastrophises. Mildred dead panned and gave her cat an unimpressed look. “Make sure to say something nice at my funeral.” The grey tabby meowed and laid on the keyboard. She giggled and gave him a kiss on the head. Pulling the scrunched-up application form from her pocket, she uncreased it as much as she could and read over the basic questions. It was straight forward, first name, last name, second name. Age, what grade. That kind of thing. She ticked the female box, but then paused. The next question was inquiring as to her species. Mildred bit her lip, pondering this. On one hand, she could write human. It would probably be obvious she was human, however… well… it wouldn’t really matter, just a bit of fun before her demise. She wrote Unspecified onto the dotted line and snorted with a bit of humour. Yeah, she was definitely going to die. Looking at Tibbles she scratched his chin. “See you he-… well, maybe not. I’m for sure going to hell, but your damn well going to heaven even if I have to sneak you in their Mission Impossible style.”

As the end of lunch bell rang, Vera leant forward, applying a darker shade of green lipstick to herself in the bathroom mirror. Her snakes hissed and slithered around her shoulders, whispering to each other. Miranda brushed her candy floss coloured hair and babbled on about the latest cover-shoot she’s been asked to partake in. “And then I had my Serfs do the photoshop for me,” she giggled, fixing the crown upon her head. Vera rolled her eyes and ignores the other aside from a few comments as she applied some eyeliner, using her dagger as a ruler. “Were they pretty at least?” “Oh yes, Daisy is quite pretty for a commoner.” Putting her blade back into her handbag, the gorgon is adjusting her jacket when her hair’s whispers harshens and agitated hisses become slightly audible. “Sssshe’sss coming, ssshe’sss coming!” Polly flies through the wall and waves excitedly with a huge smile. “Heey Boo!” Miranda’s smile widened into one of sharp teeth as her bright blue eyes lit up with joy. “Pollyy!” The poltergeist giggled and gave her friends a wink, pushing her sunglasses up onto her forehead. “You’ll neeever guess what me and Zoe saww today!” Vere hisses lightly with an amused roll of her red eyes. “Let me guess, a cute boy?” The ghost gives her a slightly annoyed expression, “Ugh, nnoo.�� She pouts as her smile comes back. “A human is enrolling!” She exclaimed. Miranda’s eyes bulge as she mucks up her lipstick in surprise. Vera blinks, her snakes going quiet. “Oh?” The mermaid princess giggled a little as she wiped off a smudge of makeup, “Oh Polly, are you sure that’s what you saw?” She asks with a slightly condescending tone. It was well known that the poltergeist was often drunk, stoned, or otherwise drugged up. The ghost hmphed and folded her arms. “Lets make a bet.” Vera chuckles mirthfully, “I’m listening.” Polly’s eyes glinted excitedly. “If there’s no human, then… uuh..” she tries to think of something. Miranda clasps her hands. “Then you got to go sober for three weeks!” The Spector seems caught off guard by this term, but then decides, it’s worth the risk. “Deal! And if there Is a human. Then you guys gotta flirt with… Leonard!” She exclaims and both ghouls shudder. “Fine.” “Deal.” They reluctantly agree. “This so-called human has till Monday to appear.”

Pulling on her boots she did up the laces before lowering her trousers over the leather. It was Monday, the beginning of what was left of Mildred’s life. So not long. Adjusting shirt, she started to brush her hair. It was choppy and all over the place. And with it’s dark look, quite often got her mistaken for a goth. Heh, she may wear all black. But this kid, nah, she didn’t regard herself as a goth. She was a Rocker. And proud of it. Brushing cat fur off her top, she tucked it into her trousers for warmth, she’d chosen a white one with a silver crown printed on the front. Grabbing her hoodie, she slipped it on and zipped it up, pulling her hood up before grabbing her fingerless gloves. Tibbles meows and rubs against her legs. Smiling she reaches down and pats his head. “See you later baby, hopefully.” She kisses the cat’s head and grabs her backpack; it’s decorated with keychains. Heading down stairs she grabs a plate of toast her mother left out for her. She was nearly late, and although she didn’t truly care, she didn’t fancy walking all the way to school, plus, it seemed to be universal rule, that all schools phoned up your parents if you were absent. Always. With that in mind she shut the door and burst into a run down the footpath, heading for the bus stop. The clouds this particular day were cloudy and overcast. It would rain tonight. As she rounded the corner, she saw the school bus coming up the street. Eyes widening, she slowed and walked casually to the bus stop. Pulling her hoodie further down over her face she quickly got out her bus fare. As the vehicle slowed to a stop, she risked a glance up at the windows, many monstrosities howled and growled inside, carrying on like it was feeding time at a zoo. She gulped as the bus doors hissed open. Taking a hesitant step up she climbed aboard and gave the gargoyle driver her fare. She couldn’t quite place the expression on the stone configuration, though she was pretty sure it was pity. Or hunger, or something of the two. Moving down the row of the bus, she kept her head low and looked for an available seat. Moving down the row of the bus, she kept her head low and looked for an available seat. Slipping in beside a purple bat eared boy wearing a bowtie she hunched forward, it seems that no one had noticed she was human yet, as long as she kept covering her face. There was a slight scoff from beside her. “Please, the brooding emo trope is a bit cliché isn’t it?”

Clenching her fists as she felt anger coil around her chest, tightening into a knot. She looked up, giving the vampire a fierce look. His skin was a light shade of purple, one side of his head was shaved, the rest of his hair tied up in a man-bun. Though he downgraded from his cool hairstyle as he dressed in what can only be described as 50s fashion. She wrinkled her nose and grinned almost evilly. Cliché huh? Well, she’d show him. As the hipster’s yellow eyes widened and his ears flicked forward in surprised interest, she felt a smug happiness brighten her day. “Unconventional enough for you?” she asked with false sweetness. With that, she takes her ear plugs and puts them in, playing her best playlist. Liam swallowed thickly. Pushing his glasses back up his nose he stared at the human for what seemed like ages, for once in his eternal life, the vampire was blown away. Sure, he’d interacted with humans before, both in history and for feeding purposes. But truly, no humans aside from Slayers and Witches went to Monster Highschools. And this particular whelp, was neither of them. With a moment of panic, he whipped out his phone and started furiously texting. Although he would detest his reaction later, at this current moment, he was shook. Mildred kept her eyes closed as she let herself rest, mimicking sleep. It felt almost as good as the real thing. Slumbering was one of the only things that brought her a sense of peace outside of music. Yet even music couldn’t quell the hypervigilance completely. Coming back to reality she then remembered a very important detail. She forgot to take her tablets. “Ah shit…” she mumbled and inwardly facepalms. She settles for staring at her lap and tapping her foot in tune to the tunes in her ears. She already had her plan stacked in her head. Go to office, get timetable, sit at the back of class in the corner, which was the safest place to be at all times, she’d learnt this the hard way on the first day of human high school. So, she assumed monster schools were no different. At lunch she would eat in the corner, once again, the ignorable area. The day would be a breeze, in, out, as long as she kept her hood up and head down, no one would know she was human. Except for the vampire guy… but he'd know to keep his mouth shut… right?

