#I literally found this out when he made a appearance in “the vampire strikes back”

[dead-dog-dont-eat]

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO FOUND OUT THAT ATOMIX IN OMNIVERSE WAS VOICED BY JOHN DIMAGGIO--WHO DID THE SAME VOICE FOR BENDER IN FUTURAMA?!?! Holy shit, this show is making me love Omniverse more.

[dw-writes]

32 for henry sturges :3

so, for anyone who doesn’t know, Henry Sturges is a character played by Dominic cooper in the movie Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and one of the main characters in the novel by the same name, while being the main character in the sequel, The Last American Vampire. sadly, the author of those novels is The Worst (TM) and i am now claiming this character as my own and will treat him kindly

i love him so fucking MUCH

I HOPE YOU ENJOY LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

Saying “I love you”....in a way that I can’t return.

There were parts of your memory that were hazy – days that were missing as you tried to remember why you were in pain, why you were tired, when you had fallen asleep. You remembered the better parts – the parts where you accepted a new job as a personal assistant, where you met your stupidly rich boss, where you found him weird and obnoxious and meeting every cliché that you had ever read about.

You especially remembered the part where you discovered that he was a vampire. That was important.

You shifted, the smooth surface of expensive sheets sliding against your skin. They were soft, and smelled lovely, and you recognized the scent as the one that Henry used for everything that could be washed. It was an older scent, one that wasn’t really made anymore, that he got from a little store on the other side of the city. It was one of the few things that he did personally.

Burying your nose into the pillow, you let out a sigh. At least you knew you were home, and comfortable.

A damp washcloth traced over your temple, down your cheek, and around the back of your neck.

“You’re alright,” whispered a familiar voice, one tinged with accent so faint it could never be placed, “You’re safe.”

You dreamed about that vivid memory of discovery. Henry Sturges had centuries of practice of keeping his identity a secret, something that, if you had been more observant, you would have noticed at lot sooner. But even someone with centuries of experience under his belt was prone to forgetfulness, and that was something that plagued him that day – he had forgotten his own set of keys to the house when he had set off on his usual journey across the city. He’d only realized it when he was too far gone and had called you to get the keys for him.

“If you could,” he had added, “If you aren’t too busy.”

“Of course,” you replied, “I’ll bring them to you.”

You failed to tell him that you, too, were on the opposite side of the city, and that it would take you longer than expected to take the keys to him. That was why you had arrived at the store after closing time, found it unlocked, and discovered Henry hauling a man clean off the ground with one hand, while bearing a mouth full of gleaming shards of bone. He dropped the man when you shouted at him to stop, failed to see you grab a pipe to swing at his skull.

(The memory bubbled up in your dream, descending upon you as though through a fog.)

You held the pipe with both hands, standing between Henry and the stairs leading up into the convenience store. Henry held his head between both hands, groaning, doubling over his knees. The other man, the store own, was still crumbled on the ground, unharmed, but unconscious.

“You hit me!” Henry shouted, “You actually hit me!”

“What do you expect?!” you snapped, “You? What are you?!”

He stumbled as he straightened, examining his fingers, then touched his head again. He stepped towards you.

You lifted the pipe over your shoulder, ready to strike again, yelling out nonsense.

“Don’t hit me again!” he cried.

“Get back!” you shrieked, “Get? Back! And answer my question!”

“Put the pipe down,” he said instead.

“Answer me!”

“Put the pipe down!”

“Answer the fucking question, Henry!” you paused, “If that’s your real name.”

His mouth dropped open with a scoff. You brandished the pipe as he stepped closer, stuttering out a disgusted, “I can’t believe the distrust! The suspicion!” He was on you in the literal blink of an eye, gently prying the pipe from between your clenched fingers like it was nothing. He tossed it away. The comical hurt he had previously worn was gone as he said, “I’m a vampire.” He squeezed your shoulders and set you on the steps. “Stay here a moment? I’ll be right back.”

(He’d left the poor store clerk – Seth, you remembered his name being – with a stack of journals, then swept you away back to his home – your home, the place where he provided you with a room of your own and asked for no rent at all – to sit you down and explain what he could.)

A hand gingerly pressed against your cheek, turning your head enough towards the owner to allow them to drip a warm liquid between your lips. It was bitter, with an aftertaste you couldn’t describe, and you twisted your head away from it.

A warm sigh tumbled across your face. “This is something you’ll have to get used to,” whispered a familiar voice, “And it won’t be easy, I can promise you that. But I’ll be there every step of the way.” A word caught on his voice, scratching in your ear as he cleared his throat. A pair of lips brushed over your temple.

Those words were so familiar. It took you a moment – a moment in which you fell back into a deep slumber – but you recalled where you’d heard them. You had said them, years before, when Seth had approached Henry about a biography. You remembered finding him pacing the first floor of his town house, reading over a letter that you assumed was from the author in question, swearing beneath his breath as he wore a path in the floor.

You told him so as you leaned on the banister, giving him an easy smile. He merely stared at you – you would have called it a glare if you hadn’t known him so well – and waved the paper in your direction.

“He wants to interview me,” he grumbled.

“I think that’s been done before,” you countered.

Henry crumbled the paper and tossed it in your direction. You ducked the projectile with a laugh, almost missing his scathing comment about your mocking. “That was a terrible joke!” he said with a huff, “Awful.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” you said as you sat on the stairs, “Especially if people take what you say to heart – what the book says to heart.” Henry sat on the stairs, leaning back against the wall to look up at you. You reached out to run your fingers through his clean, un-styled hair. “It won’t be easy; I can promise you that. But I’ll be here for all of it. If you want.”

He leaned into your hand with a miniscule, unnecessary sigh. “I cannot imagine anyone else helping me with this,” he whispered.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Not even the man you trusted your beloved Abe’s journals to?”

(The quip earned you a gentle pinch, and eyeroll, and a smile only you were truly welcome to.)

You had rolled in your sleep, or had been moved, into a position that was startlingly comfortable. You turned your face further into the soft fabric under your cheek.

“Are you awake?” asked Henry, his voice surprisingly close to your ear while whatever you laid on rumbled with his words. Your eyes fluttered. A finger brushed over each of them, brushing the crust from your lashes. You wrinkled your nose. “You are awake,” he whispered, “Take your time. You’ve been through a lot.”

“What happened?” you croaked. You smacked your lips together and groaned; your mouth tasted awful. You rolled away from Henry’s tender hold, burying your face back into the pillow beyond his arm. “How long have I been asleep?”

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he appeared at your side again, the bed bending beneath his weight, and he held a glass to your lips. “Drink,” he murmured. His hand slid behind your head to help you.

The strange taste bloomed across your tongue as you sipped – bitter, and warm, and tangy as it rolled down your throat. You wrapped your fingers over his hand and gulped the concoction down, whatever it was – it soothed an ache you hadn’t noticed. You pressed your knees against his side as you sat up, tilting the glass further towards your face, draining it of everything it had, even going so far as to lick the brim clean before you opened your eyes.

He was watching you. His thumb brushed the space behind your ear while his fingers trailed down your neck. You rolled your lips together as you tried to gather what remained of your drink. You watched him in return: how hadn’t you noticed how beautiful he was before? You could count the freckles across his nose and cheeks in the low light of the bedroom with how vibrant they were against his skin; his swept back hair held various shades of brown, and a scant few strands of silver – from the stress of crossing over from England, you figured, before he was turned, or maybe they’d gone grey during the run from Crowley shortly after; and then there were his eyes, which skipped across your face before holding yours.

The blood that ran through your body – the blood that wasn’t yours anymore – ran cold.

You dropped the glass.

Henry managed to catch it before it hit the wood floor, depositing it on the nightstand at your elbow.

You rubbed your throat as the missing memories returned, first in patches, then like a film playing behind your eyes: someone had broken into the house. You had been downstairs, labeling the few bottles of blood that Henry kept hidden in his fridge, frowning at the unfamiliar sounds of another human in the home. It hadn’t taken you long to react, either – your father had taught you well before he died, had made sure that you would be ready to live on your own when the time came.

You pulled a knife from the butcher’s block and stepped out of the kitchen.

Your view from the hall to the front door was unobscured. Behind you, however, was a puff of hot air as someone growled, “You’re really real, aren’t you?”

A door upstairs slammed open.

You stepped away and twisted around, lifting the knife between you and the intruder, filling the hall as best as you could. You had only seconds before Henry would be down the stairs, before the man, who stared at you with a crazed glint in his eye and held a wooden stake above his head, would be able to figure out who was really the vampire in the house and hurt him instead. Maybe even kill him.

He would kill Henry.

He couldn’t kill Henry.

You wouldn’t let him.

You remembered answering him with a breathless, “Yes,” before the stake splintered your ribcage and plunged down into your heart.

Thumbs rubbed circles over your cheeks. You blinked slowly as the memory fell into place, neatly outlining a time before you were asleep – dead, you supposed – and when you woke up.

Henry whispered your name. You finally met his gaze once again. He let out a deep, unnecessary and dramatic sigh as his forehead fell against yours. “You know that ‘I love you to death’ is only a saying, right?” he asked, “And that was a very dramatic way to say it.”

Your face flushed. “Who said that I loved you?” you squeaked.

“You did, when you went and took a man’s stake to the heart for me!” he shot back.

“Maybe I was just there and he wanted to kill us both,” you argued.

“Hm, and that’s why you said you were the vampire, is it? That you were real?” he asked.

You pressed your lips together.

His fingers trailed down your jaw and under your mouth, gently holding your chin. “There’s not a single way that I can think of that can match that, you know,” he sighed against your lips, “This will have to do.” He said a lot as he kissed you, making sure that you knew how much he loved you, that he’d loved you for an awfully long time, that it probably started when you first walked through his door, and you hoped that the kiss you gave in return said as much as your death did – that you loved him.

That you love him.

That you will always love him.

[katzkinder]

Some funny context for what started this huge rant ww

Uhhh basically I was thinking about Tsurugi and like. How he’s a composite of traits of both Fenrir and Baldr

Which led me to a few different routes

BECAUSE Tsurugi is Baldr, he could not be saved by Freya in canon, since Frigg (Now officially Baldr’s mother was Frigg but it’s actually thought by some that Frigg and Freya are the same goddess, just different aspects of her, because standard naming for a lot of these guys is... Nonexistant LMAO. imo there is enough similarity between the two to warrant this reading, with these similarities going so deep as for them to both possess a falcon feather cloak, are each associated with seidr and weaving related imagery, and they have husbands with almost identical names, with Freya’s husband being named Od and Frigg’s was Odin. And these aren’t even all of them, but if i listed those out, we’d be here all day lol. Even without that reading, though, having Freya’s name be “The Mother” is a very purposeful choice on Strike’s part to evoke that imagery of Frigg and Baldr) was unable to save Baldr, and the reason she was unable to save her son was because of the trickery of Loki

Loki is literally represented by Shuuhei thanks to the way Iduna initially misread his name since the Kanji for Tsuyuki, “露木,” can also be read as “Roki,” ”ロキ,”　which would be how a Japanese person would read Loki’s name, and it’s a nickname that stuck with him from then onward.

Metaphorically though, Loki is represented by Mikuni, who is the character who best embodies the mischievous and sometimes outright antagonistic relationship the god Loki has with the Aesir, as well as the fact that Loki is only an Aesir in name. Loki is actually a Jötunn, pronounced “Yo-tunn,” an ice giant from Norse Myth who are represented by the vampires within Servamp, being in direct conflict with C3, who represent the Aesir. Mikuni, too, is only C3 in name, and this argument is made stronger by the fact that it is the Alicein who provide the majority of C3′s funding, similar to the way that it is Loki to who provides the majority of the solutions to the problems the Aesir often find themselves in, even as he also often causes these problems to begin with. ... Again, much like Mikuni/the Alicein (since Lily is a Servamp, and therefore one of the “sources” of the difficulties C3 faces) |D

Another interesting thing is the etymology behind the name Loki. It’s been heavily debated, but the strongest argument appears to be that Loki’s name possibly originates from the Germanic root “Luk-,” which has to do with knots, loops, and ropes, and Mikuni’s Lead incorporates all of these things.

It was due to the both the revenge sought by Shuuhei against his “Odin,” Shamrock, and the schemes of the trickster Mikuni, that Freya’s path was turned from Tsurugi and towards Iduna! Loki in two different forms caused her to be unable to save her “son.”

Tsurugi and Gear’s relation is also intertwined with symbolic references to Odin, the first one we receive being that Tsurugi’s signature animal is not a wolf like you’d assume due to his name, but crows.

Odin had two wolves, yes, but he also had two ravens, which to the untrained eye look very similar to crows. These ravens would go out each morning and return at dusk, having collected wisdom for Odin.

—Which brings me what Tsurugi offered Freya

Now this is a nod to Odin that Tsurugi shares with Shamrock, that being: Odin’s missing eye. When Odin found the well Mimir (hi Johann), he could only drink from it and attain limitless wisdom if he gave something up in exchange, and the thing he gave up was one of his eyes. The most frequent eye Odin is depicted without is his right one, which Tsurugi, Shamrock, and even Inner Wrath, are each shown as either trying to offer in exchange for power (Tsurugi), missing (Shamrock), or obscured (Inner Wrath)

For Shamrock, this also is important, because his beef was with Shuuhei, “Loki,” Odin’s blood brother (fuck you marvel)

Okay back to Gear lol

Gear’s astrological clock is named after Odin’s throne, which I will not be tormenting myself currently by trying to remember the spelling of it, and upon this throne Odin would observe the goings about of all of the nine realms, with his loyal wolves and his ravens by his side.

Freki, the name of one of Odin’s loyal wolves, is also how Fenrir’s name is sometimes written, and Fenrir was the one… Who ultimately killed Odin during the battle of Ragnarök.

Another detail is that Gear’s family name, Hatiwelt, contains the name “Hati,” which was one of the two children of Fenrir, and I love this one in particular because Hati was one of the two wolves who chased the sun and the moon. We actually don’t know whether Hati chased the sun or the moon due to the fact that while in Western literature, the sun and moon are often male and female respectively, and the word used to describe the celestial body Hati chased was “bride,” the word for moon in old norse, Mani, was actually male.

Regardless of which Hati chased, both can be taken as a reference to Gear’s species as a werewolf, and wouldn’t it be cute if the woman Gear had a child with/passed his power to was named Mani?

[jasonrae117]

Night at the Wayne Casino

This is gonna be a long one, I took the advice from @bourniebna and made it longer but also making it into two parts and leaving it on a semi-cliffhanger. Thank you everyone for the support and love! Enjoy! 

PART 3

Damian found himself on the third floor, a place he thought he would never be. Filled with rooms upon rooms of well equipped and private spaces for massages, mud baths, facials, and anything and everything a five-star spa could hold. He would never require the services provided here since he disliked physical contact unless it was necessary or it was self-initiated, which it typically wasn’t. Damian kept it simple with occasional handshakes or a pat on the shoulder.

When it came to women, he had been with a few. His name was enough by itself to get him laid easily, and where that wasn’t enough, his physique helped greatly. Anything that wasn’t strictly helpful to his endgame seemed inefficient and he always strived for maximum efficiency.

Here he was crossing the threshold to the Wonder Spa, a highly rated and regarded spa for ultimate luxury and innovation in experiences. He approached the reception desk where the two top ranked masseuses and overall spa managers sat preparing their completely packed schedules for the day, Cassandra ‘Cassie’ Sandsmark and Stephanie Brown.

Stephanie looked up from her tablet and a bright smile graced her face. “Damian Wayne? I never thought I’d see the day where you came to the spa!” Beside Stephanie, Cassandra perked up, eyes widened and mouth opened in excitement.

“Oh wow! Stress built up that much? We do have a full appointment schedule but we can squeeze you in.” Damian’s face remained the same, with a bored expression waiting out their excitement. He didn’t dislike the two employees, but they tended to be too peppy and care more about gossip and people’s personal lives, specifically his and whether or not it contained a girl. It was very tiresome and he currently didn't have the time nor was in the mood for their antics.

“Didn’t you say the spa was for weak patsies that like to hand over ridiculous sums of money for frivolous treatments?” Cassie thoughtfully brought a finger to her chin. 

“No, I think it was that the spa was a bloodthirsty capitalistic vampire sucking money from dim-witted fools that think worthless products and services will actually make them look or feel better when in reality their lives were already a waste.” Stephanie’s eyes searching the ceiling for his quote. They both broke out in laughter and faced him again when they had calmed down. 

He hadn’t moved an inch and he tried to remain calm but the overly floral scents and the girl’s mocking were grating on his nerves.

Cassie placed her tablet on the desk and rested her chin on her palm as she looked back up at him. “So really, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Damian let out a small breath and mentally counted to ten. “Yesterday a woman had possibly come here and I want any information you have on her.”

Cassie and Stephanie exchanged glances before focusing on him again. Stephanie rolled her eyes and began typing on her tablet. “Is this about Raven? What is it with all you boys?”

Damian couldn’t help the shock that appeared on his face. “How did you-”

“Oh, that one that Tim sent! God, she was gorgeous!” Cassie practically bounced in her seat. 

“Yeah she is. Her skin was incredibly smooth. Cassie’s skin is pretty perfect, but this woman’s was literally flawless. I mean, it’s insane with her skin tone, no freckles or blemishes, just absolutely stunning skin.” Damian tried to fight the heat that rose to his face remembering how remarkable she looked coming out of the pool and the tiny droplets that rolled down her smooth curves, luckily Stephanie turned back to her friend, “I asked her what products she uses and what her routine is, you know what she said? She said she just washes it with some drugstore face wash and that’s it. She said she drinks a lot of water too. Luck and good genes I swear." 

"Perfect skin, gorgeous, and that body! I'm pretty stacked, but her ass! I'm literally jealous. That's why all the boys are crazy about her." Cassie shrugged and leaned back.

"Sandsmark, Brown! I'm here on official business. What's this about 'all the boys'? Who else is discussing her?" Damian crossed his arms and felt his irritation coming to a peak. 

"Oh my gosh! Do you have the hots for her too! First Jason, then Tim. I liked her too but you boys are wild. I wish I got this much attention." 

"Brown, focus. How did you know I was talking about Miss Roth?"

"Like I was saying, Jason hung out with us after we all got off and he wouldn't shut up about the 'hot girl that dissed him'..."

"Oh, I loved when she told him that he was a..what was it?" Cassie then snapped her fingers. "A delusional cockalorum who thinks boyish tricks will woo a woman that has even the tiniest bit of self worth and respect. He didn't even know what that meant!" She burst out into another round of laughter.

"You had to look it up too!" Stephanie shook her head giggling at the memory. Her eyes caught the glare Damian's was sending and she cleared her throat. "Anyway… yesterday a woman, Raven, came in with Tim's employee discount card. She was very nervous, but naturally we were curious because it's Tim's card. She told us what happened and we sent her to change so that we could call Tim. He confirmed everything and told us to give her the works and put it on a tab for him."

Cassie was nodding to the story and jumped in. "We thought this girl must be special and were curious so during her treatments we got to talking. She told us her point of view from the Jason situation and we bonded over horror stories of men hitting on us." She smiled fondly.

"She was actually really nice and tried to pay for the services but clearly we couldn't let her. She snuck a three hundred dollar tip into our drawer though. Literally one of the best clients we had. Then Tim swung by and asked her to dinner and walked her out of here. After that we don't know. We invited her to go to a club with us on Friday because she seemed so cool, but she's leaving on Tuesday." Stephanie huffed and brought her attention back to the tablet. 

"She didn't say anything about why she's here by herself?" He questioned, this trip becoming less informative and more of a nuisance than he had hoped. 

Stephanie sighed loudly, eyes focused as she tried to recall the memory, "Oh, yeah. She said something about working in advertising and having to analyze the ads and products and survey something. Poor girl has to work while in Vegas, major bummer. She says she tries to work during the days and play at night. Except yesterday, she felt like she needed that."

Damian processed this new data. Stephanie's information regarding Raven's occupation matched with what Tim had found on her. That would usually be a point in her favor, but if she was as crafty and smart as Damian suspected her to be, then she could have easily set up an almost alter ego that checks out and have her backstory memorized. Her good looks probably swaying prying minds from digging deeper. No matter, he wasn't so easily duped.

"I don't blame her...Now the only question that remains, is why do you care Damian?" Cassie looked suspicious and leaned slightly forward.

"She is a suspect in the casino. We don't have hard proof but something doesn't sit well with me when it comes to her." 

"Maybe because Tim swooped in before you could." Stephanie mumbled under her breath. 

Damian scoffed at the remark "Enough. That is all I wanted. Now proceed with your opening procedures." He nodded farewell to them and began toward the exit.

"She asked about you…" Cassie looked at her nails acting nonchalant.

He quickly snapped around, his full attention on Cassie. "What did you tell her? Why did she want to know?" His eyes narrowed.

"Calm down. We talked about Tim and she said that she ran into you a few times and said it seemed like you were always near her. We told her that you're the head of security and take it too seriously, like an assassin traveling by shadows waiting for someone to break a rule so you can strike. It got a pretty good laugh."

"Yeah but the best part is how she described you. If she didn't accept Tim's dinner invite, I swear she'd be ready to jump your bones..or uh bone." Stephanie dramatically winked at him and they began to giggle again. 

Damian kept his face stern but found it hard to swallow. He wanted to ask what Raven has said about him, but he feared it may unintentionally come across as sexually interested rather than a desire to know all information in an objective manner for the sake of the case. But perhaps he was a bit...interested. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. 

"Great. Did either of you think it might be unwise to divulge the status of all our employees to a stranger that may be trying to con our casino or worse? Or perhaps, you just want to hand her a key card so she can just as easily access it all by herself."

Stephanie rubbed at her temple and loosened her grip on the tablet, her words trying to coax him to a more manageable level of irritation,"Damian, relax. It's not hard to figure out that you're some big bad security for the casino. You literally stare people down and nothing else all day. You don't even try to blend in. She seemed to meet a bunch of us by accident or by everyone else's own will. It's not like she's seeking all of us out. I think you need to let it go or get laid or-" 

"And I think this is why you weren't given a position on the security team and instead washed up here as a servant to drunk simpletons." His words spewed out like venom as he scowled at her.

"Ok, I think we've done our part in your stupid investigation. We have actual work to do." Cassie stood up and placed her hands on her hips.

"Tt. Then I suggest you get to it and try not to gossip or discuss our business with clients." He growled out and turned on his heel. 

"Ay ay captain." Cassie saluted with a roll of her eyes.

Damian left the spa more frustrated than he went in. No matter how attractive she was, he wouldn't let her get to him. He had two and a half days to catch her and prove himself. 

Raven was a slippery snake and she was able to wiggle her way out of suspicion with everyone else, but not him. 

Damian groaned as he started to feel a headache coming on. He made it back down to the first floor of the casino and was about to start patrolling before he remembered it was his day off. If it were up to him, he wouldn't take one. Criminals didn't take days off but his father insisted due to laws regarding the matter. 

He just had to stay away from Jon and Richard since they'd be the first to call him out and force him to leave. He couldn't actively patrol but he could visit his coworker in the security room, picking up his notebook he had 'accidentally' left behind. 

He had to keep tabs on Raven if he wanted to get a step ahead of her. His talk within the spa proved almost useless except finding out that she was interested in him, in possibly more ways than one. Damian shook the thought from his head. That's what she wants me to think. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and looked across the large room to the hallway where the security room was located.

He would have proceeded normally had it not been for the two figures draped over each other tangled in a heated kiss. His primal instinct was to sprint over to them and yank Tim off of Raven and throw him as far away as he could, and lead Raven away to where they'd be alone. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could cutting off that train of thought. After a deep breath he refocused on the pair.

Tim had her pinned against the wall and his hands were roaming over her navy lace dress. Fuck, why did she have so many sexy dresses and why did they have to look THAT good on her? His jaw tightened as her hands curled in Tim's hair pulling him closer. Tim brought his mouth to her neck and Damian almost lost it when his hand slid to the curve of her ass. 

He immediately began to head over as soon as Tim pulled out his key card and inserted it in the lock, clumsily pressing his finger on the scanner until it clicked open for him. Damian watched as Tim pulled Raven inside and although he couldn't hear past the noise of the music and sounds of the slot machines, he was sure she let out a surprised gasp. He cleared the space slower than he would have liked, but he couldn't exactly plow through everyone that got in his way. 

He stopped as he reached the door and flushed when he heard a moan that definitely came from the woman within. He couldn't take it. Not only was he not the biggest fan of Tim Drake, he was harboring a suspect, while on duty, in an authorized personnel only area. He was a bit scared of what he might walk into but that was his woman in there...his wanted woman...fuck, his suspect. He slammed his card in and held his thumb to the scanner and he was quickly granted access.

His face was crimson with the rage that filled him and his fists were clenched. Suddenly though, the red in his face went from being caused by his anger to being caused by the sight in front of him. 

Raven was in nothing but black lacy panties, a matching bra, and thigh high stockings held up by a garter belt. Her ivory skin shone brightly through the lace and the blush on her cheeks added to the look. Her swollen lips were parted and her head was thrown back as Tim was in the process of kissing down her chest as one of her bra straps hung off her shoulder. She was sitting on the desk with all the papers pushed aside and Tim between her legs with his own shirt unbuttoned. 

Damian was shocked at how quickly they had moved in the relatively short time it had taken him to cross the casino floor, but in reality it was only one piece of clothing missing. 

Taking one last look at her and committing it to memory, Damian steeled his resolve and regained his stiff posture and his menacing glare. "What the hell are you doing Drake!" 

"Fuck!" Tim broke away from her and Raven yelped and covered herself, climbing off the desk. "Shit Damian, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I asked you that and I have yet to be given an answer!" His voice began to raise in volume.

"Can we talk about it in a second." Tim began smoothing his hair and attempted to straighten his clothes.

"Why the hell is there a guest in the security room and why are you trying to fuck her on company property on company time!" 

Damian noticed Raven slowly bending down to reclaim her dress without exposing herself further. Damian scoffed and turned around giving her a small bit of privacy. He heard the shuffle of fabric and she quietly cleared her throat.

He turned back around and narrowed his eyes at the woman whose face was now bright red with embarrassment. "I should...uh..go. I'm sorry, really." She had stepped closer to him and licked her lips uncomfortably. "It's my fault. It won't happen again. Uh..thank you?" She shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slipped past him. 

Once she was gone, Damian turned his attention back to Tim who had just finished buttoning up his shirt. Tim held out his hands in surrender. "I know. Trust me, I know it all. I'll report myself. I wasn't thinking and I compromised our security. Although nothing actually happened thanks to you. And I don't mean to be snarky about it, I know that I probably wouldn't have stopped myself at all. But it's not her fault. So please don't turn this into one of your theories about her. I take full responsibility."

"You disgust me Drake. Can't even control your urges when it comes to your job. You'll be lucky if you even have one tomorrow. If it wasn't close to prime time and short notice, I'd dismiss you right now." Damian stood tall and crossed his arms, staring Tim down.

Tim took in a deep breath and released it slowly as he plopped into the computer chair. "Noted. I..um..think I've wasted enough time. I'll get started on the report and do a few sweeps of the casino." He didn't look Damian in the eye and pulled up to the desk, a blush rising to his cheeks while he rearranged the papers that had been strewn about. 

"Good, about time you take your job seriously. Although a bit too late in my opinion." He watched as Tim's movements stilled and his fists clenched. He didn't make a move though, it would be futile. Damian let out a small laugh before exiting the office.

He began planning his next move to get more information on Raven that didn't involve her revealing more skin. Although he enjoyed what he saw, it distracted him and that wasn't good for his mission. A cheery voice broke his thoughts as he was crossing the casino floor.

"Hey Damian." Jon walked up to him a look of concern overlaying his usual happy demeanor. "I saw Raven fleeing from here." Great, was everyone on a first name basis with his number one target? "You didn't terrorize her with an interrogation without me, did you?" He playfully nudged his shoulder and added a chuckle trying to mask the seriousness of his question. 

"No, Jon. I just caught Drake almost fucking her in the security room."

"Oh. Tough break…" Damian scowled at him. "I mean, wow unbelievable. So, what's your next move?"

"You all are infuriating. Could, at least you, stop implying that I'm trying to court our top suspect?" Damian began walking toward the elevator with Jon following right beside him.

"I would if you quit acting like it. She's hot, and I guess intelligent according to you, and she has the record for a woman, hell anyone, holding your attention this long without you losing interest." Damian was about to open his mouth to respond but Jon cut him off once more. "I'm only saying this because I care about you, as your best and only friend. It would do you some good to relax and actually stop working for once. The rest of us can handle a day without you, you gotta trust us."

"How can I trust the man that brought a potential criminal into our security office?"

Jon hesitated and paused to find the right words. "I'm not saying it was ok, but you know he hasn't been the only one to do it. Yes, you were pissed then and it wasn't the security office per se, but I think you're taking this a little more to heart because of whom it entails."

"A criminal!"

"A very attractive woman that has the unfortunate burden of once being labeled as a suspect and then having you get attached in that mindset. Maybe the situation with Tim spooked her, and you can finally try to talk to her as Damian and not as head of security?" Jon looked pleadingly at him as Damian hit the button to call the elevator. 

"You all may think she's innocent, but I don't. Perhaps I am a bit attracted to her, but unlike Drake, I am professional and can contain myself around women."

Jon rolled his eyes and Damian stepped into the elevator. "Ok, well you go actually take the night off and contain yourself at the rooftop party tonight." He winked at him just before the door slid close.

Rooftop party...that's where she'll be. This is why Jon was tolerable enough to be his friend. Damian made his way to his suite a few floors down from where he was headed later that night. He would attend as regular Damian Wayne, but that didn't mean that his head of security side couldn't be 'undercover'. 

If he wanted to catch her, he knew he had to go at it by himself, everyone else had been compromised. Tonight was the night he was sure he'd get lucky. 

[anxiouslyfred]

Death and Clouds

so @loveceit Literally first suggested tag coming up, can I ask again if I cheated given just how much you’ve read from me over the last month? I’m your Secret Santa too

I am sat here giggling instead of posting because I keep trying to guess what your reaction might be to this reveal

Summary:  Dee has had a very strange morning that has left him dead almost immediately after sharing one of his soul poems with a friend. Neither his friends, nor the two strangers that had found their way into his room agree with that death being completely permanent.

Warnings: major character death, ghost formation, sex mention, cursing, description of an afterlife

AO3 link

/\/\/\/\

Meeting new supernatural beings was always an experience for Dee, from making a deal with the demon, Roman, to meeting Roman's soulmate Remy mid-talkshow there was always something dramatic involved. Although after having a demon and a vampire set on matchmaking for him, Dee should have expected the dramatics of them. At least Roman wasn't constantly persistent over reading the soulmate poems Dee had, unlike Remy.

Dee had always been reluctant to share the two poems he'd received, hiding them carefully and separately for all of his life. Soulmate poems were precious and individual to everyone, received when they were fifteen and there would always be a poem for each soulmate you had. Dee had kept each poems safely guarded all his life until today.

Even after making the deal to get his talk-show and the regular questions over what his soulmate could be like due to it Dee kept them guarded closely. Societal convention ensured only people you trusted explicitly could have soulmate poems revealed to them. Why that now included Remy was a mystery to him, especially given the vampire had immediately summoned an unknown demon before being knocked out by said demon.

The interrogation over whether or not he was a murder or variety of other types of criminal would have been amusing if Dee understood why it was happening. Instead of any explanation however he was back to trying to protect and hide the one soulmate poem he had allowed Remy to see when finally asked what was spoken about prior to the summoning.

Laying on his bed wasn't doing anything to prevent the new demon, introduced as Remus, from getting the poem out from underneath the mattress. It had been all he could think of to try beyond physical confrontation which Dee was not going to attempt in any stretch of imagination.

The appearance of Roman momentarily seemed like it could solve whatever situation was evolving, except he was followed immediately by someone who appeared to be a scientist.

His introduction and attempt to clear up what was happening so far as he knew was cut short by a blast of lightning coming from nowhere. That was the last thing Dee knew.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dee had never wondered what made people alive or human and he wasn't very happy now he had the answer of souls. All the religions indoctrinating people with promises of Heaven, Hell, reincarnation or whatever and all he found now he was dead was lights rushing past and around, softly changing colours as they went. It would have seemed like houses covered in Christmas lights through the window of a speeding car if it wasn't for the silhouettes of trees that appeared every few minutes.

He wasn't entirely clear on how he had died really, just that there were two strangers somehow involved in it and that the stupid vampire had summoned one of them. If there's ever a time to insult someone without repercussions it should be when you're dead, so Dee felt no concern over insulting the farmer he'd been forced into meeting.

It also proved that keeping his Soul Poems close had been the most sensible thing he'd ever done, regardless of what Remy had insisted. Dee had shown the poem which bewildered him most to Remy and ended up dead within half an hour of it. It had felt like a lightning strike despite the clear day, teaching him to protect the poems ever more carefully. What a shame he'd never learn who those poems referred to now.

The lines drifted through his mind as the trees around him faded from purple to blue and then to green, a reverse rainbow dazzling his senses.

He watched the lands form again

And runs before he can remain.

When overwhelmed he is gone,

But never together alone.

Not as old as one supposes

Still younger than the hills.

Crimes are what he composes,

Anarchy what he wills.

Neither gave him positive views of the people they described, but then again, he had begrudgingly befriended a Demon and a Vampire for the past three years. It would make sense to  expect to meet someone older than the hills and still surviving.

Dee found that he could control how he moved among the trees if he concentrated, finding it more useful to focus on what he could do while dead than the conversations that brought him here. In fact, he knew one of the strangers present when he died was a demonic brother to Roman from the small amount of time they'd spoken before Roman and the other stranger had interrupted them.

He picked a direction and decided to try and find the end of what he had decided must be a forest, ignoring how certain the stranger who had introduced himself as Remus had been that Dee must be a criminal. Even among demons there must be specialities for that assumption to happen but it didn't explain why Remy would summon them. The poem he'd seen didn't even mention crimes as the other did.

That thought entirely removed his focus from controlling where he travelled. The demon he hadn't known even for an hour would be reading the Soul Poem he's guarded with his life before today. It felt like an invasion of privacy and a violation. At least the second one was safe, hidden somewhere completely different both to where the first poem had usually been kept and where he'd scrambled to hide it while Remy summoned Remus, going so far as to lay on the bed after putting it under the mattress.

How fitting he died in bed, under extremely suspicious circumstances after getting interrogated over if he was a murderer or not. The demon should at least be happy with that. The only thing missing from his list of questions was theft really but like he'd pointed out then, his shows charity drives and donations were often called theft by business owners, politicians and other wealthy destroyers of the world. Perhaps his death could be blamed on one of them and have one less villain in control of society.

The entire time he'd been in the forest there hadn't been another soul he'd seen, but now that he'd started simply drifting while pondering his last moments, there were hands slowing him that felt far more alive than Dee currently did. Roman should be the only person able to find his soul now, he absently thought.

It must have been similar to how snakes felt when handled the way his soul wove and lengthened around the hands gently trying to grip him. The sound of bubbles popping was almost similar to speech but not enough for him to try and understand it, instead he thought of just what Roman had said when they'd first met to make a deal. “It will be a side effect of accepting the deal that I can find you wherever you are for eternity, including after death, but the deal I'll offer is you have to let me be a guest on your first show and my soulmate a guest on your second for me to give you the Talk show you're dreaming of.”

Dee had been very suspicious even then over what was being offered despite having researched the summoning and brought a demon to himself deliberately. Perhaps given the person now holding him, he had been right to do so. Roman could have no reason to come and find him unless there was something his brother wanted, perhaps that could cause this handling.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Fetching souls hadn't been done in centuries, but all demons knew how to do it. In all truth Roman was learning more about Dee from where his soul had been found than he had understood about the human in the years they'd known each other. Remarkably few souls are ever disillusioned enough with the world to find the forest of lights and, while he'd known Dee didn't think much of society, he had not realised his views on people were negative enough to reach here.

Roman would need to make another deal with Dee if he were to manage more than simply fetching the other back from his afterlife but, he supposed, that would be the final confirmation of Dee being his brothers soulmate. No demon ever needed a deal to help their soulmate so, if all the yelling of Remy and Remus was to be believed, Remus should be able to at least partially restore Dee to a form of life, be it simply as a ghost.

Reappearing back in Dee's room, the first thing Roman noticed were the clouds – wisps of them stabilising Remy from the injury he'd awoken from shortly before Roman was sent to fetch the soul, and even more wrapped around Remus.

Those clouds were flowing, moving with his brother’s restless actions even as Remus murmured to them, “Hey, I know, calm down. He's human but that doesn't mean we're in danger. Our friends wouldn't let you go through that again. Besides he's definitely dead now, just like our poems say. His death no such disguise, All too soon he dies.”

The lightning flashing around them would have been as concerning as it had been when Roman last stood in the room if they didn't trust or at least know Virgil.

Roman announced his presence holding the soul out just slightly from his body. “I've got Dee's soul here, unless you need to carry on calming them.”

Dee's body was still laying on the bed in the corner, having fallen to one side after the panicked lightning from Virgil struck him. Remus and the larger part of Virgil's cloud were by the foot of the bed, hopefully calming each other down for what Remus would now have to do to properly meet their final soulmate.

Given the death they'd already brought the soul, Roman was a little cautious about letting wisps of cloud take it from him as they shot towards the door he was in front of. Nobody really knew just what strength Virgil had but being able to damage a soul seemed like it could fall under them.

“Release Him!” Remus's command had to be listened to. Gentle tendrils of cloud wrapped around the soul to bring it to Remus.

Watching his brother form the ghost was fascinating; his hands formed the shapes of a body first, softly moulding the soul. Roman admired Remus’s subtle control over the colourful tendrils until a quiet groan shifted his focus.

Remy was now leaning against the wall clear signs of having been whacked by Remus's morning star in the graze over his forehead and ruffled hair, although some of that could come from the wisps of cloud still misting around his body. By the time Roman had originally arrived in the room Remy had been stirring enough to scold both Remus and Virgil about killing their soulmate when he'd summoned Remus to avoid any such hysterical reactions. It was no wonder that now Remy was finally starting to relax he had a lot of pain to groan about. “Confiscate his weapons, please, Your Highness?” He muttered, turning pleading eyes on Roman.

“No can do, Dear. Then he'll just use his deals to get back at you instead, and I'm sure you don't want your farm impacted by all of this?” Roman chuckled, wrapping an arm around his love and returning to observe the ghost forming.

Virgil must have been doing something as there was lightning and wisps of cloud moving through the soul and clearly guiding the powers Remus was putting in as well as enhancing everything being done. As Dee's form became clearer, it solidified more than that of a natural ghost –vaguely translucent instead of completely transparent.