[wokeastroke]

Oubliette

Tirian had never expected to own a dungeon. He never saw the need. When a man kills, when a man steals, he is either killed or beaten within an inch of his life. Why would he want to keep them? Why torment them further when a beheading was arguably cleaner, less expensive, easier?

But the beast had long since turned his mind into it’s stomping grounds. It’s violent and eternal brain set on very simple and easily accomplished goals. It recognized the enemies about it, the weak ones, the loyal ones. And it recognized itself. When Tirian’s black, dead end eyes met the shining, glittering ones of Riva Ban’dinoriel, there was kinship. The predator that had taken her was a cousin, a sister in murder that thrives on the more subtle methods of domination. In a way it felt weaker, it’s slithering, snake-like appearance easy to stomp underfoot. But never would the bull stomp upon the snake, for fear of the poison in its fangs.

“Oh Tirian, do not look at me with those dark eyes. I’m tired of feeling like you’re going to sling me upon my table and ravish me. Or kill me.”

Tirian scoffed at the doctor, sitting upon her much-to-big leather chair, writing in her leather bound notebook. He was, conversely, seated on a hard wooden stool. Of his own choosing, as before they ever descended into the bowels of Ghostlynn, he needed clarity. It appeared a hard wooden surface under his ass was helpful in that regard. “Never either, Riva. I adore you but I wouldn’t want to break you. And gods know we’re close as can be without blood in the mix.”

Riva made a noise of annoyance. She never enjoyed being told she could not handle something, even if it was a coupling she had no desire to enjoy. Sex was a tool, as much as any drug, and only one had ever enjoyed Riva’s attentions without ulterior motives driving the doctor’s movements. The very thought brought a sigh to her precious lips and a purring from within her, her own beast remembering and appeasing itself with that memory. The doctor scratched a few more things into her notebook, in a script that she’d developed for note taking of this caliber. The symbols were foreign, the entire book looking more like the scratching of a madwoman than the murderous, bloody examination of a gift she and the broad elf before her shared.

A gift, she called it. As it was. It was through the beast that she’d survived being locked underground with a beast of nightmares, it’s mouth vomiting viscous purple slime and it’s wails loud and haunting enough to drive most mad. She tittered to herself, drawing a flick of an ear from Tirian. Perhaps it HAD maddened her. What other than a madwoman would claw her way through half a mile of dirt, stone, and mud with nothing but her nails? She’d broken, that terrible day. And then she’d been remade. A darling, precious doctor turned into a... well.

Tirian cleared his throat, pulling her from her musings. As much as he enjoyed sitting still and watching her quill’s large and ridiculous feather bob and bounce, he did not come down here to watch it. He was here for another reason entirely, one that left his knee bouncing impatiently and his brows furrowing further with each minute he was made to wait.

Riva was the master of the Oubliette, a dark pit where the worst of the Blackrose Duchy found themselves. The worst that could not be turned towards something useful of course, or be caught and gifted to the more elegant dungeons of Vynlorin. Killers had their place, beneath Lord Felo’dorah. If they could not be tempered, would not submit to the king of murderers, they were no better than rabid dogs. They were worse, as even Primrose had been capable of controlling the hounds of the woods. No, this scum had no purpose other than one, one he and Riva had begun to take part in together. A strange sort of bonding, one part madness, another part hunger. Altogether, purely violent. Tirian had come to make good on this violence, to enjoy it to its fullest in a place where not even the guard could save their shared prey.

“You’re taking too long. Make your notes when we’re finished, but I’m hungry now and I know you are too. Get up, let’s go.”

Without waiting for her, Tirian rose to his feet. The room they were in was dark and cold, burrowed and constructed beneath the grounds of Ghostlynn by a thousand worker rats, all vehemently loyal to their god-queen. Tirian’s lip curled up, exposing his teeth in disgust as the vermin skittered about, on various tasks for her. They gave him a wide berth, respectful distance. They were loyal, yes, but not stupid. Even the lowliest rodents knew predators when they saw them, and he was more deranged than any they knew. Riva stood soon after, dusting her already pristine surgeon’s scrubs off. She gave another sigh of annoyance, but he could see it in her eyes as she gifted him a small key. Her shining, predatory eyes. She wanted this as badly as he did, perhaps more so. He could contain his hunger for a time, a week, two. But madness could not be contained. He knew for a fact that Riva fed her beast multiple times a week, sometimes twice daily she indulged her devilish delights. For a moment he wondered what it would be like, to be beneath her scalpel. He shuddered. There was sharp pain, the drag of nails or gnashing of teeth. And then there was the clinical precision of the Good Doctor’s blades. They were not alike.

He inserted the small key into a hole within the center of the wall. Twice to the left, once to the right, pull, once more to the right, push. A delicate system of gears and pulleys allowed even someone as small and thin as Riva to push the great slab of stone inwards. The wails began almost immediately. Men and women screamed and writhed in their cells, the light of even the small office unbearable after so long spent in the dark. Cells lined both sides of a long hall, rats still scampered about in the endless task of feeding, watering, and ventilating the shit-stink of the place. The last task, it seemed, was near impossible.

Their prisoners howled and cursed and gnashed their teeth. Knowing only the beast eyes of rats, their swarming caretaker, they had long forgotten the sensation of foreign bodies. However the malice was palpable. Neither the lord nor the doctor ever came here for good things. Tirian started down the hallway, head held high, as if to rise about the scents and sights of filth and mud. It wasn’t that he was disgusted, no, he was their lord. Even the prisoners of his lands would see him as he must be. Strong, tall, untouchable. They did not deserve his kindness, so none of it graced his face.