The gaze of the ghost landing on him was momentarily confusing before Dee spoke. “I didn't make another deal. This makes perfect sense.”

Dee had been dead while everyone else learnt who his own soulmates were.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

This room was too small for Virgil's usual cloud form to stay in, but when upset and worried they could fit their size to anywhere they needed to be, especially if they were too scared to stay in the humanoid form they used daily.

Some beings might think that their phobia of humans was irrational, but most beings would never experience the horrifying sight of an entire growing civilisation, turning into a deranged mob over a wish that the people themselves are preventing from happening. Those are the scenes scattered through Virgil's history and the ones they now work to avoid wherever possible. Avoiding that included avoiding all settlements of humanity wherever and whenever possible.

Every being in this time has a human persona, but as a notoriously aloof scientist paving the way for actual human campaigning to save the environment, Virgil usually had control over when they met humans. Losing their soulmate, panicking, and then finding themselves standing in a human’s room upon finally locating him was enough to send Virgil’s panic astronomically high.

Finding out straight after that the human was their missing soulmate didn't do much to calm them down though. It was only from soothing words and Remus reading the poem about them for the human aloud that they managed to regain a semblance of a form.

Normal communication was complicated to achieve when their form was a cloud, but gestures always seemed to be understood between their family. Wrapping around Remus didn't cause the demon to shiver but to start caressing their clouds and tangling fingers in the lightning as much as is possible to do so with plasma.

Remus was still murmuring and had been doing so constantly since Roman had left nearly an hour ago, simple things to comfort and relax them that would work on a normal day, but Virgil's mind was already turbulent with facing a human. Hearing that they'd killed their soulmate left them both eager and terrified to meet Dee, beyond the cut off introduction that echoed through their mind.

“Hi. I'm Dee. I’m apparently the only human here and Remus is-” Virgil's lightning had stopped them from learning whatever had occurred before they could follow Roman to his brother.

“Hey, I know, calm down. He's human but that doesn't mean we're in danger. Our friends wouldn't let you go through that again. Besides he's definitely dead now, just like our poems say. His death no such disguise, All too soon he dies.” Tuning back in to what was being said in the room as they could feel Roman returning, Virgil managed to catch the last words meant to soothe him before all the focus moved to the returned soul.

Part of Virgil wants to take the soul for themself and see if they could restore the human fully to life as they'd been rumoured to do once upon a history. There's far too much risk in that going wrong though, so they merely send a few wisps over to Roman, wrapping around the soul to bring it further into their form and closer to Remus, hearing the command for Roman to let him take it vaguely.

Their focus remains on their soulmates, knowing  with certainty that they were indeed soulmates as nothing inhibits Remus's powers when he begins to form the ghost with no attempt to communicate with the soul at all. Forming ghosts is easy; occasionally souls make themselves into ghosts without any external input at all. Often they are aided by demons, accidentally brought into deals by their fears of damnation or hell being found in the afterlife, or by the living wanting their lost loved ones to remain forever and not realising just how literal that term is. What Virgil wishes for their soulmate is far beyond that meagre existence of blowing things over, being seen through and only able to move paper, so they guide the progress of Remus's powers.

Remus was one of the most tactile people Virgil had ever met and they knew the incorporeal form of a ghost would be difficult for him to handle so they focused on ensuring the form would be mostly solid when the ghost willed it. Their lightning crackled close to the surface, eager to now help the soul it had released in their panic (whether that would provide the ghost with lightning powers was a matter for another time).

The form still laying on the bed, wasn't identical to the form becoming visible as the ghost solidified under their guidance. There were slight differences where Remus’ imagination lent from or the Soul's image of itself differed from the form it had once held. Similarly, Virgil noticed too late that they'd focused more energy on one side of the ghost, giving them half a form more transparent than intended, although still far more solid than a typical ghost.

As the ones who put the energy into forming the ghost and the forms closest to them, Virgil had expected the attention to turn to them straight away. Instead what happened was the ghost looking Roman dead in the eye before speaking. “I didn't make another deal. This makes perfect sense.”

Virgil would have spoken up then if they were calm enough to be in their humanoid form, but instead simply pulled some of the wisps from around the ghost until they were acknowledged.

“That's the soulmate exception.” Of all the times for Roman to forgo the flowery speeches on the power of love, this had to be the least helpful one possible. Their thoughts were clearly reflected by the new ghost, raising an eyebrow at the demon and smirking.

“You are so not my soulmate. Neither poem even vaguely applies.” Remus was almost bouncing in place, about to pipe up and say something, but, if Virgil was to guess, torn over just how to introduce himself again only as the soul's soulmate now.

Roman waved towards them with one hand, making the ghost turn. “Not me. Remus is the one to sweep you off your feet, hence why he is directly behind you while I'm over here with my Remy.”

“You could have warned me you had a brother and he's an anarchist.” The flat tone doesn't change although Virgil and Remus are being dissected by the gaze over them now, not that it's really registering Virgil as a person yet.

“He knows me so well already. That's me, De-dee.” Remus cannot hold his want to touch back any longer, leaping forwards to cling to the ghost and trusting Virgil's strength to have provided a corporeal form.

“Anarchist who will get his arms detached if not removed from my person.” Virgil reacts to Dee's words immediately, pulling Remus back with wisps of cloud, further away than either of them had been before. The new ghost might be their soulmate, but everything said so far just showed that he wasn't convinced of that fact, nor particularly enthusiastic to be so.

Dee makes a thoughtful noise at the action, focusing more on Virgil's clouds than he had before, obviously only focusing on one change in his apartment and life at a time, but they have to concentrate on Remus as he begins to fight and whine. “Viiiirgillll, I wanna hug him!”

Lighting singeing his hair is enough chiding for Remus to stop fighting against the restraint, now actually listening to the boundary now there's been a moment for him to understand it.

“I've never had a chat with a cloud before. You're easier to understand than I'd have thought.” Dee has stepped a little closer, still watching how Virgil interacts with them through wisps and lightning. A hand outstretching to one wisp of cloud still left towards him from forming his ghost was enough for Virgil to tentatively let another couple wrap around Dee.

There's no negative reaction to this form of touch, so Virgil let's Dee be wrapped in their form a little more as new hands caress the wisps.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dee could officially say that this was the weirdest day of his existence. He'd died, been brought back as a ghost only to be informed that a demon he'd just met was actually his soulmate. Now, if all of that wasn't bizarre enough, he was wrapped in a sentient cloud and managing to understand what the gestures and reactions of them actually meant.

There had been someone else in the apartment before he died, although only for a moment. That thought increased his curiosity over the being wrapped around him. “Who are you then? The scientist that followed Roman here?” He asks, weaving his fingers with the thin tendrils of cloud that danced upwards as he spoke.

“They're my Virgil. Aren't they wonderful?” Remus insists again, getting Dee to look up, both to the demon and just beyond him to the body on his bed.

He was still trying to connect the dots of just how he had died, but the powerful being Virgil had to be was definitely part of it. “Which makes them my second soulmate, and the reason I'm dead, assuming I've understood everything you're telling me correctly? On that thought, I was hoping you could throw the blame on someone in power? Such as that politician trying to revoke the support for mental illnesses in schools? I'm sure any beings as powerful as each of you could perfect a frame job”

The cloud reaching towards him more, but not touching him was enough confirmation of guilt although Dee didn't think there was a need to be so currently. Remus cheering where he stood was interesting though.

Neither reaction kept his focus as Remy, the one he actually held to blame for the situation, spoke up for the first time see Dee found himself as a ghost. “They better be, or that poem is way way too specific for Virgil.”

“And you are better off getting Roman to do any introductions you decide are necessary in the future either way.” The sharp counter came from Dee naturally, although he would never dream of saying them while in public.

“Sorry for thinking you might want to meet your soulmates. Next time I won't bother helping.” The fired back response accompanied by Remy's pout is almost as amusing as the fact Roman is copying it.

Remus bounces closer to him before any counter can be thrown back. “Which politician specifically? And if I'm doing that we all need to be somewhere else soon!”

“I'm assuming I can stay with you and Virgil then, but that being mentioned, how does transport work as a ghost? There must quicker ways for me to travel than walking or running now, correct?” Dee ignores the first question, not really bothered over who in power gets blamed, as long as they are precisely that, in a position of power.

“The show Dee made is all recorded so I'm presuming he means the last one he had as a guest.” Roman began, as Dee realised the clouds that had been surrounding him start to retreat and coalesce into a humanoid form. “And movement for you should be a case of visualising yourself elsewhere and finding that you are there after a moments focus. It's easier if you have living memories to focus on I'm told but then that might not hold entirely true.”

“Movement should be as Roman described it, I only focused on giving you a more solid form than ghosts usually achieve.” The scientist from before explained, moving closer to Dee once more, having formed away from everyone else. “Wasn't expecting to meet a human today so kind of panicked earlier. Sorry about the death thing.”

There were flickers of lilac lightning in their eyes and dancing across their fingertips as they held a hand out for Dee to shake. “Humans are the worst, you don't have to tell me. So you did have something to do with how I became a ghost then?”

“As much as I knew I could do, might have been able to manage more but I'm really not going to test my limits with the soul of my soulmate.” Virgil grumbled, barely reacting when they were latched onto from behind by Remus also joining in their handshake. “He's tactile and impulsive, but as long as he has time to compute a boundary he'll respect them,” was added on at Dee's raised eyebrow.

Remy had been quiet, just watching the scene unfold after Dee getting irritated over his attempt at introducing his soulmates, but now spoke up again, “Well, you three seem to be learning about each other, and like the pest said, need the space clearing to form the murder crime scene so how about I take Roman out for dinner and leave you to it?” At the trio of blank stares and nod from Roman they both vanished with a wave of the refillable Starbucks mug that scarcely left Remy's side.

“They're going to fuck over matchmaking. I know it.” Remus insisted, still nodding over Virgil's shoulder.

The laugh Dee gave in response to the assertion  was automatic. “Still wanting to know where I'm staying now though. Can't exactly be floating around beside my body if we're saying a politician murdered me.”

“I have a remote lab. Let's go there.” Virgil sighed, opening their arms a little. “I can take us there so you don't have to struggle with picturing it this first time.”

Dee let himself be pulled into the embrace, beginning to feel like it just might be true that this pair were actually his soulmates. “You too, Remus. If we're a trio of soulmates might as well have a first hug including all of us.”

“Oooh, is that how all our firsts are going to be?” Remus asked, happily hugging them both and nuzzling into Dee's neck. “Three-way kiss, going straight for a threesome. The mind boggles.”

Both of them snort at the suggestions, relaxing into the touch until Remus pulls away. “Maybe, maybe not, but any other firsts come after framing someone for my murder. Strip the powerful from their positions.” Dee demands, only just getting it out before Virgil's arms tighten.

“And then come home so we can actually carry on getting to know each other.” The farewell isn't real so Dee partially expects it when he's turning into the same clouds that had filled his room in the grasp of Virgil's power.

[eldonash]

meet in the ashes | graham&orobas

Summary: Orobas in the mists of trying to find Carrington, finds time to invite Graham to Bloodhaven. However, in his interrogation in the Outskirts for information on his missing friend, the newborns there decide they have had enough of his questions and attack the pair. It ends poorly for them.

Orobas stood on a lamp post, lean and long, with an impeccable suit and a dissociative stare down the dark road. The outskirts were always thrumming with strange energy. The scratching awareness of a ghoul coming out of a street drain, or the muffled scream from someone’s neck being crunched into, or the fast paced steps of someone just trying to get from point A to point B knowing they might have walked into a horror movie if they looked into the darkness. Orobas turned his ivory handled dagger in his hand, blood dripped down the blade, splatter on the lamp post flickering in need of a new light bulb, the red glass running with a bead then splattering to the floor. He had spent the night looking for Carrington and the other older vampire wasn’t to be found. So he was awaiting someone new, maybe to see if he could figure something out, maybe to see what this vampire could do.  

So he was meeting a vampire. Well, he’d technically already met the one when he dropped by to pick up his beloved cardboard cutout of Jacob to harass his roommate with but Graham, as with most things, treated the exchange with an almost insulting casualty because relationships were for suckers. Well-- he… WAS a sucker but in the more literal sense-- never mind. He shook his head as he walked in the pools of light the posts provided as he knew less of where he was specifically going and more just wandering until his senses could pick up where this other vampire was. The Outskirts was… pretty big? He didn’t go there often unless he was having his… a moment. WHICH he’d been pretty good about all things considered since he moved in; the whole ‘not breathing’ thing found itself to be most useful. Unless… was that what this other vampire was anticipating on? Nooo, he couldn’t have known, could he? Unless there was a chain-gang waiting for them to swoop down on them. He wasn’t-- it was too soon for that, right? But what iffff THAT was the ‘delicious’ part of what the other vamp was talking about. Ugh, he hated these pseudo-moral dilemmas… Wait, was that his man? Out in the distance? “Yo!” He called casually regardless of whether it was or not, waving the other figure down.

The moon was high, and bright, lingering up behind him, casting long shadows, and showing the pockets of asphalt broken from disrepair. The shout drew his gaze towards the other and there was the smallest part of Orobas that wondered if this vampire was sent here to fight him-- but the tone, the casualness. This must be the one he spoke to, an uninfluenced one-- someone new. “Mhm,” he disappeared from view, the low fog in the area taking him away from sight, he appeared a few paces from the other, and reached out, grabbing a different vampire who was hiding and slammed them down on the ground. With a calm tilt of his head, he stepped on their wrist causing the weapon in their hand to clank on the ground. “Look at this,” he said darkly, the bones in their wrists breaking. “Hello Graham-- “ The old vampire glanced over, an eerie tilt of his head. “You might want to duck--” Five other vampires came out of the darkness at them. The introduction had hardly been formal when the duo found themselves in a scrap. Or maybe… wait was this a trap? Did Graham get lured into a trap? “The hell, man?” The question fell from his thoughts out of his mouth but no offense could be found in his tone as he did what he was instructed to and ducked, taking a fluid sidestep as he did so and his hands raised in a brawler’s stance instinctively as their party seemed to grow in the span of a few seconds. “I’m guessing these aren’t friends of yours,” He gave a cocky grin, his mind telling him that he would’ve been feeling an adrenaline rush right about now. Had he ever fought other vampires before? He hadn’t ever fought other vampires before. “So whose blood?” He asked, casting the quickest of glances at the ruby-coated knife, dodging one of the incoming bodies and retaliating with a sharp elbow to the back of its head as it passed by, an instantaneous motion that resulted in a ‘crack’.

“Bait,” Orobas answered easily. These vampires were young, thirsty easily with just the scent, and Orobas had to relish the craze they could fall in at this age. He was like this too back then, Haxian there to make sure he didn’t go too far, swell his stomach to the point it was bursting. Orobas had a gleeful grin now and moved upward off the vampire he dropped to the ground and positioned himself with a confident fighting stance. “Also, I’m trying to gather information. You see-- one of my companions is missing and I’m certain someone knows something.” Orobas ducked when another vampire came for him, their fangs out reaching. He grabbed their arm and sliced it in half with his knife, the vampire screamed and hissed at him, and Orobas holding the severed limb, used it to strike another coming for him. Orobas laughed at their pain. Not having moved from his stance. “This is the best practice too, letting people act and come for you will always give them the disadvantage. Oh, and this isn’t what I had planned for us.” Bait, huh? Graham kicked the small of the back of the one whose head he cracked and looked over to see Orobas using an arm as a weapon. “Aw, what? No fair, I want an arm!” He whined loudly to be heard over the screaming vampire and he glanced down at the blood again. Bait… Well, he didn’t feel any lust for vampire blood so he challenged himself to breathe, to ACTUALLY breathe, to take in the scent of whatever that blood belonged to and it surged through him, shivering down his spine like a nail on a chalkboard and he exhaled sharply, his long, sharp tongue lolling out of his mouth as he turned his torso to regard the one-armed vampire. “I said-- I want an ARM!” He snarled, his voice carrying through that he was smiling widely as he virtually pounced on the younger creature and yanked on its other arm as hard as he could, feeling that one smell of blood pumping through him like the best shot of adrenaline in the world. The vampire screamed more, oh how it screamed, but they were like music to Graham’s ears as he heard the splintering and popping of sinew and muscle tearing, bones separating and soon enough… “Now I too am WELL ARMED,” He said victoriously, holding the arm up briefly before holding it like a bat and swinging at another vampire. “SO! What’s this about some companion that’s gone MISSING?” He asked as the limb collided with the vampire’s shoulder.

Orobas didn’t step back, watching Graham pounce on the injured newborn vampire and take their other arm. His smile was dangerously still, frozen in pleasure that had his insides aching at the carnage. The sound drew a gentle worry to his lip, tongue darting out to dampen it. Orobas existed through countless wars and battles overseas, and here in the United States. He always found a draw to those bringers of violence and destruction, and could so easily be swept up in it; wanting more. Taking it too far. His old weapon was coated in human blood, the body tossed near a bush, their heartbeat weak but alive, a melody should one listen closely for it. The old creature looked down at the vampire who was in pain and screaming about it, as Graham jumped off to fight another. He regarded them, stepping on their chest. “Tell me, a name. Someone Carrington speaks too. I know someone knows something, even small.” The newborn stilled, their fangs out and eyes molten. “I know nothing!” they snarled. “Yet you are gaining so much experience from this fight. You see what happens when you run straight ahead? Tell me your masters name. I want to speak with them.” The vampire blurted it out, and Orobas turned to grab the neck of someone trying to run him through with a metal rod. The object just went into his side, ruining his nice shirt. The real monster within Orobas surface. His skin appeared almost papery thin, hanging off his bone structure as the graying and bruised look around his face, sunk in. The faintest sound of bats fluttering around could almost be heard, like his body would explode into a swarm with one blink. His eyes were a crimson that burned through the whites. “Fine--” his voice sweet as song, a cheeriness against the monstrous visage. He swiped out and decapitated the vampire. “You will all die by our hand then.” Despite how much fun Graham was having, he found himself getting distracted by the smell of the blood between each attack he made, starting to almost wander off in search for the source instead of committing to their fight. It was… problematic, admittedly but in his easily-distracted gaze was the sight of Orobas shifting into a swarm of bats. “Whaaaa we can do that, too??” He asked incredulously. His sire never told him THAT. He wanted to do that! He also wanted to take the vampire’s fingers, tear them off and put them between HIS fingers so that he’d be like… the Wolverine of fingers. Was that too much? That was probably too much so he lobbed the arm at one of the vampires and, hearing the word ‘die’, he took that as permission to stop beating and start killing, cupcake! He jittered with energy, his tongue flopping around like a dog in the wind as he danced around the makeshift battlefield, fluidly avoiding most attacks (he did get a nice swipe in the face, embarrassingly enough while another one ripped into his calf) and countering with his own punches and kicks. “I want to PILE DRIVE YOU,” He pointed to the guy that was rushing him, albeit with a little more fear than before, and they met in the middle in what Graham knew the other guy wasn’t calling a “welcoming embrace”. “So the guy’s name is Carrington?” Graham called to Orobas as he lifted the other vampire clean off the ground by the waist and did exactly what he said he was going to do, hearing the crunching splat of the vampire’s head against the ground like a melon. “I think he gave me a Jacob cutout!”