“Tirian, if you would, our subject for this morning is a man seen poisoning the crops of your furthest village. Crops that you know are already meager. Their output has been slowed by at least half, and will likely be so until Primrose is sent to usher new growth.” She spoke in a crisp and clipped tone, all pretenses lost as she had already given into the snake in her eyes. It cared for nothing but it’s venom and the venom’s effect.

“So close to war, all crops will already be taxed to feed our men, the alliance’s men. Do they not know that they will simply die second?”

“He speaks in gibberish, most days, yet appears to believe that a life served in undeath is payment enough for his services. Immortality, it seems, is too holy a grail to give up. Even if the means by which it is given are unholy.”

“He is mistaken if he believes his life will be anything other than cut short.”

They lapsed into silence as Tirian led them down the damp and dark hall. The wails of the damned had lessened now, returning to the pitiful mewling, the animals crouching low in their burrows in an attempt to escape the ire of the twin pair of beasts in their proximity. None had the mind left to hurl even insults. A result of the mixture of drugs and restorative that was mixed into their food by the very doctor that stalked them. Enough to ensure they died only when it was wished. At a short clearing of Riva’s throat, both stopped before the cell of a man dressed in ragged farmer’s wear.

It appeared he had not been given a change of clothing when he arrived. None the entered this hell were. His beard had grown unruly and matted, his hair hanging long and dirty and in his face. He did not react as the gate was unlocked and opened, a large and intricate lock falling to the ground with various metal noises. That alone seemed to startle the man. He rose from the ground, a mad dash for the entrance that only served to earn him a fist to his jaw. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard asTirian rubbed at him knuckles, growling slightly as the popped and cracked from the surprise usage.

From the ground, the farmer could only look up and blink in the darkness as the pair entered the cell and stood side by side, looking down on him. Riva spoke first.

“Hello, Mister Demps. I must admit you are looking worse for wear. It has only been a week since your internment, you know. What have you been doing to yourself?” She was sure to keep Tirian within fleeing distance. Proud as she might be, she knew her physical limitations well enough to know to avoid being within grabbing distance. Better to simply watch as Tirian worked, until he was prepared for her own brand of feeding.

And work Tirian did. He stepped forward as the good doctor spoke, taking the bruised and weakened farmer by the throat and twisting his arm behind his back. With this control over the mute fellow, the elf was able to shove him against a nearby wall, holding him steady with a steady application of pain.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” He observed as the man only gasped and murmured. A turn of the head and the night eyes given by the void clarified the reason behind this trait, however. “You took his tongue.”

Riva tittered as she worked behind him, her voice the only sound that told that he was not alone in the cell. “He shouted awful, hurtful things when he was placed within the cell. You must forgive me, but insults must be met with punishment. I believe he has long learned that screaming will not aid him. Tirian didn’t look convinced, even as the doctor arrived beside him, a silver syringe held between delicate, gloves fingers. The needle proceeded dreadfully slow to Demps’ bulging neck, likely for her own enjoyment. The bull didn’t at all kind, as the fear radiating from the farmer was enticing in its rawness. What did the doctor do to the fellow that could neuter him so? He found he did not want to ask.

Instead he breathed in, the antennae-like tendrils on his head weithin as they soaked up the raw terror from their meal. They always seemed more lively during feedings. Then, all at once, the needle found Demps’ carotid artery. Even to the lord, this seemed ill advised, but she was the expert here. The blue liquid pumped from the syringe and into their shared prey’s bloodstream, diffusing almost immediately, traveling to the brain, seeking the neurons that would activate-

Tirian groaned aloud as the concoction worked its magic. The sudden burst of vile and primal fear that coated the cell made his legs shake. The light gasp from behind him was evidence of Riva’s own reaction to the stench. The aroma he’d come to associate with energy, peace, sleep. Food. He stepped back, throwing the farmer to the ground and standing away. His shoulders heaved with his heavy breaths, his head growing light. Riva stepped beside him, grasping one of his strong arms as her own sort of feeding took it’s toll. It always did, for her. Her body was weak, as if her mind was the only muscle she sought to improve. Besides her ass, of course.

He found himself intoxicated as the human scrambled to the wall of the small cell, turning his face and closing his eyes as the wails and moans began to leave his throat unbidden. He looked down, noticing a tightening in his pants as his heartbeat quickened. He always got like this after feeding.

Riva fared no better. Her legs failed her, and only her grip on Tirian’s muscles arm was keeping her afloat in this sea of control. She didn’t care for fear, emotion, especially human emotion, was a waste unless utilized. But the sight of her control, her mastery of chemicals and minds, was orgasmic. Her tongue escaped her open mouth. Her tongues. She’d long ago split the muscle in two simply because she thought it would look good. Her smile was gone, replaced by a look that any would describe as hungry. Horny. But neither wanted sex. They wished to feed. And only when Riva finally patted his arm, signaling that she was fit to burst with the emotion of control, of subjugation, did Tirian raise a hand to the man against the wall.

Long ago, he had had to be close to his meal to devour them. His eyes and mouth had been the only point fear could flow into him, where sustenance could be gained. But he’d grown, since then. He was a bull, a lord, and he would not sully himself by coming closer during his feast of the senses. The power radiating from him coalesced in a simple point upon his palm. It flowed from his eyes, over his tongue and teeth. Cold and dark and sinful, it washed across the room at an unspoken command. Eventually, the energies that eddied and slithered across the ground met the prey, as it sat there and begged the gods for forgiveness with a tongue that could no longer speak. Tirian answered, instead.

“Do not beg the gods for release. In this moment, we are your gods. Tell whatever deity takes you who sent you to them.”

The draining process was swift, pulling the raw mass of terror from within his soul and sucking it across the cell. It was an ugly form of writhing screams and dripping piss and tears. The very essence of fear and anxiety rolled within the air until it was dragged back into the lord’s eyes. The sound was not unlike a predator breaking the bones of its catch to suck the sweet marrow away. It was was gone in an instant, and Tirian’s eyes and mouth were as ‘normal’ as a void elf’s could be an instant later. His hand dropped as he turned away, uncaring of the outcome of the broken, shell of a beast that sat within the cell.

Demps lay against the far wall, having curled into a ball to protect himself. When the attack was over, he merely sat up and stared at the pair. There was no life in his eyes, no pain, only the clear confusion that one feels when they know they must feel something else. He would never feel this anxiety again, damned as Tirian was to a life without fear. This proved a blessing, however, as Riva leveled a pistol to his chest.

The shot rang out, answered by the cries and screams of the forgotten, freshly reminds that beasts stalked their unwilling home. Their prison. The hole blown into the man’s chest cavity was ragged and wide, large enough for a rat to crawl within. It appeared this would not be far off, as Tirian could already hear the screeches of hunger and skittering paws.

“I’m leaving. See you again in two weeks, Riva.” He murmured before stalking off into the darkness. Riva called back a moment later, speaking in her regular, energetic, sing song voice.

“Oh do wait for me, Tirian! Who knows what sorts of monsters lay here, hiding in the dark?” Doctor Riva Ban’dinoriel tittered as she stepped lightly, neatly skipping from the Oubliette.

[bookmawkish]

Just a patient, chapter 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

All my fanfictions (includes more Loki)

Tag list for Loki fics: Tag list for Loki fics: @only-kneel-before-loki @ohhhmyloki@1800-fight-me@tarynkauai @rainhowling @hanasonly @dean-the-trickster@nikora3010@skip-the-static @sailor-moons-butt@clockworkherondale@oatballsoffury @artbysteph87@smginger1131 @lokislilslut @pokemaniac1 @squishyxghost@roguedovesblog @jungwencantdie @elastrael @fourleaves413 @agentexmachina @dreamsfromanemptyteacup  @imasultforlokiandspencerreid @memmucci 

I’m so so sorry if I’ve missed anyone. It’s been a long few months for me.

If pressed (and you’d have to be pressed - talking about yourself is not your favourite occupation) you’d always have described yourself as down-to-earth. When the other kids were daring each other to say bloody mary bloody mary, you were staring yourself down in the mirror, learning to meet your own eyes without flinching. When people blessed each other for sneezing or threw salt over their shoulders, you just watched, marvelling at the superstition and the inherent gullibility of humanity. You’re not at all religious, and there’s a reason for that. To you, religion has always been the largest branch of superstition: the biggest Bloody Mary game of all.

The fact that you seem to have fallen into the arms of a god in some kind of metaphysical star-studded hinterland infuriates you almost beyond measure. How dare this be happening. How dare you be in this - this non-place outside your known reality, where your body seems both there and not there in a baffling and enraging duplicity.

And particularly, how dare Loki be staring down at you in a supercilious manner that you just know has to be as fake as the whirling constellations that seem to surround you both. For some reason you’re currently unclear on, you’re absolutely certain that he has no more fucking idea what’s happening than you have.

And despite the fact that you’ve heard him speak, despite the fact that he’s standing there holding you while looking as poised and aloof as a Greek statue, you somehow know that really - really really - back in the reality you call your own he is still a slavering beast. This is the eye of the storm, a tiny impossible patch of calm and silence. This is not what is. It is a dream of what is not.

The blurring stars cluster above you in sickening, vertiginous spirals. Loki seems to be standing on the dusty, dappled clouds of multiple nebulae, his feet scattering stellar fragments. There’s no real up. There’s no real down. No atmosphere, no wind. You cannot feel any air touching your face or hands, either cold or warm. You are not in pain, nor are you hungry or tired. The only sensations you can feel anywhere on your body are from where he is touching you.

You are in the mouth of the snake, dangling above the precipice, and he has his fangs gripped on your nape. But you are not afraid.

You are furious. The sense of losing control has always made you furious, and hanging in the arms of a mad god in a limbo of stars does not constitute an exception.

“Put me the fuck down.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. Put me down.”

His chest heaves, arms clutching you tighter, reflexively, as he sighs.

“Very well. I hope you enjoy the taste of human flesh.”

Your brain refuses to process this. It’s the last in a long line of things your brain is giving you shit for lately.

“What.”

“Human meat,” says Loki, annoyingly upbeat. “Human blood. In your mouth. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Not particularly. I‘ve had other people’s blood in my mouth before.”

He laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. It makes you more determined to struggle, which you do, but his arms flex and tighten on you like steel wire. He really doesn’t want to drop you. Interesting. And worrying.

“What about dying? Do you like dying, mortal? I assume you must. You’re always doing it, after all, all of you. It‘s like a hobby.”

“Where are we?” 

“We are sharing a subconscious,” he replies, testily indulgent, as if giving class to a bunch of pre-schoolers. “A dream. This is not a place. This is us. The sky is you. The floor is me. And vice versa.”

You look around at the shifting, galactic emptiness that surrounds you. Under other circumstances it might be beautiful. Right now it turns your stomach.  Fuck these Asgardian hippies and their cosmic bullshit. You are not a place. You are a person, and you are not inside him. The thought alone makes you nauseous, and the queasy lurch in your gut reminds you of something.

“And how exactly would that make me a cannibal?”

He sniffs in amusement again, and you’re suddenly (horribly) reminded that to Loki, eating human flesh is not cannibalism because he is not human. It’s probably on a par with eating bushmeat for him. The morality of the superior species always feels unfair to the inferior - which is why the heart of most human comedy is based in punching upwards, not downwards.

“I, as the stronger, am choosing to hold us like this. In this one moment. In a single state, the one with the other, so we may converse. If I let go,” he says, “then there will be nothing keeping our selves separate. And your weaker self will easily be absorbed by my own. You will be tearing out throats and eating noses as soon as we return. There will be two of us sharing that cell, and if they do not tie me quickly enough, it is likely we will fight, and I shall kill you. Or if they do tie me, we will sit there companionably in our shared bondage, reeking of sweat and blood and madness until they get bored of their game and drown us both like rabid dogs in a bucket.“ His sharp green eyes look directly down at you and his grip slackens, just a little.  His long fingers flex. A message? No, more overt: a definite warning.

“Still want me to put you down?”

  On the battlefield, in the operating theater, in life - it often feels as if there are no right choices. Nevertheless, there are always choices. The primary reason so many people are so unhappy in this day and age is that they believe that all choice has been taken away from them, and that they are solely bound to the choices of others. This is never true. There are always choices. Always. Even if they are not good, easy to make, or the ones you wanted, or they are all almost as bad as each other - they are still choices. They are your choices. You can always choose. You may not want to, but you can. 

You can choose not to go to work in the morning, and for every other morning after that, but you will likely be fired and then you will not have money. You can choose not to pay for the expensive dental treatment that you need, but then you will probably have no teeth and an infection and a larger medical bill. You can choose to be part of society, with all the restrictions and stresses and benefits that infers, or you can go and live in a cave on a hill and be beholden to no-one.  Sometimes your choices can change the outcomes of a situation. And sometimes the outcome will be the same, regardless. You can’t count the times that you have seen people try different methods to cheat death with the same final result. They choose to strive or they choose to submit.