The chaos was so sweet tasting in itself, and though he hadn’t originally meant to kill these young vampires, he was also old enough to push his dominance over them and their masters should they want to keep delaying his search. Orobas didn’t actually understand what he was feeling. Not knowing where Carrington was-- he didn’t know him that well, they could barely be called friends, but the moment they spoke to each other, something tethered him. Likely them being so old, knowing what it felt like to be involved with slayers finding them and turning the tide to kill their families. They both knew ancient war, and pain in a profound way those born within peaceful era’s couldn’t begin to understand. A special kin. Orobas fought with an elegance, and used his age to his advantage. Disappearing and appearing behind people, above them, or using his speed to dismember with clean cuts to have them drop to the ground. At hearing the last line, over the crunch of a head exploding. The silence of the disposed of younglings, had him standing among the dust and a few more in the distance. “A Jacob what?”  “It’s a, uh…” Graham snapped his fingers in mock recollection, his other hand running fingers over the fresh slices in his face boredly yet lightly. “Oh RIGHT,” He exclaimed, spinning on a heel and kicking a fourth vampire in the jaw, going in for a headbutt as the young wretch recoiled. “It’s a cardboard cutout. Like those things you see in music stores of Willie Nelson or what-the-fuck-ever,” He explained, suddenly stopping in the middle of the fight again, once more instinctively starting to wander in the direction of the body before forcing himself to stand still. “They’re usually about, I dunno five or six feet tall,” He continued, brow furrowing and holding up a hand as if for comparison. “Dude gave me one of that Jacob kid from Twilight - the run that turned into the wolf and had problems keeping a shirt on,” He tapped a finger to his chin, hearing an incoming attack and he moved fluidly, catching the outstretched arm of the assailant and swinging him up and over his shoulder where the young vampire landed with a heavy ‘thud’. “So if this WASN’T your plan,” He started, giving the other guy’s face a swift kick with his boot. “What was?”

Orobas had no fucking idea what Graham was talking about, but he didn’t let up air that he didn’t. He assumed, maybe, it was something the other picked up being that it was a cutout, but the show, movie-- whatever it was went right over the old creatures head who didn’t keep up with much entertainment and rarely watched any. Orobas was crashed into by two young, and very angry vampires at him, and he would need to find their master-- were they just making a bunch of vampires to see if they turned? Did that mean there were a bunch of spawn nearby too. What a nuisance-- Orobas in his entire life never made one vampire. The connection to personal, and the time never felt entirely right to aid them in their learning. He palmed the face of the one trying to bite into him, and shoved them aside, still standing in the same place, and stood on the fallen with a dust dress shoe, pushing his heel into their cheek. 

The other he grabbed back, “same master, mhm?” The questioned was deeply laced in compulsion, though on a vampire it couldn’t work, Orobas’ tone was enough of a threat, inches close to their face. The muscles around their eyes twitched-- and he grinned, “okay. I will deal with this. Messy, messy. I don’t need slayers stopping by wanting to dispose of you. Though, maybe I could let them lob a few heads off. Get them to do the work for incompetent masters.” He shoved them and the vampire snarled back and then ran off, the one he was stepping on too was released and they scrambled up and tried to run away. Orobas frowned, but referred to Graham with a curious tilt of their head. It wasn’t a threat-- though it was clear he was still trying to figure the other out. “I actually brought you a bottle of blood from one of our favorite dolls. Do you know Justin Timberlake? Mhm, he is a guest of ours.” The younger vampire was still having fun and while he felt himself pacing to pursue his new prey anxiously, Graham didn’t give chase as Orobas let the remaining members go. He felt rabid, hands shaking as he took wide strides back and forth like a tiger confined behind a thick pane of glass. He eventually started to allow himself to wander like he wanted to do the whole time, searching for the source of the blood. He forced himself to stop however and tapped his foot on the ground, not trying to appear impatient but he could feel himself jittering still. He never could tell where the fever pitch was and when he started to lower from it but the smell had arrived and now he needed to feed. “Hmm?” He asked, less because he didn’t hear and more because he rose his eyebrows as if he didn’t know WHAT he heard. “I’m sorry did you say you have Justin Timberlake as a-- “guest”?” He asked, barely concealing the surprise in his voice. “Can I ask why?”

Orobas dusted his shirt, and seemed annoyed that another shirt got a hole in in before he responded. Closing his jacket, and putting his dagger in it’s holster under it he seemed elegant once more. Like he just stepped out of a CEO meeting, and was going for a stroll versus having gotten into a fight. He smiled with a gentle delivery, “yes, my master acquired him for us. He’s here writing music or taking a couple years off the grid. But he’s, mhmm, he’s delicious. I have a bottle for you to sample. It’s not something easily acquired without killing him-- but he doesn’t mind in the least giving us a few pints.” His eyes flashed dangerously and knowingly. Orobas walked a few steps, the tapping of his shoes to the asphalt moving the dusted creatures around in the air. Near the lamppost and in a bush laid the half dead human, slowly bleeding still with long gashes across his abdomen and wrists. Orobas looked down at her, “I’m thoroughly annoyed when vampires make so much noise here. In the past, I could move around easily. Being loud, killing sprees, they were fun. But here is here, and here is my home. Newborn vampires have no chill. Are you the same then?” there was a challenge in tone as if he was to compare Graham to the ones dusted-- “can you bear it?” Red eyes danced from the dirty, dusty ground to the older vampire that stood before him in a professional manner to where he found where the blood source was. The tone in Orobas’ voice certainly didn’t fly by Graham unnoticed and he cocked his head sharply, the bones cracking faintly in retaliation. “Bear what?” He asked, his own tone not taking a growl to it yet but he could feel where he would start to get hot if he still generated body heat. He started to pace around more, keeping his bright eyes on the other vampire in a manner that definitely insinuated that he wasn’t backing down from anything; fear wasn’t a concept he was familiar with, not anymore. If he was to die by this other vampire, then fine but he wasn’t about to stand here and be equated to the dipshits that just attacked them. “Bear you flinging blood around hoping to lure in a bunch of assholes that have no chill? Buddy, I don’t know how old you are but I was taught right out the gate that my sitchiation’s a little… different,” His nostrils flared as a human’s did to express emotion. “Was THIS your plan? To put me on the spot then make me feel like a dumbass by riling me up then holding what you promised above my head?” He asked, feeling more emotion being added to his line of questions. “Bear what? Tell me. I can bear anything.”

Mhm, you are interesting. Orobas has lived long enough to feel like he’s met every soul in existence. Not literally, but he could categorize certain souls into the same type and group them. He couldn’t help but want to know how his kin reacted, where their lines were, what they were capable of. He desired them to be strong, to be ruthless, to be cunning, and dangerous. Fear was power if you held it in your hands, and Orobas was a puppet master with it. Graham was someone he didn’t know, and yet he always felt a fight was a decent test to see what they were capable of. His eyes danced over and his smile was there, almost painted on like a porcelain doll. “No, I do not lie to my kin-- what I say is what I mean. It is a question that has an answer, it really is that simple. You shouldn’t feel like a ‘dumbass’. You are beautiful, rash, and seem to hold a lot of pride that makes you easy to get along with.” His truth and words were usually literal when it involved those of his own kind, but it could be difficult to believe it with Orobas stoic expressions and singsong tone. “The fact you feel frustrated by my inquiry tells me everything else I need to know.” Orobas extended his hand holding a key. “Would you like to see Bloodhaven then?” Well, nothing Orobas had used to describe him was wrong, per se and while he didn’t relax at the older vampires answer, Graham let a smile of his own onto his face once more, choosing to take the words at face value instead of spending time obsessing over what intricately-hidden meaning Orobas’ words could’ve meant; he used to do that before, when he had things to worry about and relationships he didn’t want to ruin with his reputation. Now, he WAS ruined and ruinous; that reflected in the rush through him, the pulse to consume and tear something apart. “No offense man, but I’d really like to see something living in front of my face so I can bleed it dry first,” He decided to be honest himself, the aggression towards Orobas leaving his tone and leaving only excited trembling, as if every word was being pulled deeper and deeper from the well of self-control. The restraint was starting to hurt. “It’s a thing and I know it’s really stupid and I’m sorry but I just… GOTTA.”

A soft laugh. “This one is almost dead, nothing much left. Come, let's find something. The outskirts always have treats around.” His eyes briefly fell on the woman dying in the bush, she was already unconscious, something else would probably eat her-- it was no mind. “Before the sewer creatures slipped out to grab her,” Orobas took off almost gleefully, his body disappeared from view and appeared in another spot up the road waving lightly. In his arms another person-- a struggling male with Orobas’ arm wrapped around his chest, the other over his mouth so he couldn’t scream. His chin playfully rested on his neck. “He’s gotta,” he purred into the man’s ear, teeth just scraping behind it. “Can’t help it. You understand right? You live here, you know why this is happening. Why you are going to die.” The man struggled more, screaming behind the enclosed hand. Orobas’ eyed Graham before he pushed the man forward.  Graham didn’t mask his disappointment at the mention of his first option being nearly dead; slowed heart rate, the blood wasn’t flowing as healthily. Boring. He did, however, express mild curiosity when Orobas suggested finding something else - good, he needed something, anything, an addict desperate for the next hit. He followed the older vampire until the latter disappeared in a haze then reappeared elsewhere, and Graham whipped to find him quickly, only looking at the vampire for a moment before his eyes became fixated on the human he’d found. He approached in what could’ve been described as a prowl, almost bestial in nature as his long, razored tongue slid out of his mouth expectantly. His fingers twitched, his nostrils flared, the pulse rang in his head and the second Orobas let go, he was on the man like a dog being given permission to catch a treat that had been balanced on its nose. The two were on the ground in a heavy thud, Graham covering the man’s mouth just as Orobas did as his own mouth burrowed into his neck. He used his knees to secure his prey in place and his other hand tore at the skin around his chin and throat, getting blood on his fingers and drinking deep from the wounds in a much less refined manner than he was sure other vampires in the group did. Where a moan of pleasure might’ve been heard through the feeding, instead Graham purred with a guttural, otherworldly sound and it was quiet, reverberating through his Adam's apple, twisting around the squelching of blood against his lips and chin. As he fed, he could feel the pressure and anxiety dissipating; this was his only available target at the moment so he knew it would have to do. He burrowed deeper into the man’s neck like a gator to a fish, snapping tendons and chewing veins to destroy everything he could touch with his teeth. He wanted it to last forever so when it ended far sooner than he was wanting, he pulled back with a satiated gasp as though he were holding his breath, his face covered in the red liquid. “God, that was good.” He exhaled, tongue reaching under his chin and up to his lower eyelid. “Okay. Okay, NOW I’m ready for Bloodhaven,” He looked up to regard Orobas, eyes still burning red but no longer shaking with the manic energy that consumed him previously.

Orobas took a step back so his expensive clothes didn’t get splattered with blood. He couldn’t help but marvel at the messy way Graham attacked the other. So personal it was to bite victims, to use your teeth as the weapon to tear through flesh, tendon, and artery. Orobas knew the feeling intimately, but he’s always preferred a blade even to his own fangs. The face-- contained so much information. From pleasure, shifting to fear, to surprise, and Orobas enjoyed seeing everything happen in a fast shift. Pupils dilating, their gasps holding their mouth open. Ah-- it was-- just so much better than the carnage of burrowing his face into flesh. Just different, and that was what made their kind difficult to deal with it wasn’t it? So many types, so many ways to die by them. Orobas couldn’t deny it was a little erotic, the position, the sounds-- but his pleasure in it was hidden and savored as he smiled down at Graham. Countless ideas for him filled his head, like a loaded gun Orobas could point if he earned their trust. “There are not many rules, but I will warn you. My master is an Elder-- and Bloodhaven is under his protection. Should you cause problems-- problems being that you give our location away, or kill our blood dolls-- he is the one that deals with you. But it’s a place that is safe to crash if you need it and learn about your kind. Carrington--” he gritted his teeth with a tsk, “we are working on an archive. I just need to find him-- and if he’s killed I will find the one who did it. But welcome to our small club.” The younger vampire stood up with a small jerk or two of his body as he felt the rest of the tension sufficiently return to its dormancy. Graham wiped his face on the back of his hand and licked the residue off, glancing at Orobas with a sharp gaze as the latter spoke. A vampire lounge run by an Elder, huh? And apparently Justin Timberlake was there, too. All they were missing was Coldplay then it could turn into a cute little hipster hideout. “Thanks,” He said first, addressing the last sentence Orobas said first rather than trying to go forwards from the start. “I won’t tell a single soul about it; that’s not my style. Also I’ll leave the whole ‘blood doll’ thing to you guys - I’m not really the ‘playing with dolls’ type.” This would’ve been a nice segue into the topic he didn’t want to bring up but felt it necessary to mention. “Since your master’s an Elder, I’m sure he’s told you what an Upior is?” He asked, biting his nails to clean them, almost catlike in how he preened himself after his feeding. 

“Being told and seeing is very different,” Orobas mused lightly with a shrug. Haxian and him have witnessed many dangerous vampire in their long life, some, they had to run from themselves or to find backup if they decided to come after them for being in their country. Not all vampires were friendly together, which was expected, and Orobas and Haxian were a duo that also very easily caused hostility against others if they chose. “I’ve seen many of our kind in the traveled world. How we all feed and kill isn’t important to me so long as it's not leading trouble to others who live here permanently. Outsiders will always be given a stronger warning for that very reason. Your bloodlust is quite intense. Long ago I’d have killed until I had to be carried off by my master in exhaustion-- so I understand the feeling. I’m too old now to feel that anymore, I’m a little envious.” “Oh good, then you know how much of a pain in the ass it is,” Graham replied, finishing cleaning his face off and checking his clothes to see how much blood got on them, surprised to find that it wasn’t that great of an amount, only having spilled some near the collar of his shirt - he could either take it off as he went home or, if he wanted to be more boring, he could zip up his jacket. “I get it, I get it; I gotta adjust to the rest of the group, not the other way around. I know how to play nice. Just don’t be surprised if you call a group meeting and I can’t make it or whatever - I know you can tell but it’s not exactly my choice to do what I half to do sometimes. I can’t be that super fancy-pants old-timey vampire sitting in a chair admiring a fire sipping wine from a goblet.” He was wondering why it was so hard for him to just be so honest as to say what his actual problems was… and he wondered if it was because deep down, he knew it WAS a problem but that would show weakness and he didn’t want to do that in front of Orobas. “BUT-- but I get the rules, no problem.” 

“No, you do not actually have to adjust to the group,” Orobas found himself chuckling at the visual of Carrington and himself in that very position in their small archive, two old creatures with many lifetimes to their names. A pang hit him strongly in missing him. Younger vampires were always such a treat, not newborns though-- he loathed them without their masters hands, hence the dust blowing down the road. “Just be yourself, this isn’t a situation of imposing on you. The dolls are, well. With my age, compulsion can be strong even when I don’t mean it to be. They are obedient and I like that very much. Less deaths do help in the grand sense, but I have no qualms about killing. I quite enjoy it.” Orobas reassured best he could, but with the younger kin he knew they all needed a hand in something. This was why he wanted to have Bloodhaven. Teeth was the best place to go to chill, drink, and enjoy time together-- but their clubhouse could be a place to come when you needed help from an Elder, or from those older enough to protect you. “Come, I’ll show you the place so you know where it is.” It was too soon to tell how much faith Graham put in Orobas’ word; he had to admit, part of him ached when the older vampire spoke so highly and seemingly fondly of the relationship between himself and his master, always wishing that his own hadn’t suggested he leave when they deemed his training ‘complete’. He felt sometimes that he had so much more to learn but they both realised early that the loneliness he experienced at leaving his own life behind so abruptly combined with his challenging nature and utter inability to experience primal fear in the face of death would be a difficult problem and not one she could fix, not without drastically changing him and he wasn’t ready for that transformation; something had to give and they knew he was unable. The invitation to Bloodhaven was a nice idea in theory for him but he found himself still thinking and having trouble finding a potential for him to fit in given his precarious relationship with even the sight of blood. Then again, the word ‘challenge’ sprung up in his mind again and he was curious to see how that’d work out. ‘Just be yourself’. Well, Orobas HAD said that so. He nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “Sure thing. Lead the way, Orobas.” He gave a smile of respect to the older vampire. This might be good for him.

[carringtonblackwood]

Two Vampires Walk Into a Theater || Cari & Dewey

Carrington and Dewey meet up for the first time. Things... don’t go as planned.

Takes place during the last POTW, and before any current interactions. 

@deweythedew

Dewey could scarcely recall a time he felt so completely, utterly… human. If it hadn’t ceased beating ages ago, his heart would be hammering against it’s encasing of ribs, sure to burst free from his chest at any moment. He had met quite a few in White Crest whom he found agreeable, both young and old, local and foreign. He enjoyed engaging with new people - it opened up the opportunity to learn new facts and stories and generally make the ordeal of living forever bearable. And yet, the longer he talked with Carrington, he was immediately brought back to the days of his youth. All that growth and knowledge he amassed over the decades almost seemed to vanish when he thought of meeting the other in person. Someone so similar to himself and, but just distinct enough that it gave him pause and caused his throat to tighten in that inexplicably embarrassing manner. He glanced up at the faded, illuminated billboard above his head before huffing rather heavily. Was he too early? Did he look alright? Smell alright? Oh God, when was the last time he had a sensation so similar to a stomach ache? Despite how odd it may have appeared, he placed the index and middle fingers of each hand to his temple, beginning to count down from ten whilst tapping against his cold skin. Breathe. Even if you don’t need to, just breathe.

Carrington hadn’t done this in… a literal age. What had it been? Fifty years? Longer? Was this even… that? How did he know for sure? It felt like it. As best he could remember. And it also felt… normal. If that was even a concept anymore. Carrington’s ‘normal’ was hardly what anyone else would consider as such. Just last week he’d been in an altercation with a Hunter in one of the local cemeteries. Granted, they had a long history of… not killing one another, but the fact remained that it was a far cry from tonight. Though Carrington found he much preferred tonight. Despite his insecurities. If his heart has been capable, it would have been beating a rapid stacatto against his chest. His palms would likely have been sweaty. He felt a bit like he couldn’t breathe, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t needed. Christ Almighty, but he needed to pull himself together. He was four-hundred years old, for God’s sake. He could handle meeting someone for a movie and drinks. 

Worrying the ring he wore on his right hand, Carrington took a steadying breath (again, out of habit of trying to appear human) and pressed on. When he saw someone that matched Dewey’s description, though it was only his back he could see currently, Carrington swallowed. “Am I late?” he said as he drew closer, pressing a smile over the nervousness he felt. “Dewey, I hope? Else this might be a bit awkward.” 

3… 2… 1

Dewey finally lowered his hands, blowing a steady stream of air past pursed lips. The action hadn’t completely done away with his anxiety, but it certainly helped him feel at least a portion calmer than he was previously. This was going to be fine. It was two gentlemen with common interests, going to see a movie, and then potentially drinking wine at one of their abodes later in the evening. Normal. These were actions normal people engaged in. The more he reminded himself of that fact, the better off he would surely be. Or, at the very least, he could dampen down on the rising urge to turn tail and drum up an excuse at the last minute. 