But there is always a choice. So what will it be?

  Your hands slip into the folds of clothing at Loki’s shoulder and chest, and grip harder and harder until your knuckles stand out whitely in the unnatural glow of the unreal stars.

“Good choice,” says Loki, sounding hugely smug, the bastard.

“Take us back,” you say, and in contrast you sound dead inside, your voice flat and inflectionless. “Take us back now.” Because you don’t like it here, in this dream world where the only real thing to be felt is Loki and you sense you cannot trust your eyes.

“Me?” says Loki, still jovial (although you suspect there’s a new core of cold in his tone). “This is not my doing. I could not come here alone. This is a place for sharing. I needed you.”

“Why.”

You’re asking, but in all honesty you’re not even interested anymore. All you can think of is your own couch, with battered caved-in cushions and the motor oil stain from when it was stored in the garage and all. You crave silly things. Oreo cookies with half and half. The red and green blanket you bought in Thailand that shrank in the wash. The weird smell of that scented candle you won at a Christmas fair, musty and woodish. You want your own real things back, no matter how ridiculous or small they are. Not the outlandish glory of these brilliant false stars or the terrible, solid reality of the mad god who holds you.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” says Loki, but in stark contrast to your own misery, he sounds positively delighted. 

[reveriequill-rai]

Blood Candy: Chapter 8

When I came to, I found myself in a sickeningly familiar office. 

I was bound to the same chair I was in yesterday using the same thick rope Seb used to choke me. 

“Hope the ride wasn’t too bumpy,” Jasper Kermit’s voice said. He entered the room and crouched down to my level with an arrogant smile. “Took you long enough. Though…” He frowned. “You’re not nearly as bloody as I expected you to be.” Jasper’s smile suddenly returned, only more cheerful this time. “Good! Means your little friend Sebs is actually marginally obedient and isn’t a greedy little leech.”

“Let me go!” I demanded as Jasper got up to go to his syringe cabinet. “I’ve done nothing to you!”

“I don’t exactly care,” he said, “but thanks for reminding me.” 

“I hope you realize I only took your stupid vampire candy just to be polite,” I snapped at him. “I should’ve just turned it down and saved myself the trouble.” 

Jasper laughed, a cruel and condescending sound. He crouched down to my level, syringe in hand. 

“You really think I would’ve given you that choice?” he taunted. “God, you are so naive. It’s embarrassing, really.” 

My heart was thundering. I was gonna die here, I thought. I’ve been kidnapped, I can’t call anyone for help, he’s gonna drain all of my blood and feed it to his army of vampires, he’s gonna—

Suddenly, Jasper started poking needles in the back of both hands, then in both wrists, and in both arms. Though the pain of blood works didn’t affect me as much anymore, having six needles stuck in my veins at once, plus the knowledge that these six needles were going to drain me of all my blood and kill me, made the entire process much more painful. 

Finally, he hooked all six needles up to one longer-than-normal syringe, with several others on the sidelines. 

“Oh…hold on,” Jasper said with a smirk. “Before we start, there’s one last thing I need to do.” 

He grabbed a nearby roll of duct tape, ripped off a piece, and taped it over my mouth. 

“Wouldn’t want a noise complaint, now, would we?” Jasper taunted. He wore a sadistic grin on his face...revealing fangs in his mouth and confirming any remaining suspicions. “Now we can get started…” 

Suddenly, a fire alarm went off in the building. 

“Wh-what the hell…?” he said, then turned to me, an annoyed look on his face. “I’m gonna go check out the alarm. Fortunately, you can’t really escape, so I guess enjoy the last minutes of your life.” He stood up and walked out the door. 

I tried to ignore the pain in my arms and wrists as I tried to figure out a way out of the situation. 

Chances are, I thought to myself, that I wouldn’t be able to escape before Jasper gets back. And if he sees that I tried to, then he’s probably gonna kill me even faster. I could sit here and die, and if/whenever Sebs snaps outta this, then he’ll have to live with the knowledge that he’s the reason his ‘best friend in the whole wide world since kindergarten’ is now six feet under with empty blood vessels and ghostly white skin. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I hope Seb feels like the scum of the earth for this—

Wait. No. Why am I blaming him? This is Jasper’s fault. He was the one who spiked the candy—with what?—he probably enlisted Seb to choke the consciousness outta me, and he is the person draining my blood. Not Seb. He didn’t want this. He wants me alive, and every remaining conscious part of him is probably screaming at himself mentally for putting me in harm’s way—

“Dakota!” a familiar voice called. I looked up to find Akira, Kaveri, and the kid from the other day, Oliver. He had a bandage wrapped around his shoulder with a bloody spot in the middle. 

“Hey! Finally!” I cheered. “GET THESE THINGS OUTTA ME NOW.”

“Alright, alright, geez,” Akira said. “You act like you’re dying.” She and Oliver began gently taking the needles out of my veins. The two of them raided the desk for bandages, and put them on my wrists and arms. 

“How did you guys find me?” I asked. 

“This hospital is one of the main headquarters of Clueham’s top vampire guild,” Kaveri explained as she was cutting me loose. “It’s also the only local hospital--because the Clueham officials all share a single brain cell--so I figured you’d be trapped here.”

“Oliver—or Oli, for short—is Jasper’s younger brother,” Akira said. “He was in the waiting room crying, and I asked him what was up. He told me about his brother who caused both the small bleeding hole in his shoulder and Seb’s newfound insanity. I triggered the fire alarm to cause a distraction, and boom!” She pulled out the last needle as Kaveri finished freeing me. “Here we are.”

“Akira, you genius,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s,” Oliver said, “before Jasper gets back. Exit’s just upstairs—“

“No,” I said. “I need to face Jasper.”

Oliver’s eyes widened with fear. 

“A-are you crazy?!” he cried. “He’ll kill you! And if he doesn’t, then Sebastian will!” 

“Seb wouldn’t kill me,” I said with a smile. “Hurt me, probably, but he could never bring himself to actually kill me.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He pulled out his phone. “Can you set up some barricades?” he asked Akira and Kaveri.

He closed and locked the door, then opened up a video. Both girls nodded as they pushed the two chairs in the room in front of the door. Then, Oliver pressed play. 