As though the idea of bailing on the entire evening was a summoning spell of some sort, he heard the tell-tale footfalls of someone approaching him from the rear. His throat tensed, and he had to focus the muscles to unbind themselves. Relax. Exhaling, he swiftly - or, he hoped it wasn’t too swift - turned to face the other, and found all the work gone into easing himself down come to pieces. Good Lord, he was… well, handsome seemed to be a disservice. Charming was a given - the moment he heard his voice, a shiver had rippled through him. It was a voice he had somehow imagined when picking up a romance novel, dictating the gallant hero a rich but smooth vocal performance, and oozing with tenderness. Like a dream. Dreamy? He’d heard that term before, some years back but, still it seemed appropriate. Wait, he hadn’t said anything in response - Damn it! “Yes, yes that would be me,” He rushed out, only taking a few steps forward as he extended a hand. He hoped to whatever entity might be benevolent enough to hear him that he didn’t appear too eager. That the smile on his features didn’t stretch too wide. No teeth were shown - he loathed to smile with his teeth - but it was still genuine. “Dewey Foster, at your service. And not late at all - right on time, actually. The movie doesn’t begin in another fifteen minutes,”

Carrington had made a habit out of taking in the details of another person when he first met them. The way they moved, the way they spoke, the way they smelled. The sound of their breathing and their heartbeat. Their features and any small eccentricities of habit they might possess. Details that had saved his life many times, and even when he wasn’t truly concerned for his personal safety, old habits die hard. 

Before his companion for the evening could turn around, Carrington had noted two things. The first was the slight lingering scent of blood, but not human blood. Something far richer, though he couldn’t quite place it. The second was that the man had no heartbeat of his own. Carrington’s features tightened just a bit, but only with what could be considered a hopeful curiosity. He’d met one or two others like himself since coming to town, but so far had been greatly disappointed. When Dewey - thank God he hadn’t walked up to the wrong person; that would’ve been embarrassing - turned after Carrington spoke, even the idea that the other man might be a vampire too was squashed under the jolt that sliced through Carrington’s chest. A jolt so quick and visceral that he very nearly stumbled. 

It was like looking at a doppleganger. Not of himself, but of someone he’d once known. Someone he’d once cared for very, very much. Carrington knew his shock must have played across his face, but he truly couldn’t help himself. Not when the man before him was so… striking wasn’t the word Carrington would’ve chosen - it didn’t do the other man justice at all - but it was the first that came to mind. As Carrington shook his hand - the coolness of his touch barely registering at the moment - he felt his tightly reined control slip briefly. A pleased smile slowly spread across his face, one that reached his eyes after a moment. “Hi…” It was a small, almost breathless sound. One that Carrington would’ve flushed red for making, had he been able to blush. “Carrington. Blackwood. It’s a pleasure, Dewey.” He held the handshake a moment longer than was probably proper, before huffing a small laugh and glancing at the marquee. Though his gaze was drawn back to the other man before he could help himself. This was normal, right? When you first met someone that- 

When you first met someone. 

Carrington shook his head at himself. “I have to confess… I have no idea what’s playing.” 

The expressions that seemed to play like a cinema of its own across the other's features took Dewey by surprise. He hadn't expected someone - never encountered someone to view  him in such a... fascinated? No, no, there was another level to the stare he was receiving. Almost... familiar? And a hopefulness that couldn't be denied beneath even that, something that brightened Carrington's expression so brilliantly, and Dewey felt the overwhelming urge to turn away as though he wasn't worthy enough to behold it. He truly was dashing.

And then they shook hands.

He should have sensed it before then. His hearing should have picked up on the lack of a thrum inside of his chest. Or he should have scented a hint of blood that didn't quite sit right within him; almost a staleness. But, when Dewey felt Carrington slip his fingers into his palm, expecting a pointed warmth reminiscent of a heating blanket in contrast to his own icy skin, and felt... the exact opposite. There was no contrast. The smile on his features flickered, a wave of devastated realization crashing over him in a smothering wave. Not even Carrington's airy greeting could pull him up from under it.

Of bloody course he was a vampire. 

A pleasure. A pleasure? As though the feeling of being enamoured was a long forgotten memory, Dewey had to physically halt himself from snatching his hand back, but it did drop a bit from the other's grasp before falling limply to his side. His features were tense, still smiling, but held a distinct hesitance. Inside of his mouth, the ache of his fangs attempting to push themselves free of his gums throbbed, and his throat stung with a hiss he wouldn't allow to break the seal his lips. He could have just as easily allowed those initial instincts to take over, to tackle the other to the ground and uselessly throttle him just to vent frustration over his own ineptitude. But he wouldn't. 

Or was it that he couldn't? No. He was... he would try to be stronger than that. It was one night. And then they would never have to see each other again. Seemingly coming back to himself after what felt eerily like an out-of-body experience, Dewey swallowed thickly. "Well, after sifting through the titles, and the ratings, of course, I eventually settled on 'The Invisible Man'," His smile widened just a fraction, "Nothing like a remastered classic thriller, right? After you?" 

And there it was. Subtle, of course. Practiced. Executed with either experience or sheer force of will. Or perhaps both. The flicker of expression, the physical hesitation so brief Carrington might have imagined it, if he hadn’t been wired to expect it. As always. Even from his own kind. Especially from his own kind. 

So Carrington felt a devastation all his own, like being doused in ice water, and he was reminded quite viscerally why these things never worked. Why he’d stopped pursuing them at all over half a century ago. One brief lifetime spent in relative happiness was apparently all he was going to be allotted in his time on this earth. Perhaps he should simply continue to be grateful for what he’d had - for what he missed every single day - and let that be the end of it. He should simply stop seeking anything other than what he already had, which was minimal in terms of people he could call friend. He should be grateful for the time he’d been given. 

But at the moment he found it hard to be grateful for much of anything. In fact, he found it cruel to be met with a face that held such familiarity, yet none at all. There was no glint of mischief in the others dark eyes, no curious tilt of his head, no easy smirk. The longer he looked, the more he noticed the subtle differences, but also how those differences paled in comparison to the similarities. 

Carrington felt no prickle of fangs, no hatred or loathing, no desire to harm or even raise his voice at the other man. It wasn’t his fault. Yet neither was it Carrington’s. Though it appeared the good doctor might not be as unbiased as he’d seemed online. Also not his fault, especially when so abruptly faced with something so unexpected, and seemingly unwanted. But it was also not something Carrington was going to immediately assume. Not unless he wanted to become a hypocrite, which he didn’t. In the time it took for all this to pass through his mind, his own expression flickered as well. His smile dimmed, as did the brightness in his eyes. But barely. Like putting a subtle filter over a photograph. Something had changed from the original, but it was hard to say exactly what it was. He’d had such high hopes for tonight, if only in gaining a friend, and nothing else.

Still, Carrington internally pulled himself together, pushing down the frustration and the disappointment and the self-pitying nonsense that threatened to rise up and overwhelm him, and pressed the smile back onto his face. “Well, it’s an excellent choice. The classics never let us down, do they?” His gaze lingered briefly on the other mans face, and though his smile never wavered, something a bit like resignation flickered on Carrington’s eyes. “Unlike so many other things.” Unlike himself, it seemed. But he preceded Dewey into the theater, and they found seats quite easily, since they were apparently the only ones seeing the film that evening. Another lovely twist of fate, it seemed. 

Ah. He’d caught that. And for a moment, Dewey felt a pang of sorts dead center in his chest. Not exactly stake-wound worthy, but enough of a sting that gave him pause. He knew he couldn’t be subtle around other vampires. Heart on his throat, wasn’t that the way one had put it? He had tried to learn over the years, to steady his features into the right expressions, to put a cork on the overflowing bottle that housed his emotions. Even before turning, he had always been overly passionate, and though that had dulled around most, if not everyone he met, a broiling kettle would always be whistling beneath the surface. 

But… this feeling. This particular one. It was shame. He knew it too well. Oh, those words, that look, unwavering and yet-- It didn’t break, but Dewey could have sworn he felt a crack form around his heart. Immediate and swift. It wasn’t fair, he realized. To either of them. When Carrington moved forward, his shoulders sagged and he seemed to hesitate in following after him. 

Part of him almost wanted to order something from the concession, still keep up the pretense that they were both normal young men, simply enjoying a film together. But the thought quickly gave him the ghost of what would have been indigestion. That would have been a slap in the face, and no, he still couldn’t entirely shove past his own inhibitions, but he was a gentleman at heart. He… he was trying. Even when realizing their theater was empty.

Well, wasn’t that just swell? Dewey had at least anticipated a few other movie goers to be in attendance. Though, with White Crest, one could never tell if a place was going to be vacant or otherwise bustling with people. The town was strange in that way. A strangeness that, on any other occasion he might have found charming, betrayed him heavily tonight. It didn’t matter. Crowd or not, there was no shifting from the tone of the evening; awkward and tense, at least on his part. He forced himself to look up at Carrington from behind long lashes, Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. “Do you have a preference for seating? I really don’t mind anywhere.” 

Carrington understood Dewey’s reticence. Even though they didn’t know each other, it was something his kind - their kind, he reminded himself - usually developed in spades if they wanted to survive. Though it may have been leftover from when he was human, as so much of Carrington’s was. He’d once been angry and bitter, and in those first years - so long ago now - he had even felt a strange sense of hatred for others like himself. But that feeling ebbed with time and experience. He was no monster, like many chose to see him. He was no rabid killer of innocents, no bloodthirsty fiend just waiting to descend upon the unexpecting and the unwilling, no desperate parasite waiting to take what was not freely given. 

He refused to be what the world expected him to be. He was himself, as he’d always been, give or take 400 years and a few… eccentricities. But it was times such as this that he wondered, however briefly, if it was really worth it. Playing the game day after day, decade after decade, century after century. To what purpose? Survival? Ridding the world of the supernatural hunters that saw his species and so many more as nothing but another red dash in their ledger? Especially when so many of his kind looked at him with fear or loathing. Both hidden and otherwise. 

But regardless, Carrington appreciated the effort Dewey seemed to put forward. At least he didn’t turn and leave Carrington standing alone on the street. He even followed into the - of course - empty theater. But perhaps others would come in after a bit. Carrington glanced around as seating was mentioned. “The back is usually where I find myself. Let’s me see everything.” Like someone that might want to stab him in the back, quite literally. 

They eventually chose seats, and there was a bit of silence between them as a few advertisements rolled across the screen. “It’s alright, by the way. If you’d rather go,” Carrington said after a bit. His voice was purposefully neutral, and though it might have hinted at disappointment and resignation if one knew what to listen for, it wasn’t unkind. What was unkind was to expect Dewey to stay if he didn’t wish to. “I’m not exactly what most people expect.”

“That sounds fine, then,” Not surprising, as Dewey preferred to stay closer to the back as well. If not there, then the corners of the theater. Made for a quick getaway in case he felt even marginally unsafe, from an outside threat or… something else. The silence that followed their choosing seemed almost deafening, even with the audio going on in the background. No amount could break through the unease he felt, though he tried to force his body to relax into his chair. And then Carrington spoke, and Dewey couldn’t help the way his head whipped around to face the other, features showcasing mild surprise. 

So they were past tiptoeing around the subject. That was fast. Though Dewey did appreciate the honesty, at least in part because it allowed himself to be at least a little truthful in return. And while it might not have been what Carrington wanted to hear, he at least deserved an explanation of some sort. 

“No, you’re not,” He began, resting his chin atop a loosely clasped fist, “Most men aren’t as devastatingly handsome or charming,” The last part was said a bit low, as if uttering the obvious would somehow be a crime all its own. He didn’t look directly at the other, though he kept his gaze focused on the crease of his pant leg. Something to anchor him for what he uttered next.

“I don’t want to leave. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting… Well, you know. And it’s difficult for me to just accept it. But, that’s all on me. It really has nothing to do with you at all. I know that doesn’t really help, though,” His gaze rose to take in the profile of his abdomen; focus. “You were surprised when you first saw me. Was it… because you knew, too?”

Unless it was something he didn’t wish to talk about, or something that required tact or kid gloves, Carrington was usually one to get right to the point of the matter. He knew they were both aware of what the other was, and they had both clearly reacted in a way that left several question marks hanging between them. Which is partly why he gave Dewey an easy out if he wanted. But also because it was the decent thing to do. 

But he could also feel the tension and unease radiating from the other vampire as they sat in silence. So it was a combination of all those things that moved him to speak. He glanced aside as Dewey turned to look at him, but glanced away a moment later, the other mans face once again entirely too familiar. Carrington wasn’t sure what he expected Dewey to say, if anything. But when he did speak, the words surprised Carrington so much that he let out a soft, short huff of laughter. It was a bit wry, but genuine. “Well, the sentiment is certainly appreciated. And most definitely returned.” A small glance flickered his way, but was gone again just as quickly. 

Which was perhaps a good thing, as Carrington’s expression briefly registered his surprise when Dewey said he didn’t want to leave. Alright then. That was something. Carrington nodded as Dewey explained a bit more about his hesitation, thumb slowly worrying the ring on his right hand. “It’s understandable,” Carrington reassured him. And it was. Perfectly. “And I don’t take offense easily.” Another small huff, though this time it was mostly a faint smile instead of laughter, followed Deweys last question. “Um… no. Well, not entirely. I’m honestly almost always glad to meet someone like myself. Especially if they seem so... agreeable.” As Dewey obviously had. Did. Had? 

“No… um…” Another huff and a slightly embarrassed smile. “-you reminded me of someone. Someone I knew a long time ago.” He frowned a bit, but pushed it aside as he finally turned to look at the other man again. “Its uncanny, really. And I was… taken off guard. For that I apologize.”

Understandable. But not acceptable. Not when the other had been nothing but congenial and sweet towards him. And still continued to be so, even with Dewey’s half-assed explanation of why he reacted in such a terribly rude manner. Nothing had been said on his part, but it still felt as though he’d told Carrington to ‘Fuck off’ in the subtlest of ways. 

Hearing him say he was glad to meet someone like himself only caused the guilt to grow, and spread, filling him up until he felt close to overflowing as the other continued on. To look upon a face and find it familiar never turned out to be a pleasant experience in Dewey’s life. It was almost always of a person who had either ceased to be, or had chosen to leave his life for one or absolutely no reason. He was reminded of the hopefulness in Carrington’s gaze, and that alone was beginning to solidify that whoever he was reminiscent of, it must have been someone dear to the other vampire. 

“Then you have nothing to apologize for. In fact, it should be myself… I could sit here and give you a number of excuses as to my behavior, but none of them would rectify the situation,” Inhaling slowly, he turned an earnest gaze to Carrington, attempting to capture his eyes. He’d spent so long denying himself out of some misplaced sense of punishment. Tonight had been a breakthrough, and he had nearly ruined it all with one handshake. Nearly. “Can I… can we start over? I-I mean, I know I can’t…” He huffed in obvious frustration, eyes slipping shut for a beat, before they opened, a gentle, tentative smile spreading onto his features. “Can you forgive me? I really would like to… have a nice evening with a potential companion,”

Carrington was fairly even-tempered most of the time. He saw no point in yelling or causing a scene, and taking the risk of making oneself look foolish or hypocritical. Or harming someone on accident, physically or otherwise. It was a lesson learned through trial and error. Through decades of self-discipline that had once bordered on obsessive, along with hours of prayer at masses that left his skin raw and itching and his soul no less troubled. And if he were honest, when it came to how he’d been treated in the past, Dewey’s reactions were almost a balm, in their own way. 

As was his oh-so familiar face. A face that was a reminder of the best and worst memories of Carrington’s existence. Of the only person he had ever let himself love, and losing that love to some wasting fucking disease that he could’ve circumvented with but a word. But that was along time ago. A very long time. And it wouldn’t be fair of Carrington to equate Dewey with a man 200 years dead. Or anyone else for that matter. 

Carrington’s own sense of guilt threatened to consume him, wondering if it would only make things worse to have confessed the reason for his surprise. So when it didn’t, Carrington felt the slightest bit of tension ease from his shoulders. He kept his eyes on Dewey as he spoke quite earnestly, and while he didn’t think there was anything to apologize for, Carrington knew that sometimes accepting that apology - needed or not - was one of the most important things one could do. It could make the difference between a fresh start or a messy end. 

Tonight was a first for Carrington as well. A step out of his self-isolation that had just seemed… easier for the last…. Christ but he’d lost count of the years. He’d done better recently, reaching out to others, some by chance - such as Arthur and his cozy-covered tortoises - other voluntarily - like Nadia, with her missing time - but this seemed like a different sort of reaching out. 

So there was no way Carrington could deny the offer of simply starting over now they both seemed to have a better… grasp on the situation. As it were. “Of course.” He tried not to let himself be too hopeful. It could all still go to shit, obviously. But he couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face. It flickered with the barest hint of concern as Dewey closed his eyes in frustration, and Carrington had to close his hand around the armrest to keep from reaching out, but when the other man’s smile returned, so did Carrington’s. 

He couldn’t help but hold Dewey’s gaze, blue eyes on his dark ones. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, swallowing slowly. “And so would I. I’d… I’d like that very much.” 

I’d like that very much. It had to be purely illegal for a few simple words to touch a part of his being so tenderly. Dewey had held so many reservations, as well as hopes for the night. So many insecurities about his personal hang ups that he’d thought and re-thought calling the whole thing off so many times it was perfectly ridiculous. That would have been easier. Denying that he wanted to keep another’s company, and so shutting down all potential outings solidified that fact. But he had already proven that ‘fact’ as false with Regan, happily taking her up on the offer for dinner. He couldn’t pretend any longer. He yearned for that companionship.

And Carrington, so it seemed, was also keen on giving the night a second chance. Much to Dewey’s immense relief. Pre-programming himself for rejection meant he had to pick and choose where he placed his hopefulness, but he had allowed it to flourish this time, and wasn’t let down. Now they were there, no barriers, pure honesty, and Dewey would have flushed due to how emotionally nude he felt in the moment. But in the openness of it all, there was a sense of calm. 

He worried his bottom lip a tad before finally breaking their gaze, though the ghost of a smile still lingered on his mouth. When he glanced over to the screen, the beginning of the movie was just beginning to play. And in that moment, Dewey realized he didn’t really care about how the film ended or began. Once again he turned to Carrington, leaning forward a bit in his chair. His fingers itched to brush against the other’s, or at least his knee, or some other part of him - to touch and watch as he turned towards him, feeling a shiver of excitement rush through his frame. “I… Do you want to… W-what I mean to say is…” 

For the love of Christ, why couldn’t he speak English? “... Do you want to get out of here? Perhaps make good on seeing those orchids of yours a bit earlier?” Dewey’s voice was low, hesitant, but with a conspiratorial edge, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smirk. Please, please don’t let him make a fool of himself…

Why not be honest? There was a time and a place for subterfuge and/or omission, but this wasn’t it. This wasn’t life or death - though Carrington felt a bit like he might die of nervousness in the interim, though he didn’t show it much outwardly - but it was important. Both for himself and for Dewey. For reasons both shared and unique. Reasons that hadn’t all been revealed so far tonight, but Carrington didn’t expect that. He hadn’t had any expectations at all, so if it went badly he wouldn’t be disappointed. Though he had been on the verge of it, if he were honest, at least until now. Until it seemed that the evening was taking a much more pleasant turn. 

Because what was the point of having all this life ahead of him if he didn’t do something with it? The experiences he’d had since coming to town had only fueled that desire to find companionship, be it friendship or otherwise. Though Carrington was quite aware he could be acerbic at times, pig-headed at others, and downright nasty on a case by case basis. Though he saved that particular part of himself for those that deserved it. For the ones that sought to harm him and his kin, and other innocents. Not for people like Dewey. People he wanted to get to know better. And perhaps even spend more time with after tonight.

So as the film started, Carrington also found he didn’t care much about it. He’d seen it. Knew the beginning and the end. The middle. He knew he wouldnt be able to focus, not now that the ice that had coated the space between them at first was melting. So when Dewey seemed of the same mind, Carrington glanced at him. The tone of his voice, and the easy smirk that seemed to transform his entire countenance was all it took for Carrington to agree. He would’ve flushed a bit of he could, but instead gave a small breath of a laugh. He tried to form a witty retort, or something humorous, but his mind betrayed him at that moment. He could only nod and give a low, warm, “Yes.” 

And that was all the answer Dewey needed. “Grand,” His own voice echoed an almost giddy relief, the doctor already on the edge of his seat. Forgoing asking permission, his hand found Carrington’s and if allowed, would gently tug him up as he stood as well. Inhibitions be damned, they were going to enjoy tonight. And not watching a movie that he already knew he wouldn’t find the least iota entertaining. Though steady, his gait was a bit speedy, and in the light-headed rush of vacating the theater he nearly bumped into another couple that was simultaneously entering. “Pardon us,” He chuckled out and, once they were behind, tossed Carrington an anxious smile that showcased his teeth before quickly looking forward again. 

Once they were outside, he finally released the other’s hand and blew out an exhale, fingers running through his hair. “Thank God. I really wasn’t sure what I’d do if you said you actually wanted to see that… atrocity,” Likely do so and pretend that he was interested, simply for the other’s sake. “The night’s far too beautiful to spend it in a stuffy theater,” Though he would have argued that it wasn’t the dusk that drew a near permanent smile onto his features. No, not the evening at all. 

Carrington tilted his head at Dewey’s relief. He was about to comment when the other man slipped his hand into Carrington’s and pulled him up and out of the theater. Carrington felt a small rush of… something… in the pit of his stomach, and felt himself grin as they dipped past the others coming in as they left. “Pardon,” he murmured as well, before he turned his own crooked grin towards Dewey. 

They made it outside, and once Dewey had released his hand - which had been a utterly pleasant sensation all it’s own - Carrington also took a breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve seen it. More than once,” Carrington laughed wryly. “I don’t think it’s changed much. But I’m certainly not complaining.” Being out in the cool evening was much nicer, and Carrington instantly felt less claustrophobic than in the theater. “And that it is.” He let his gaze linger for a moment, before he huffed quietly at himself and had to look away. He turned his eyes upwards, to the sky. It was dark and clear, and a few stars could be seen past the haze of fluorescent light from the theater and surrounding buildings. But his smile barely moved. “I’ve a rather nice view from my roof. Not as good as the one from the cliffs, but passable.” 

“Have you now?” Called it. Though having the hunch confirmed made him feel considerably better about all but whisking them away into the night. His gaze still on the night sky above them, he felt a bit of a prickle along the edges of his skin. Was Carrington still looking at him? When he shifted to see, the blonde was peering up into the sky, and Dewey felt more than a tad silly about thinking that he would be looking solely at him. Of course he wouldn’t, that was… anyway. “I’m sure it’s still lovely,” He reassured, moving just an inch or two closer to the other, waiting for them to fall in step hesitantly. Exiting the movie theater had been one thing - he’d only initiated because Carrington had agreed. Being a leader could only come natural so many times before his usual submissiveness kicked in, and he was left a bit uncertain as they stood beneath the dim lights of the cinema. “It’s been quite some time since I appreciated a good view. Sad to say, I’m a bit of a recluse these days,”

“I have. I’m sure that’s a huge surprise,” he joked. And Carrington was still looking, just not directly. He was afraid it would be too much. Too overbearing. Too… everything. So he watched Dewey out of the corner of his eye as he looked up at the stars as well. But the view wasn’t half as lovely. 

Carrington didn’t step away when Dewey moved closer. He did give a small tip of his head to indicate the way towards said home. “It is,” he nodded as the moved slowly forwards. “It’s a bit too close to others for my taste - at least in a more permanent sense - but I find the neighborhood… interesting.” He didn’t walk too fast, or tried not to, seeing as how his legs were rather long. Feeling a bit unsure what to do with his hands, Carrington hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, not wanting to appear like he was closing off by shoving his whole hand inside. He could still feel the weight of Dewey’s fingers against his, but tried not to think about it too much. 

“Perhaps it’s time then. It’s been awhile since I’ve shared one. I’m not exactly the most social person myself.” Though Carrington had his reasons, as he was sure Dewey did. “Sorry about the walk… I um… haven’t purchased a car since I’ve been here. I keep meaning to but…” Carrington shook his head with a small laugh, knowing he was rambling. It wasn’t all that far, a few blocks maybe, to Carrington’s home. It was a moderately sized town house sitting between a few others on the same street. “Pardon my neighbor,” Carrington said quietly as they ascended the front steps. “She’s a bit nosy.” He raised his hand in greeting to the older woman smoking in the chair on her small patio. “Evening, Marge.” Marge waved back, and then waved at Dewey before going back to her Virginia Slims. 

Carrington cleared his throat and gave Dewey an apologetic look as he opened the door and let them inside. 

"Immensely," Dewey dragged out the word, nearly grinning, but secured his lips into a small smile before he could reveal a row of teeth. He had already performed one act of impulsive decision making. The last thing he needed to do now was appear too eager. That was an absolute turn off, he was certain, especially considering he was still trying to recover any more lingering pieces of their initial contact. Still, things seemed to be slowly falling back into a pleasant picture. They had the night ahead of them, and with no obligation to watch or do anything in particular, there were a number of ways it could go. 

He could understand the notion of being too... crowded. Although his own abode wasn't exactly secluded, it afforded him enough space that he didn't feel too pressure to share any intimacies of his life with neighbors. Sure, some were a touch nosier than others, but he was decent at deflecting and cutting conversations short. If anyone called him uppity or just plain rude, then so be it. People would have their opinions about him no matter how he behaved. They certainly made plenty of assumptions due to his profession and mannerisms as it was. He'd become accustomed to the speculation. It was... kind of a game, of sorts.

"I believe it is," He agreed quietly, noting that while not every vampire shared the sentiment, most appreciated their solitude. Perhaps within even the most peppy of their species, there would always be an underlying urge to simply be alone. For one reason or another. "Please, that's the last thing you need to apologize for," He shouldn't be apologizing for a single thing. Dewey glanced at the other, muttering a bit coyly, "I could use the exercise." 

As they walked up to Carrington's residence - a lovely town house, almost similar to Dewey's own bar from a few key differences - he tilted his head a bit in the direction of said neighbor, offering a cordial smile and a nod in return. Though the moment they stepped inside, he immediately brought a fist to his lips as a poorly stifled giggle rose in his throat. "I must say, I've been wondering about the infamous Marge you mentioned before. I can see what you meant by sprightly," His fingers loosened, though they stayed curled in front of his mouth, masking a toothy grin as he idly took in their surroundings.

Carrington could only laugh, swiping a hand through his hair as they walked. He didn’t bother to hide his own smile at this point, with the tension easing bit by bit into something far more relaxed. Not completely, as they were still both testing the waters, as it were, though neither seemed to want to mess things up. Carrington certainly didn’t. So he was glad for the conversation as they walked. For the time to sort his thoughts and try to maintain some sort of polite composure, and not let his enthusiasm get ahead of his good sense. Though it felt as if Dewey might be of the same mind. About more than just terribly boring movies. 

Carrington had spent the majority of his adult life either completely alone or separated from the company of others by choice. It was simply better that way, especially in the time he’d come from and lived through. It became easier as the world became more populated and less superstitious, to move among the humans. To become like them - to become as he once was - as he still was in so many ways. His neighbors might have noted his unusual hours - Marge especially - but he always had a reason for such things. Work, insomnia, etc. No one asked too many questions these days, though Carrington had no doubt that come tomorrow the entire neighborhood would know he’d had a visitor that night. Thanks to his dear neighbor. Not that Carrington cared what anyone else knew or thought, as long as it didn’t bring harm to himself or anyone else. 

He glanced aside at Dewey as they walked, the lazy grin on his face still holding strong. “Says the cardiologist,” he murmured in return, his own tone slightly teasing. They got past Marge with little difficulty, and Carrington shut the door behind them, pointedly flicking the deadbolt with a bit of stifled laughter of his own. He dropped his keys on the table by the door, and turned to watch Dewey for a moment as he surveyed the foyer. It wasn’t overly large, with a set of stairs leading to the second level directly ahead of them, and small rooms to the right and left. Straight back down the hall by the stairs was the kitchen. There were a few items here and there, and the place was uncluttered, but obviously lived in. “She is a gem,” he laughed quietly, but all thoughts of Marge soon drifted away as he continued to take in the other man’s profile. 

Something stirred in Carrington’s chest. A nervous, fluttery sensation that would have sent him blushing if he’d been capable. Realizing he was staring, Carrington blinked himself back to right. “Do you want a drink?” he asked, stepping slowly closer, but not too close. Not just yet. No matter if he wanted to or not. But he did give Dewey another lazy grin, and a brush of fingers along his arm as he indicated the way to said drinks if the other man wished. “I confess I’m a bit of a wine snob, so unfortunately there’s plenty to choose from.” 

Dewey was no stranger - pun slightly intended - when it came to entering the abodes of others he rarely knew. He had carried out many house calls around and along the outskirts of White Crest, lately doing so with increasing frequency. There was never any judgement about where or how a person lived, unless he felt it would severely impact their health, but even then he wouldn’t say something aloud until he got a better feel for both patient and their situation. He had little expectation when first approaching the other male’s - but as he stood there, allowing himself to take in the surroundings, make tiny, casual observations, he truly didn’t anticipate that the place would feel so much like… home. 

Not down to the exact detail of his own place, as every individual had their own personal touch attributed to various nooks and crannies. But overall? He felt his posture relax, found himself able to step without fear of being too fast or slow or potentially knocking something over. It was comfortable. Familiar. Calming. Eerily like the man who now held his gaze once again, and how he was being approached by said literal drop-dead gorgeous specimen. Once again he was exceedingly grateful that he had no heartbeat, otherwise Carrington would have clearly heard the steam-hammer equivalent of one in his chest.

Another ear-to-ear grin was smothered by the tight press of his lips, though they still formed a grateful smile as he nodded slowly, a tad dazed. “Absolutely. And actually, that’s a very wonderful coincidence because I happen to know very little about wine, if you can believe it. So many years and I… really never bothered to indulge that much,” He allowed the fingers to nudge him wherever they would go, keeping his gaze on Carrington’s profile. There were so many thoughts muddling his mind, so many questions to ask, topics to touch on. He wanted to know everything about the other, compare experiences, tribulations, triumphs - but if he started, he knew he would never be able to stop. 

Maybe if he began with something easy? “So… h-how old are you, exactly?”

The townhouse had been one of the first places Carrington had looked at upon coming to town. He didn’t have many possessions that he carried with him from place to place, preferring to start over as cleanly as possible, but there were a few things here and there that he always brought along. Bits and pieces of his life that were too important to be stored elsewhere. Reminders, if you would, of all he had done and survived and lived through. Reminders that life was worth living. 

So while not ideal, Carrington had grown fond of the place, and had grown comfortable in it. Though Dewey was honestly the first person he’d had over. Ever. He could sense a slight release of a bit more of the humming tension that had surrounded the other man over the better part of their time together this evening. That was a good thing, Carrington thought to himself as they moved towards the kitchen. Now that he was back in a familiar environment, he too felt quite a bit more relaxed. 

Which would hopefully continue to help Dewey relax, which would in turn help Carrington relax even more. And so on. He had no expectations for the evening, other than becoming better acquainted with the other man. What that meant, Carrington couldn’t say. They would simply have to play it by ear. Carrington knew he wanted to ask Dewey so many things, but knew that wine most always helped with such conversations. At least for Carrington.

He grinned, glancing at Dewey as the other man confessed about his lack of wine knowledge and imbibement. “I’ve likely indulged too much over the years. In too many things.” He gave Dewey a sly grin, but didn’t elaborate just then. He would, if Dewey wanted to know. But for the moment, he was utterly content with how things were going. He brushed his fingers feather-light over Dewey’s back as he stepped past and towards the small (to Carrington) wine cooler built into the wall. “Would you like to pick then?” he asked, leaning against the counter close by. “See if you find something you like? Or there’s spirits just there. I can mix something up if you’d rather.” There was also water and a few assorted types of beer, but it was mostly wine and liquor.

Despite his determination not to, Carrington couldn’t help the fact that his gaze kept drifting back to Dewey. It wasn’t just the familiarity - he could see the differences in him and the man he reminded Carrington of - but it was also… the feeling of not having to hide. Of not having to pretend to be something he wasn’t. It was… it was cathartic. The fact that Dewey was handsome and charming and seemed just as nervous as Carrington himself was just a boon. So when Dewey asked The Question, which Carrington had been expecting at some point, but didn’t mind one bit, Carrington couldn’t help but give him a sly grin. 

“My Driver’s License says I’m 38.” The playful grin stayed in place, and he hoped he wasn’t pushing the boundaries of their playful banter. “I’ll tell you. I really don’t mind. But… I’m honestly exceedingly curious.... How old do you think I am? Best guess?”

Dewey had to steel himself against the ripple threatening to travel down his spine. Oh, I’m sure you have. And just how many years? No matter if Dewey himself had lived over ninety, he still felt relatively young in vampire ages. He had just enough experience that he could get away with living amongst humans, and yet there were still so many queries that plagued him night after night. Ones he had come up with long after parting from his sire. His eyes slipped shut when Carrington’s fingers brushed against him, oh so gently, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. God, he was going to be undone by a man he hardly knew. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Let’s be a bit adventurous tonight,” Though the words were almost solely directed towards himself, he smiled a bit anxiously at Carrington before focusing his gaze on the selection before him. After a bit of searching, he selected a bottle that was lower in the rack, holding it out to the blonde with an uncertain yet hopeful expression. “Will this suffice? Not that you’d have anything that wouldn’t, of course, I just mean… Ah,” The sigh was followed by a weak chuckle, a bit defeatist. 

And then Carrington effortlessly had him smiling again, teeth worrying his lower lip terribly. He really needed to stop feeding into that habit. And the question was whisked into the air, and Dewey’s grip on the bottle tightened considerably. He… wanted him to guess? Of all people - well, there weren’t very many people to choose from, now were there? Knowing his nerves were beginning to fray, Dewey swiftly set the bottle down on the counter before adopting a thinker’s pose, fingers tucked beneath his chin as he regarded Carrington carefully. Wine aficionado, cordial, refined, and his features… well, they reminded him of the early Victorian period. Or he could be absolutely off -- Oh, to hell with it. “... Th-- Two-hundred… Two-hundred and forty?” The words were practically whispered, fingers brushing over his lips and brows rising in expectation of the true answer.

Sometimes Carrington felt every single one of his years. Sometimes he felt only a few of them. But it was rare that he felt… ‘young’ wasn’t the right word. Youthful, perhaps? Whatever the term, it wasn’t something he felt too often. He thought he felt the faint stirrings of it now, standing in his kitchen with Dewey. But as always, Carrington held it cautiously in reserve - most of it at least - waiting to see where the evening lead. 

“I’m always ready for an adventure,” he smiled, watching as the other man made his choice. He had to forcibly pull his eyes from the way Deweys teeth moved across his lip, though Carrington had to wet his own a moment later. He tried not to think too hard about why. The other vampire made his choice, and Carrington gave him a nod. “That’s a good one,” he nodded enthusiastically. “Been waiting awhile to be opened as well.” When Dewey sat the bottle down, Carrington grabbed two glasses and a corkscrew from the rack and gave the other man a momentary reprieve as he turned a bit to the side to open it. 

The cork popped out and Carrington poured them both a glass, leaving the rest of the bottle to breathe for a moment. He turned back, glasses in hand, waiting with patient anticipation as Dewey sized him up. Carringtons eyebrows raised a bit as he seemed to touch around three-hundred, but changed lanes at the last second. “That’s actually not a bad guess,” he grinned, handing one of the glasses over. “Not a bad guess at all.” 

Carrington took a slow sip of his wine - trying his best to focus on that and not on Dewey’s fingers over his mouth - before giving a low hum. He swirled the wine a bit, watching the liquid move against the glass. “My birthday was last month. I turned 420.”

“At least that makes one of us…” Dewey murmured, knowing full and well that Carrington could hear but, not feeling terribly embarrassed from having said it at all. It didn’t seem to be a surprise that while he could carry on a general conversation, he tended to falter a bit when it came to less casual topics and began getting personal. Not that the simple task of asking someone’s age was anything but - except for the fact that they weren’t just simple beings. They were vampires, and old, new or somewhere in-between, to Dewey that meant every subject should be breached with the proper amount of delicacy. 

Maybe if Carrington was an iota less attractive he might house more confidence on the matter. But as it stood, the man was breathtaking, even when one didn’t have any exhales to lend. Despite the other’s words, he gave a disbelieving glance towards the bottle. “Sure you aren’t just saying that now? I can take being a poor wine selector,” With Carrington preoccupied with opening the bottle, it afforded Dewey a rare opportunity to simply… observe the other as he worked. Watching his fingers twist, guide and pour with a flourish, an act he’d likely done numerous times and yet, Dewey found himself fixated on the motions nonetheless. He took his glass with a quiet ‘Thank you’, immediately tilting the glass to his lips. No sooner had he reached mid-sip, Carrington had revealed his true age - and Dewey’s shock was nearly his undoing. Four-hundred? And twenty? He faltered, throat seizing up before he could finish what was in his mouth, and he clamped a hand over his lips, a small, faintly similar to choking sound emitting from his vocal chords. He had to take a moment to cough, turning to the side and attempting to regain his composure. “P-pardon me,” The words held a bit of a wheezy tint, to which he cleared his throat before attempting to speak again, a hint of fascination twinkling in his gaze. “That’s… Hardly a good guess. I never would have thought. Well, I certainly can’t beat that. Ninety-one myself - did you… have a good birthday? Or, does the appeal er, wear off after so long?”

Carrington raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Maybe it’s time to start then. No time like the present.” Of course, it wasn’t always that easy. People had obligations. Jobs. Commitments. Things that simply couldn’t be dropped to go on a grand adventure. But Carrington was also aware that such things didn’t have to take place in strange, foreign lands or faraway places. Adventure could be found very close to home. If one knew where to look. 

And right now Carrington was only interested in looking at one thing. He was a bit more practiced at speaking about things that were less than casual, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to find the confidence to do so. “Age meant nothing when it came to sharing the details of one’s life. So he could understand Dewey’s hesitance when it came to more personal issues. And Carrington wasn’t looking to make the rest of their evening awkward or stifled. So he decided to simply let the conversation flow as it would. 

“I never just say anything. Well… not usually.” Carrington gave him a wry look. “Sometimes I find myself… saying a bit too much actually. Rambling, I suppose you’d call it. But I don’t lie. Especially not about wine,” he grinned around the rim of his glass. 