The video showed Jasper in his office, experimenting with what I assumed to be blood and a variety of chemicals. The camera was positions a little higher up, but not high enough to be security footage.

“All the vampires in the facility—Jasper included—busted the security cameras,” Oli explained, “so I set one up behind the books in his office.

“What if he pulled out a book from that shelf?” Akira asked. 

“Well, he didn’t. He doesn’t read anymore; they’re just for show.”

Suddenly, Seb stormed into the office in the video. Jasper whirled his head around, a confused expression on his face. However, it quickly turned into a smile. 

“Oh, you must be Sebastian Briggs,” Jasper said. “Yeah, you definitely came here before. I recognize you from our database. How’s it going?” 

Silence. We could only see the back view of Seb, so if he was smiling, we couldn’t tell. 

Seb pointed to his neck with a shaky finger. “…m-make me…one of you…”

“Ohhhh…” Jasper said, nodding. “I see.” Suddenly, he gave Seb a slight glare. “Wait…no, no no no. I just…I can’t really do that, see. I don’t exactly know if I trust you to not be a filthy leech like some of the other greedy…subjects from before.” Jasper stood up. “See, you’re just the errand boy. You get Dakota for me, and once you do, then you get to start your real job. Got it?

Seb nodded.

“…b-but…I must…feed…like you…” 

Jasper sighed.

“You made a candy that gives people bloodlust,” Jasper murmured to himself. “Of course this was gonna happen.” He let out a sigh, and leaned back in his chair. 

“You know what?” Jasper said. “Sure. I’m gonna have to convert you anyways.” He stood up and grabbed something from his drawer. “But biting’s just…so informal, y’know? You’re my colleague now, I can’t just bite you on the neck like you’re some random on the street. Don’t worry. I got just the thing for that.” 

Jasper pulled out a small dagger-like device. The blade resembled that of the tooth of a wild beast, and the metal handle had dark red markings on it. 

“This little thingy allows me to give people the vampiric curse without biting them. Originally made for a vampire who got her teeth knocked out. Gimme your neck.”

Seb did, obeying Jasper with such blindness that it caused my blood to boil. I watched as Jasper held the other side of his errand boy’s neck as he made a decent-sized slit along his throat. As he did, the dagger’s markings lit up. When he was done, Seb was on his knees, holding the area where he was cut. Finally, he stood up, as Jasper gave a triumphant smile.

“Perfect,” he said. “Sebastian, you work for me from now on.” He took out a black long coat from his closet. “Put this on. There’s a small mirror over there if you wanna check yourself out.”

Seb put on the coat, and went over to a nearby mirror—which just happened to be on the bookshelf. That’s when Seb noticed the camera. 

The video cut off just after he looked at it. 

“I was controlling the camera from my phone,” Oliver explained. “So I turned it off right as I saw Sebastian looking at me.” 

“…so, he’s a vampire now?” I said. 

Kaveri nodded solemnly. I looked over at her.

“Can we cure him?” I asked. 

“We can probably cure his bloodlust,” she said, “but if you want him to, well, not be a vampire…you’re gonna have to kill him.”

I sighed. 

“Guess I’ll just have a vampire for a friend,” I said.

“Once this is over,” Akira said, “I want at least 90% of the credit for this conspiracy.”

“You’re still gonna make a post about this?!” Kaveri cried. “This isn’t a game, y’know. This is an actual threat.”

Akira just shrugged. 

“Gotta keep the hustle goin’,” she replied simply. “Besides...best to keep the people informed, right? They might take it a bit less seriously since it’s a ‘conspiracy,’ but they’ll believe us. They always do.” 

“Let’s actually get this done first,” I reminded her. “But yeah, I can respect that. Don’t want anyone else going through what we’ve been through.”

Suddenly, a loud BANG came from outside the door. 

“DAKOTA!” Jasper yelled from the other side of the door. “I better not find you untied in there, or I will MURDER YOU.” 

Akira rummaged through the drawers and shelves, then finally found and grabbed a reflex hammer. She motioned for Oliver and I to open the door. Reluctantly, we both stood on the other side of the door, out of sight, and pulled down the barricades. Jasper stormed into the room, just as Akira threw the reflex hammer at his head with a sickening thud. Jasper stumbled backward as Kaveri rammed into him, shoving him out of the threshold and trying to stick a dagger in his arm. However, Jasper kicked her out of the way.

“You three go on ahead!” Kaveri yelled. “I’ll deal with this vampire.” 

“Can you handle him?” I asked. “You just have a knife; is that gonna--” 

That’s when I noticed the other sheath on her belt. It was shorter than a full sword, but longer than her knife. The hilt appeared to be dark and wooden, and I could only pray that it was a stake.

“Yes,” Kaveri called, holding Jasper back. “Yes it will.”

I nodded, and took off down the hallway with my friends.

“Alright,” Akira said as we ran down the hallway. “Here’s the plan: Oli knows where the secret files are...don’t ask me how, he just does. I was confused too. Anyway, he’ll take us there and we’ll figure out what this whole candy situation is about.”

“You guys do that,” I replied. “I’m gonna try and subdue Seb, then you guys come back up when you have a cure.” 

“You’ll be okay, right?” she asked. “Can you take Seb by yourself?”

“He and I used to play fight when we were younger,” I explained. “If I could take him then, I certainly can now.” 

Akira sighed. 

“Fine,” she said. “If there’s any trouble, find a hiding spot and text me ASAP. Worst comes to worst, we can abandon ship and find Seb another day. He’ll likely come to us, anyhow.”

“No. I’m ending this now.” We stopped at a stairwell.

“This is it,” Oli said, holding my hand. “Be safe, Dakota.”

“I will,” I said. “I have to be.” With that, we went our separate ways.

[pbpress]

Blood Candy: Chapters 7 and 8

by Ruqayyah Pickel

Lunch time arrived, and I found a note in the spot I usually sat at. 

“Change of plans,” it said. “Meet me in the back of the school. Forget your lunch; we’ll get food before we go. -A” 

Assuming that “A” was Akira, I headed out to the back of the school building. I honestly never liked coming back here; it’s where all the…shady things happened. It always smelled faintly of drugs, and cigarette remains were littered across the floor. It also didn’t help that there was a long, dark, recessed area where I suspected the shadiest of the shady things happened. I heard several people had been beaten up in this area. One person was even murdered, according to rumors—but Akira and Seb insisted that they weren’t dead…or at least not forever. (You’d think they’d use their skills to figure out who had murdered that poor kid and why instead of whether or not they were actually alive...but considering what Seb almost did to me last night, I really was in no position to make fun of him anymore.)

I felt a vibration in my pocket, and took out my phone to see a message from my mom. 

“Hey there,” it read, “I know you’re at school right now, and again, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I called the police station for updates on the investigation. They said that they’re gonna have to put it on hold for right now; they haven’t heard back from the officers that came by the house last night, so they’re trying to get in touch with them. That’s all. We’ll talk more when you come home. Love you, stay safe.” 

I let out a nervous sigh. In all honesty, I was rather nervous about going into this myself, so I was kind of counting on the police to find Seb and figure out just what had gotten into him. That being said, the police force was kind of unreliable, so confronting Seb myself could be a good thing...but the last time I saw him, he literally tried to kill me. 

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Jasper would do once I saw him again. 

Suddenly, I heard an odd sound. It sounded like…something opening. A bag, probably. Had it not been for the faint, muffled giggling that accompanied that sound, then my heart would not have been racing as much. I turned the corner and found…nothing.

So what was that—

The tight feeling around my neck and the prickly feeling of a rope around it quickly answered my question. 

I found myself struggling to breathe, forcing in and out every breath, trying my hardest not to suffocate. The thick, prickly rope had already been tied quickly around my neck. I was on one knee as I tried to stop myself from getting dragged back by whoever had bound me. I struggled to turn around, but by the time I did, my heart sank.

It was Seb. 

A demented smile crossed his face as his peppermint pattern in his eyes continued to swirl. I could barely see the bloodstains on his baseball tee covered by his new black long coat. 

“S-Sebs…” I choked out, “wh-what’re y-you…” 

Once Seb realized he had me bound, he tied the other end of the rope to a nearby dumpster. I made one last feeble attempt to escape, but the world was already going dark. Though I was already blacking out, Seb made sure to finish the job by taking out the baseball bat I had used to knock him out the night before, and bringing it down hard on my head. The last thing I felt was my head hitting the hard concrete before everything went black. 

          ———————

[Chapter 8]

When I came to, I found myself in a sickeningly familiar office. 

I was bound to the same chair I was in yesterday using the same thick rope Seb used to choke me. 

“Hope the ride wasn’t too bumpy,” Jasper Kermit’s voice said. He entered the room and crouched down to my level with an arrogant smile. “Took you long enough. Though…” He frowned. “You’re not nearly as bloody as I expected you to be.” Jasper’s smile suddenly returned, only more cheerful this time. “Good! Means your little friend Sebs is actually marginally obedient and isn’t a greedy little leech.”

“Let me go!” I demanded as Jasper got up to go to his syringe cabinet. “I’ve done nothing to you!”

“I don’t exactly care,” he said, “but thanks for reminding me.” 

“I hope you realize I only took your stupid vampire candy just to be polite,” I snapped at him. “I should’ve just turned it down and saved myself the trouble.” 

Jasper laughed, a cruel and condescending sound. He crouched down to my level, syringe in hand. 

“You really think I would’ve given you that choice?” he taunted. “God, you are so naive. It’s embarrassing, really.” 

My heart was thundering. I was gonna die here, I thought. I’ve been kidnapped, I can’t call anyone for help, he’s gonna drain all of my blood and feed it to his army of vampires, he’s gonna—

Suddenly, Jasper started poking needles in the back of both hands, then in both wrists, and in both arms. Though the pain of blood works didn’t affect me as much anymore, having six needles stuck in my veins at once, plus the knowledge that these six needles were going to drain me of all my blood and kill me, made the entire process much more painful. 

Finally, he hooked all six needles up to one longer-than-normal syringe, with several others on the sidelines. 

“Oh…hold on,” Jasper said with a smirk. “Before we start, there’s one last thing I need to do.” 

He grabbed a nearby roll of duct tape, ripped off a piece, and taped it over my mouth. 

“Wouldn’t want a noise complaint, now, would we?” Jasper taunted. He wore a sadistic grin on his face...revealing fangs in his mouth and confirming any remaining suspicions. “Now we can get started…” 

Suddenly, a fire alarm went off in the building. 

“Wh-what the hell…?” he said, then turned to me, an annoyed look on his face. “I’m gonna go check out the alarm. Fortunately, you can’t really escape, so I guess enjoy the last minutes of your life.” He stood up and walked out the door. 

I tried to ignore the pain in my arms and wrists as I tried to figure out a way out of the situation. 

Chances are, I thought to myself, that I wouldn’t be able to escape before Jasper gets back. And if he sees that I tried to, then he’s probably gonna kill me even faster. I could sit here and die, and if/whenever Sebs snaps outta this, then he’ll have to live with the knowledge that he’s the reason his ‘best friend in the whole wide world since kindergarten’ is now six feet under with empty blood vessels and ghostly white skin. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I hope Seb feels like the scum of the earth for this—

Wait. No. Why am I blaming him? This is Jasper’s fault. He was the one who spiked the candy—with what?—he probably enlisted Seb to choke the consciousness outta me, and he is the person draining my blood. Not Seb. He didn’t want this. He wants me alive, and every remaining conscious part of him is probably screaming at himself mentally for putting me in harm’s way—

“Dakota!” a familiar voice called. I looked up to find Akira, Kaveri, and the kid from the other day, Oliver. He had a bandage wrapped around his shoulder with a bloody spot in the middle. 

“Hey! Finally!” I cheered. “GET THESE THINGS OUTTA ME NOW.”

“Alright, alright, geez,” Akira said. “You act like you’re dying.” She and Oliver began gently taking the needles out of my veins. The two of them raided the desk for bandages, and put them on my wrists and arms. 

“How did you guys find me?” I asked. 

“This hospital is one of the main headquarters of Clueham’s top vampire guild,” Kaveri explained as she was cutting me loose. “It’s also the only local hospital--because the Clueham officials all share a single brain cell--so I figured you’d be trapped here.”

“Oliver—or Oli, for short—is Jasper’s younger brother,” Akira said. “He was in the waiting room crying, and I asked him what was up. He told me about his brother who caused both the small bleeding hole in his shoulder and Seb’s newfound insanity. I triggered the fire alarm to cause a distraction, and boom!” She pulled out the last needle as Kaveri finished freeing me. “Here we are.”