It turned to a look of slight concern as Dewey seemed to get choked, but he was alright a moment later, so Carrington held off on whacking him on the back just yet. Not that he would’ve turned down the opportunity to touch him, but he’d rather it be under different circumstances. “It’s alright. Though I suppose your surprise means I don’t look my age then?” A touch of humor was there, but not overly apparent. “And it was a good guess. Most people think they’re going to offend me if they guess that high.” Dewey’s own age earned him raised eyebrows as well. “I would’ve guessed a bit higher. Closer to 150 maybe. Not quite two. But you wear it very well,” Carrington said quietly, watching the other vampire as he tipped his glass back again. As for his own birthday, Carrington gave Dewey a slightly sheepish look. “I spent it here. Getting quite drunk. And watching something terrible on Netflix.” A thoughtful look passed over his features. “I wouldn’t say it loses its appeal. Getting older is…” He sighed. “- it can be a gift.” He gave another small sigh, realizing he was in danger of growing morose. And that’s the last thing he wanted. “Come on… the orchids should be blooming this time of night. They’re much more interesting than listening to me drone on.” 

“I can promise this, you aren’t the only one. I tend to go on tangent’s far too much, myself,” Though he could hardly believe that Carrington’s rambling was anywhere near as annoying or bothersome as his own. Most of the time it felt as though he was speaking into the air simply for the act of knowing he still could. But true to his word, Carrington appeared to speak with more certainty, more purpose. He wasn’t crass, so far, but also didn’t mince his words. Didn’t appear to house Dewey’s own hesitation in the middle of a sentence. Or maybe that was just the self-destructive tendencies rearing up again, igniting a match and simply waiting for the word to set all of Dewey’s towering hopes up in flame. 

“Really?” That came off as more of a compliment than anything, and Dewey quickly sealed his lips around the rim of his own glass. He had gotten that before, although it was usually followed by a mockery of some sort. He’d met very few vampires who hadn’t shirked off their old mannerisms, even their accents, in favor of a metamorphosis standing in stark contrast. He couldn’t help but frown slightly at the thought of Carrington alone for something like his birthday. Not that he was an expert when it came to festivities, but surely he had at least one other person… or, maybe not. Dewey had spent his own in solitude, so he couldn’t really expect more from another vampire. “You know, not to diminish their beauty, but I wouldn’t mind listening to you go on. It’s rare I get to enjoy genuinely stimulating conversation. Much less with… someone like myself,” 

Carrington was rarely one to speak without thinking. If something prompted him to do so, it was likely the result of an extremely strong emotion, or a necessity of the moment. He’d had quite a lot of time to spend on his own over the last several decades, but even before then he was reserved with his conversation. Though most weren’t nearly as stimulating as some of his recent ones. 

“Really,” Carrington smiled. Youth tended to be so much more crass and unrefined. Not that Carrington would judge anyone if that was their personality - he even had a bit of a soft spot for those that were rough around the edges - he had simply noted the trait in those of his kind that were younger. Not always, of course. But he found Deweys personality suited the younger man quite well. He fit within himself. At least in Carrington’s opinion. As for himself, some things were so deeply ingrained that they would never change, even as Carrington adapted to the passing years. His sense of honor and responsibility. His sense of faith, warped and jaded as it was. His ability to see in others what they might not see in themselves. His desire for connection with another person.  But he also knew that long life had the downside of outlasting most others. That most connections would pass away long before he himself did. And that fear - along with the knowledge that he was not the most congenial person in the world - is what had kept him solitary for so long. 

So it was with a cautious yet slightly hopeful glance that Carrington turned on Dewey as they moved towards the small room that he had converted to house his specimens. “It’s not often someone wishes to hear me talk,” he said, his tone almost bashful in its softness. “But… I miss it too. Conversation. Among other things.” He cleared his throat after a moment, gesturing that Dewey should precede him into the small, dark room if he wished. 

End. 

[inactivvvee]

I finally finished making the first chapter! The book is called Bone Marrow by the way

This chapter contains: paranoia, and recalling traumatic events

The smell of coffee beans waffered through the air as the sun barely peeked through the city buildings. A medium sized lump on the old small bed stirred before a bony hand appeared from inside the cocoon. The hand grasped at the blanket, peeling it away from the body underneath. The skeleton sat up and dazedly stared at the wall before him. Sun rays peered through the dirty cracked window, old curtains fluttering lightly from the heater pumping warm air out below it. The walls were a light brown though the male was sure it had originally been a more cream color despite his landlord's protests. The floor above him creaked lightly as he could hear echoes of footsteps coming from upstairs.

The boney figure was still shaken up from the previous night. His leg unconsciously curled into his chest as he thought about it. He became slightly short of breath at the mere thought of everything. He was still shook, mostly from the fact that he wasn't killed but also the mere fact that something like this happened to someone like him. He wasn't anyone important, just a mere photographer who produced photos for the local newspaper and even got to write a few of the stories. He never wrote anything on the murders and stuck to the boring things that people tended to overlook. It was a sucky job but someone had to do it.

When the skeleton had gotten back to his place, he had immediately called the police. The police hadn't really belived him when he had said he witnessed a murder since the streets souronding that area were peaceful and only contained your average junkies and hooligan teens. But they proceeded with protocol and dispatched a police officer to go check the crime scene. When they had found the body an investigation was released almost immediately after seeing how the victim was murdered. The way the victim had died resembled the many others that fell victim to the 'Hound'.

The Hound was the newest serial killer in the state. They were named 'Hound' after the first few bodies were found with sharp almost canine like teeth marks littering their bodies. It wasn't released to the public yet if the cause of death was from the bite marks or the deep gashes done with a bowie knife. The police tried to keep the whole thing on the down low but a few reporters caught wind of it and jumped to give this new killer a name, which seemed to only fuel the wrath by said killer. The Bureau tried to disclose any other information so the media couldn't make a not on anything. It was an attempt to lure the killer out and make them act more recklessly. Which utterly failed.

The skeleton was brought in for questioning a few hours later but was released a little while after since it was nearing the two am mark. He would have to come back in the morning to finish up the questions before he was off the hook. His eyes turned to view the alarm clock on his nightstand, he gave a small sigh as it read six thirty-eight. He only had an hour or so before he would be asked to come down to the station. He wanted to succumb to escapism and hide away from this reality. Perhaps he could go back to sleep and would later awake to realize it was all just a bad dream.

A cold chill ran down his spine as his mind drifted back to the crime scene. Was the person he saw really the Hound? He casted a paranoid glance around the room as he reminded himself that he was safe, that he was in his own sanctuary and that the Hound couldn't harm him. They had dispatched a police officer to watch the skeleton's apartment in case he were to leave town or if the killer wanted to clean up. He didn't get to talk much with the police officer since he was too tired and frightened to strike up a conversation.

He turned his body and let his legs fall off the side of the bed as he stood up. He wore a slightly baggy shirt (everything was baggy on him since he was quite literally made up of bones) and a pair of navy sweatpants. He made his way to his small kitchen, his feet making slight clattering noises as they moved over the hardwood floor. He walked over to the wooden counter, already spotting the container of coffee grounds already out. He messed around in the kitchen for a little before finally starting his coffee. He tapped his finger on the counter as he thought the cop would appreciate a cup of coffee. He might already have a cup of coffee. The skeleton thought to himself as he let doubt worm its way in. He decided he would just keep to himself instead of going out of his way to talk to the officer. He felt more comfortable with that.

He turned his back to the coffee maker, trudging through the small kitchen towards the small living room. The lights were still off, the only light coming from the window by the small one-person table. He liked the lights being off, sometimes they were just too bright. He pulled himself over towards the window, moving the thin curtain to the side so he could peek outside. The sidewalks were that busied, seeing a pedestrian every now and then. Anyone of them could be the killer. Could be pretending just to be a normal citizen as they checked out his building so they could plot when and how they would get in to finish the job.

Suddenly he didn't really want to look outside anymore. He let the curtain go and watched it cut the image of the outside off from his line of sight. He stepped back, his fingers knitting themselves together. Fear settled itself deep within his bones again. He couldn't really remember all that had happened last night. When he explained that the officers down at the station they assumed it was his mind trying to protect him by locking up his memories. It's very common to those who experience something traumatic.

His hands slithered over one another, feeling the scrape marks that indented his palms from when he fell. That might've been the only thing that reminded him that what had happened wasn't just some nightmare. He turned his palms upwards as he peered down. His hands ached as he eyes the indentations. They would heal of course but he tended to get hurt quite a lot. A perfect example of that was when he had stubbed his toe last week on his bedpost and it ended up breaking. The hospital staff became very well acquainted with him since the time he's moved in

The sound of a knock brought the skeleton back from his mind. He turned his head towards the door, watching it intensely. Had the killer saw where he escaped to last night? How did they find his room? Did they see him from the window? His thoughts raced through his mind as adrenaline pumped into his veins. He fell into a cold sweet, his hearing zoning in and trying to make out any other sound from the other side of the door. Another knock ripped through the room, followed by a voice.

"It's the police!" The voice announced, a little muffled by the wooden door. The skeleton nervously took a step forward towards the door. After a second he began to take a few more quiet steps til he pressed his palms against the cold wood. He leaned his head forward, his 'heart' hammering against his ribs. He looked into the peephole. The man on the other side was fairly tall, dark toned skin- maybe a few shades darker than almond-, thick brown curls that hugged the bottom of his jawline and the sides of his face. The two important details he noticed were the police uniform and the two eyes that glanced from the door to each end of the hallway. The guy on the other side of the door wasn't the serial killer.

The skeleton released a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against the door for a second before pulling the door chain off the wall. He turned the second lock, here the soft click when he did so. His hand clamped around the cold metal doorknob, pulling the door up slowly. He peeked his head off to the side, still cautious of the other. His left palm was gripping the edge of the door as his right hand was still pressed up against the door. The male on the other side smiled once he noticed the door was opened.

"Howdy! I hope I didn't wake you up, I just wanted to check in" His voice was fruity, which calmed the skeletons jitters a little more. His eyes were perfect, they looked like warm caramel that commercials showed for caramel filled candy. A small black dot that you could easily overlook was settled in the lower part of his right eye. The edges of his lips tugged upwards as he gave a toothy grin. Four teeth on the top row were sharp. The cop in front of his door was a vampire.

Vampires weren't very known to be in law enforcement. They tended to stick to jobs in the medical section, better access to bagged blood- or fresh blood. The male stammered slightly as he realized he had just been staring at the cop instead of replying.

"Ah yea...I'm doing okay, thank you" His words came out taunt and meek. He cleared his throat lightly so the next time he spoke, it wouldn't be so quiet. His fingers on his right hand scratched at the door in slight embarrassment. The vampire gave a small nod at the reply. Before the vampire could reply, the skeleton added a little more. "I didn't...catch your name.." He began to worry half way through his sentence that it was a bad idea to ask for it. Though his doubts were eased when he saw the smile on the vampire grow a little.

"Aki, Aki Linscott" He proudly announced. He raised a brow and gave a small tilt to his head. "I never actually caught yours, sorry" He apologized lightly, his hands resting on his hips. The skeleton widened his eyes lightly as he realized he never actually gave his first AND last name to the officers down at the station. He had only given his first name since he was still a babbling mess. It was kind of embarrassing now that he though back on it.

"Oh it's Milo...Uh- Myrah- my last name is Myrah" He stammered to make his sentence clear. Aki reached his hand out towards Milo, his expression friendly and welcoming. Milo was still cautious of the other, his shoulders tensing up slightly at the action. He kinda reminded him of an overly excited dog that was meeting another of his kind at the dog park. It was kinda cute. His shoulders relaxed once again as the image of the dog popped into his head once again. He didn't really seem treacherous

"Well it's nice to meet you Milo!" He gushed, a little sparkle happening in his eyes. Everytime Aki spoke, he felt a little more comfortable. Milo reached his frail hand out and wrapped it around Aki's more muscular and warmer one. Both parties shook their hands slightly. Aki's grip was more profound while Milo's was weak and vulnerable. Milo could spot a few scars on the officer's arms, a few hard to see while others were bold. One scar traveled from the inside of his left forearm, traveling upwards under his sleeve. He became a little curious about the scar, did he get it on the job or maybe sometime before?

"Mhm...Same here"

Word count: 2k

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 124: Monster

Pain and Panic dragged a flailing and struggling Hermes into the Throne room that formerly belonged to Hades and dropped him at their new master's feet. The five rivers converged in the Throne room and each of them carried a judgement from the man on this Throne. And this new ruler, now sitting upon the Throne of Pluto, glared down on him.

"Well, well...someone finally squished you like the worm you are," Prometheus said, as he gazed down at the quivering former messenger God. He waved his hand over the globe which always showed him the highs and lows of a soul's life, including how they died. It was necessary to evaluate a soul's life to determine the appropriate judgement. He clicked his tongue.

"You have led a sordid life, indeed. You changed sides more times than most can count," he said, as he watched. He had seen most of Hermes' transgressions, especially since he had helped Zeus bind him at one time, until he had been rescued and released by Hercules.

"But these recent deeds are news to me," he said, as he continued to watch.

"Cute...you really did play both sides right up till the end," he commented, as he watched Hades turn him into a literal worm and King Eli step on him. He smirked. As the new King of the Underworld, he rarely betrayed any emotion when determining a judgement. But there were exceptions and this was one of them.

"I do appreciate such a poetic end," he said, as he glared down at the cowering being.

"I'll hear your pleas now," he added.

"I have unfinished business. I beg of you to allow me time to atone," Hermes stammered.

"No...you're begging me to send you above to Underbrooke so you can save your soul from one of the rivers. But I know you...even up there you will scheme and attempt to undermine me. You used to do it to Hades all the time in life, but you will not do it to me in death," he declared.

"Please…" Hermes pleaded.

"Normally, I'd toss you into Acheron and be done with you, but I don't think the river of pain is enough punishment for you," Prometheus said.

"I don't do this often...so consider yourself in a very elite club. I sentence you to the river of fire. You will spend eternity in Phelgethon," he decided. Hermes started to scream and beg, as Pain and Panic dragged his soul toward the burning river and his wailing echoed through the entire chamber, before slowly fading away as the depths of Tartarus swallowed him.

"Master...there seems to be an influx of souls from Transylvania," Pain spoke, as he and his cohort stood by to deal with the incoming souls.

"Damn that bloodsucker," he grumbled, referring to Dracula.

Centuries ago, after he had been freed, he had traveled the realms, helping mankind where he could, much to Zeus' chagrin. Upon arriving in the Land Without Color, he had found the land in a dire state. Dracula had grown as powerful as a God and created his own coven of bloodsuckers that were terrorizing the land. He managed to decimate nearly half the population before Prometheus, with the assistance of Athena, and several other warriors, drove him and his coven out. They had managed to banish them to a barren land that soon became known as Transylvania, but in a moment of sheer savagery, Dracula and his coven had managed to keep the banishing portal open long enough to suck dozens upon dozens of mortals with them. He had been left with no choice and sealed it off from the other realms, effectively damning those unfortunate mortals. But it had saved the rest of the people from the Land Without Color from sheer extinction and rid them of their vampire problem.

Unfortunately, it wasn't uncommon to get a daily influx of souls from Transylvania and today would be no exception...or so he thought.

"Sire...it appears that the influx of souls are not mortals at all," Panic said. His brow furrowed, as he witnessed not souls, but rather demonic entities screech, as they flooded his Throne room. He was not worried, for it was nothing Pain and Panic couldn't handle. He was used to this too. The bloodsucking minions that were part of King of Vampire's coven didn't have souls, but they became demons upon their death, likely at Van Helsing's hands. But today was somehow different. Today, there were far more demonic entities than usual. Van Helsing was very skilled at what he did, but this was far too many at one time, even for him.

"Show me Transylvania…" he requested to his viewing globe and he then saw why.

"What are they doing in Transylvania?" he wondered allowed.

"Sire look!" Pain called, as his viewing globe focused on Persephone's daughter, Snow White and her husband, Prince Charming.

"So...my fire has finally chosen a worthy host," he said, as he saw the Prince and the daughter he shared with Snow White wield it. They didn't seem to yet be aware of its full potential though, but he knew it would come in time. This was uncharted territory, after all.

"What does this mean, Sire? Why now has the Promethean fire finally chosen this family?" Panic questioned.

"It means...the final battle draws near and they will stand on the front lines," Prometheus answered. When the dust settled, the champions would either usher in an era of peace if the light side won out or an era of sheer darkness if evil prevailed. He could only hope that his power would assist in the side of good.

~*~

David slashed through the endless minions and his muscles burned in protest, as he and everyone else was beginning to tire at the mindless onslaught, while the vampires remained impervious to fatigue.

"We need to figure something else out...we can't keep up this pace," Emma said.

"You and your father could end all this right now if you knew how to use your new powers properly," Van Helsing commented.

"Don't lay all this on us," Emma protested, as she slashed at one of Dracula's wives, who seemed intent on sinking her teeth into her father.

"Then use that fire to kill these bastards already!" he called.

"Don't you think we would if we could?" David snapped in return.

"Maybe…" Van Helsing said.

"Or maybe you lack the right motivation," he commented. Persephone's eyes widened.

"Don't you dare!" she cried, but it was too late, as he grabbed Snow's arm and tossed her into the middle of the fray, causing the minions to dive on her all at once in a frenzy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Emma cried, as her father was already running after her.

"SNOW!" he screamed, as he ran desperately to reach her. His blade lit on fire and he plunged it into the ground. Flames erupted around them and shot into the sky. The dozens of minions that were left screeched in terror as they were vaporized, leaving just Dracula and his wives. The King of vampires was clearly shocked by the power, as he now realized exactly what it was about this man and his daughter that seemed different.

"Promethean fire…" he uttered in fear and his wives fell back behind him.

"Untrained...but Promethean fire nonetheless," he added.

"Untrained or not...are you willing to risk it?" Hades asked, as he glared at the Vampire King.

"For Demi-Goddess blood...I shall take my chances," he hissed, as he bared his fangs and they grew even longer. Snow gasped and David guarded her, while putting a hand on Emma's arm.

"The fire is inside you both, untrained or not, will answer your will," Hades instructed. David had only ever desired to protect his family, so it came as no surprise to the former God of the Underworld when his blade lit on fire. Emma was a little more difficult.

"Whoa...how did you do that, dad?" she asked.

"Think about protecting your mother...think about protecting Henry," he replied. She did so and her own blade lit with fire like his. His wives hissed at the sight of the fire that could end them and Van Helsing glanced at Persephone. She encased them in a bubble, while he moved in to strike. The monster hunter grabbed the brunette one and jabbed a silver spike into her chest. She screeched and hissed, as he pushed her back. If she were to escape, she would heal from his wound, but she would not be escaping today. David took the cue and swiped his blade threw her body, as Van Helsing quite literally tossed her into his fire. She fell to the ground in four pieces and the Promethean fire engulfed her remains and finally her screeching ended, as she became ash.

Dracula's two remaining wives fell back and Emma watched the redhead to take to the air and foolishly dive on them. She raised her fiery blade and motioned to her father.

"Give me a boost...cause she is going down," Emma said. He looked unsure, but then held his hands down for her. She stepped onto his clasped hands and he launched her into the air. The redhead screamed in terror, as Emma's blade passed through her, cutting her in half. Her pieces fell to the ground, with her legs landing far from her head and torso, while burning up completely. Her head, unfortunately, fell right before Snow and David. She screamed up at them, as the flames slowly devoured her and David kicked her away, as she became ash. Emma landed on her feet next to her parents.

"That's two down…" Hades goaded, as he smirked smugly at the King of Vampires. Dracula rarely feared anything so it was nice seeing him petrified for once.

"Sooner or later, all monsters get put down," Van Helsing said, as he loaded a silver arrow in his crossbow. But Dracula grabbed his one remaining wife by the arm and took to the sky at lightning speed, making a quick getaway. But his bleeding stare upon this little family made for a clear message. This was not over. The flames in their swords dissipated and Persephone proceeded to practically bowl the three of them over with hugs. Hades wisely stepped back at that point, knowing what was about to happen.