“Akira, you genius,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s,” Oliver said, “before Jasper gets back. Exit’s just upstairs—“

“No,” I said. “I need to face Jasper.”

Oliver’s eyes widened with fear. 

“A-are you crazy?!” he cried. “He’ll kill you! And if he doesn’t, then Sebastian will!” 

“Seb wouldn’t kill me,” I said with a smile. “Hurt me, probably, but he could never bring himself to actually kill me.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He pulled out his phone. “Can you set up some barricades?” he asked Akira and Kaveri.

He closed and locked the door, then opened up a video. Both girls nodded as they pushed the two chairs in the room in front of the door. Then, Oliver pressed play. 

The video showed Jasper in his office, experimenting with what I assumed to be blood and a variety of chemicals. The camera was positions a little higher up, but not high enough to be security footage.

“All the vampires in the facility—Jasper included—busted the security cameras,” Oli explained, “so I set one up behind the books in his office.

“What if he pulled out a book from that shelf?” Akira asked. 

“Well, he didn’t. He doesn’t read anymore; they’re just for show.”

Suddenly, Seb stormed into the office in the video. Jasper whirled his head around, a confused expression on his face. However, it quickly turned into a smile. 

“Oh, you must be Sebastian Briggs,” Jasper said. “Yeah, you definitely came here before. I recognize you from our database. How’s it going?” 

Silence. We could only see the back view of Seb, so if he was smiling, we couldn’t tell. 

Seb pointed to his neck with a shaky finger. “…m-make me…one of you…”

“Ohhhh…” Jasper said, nodding. “I see.” Suddenly, he gave Seb a slight glare. “Wait…no, no no no. I just…I can’t really do that, see. I don’t exactly know if I trust you to not be a filthy leech like some of the other greedy…subjects from before.” Jasper stood up. “See, you’re just the errand boy. You get Dakota for me, and once you do, then you get to start your real job. Got it?

Seb nodded.

“…b-but…I must…feed…like you…” 

Jasper sighed.

“You made a candy that gives people bloodlust,” Jasper murmured to himself. “Of course this was gonna happen.” He let out a sigh, and leaned back in his chair. 

“You know what?” Jasper said. “Sure. I’m gonna have to convert you anyways.” He stood up and grabbed something from his drawer. “But biting’s just…so informal, y’know? You’re my colleague now, I can’t just bite you on the neck like you’re some random on the street. Don’t worry. I got just the thing for that.” 

Jasper pulled out a small dagger-like device. The blade resembled that of the tooth of a wild beast, and the metal handle had dark red markings on it. 

“This little thingy allows me to give people the vampiric curse without biting them. Originally made for a vampire who got her teeth knocked out. Gimme your neck.”

Seb did, obeying Jasper with such blindness that it caused my blood to boil. I watched as Jasper held the other side of his errand boy’s neck as he made a decent-sized slit along his throat. As he did, the dagger’s markings lit up. When he was done, Seb was on his knees, holding the area where he was cut. Finally, he stood up, as Jasper gave a triumphant smile.

“Perfect,” he said. “Sebastian, you work for me from now on.” He took out a black long coat from his closet. “Put this on. There’s a small mirror over there if you wanna check yourself out.”

Seb put on the coat, and went over to a nearby mirror—which just happened to be on the bookshelf. That’s when Seb noticed the camera. 

The video cut off just after he looked at it. 

“I was controlling the camera from my phone,” Oliver explained. “So I turned it off right as I saw Sebastian looking at me.” 

“…so, he’s a vampire now?” I said. 

Kaveri nodded solemnly. I looked over at her.

“Can we cure him?” I asked. 

“We can probably cure his bloodlust,” she said, “but if you want him to, well, not be a vampire…you’re gonna have to kill him.”

I sighed. 

“Guess I’ll just have a vampire for a friend,” I said.

“Once this is over,” Akira said, “I want at least 90% of the credit for this conspiracy.”

“You’re still gonna make a post about this?!” Kaveri cried. “This isn’t a game, y’know. This is an actual threat.”

Akira just shrugged. 

“Gotta keep the hustle goin’,” she replied simply. “Besides...best to keep the people informed, right? They might take it a bit less seriously since it’s a ‘conspiracy,’ but they’ll believe us. They always do.” 

“Let’s actually get this done first,” I reminded her. “But yeah, I can respect that. Don’t want anyone else going through what we’ve been through.”

Suddenly, a loud BANG came from outside the door. 

“DAKOTA!” Jasper yelled from the other side of the door. “I better not find you untied in there, or I will MURDER YOU.” 

Akira rummaged through the drawers and shelves, then finally found and grabbed a reflex hammer. She motioned for Oliver and I to open the door. Reluctantly, we both stood on the other side of the door, out of sight, and pulled down the barricades. Jasper stormed into the room, just as Akira threw the reflex hammer at his head with a sickening thud. Jasper stumbled backward as Kaveri rammed into him, shoving him out of the threshold and trying to stick a dagger in his arm. However, Jasper kicked her out of the way.

“You three go on ahead!” Kaveri yelled. “I’ll deal with this vampire.” 

“Can you handle him?” I asked. “You just have a knife; is that gonna--” 

That’s when I noticed the other sheath on her belt. It was shorter than a full sword, but longer than her knife. The hilt appeared to be dark and wooden, and I could only pray that it was a stake.

“Yes,” Kaveri called, holding Jasper back. “Yes it will.”

I nodded, and took off down the hallway with my friends.

“Alright,” Akira said as we ran down the hallway. “Here’s the plan: Oli knows where the secret files are...don’t ask me how, he just does. I was confused too. Anyway, he’ll take us there and we’ll figure out what this whole candy situation is about.”

“You guys do that,” I replied. “I’m gonna try and subdue Seb, then you guys come back up when you have a cure.” 

“You’ll be okay, right?” she asked. “Can you take Seb by yourself?”

“He and I used to play fight when we were younger,” I explained. “If I could take him then, I certainly can now.” 

Akira sighed. 

“Fine,” she said. “If there’s any trouble, find a hiding spot and text me ASAP. Worst comes to worst, we can abandon ship and find Seb another day. He’ll likely come to us, anyhow.”

“No. I’m ending this now.” We stopped at a stairwell.

“This is it,” Oli said, holding my hand. “Be safe, Dakota.”

“I will,” I said. “I have to be.” With that, we went our separate ways.