The Supreme Goddess turned to Van Helsing and fury filled her eyes. He winced and put his hands up, as she stalked toward him. And David joined her.

"You are so screwed," Hades jabbed.

"And you're enjoying this," Van Helsing jabbed back. Hades smirked and a bucket of popcorn appeared in his hand.

"Popcorn for the show?" he asked.

"Papa Hades…" Snow chided.

"I'm game," Emma said, as she started chowing down with him.

"Now Persephone…" Van Helsing pleaded.

"Save it!" she snapped.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you to the Underworld right now?" she demanded to know.

"Cause Dracula is still alive and these two need training?" he reminded.

"My husband and I can train them just fine. You better keep thinking," she said, as he dodged her fists and then blocked David's blade.

"Whoa...come on! Snow was never in any danger! You know I'd never throw her to the bloodsuckers!" he said.

"You literally did just that! You tossed my wife to them!" David growled, as he dueled the monster hunter.

"Purely for motivation! I knew you'd save her!" he pleaded.

"I will always save her, but you still put her in danger!" David yelled.

"He's right...and if you ever do it again, you'll be the newest resident in Tartarus," Persephone warned. He put his hands up in surrender, as she slowly backed away. But David didn't back down, so Snow sided up to him and put her arms around his waist.

"Baby, I'm fine…" she whispered.

"Believe it or not, he really didn't mean me any harm, I believe that," she added. He glared at the monster hunter, but then sheathed his sword. She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Can we just have the damn key and get the hell out of this...hell?" David asked him irritably, though he was softening under his wife's wily ways, as she nuzzled his cheek with her nose.

"Ah no...the key remains with me, but since you must need it for the Land of Untold Stories, that must mean you're going after Jekyll and Hyde," he replied. Hades nodded.

"Yeah...apparently, Jekyll is running some sort of operation in the Land Without Magic on the side. He may be a threat to all the realms now and even the fabric of story all together," Hades said.

"I know...I've been hunting him for years. I was wondering if you high and mighty Olympians were ever going to take notice," he said, as he extracted the key and a door appeared.

"Whoa...who says you're coming with us?" Hades asked.

"This is Jekyll and Hyde we're talking about and as much as you hate to admit it...you need me," Van Helsing argued. Hades rolled his eyes and Persephone relented.

"Fine...let's go," she said, as the door opened and the six of them walked through.

~*~

"Please...please don't do this…" the woman pleaded. She was just a simple villager from the Emerald City. A normal trip to the market had ended with her being dragged through a portal to a strange land without magic and then to this asylum by an evil man.

"Easy...if everything goes as planned, you have nothing to fear," the bespectacled doctor said, as he used his sophisticated x-ray machine to observe the woman's heart.

His equipment was a science and magic hybrid. It had all the power of an x-ray machine from the Land Without Magic and the magic to show him the internal organs in incredible, colorful detail without having to open the person up.

"Yes...your heart is enchanted and much stronger than a human from the Land Without Magic," Jekyll observed, as he examined her glowing heart.

"Yes...the hearts of people from magical lands are truly extraordinary," he said, as he turned the machine off.

"I find the study of these hearts quite fascinating when comparing them to ordinary hearts," he continued, as she watched him ready a syringe full of a red serum.

"Please...please don't do this…" she pleaded again, but she was ignored and he injected her with the serum. She began to convulse and cry out, as she began to separate.

"Yes…" Jekyll said, as he hoped for victory. Her heart rate monitor beeped wildly, as her heart rate skyrocketed, but he was further than usual. She convulsed violently and started to seize, as the alter inside her struggled to free itself. She foamed at the mouth and her eyes rolled back in her head, as a full on seizure took hold. The restraints snapped, as the seizing became so incredibly violent. But at the last moment, just when he thought he might be successful, her heart failed. The seizing ran its course, the separation ceased, and she collapsed motionless onto the table, as she flat lined. The doctor growled and slammed his fists on the metal table before him.

"Mr. Poole…" he said, as his caretaker came in and covered the body with a sheet, before proceeding to wheel out yet another victim.

"What am I missing?" he wondered aloud to himself, as he perused his notes again and picked up his recorder.

"Another failure, even with a magical heart. This one proceeded much further than any tests before, but seizure ensued and likely complicated the possibility of success. Even with an enchanted heart, results were unsuccessful," he recorded, before removing his lab coat and leaving the lab. There was someone he needed to see.

~*~

"You're sure these are the coordinates?" Agent Quinn asked, as they got out of the car.

"Spot on...I knew this was a wild goose chase," Agent O'Bryan replied, as he sighed.

"Who gave this information to you?" Quinn asked.

"This old detective, who I knew had lost his edge a long time ago, but I didn't think he was full on nuts. Guess I was wrong," Zach replied bitterly.

"Hmm...are you sure he's nuts?" she asked, as she scrolled through her phone.

"Obviously...why do you ask?" he questioned and she showed him her phone.

"Because there's this video that has gone viral that he released. He's claiming that all this is real," she said, as she showed it to him. Zach rolled his eyes.

"You're kidding, right? This is obviously fake," he said.

"Except that our technicians haven't been able to debunk it yet," Supervisor Julia Isaac said, as she arrived with Agents Olivia Cade and Mike Mason.

"So what? People can't actually be thinking this is real," Zach said.

"Except they do. The bureau has been flooded with calls all day, the Internet is exploding with this and as we speak, there is probably hoards of tourists on their way here to comb the woods of Maine for fairies and mermaids," Agent Mason replied.

"And trust me...the masses must not find out that this video is in fact real. They will not be able to handle such truths and this will cause nothing but chaos," a new voice said, as the agents drew their weapons. But the old man put his hands up in surrender.

"I am unarmed," he said.

"Who the hell are you?" Agent Isaac questioned.

"I have a given name, but I prefer my more mystical moniker. I am known to most simply as the Dragon," he answered. Zach snorted.

"Great...our first kook," he quipped.

"I assure you, I am no kook and I can promise that you can all know the truth and find a way to keep the truth from getting out...for a price," he offered.

"The FBI doesn't make deals," Agent Isaac refuted. He smirked.

"Even if it means solving a thirty-year-old murder and controlling a world beyond any of your imaginations?" he tempted.

"You can help us solve the Flynn murder?" Zach questioned.

"I can hand the murderer to you...if you do something for me," the Dragon responded.

"What do you want?" Agent Isaac questioned.

"My daughter has been imprisoned. Free her and I can give you many other fish to fry, so to speak," he offered.

"No deals yet...I want to see what all this is about," Agent Isaac said. The Dragon smirked and extracted a curious looking timepiece from his robe. With a magical item in his hand, the veil was lifted and they jumped in fright, as they were now suddenly in the middle of a street in what looked like a town.

"How the hell did you do that?" Zach asked. The Dragon smirked.

"Welcome to Storybrooke...and the United Realms," he said, as they gaped at seeing the various castles in the distance.

"You can thank Lord Cronus later for giving us the means to get in with this enchanted time piece. But for now...Storybrooke awaits," he said, as they followed the mysterious old Mage.

~*~

The diner bell rang, as Neal, Eli, and Henry walked in. Thankfully, Annie and her brother were in a booth and they walked up.

"Hi Neal…" she greeted and then nodded to Eli.

"Your Majesty," she added.

"Please...just call me Eli," he requested, as she invited them to sit.

"Thanks...we were hoping to talk to you for a minute," Neal said.

"What about?" she asked.

"Well...this video that's out there now could be really bad," he replied.

"And your family has managed to keep our world a secret from the Land Without Magic for centuries. Has something like this ever happened before?" Neal asked.

"Not quite on a scale like this, but there have been plenty of times when your world has bled into the "real" world, so to speak," Adrian answered.

"He's right, but obviously most mystical things are left out of the history books or equated to legend or called myths," Annie added.

"My guess is that the government will lie to the masses and do something to prove the video is just some elaborate movie trailer," Adrian said.

"And the government...will they let this go?" Neal asked. The siblings exchanged a glance.

"Doubtful," Annie said.

"Then...you think they might come for my Mom?" Henry asked fearfully.

"I'm sorry Henry...but we'll do everything we can to make sure they don't take her if they do," Annie promised.

"Then you better get ready to keep good on that promise," Eli said, as his gaze was fixated out the window.

"Holy hell…" Neal uttered, as they saw five people wearing FBI vests outside the window with the Dragon.

"Bastard...he led them right in," Adrian growled.

"What...what are we going to do?" Henry asked.

"We're not going to panic," Neal replied, as the door opened and they walked in.

~*~

Snow wasn't sure what she expected from this new land, but she knew it wasn't what she found before her. She watched a dirigible hover in the sky and she marveled at all the sights around them. She kept her hand hooked on David's arm, as they entered what seemed like a marketplace or trading post. She noticed how it seemed like a melting pot of people and creatures from all the realms, which made her very curious.

"All these people came here to stop their stories?" Snow asked her mother. Persephone nodded.

"When a person doesn't like a trajectory of their life or tragedy befalls them, they can come here. It's the equivalent of pressing pause. People do not age here. People can literally escape all their problems in this place," she explained.

"But how do they get here? I mean...we just had to go to Transyl-freaking-Vania to get a key to come here," Emma said. Hades smirked.

"Very true...but there is another way. The Grimm family has been the family of authors for years now, but like Annie told us, not every author has necessarily been a Grimm," Hades said.

"Yes...there is a former author that has taken up the mantel of key bearer to the Land of Untold Stories, so to speak," Persephone said.

"He helps people escape, even if they don't deserve it and I've had to track many a monster here," Van Helsing added.

"He's not really a bad guy. He just doesn't bother himself with a person's past deeds or ethics," Persephone said.

"An equal opportunity escape guide," Hades agreed.

"And who is this guy?" David asked, as they stopped in front of a tavern in the middle of the marketplace.

"Aesop…" Van Helsing said, as they saw the name on the building...

[tvdversefanfiction]

Canary Carnage

Fandoms: Arrowverse, DC Universe, TVDverse and The Originals

Chapter Seven: Bane Bound

Warnings: I don’t own any of the rights, content or characters belonging to any of the DC content I use within the story along with not owning any rights, content or characters within The Vampire Diaries, Originals or Legacies.

18 Rating: Moderate/Graphic displays of violence, sexual innuendos, sexually charged scenes, SMUT, strong language and potentially triggering scenes.

Pairings: M/M, F/F, M/F.

To say things have been difficult for Laurel Lance since winding up on Earth Blood would be a severe understatement she had found herself swaying backwards and forwards from enemies to allies with her brother Lucas, as well as almost being murdered by a family of original vampires and had her sister Sara return from the dead only for her sister to kill a Mikaelson and start a war with their family before she returned to the dead or better put undead.

Laurel had been through a lot back on her Earth mourning her sister, then her father and dealing with abandonment issues over her mother Dinah leaving her and her brother but she had gathered up all that pain, rage and hurt and turned it into something good by becoming the vigilante known as the Black Canary and turning herself into the hero that Star City so desperately needed.

However, the once forever hopeful District Attorney for Star City had found herself struggling to be hopefully on an earth in a city run by vampires that couldn’t die vampires that couldn’t be trusted and vampires that wanted her younger sister Sara dead.

The news of her brother somehow burying the hatchet with Klaus and Elijah should’ve calmed her but it only worried her more as she once trusted the Mikaelson family only for them to try and kill her so instead of Lucas’ latest alliance comforting the Black Canary found it even more troublesome leading to her arranging a meeting with the only two people within New Orleans she believed she could trust.

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised whatsoever that your brother has struck up some weird kind of friendship with Klaus Mikaelson from the way you talk about him it seems Lucas would fit right in with him.” Davina admitted to Laurel as the two ladies sat at the counter of the bar within the New Orleans Voyage Hotel, each lady holding a cold bottle of beer in their hands. “You’re right to be even more worried now I mean they either hit it off a little two well and cause all kinds of carnage wherever they go or they’ll soon fall out and get to killing each other which considering Lucas is the only one who can die doesn’t look good for him.”

“My brother has a tendency for aligning himself with the worst possible monsters due to some pretty messed up daddy issues and usually when he has this new alliance is when he’s at his most dangerous and any newfound loyalty he seems to have grown towards me or Sara will be straight out the window.” Laurel explained to the wonder witch before taking a drink from her beer. “It wouldn’t take much for Klaus to turn him against us especially if he chose to do some digging.”

“I get he’s this big bad back where your from but around here everyone drops bodies frequently it’s a horrifying truth but it’s still a truth and whether you like it or not sooner rather then later the lines between good and bad begin to get blurred and all that really matters is protecting your loved ones.” Davina replied, attempting to reassure the Black Canary. “I guess what I’m trying to say is just because he’s a deranged psychotic killer doesn’t necessary mean he’ll turn on you as messed up as that sounds.”

“I know there’s some fucked up sense of family loyalty buried deep down inside of him I mean he wouldn’t have pulled that whole undead man-oeuvre with Sara if he didn’t still care for his family in his own twisted way but all he needs is another reason to hate us and then we’re screwed.”  Laurel said, continuing to admit her fears to her magical new friend.

“You’re literally this pillar of all things good Laurel I mean back on your Earth you’re a freaking superhero what the hell could you possibly do to piss him off bad enough to make him turn against his sisters?” Davina wondered, knowing Laurel was hiding something.

“That’s just it, Davina we’re not his sisters well at least not biologically.” Laurel revealed to a stunned Davina who had no time to reply to this revelation before Marcel vamp sped into the bar and over to stand in between the two ladies.

“You’re definitely proving yourself to be the wisest canary Laurel.” Marcel told the Black Canary, who feared the upgraded original had just overheard her conversation with Davina. “Klaus making any friends is unlike him which normally means he’s either plotting something or god forbid he really has made a friend and the latter is a much more terrifying thought.”

“Then we strike today once they’ve dealt with this whole Bane guy when they least expect it, we make our move and make everyone know that the Mikaelson’s no longer own this city.” Davina suggested before downing her beer and standing up to face Marcel.

“And how exactly do we strike against a family who can’t die?” Laurel asked as she too stood up to face the other two. “I mean I’ve literally blown off their heads and they just grow straight back.”

“Actually, there’s something I know that can kill an original.” Davina revealed to Laurel while giving Marcel a knowing look, much to Marcel’s dismay.

“I’m not killing them Davina I’m not saying they don’t deserve it, but I am saying I refuse to be the one who does it.” Marcel point blank refused.

“I don’t want them dead either I still care for Kol like you care for Rebekah however I’m not just going to sit back and then Klaus win yet again.” Davina told the upgraded original, leaving Laurel confused by their conversation. “I want to use your extra special upgraded venom style poison to weaken Klaus long enough to put him down.”

It was late that night within the Mikaelson’s abattoir or compound as they often referred to it and Klaus Mikaelson had found himself unable to get to sleep as he just lay on top of his bed covers wearing just a pair of boxers as he thought about how he and Lucas Lance narrowly avoided a showdown with Bane earlier that day wondering why Bane never continued to follow them back to the compound and continue to come for Lucas.

There were many reasons Klaus could think of as to why Bane didn’t continue his attack but funnily enough a threat which he had been convinced was a big deal thanks mainly to the fear on Lucas’ face wasn’t the top of his concern that night instead it was Lucas Lance himself that Klaus couldn’t get out of his mind.

From the day Lucas showed up in New Orleans he had been fearless, arrogant and frankly reckless but Klaus had to admit he had a certain way about him that made the original hybrid find time in the Red Canary’s presence enjoyable whether he wanted to or not.

Lucas challenged Klaus, infuriated him constantly and even outsmarted him once and yet instead of wanting him dead he wanted to continue this game of wits with him. Lucas’ sister had killed Klaus’ sister and although he wanted revenge for his fallen Freya, he realized he didn’t want revenge on Lucas.

He wasn’t foolish enough to develop feelings for such a manipulative trickster or foolish enough to believe there was something there between them worth fighting for but he knew he was attracted to the Red Canary and there was only one way he’d get over that attraction.

“I guess I’m not the only one unable to sleep tonight.” Lucas stated as he appeared standing at Klaus’ doorway, Klaus instantly responding by vamp speeding his way to stand out of his bed, wrap his covers around his exposed body and vamp speeding over to stand in front of the Red Canary.

“I’ve reluctantly agreed to help you with this enemy of yours that doesn’t mean you can just randomly come in and out of my home especially in the late hours.” Klaus snapped at the man, refusing to admit his curiosity to why Lucas was stood in front of him.

“I went for a walk at night like I normally do when I can’t sleep and before I knew it I had found myself looking at every shadow fearing he’d attack and I’d meet my end…I’ve never been scared of much in life and I really don’t like it.” Lucas admitted to Klaus, shocking the original hybrid with his honesty. “The truth is I’m not sure even with your help I’m going to make it out of this one alive and facing death has really got me looking back at my life.”

“I can’t say I’m thrilled about how much you seem to underestimate me Lucas I’ve lived for a thousand years killing every enemy in my path without so much as breaking a sweat your enemy will be no different I can promise you that.” Klaus replied, somewhat unamused by Lucas’ seemingly dismissal of Klaus’ strength.

“I was always alone and for a long time I learned to be okay with that,” Lucas continued to reveal as he walked into Klaus’ room. “Laurel had dad and Sara had mum then Laurel had Oliver and I guess so did Sara and all I ever had was me growing up, don’t get me wrong they weren’t terrible or anything but I was always alone and then after Sara and dad I really was completely and utterly alone.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Klaus wondered, stunned to see a softer side to his enemy.

“Then I met Slade and he saw something in me something special I guess and for the first time in my life I believed I was and I’d do anything to keep that feeling even if it meant killing.” Lucas revealed to the original hybrid. “I can still remember my first kill and how it made me sick to my stomach but I continued and continued until I felt nothing anymore or at least I fooled myself into thinking I felt nothing because being a monster was easier than facing the truth that I allowed a man to complete me, to change me, to defeat me a man who didn’t even love me. I wasn’t special I never was.”

“Now is really not a good time for you to suddenly go all soft on me Lucas not when we have a man to kill.” Klaus told him, clearly feeling awkward over Lucas’ honesty.

“I made so many monstrous mistakes with so many men just longing to feel special to feel like I mattered in this mad world but the truth is I never did and I never will my life won’t make a single difference to anyone and so I just continue with my destructive path until I die and now that day’s probably not far away.” Lucas admitted as he began to walk towards a cautious Klaus. “But before that day comes, I just want to feel special for a few moments, can you do that for me Klaus? Can you make me feel special?”

Klaus found himself staring at Lucas with adoration in his eyes as Lucas stood in front of the original hybrid realizing that this was probably the most honest Lucas had ever been with anyone noticing for the first time the wounded man within the monster who like himself just longed for someone to love him for who he was, no questions asked and before he knew it he found himself leaning in towards the Red Canary slowly kissing him on the lips.

The two men shared a moment together just looking into each other’s eyes as if they were looking into each other’s souls and meeting each other for the very first time until Lucas reciprocated Klaus’ kiss with another before the two shared a loving smile as Klaus suddenly ripped off Lucas’ shirt and trousers with speed and strength leaving Lucas exposing his tight, chiseled body with only a pair of tight white boxer briefs hiding his modesty.

Lucas wasted no time in throwing the cover Klaus had wrapped around him on to the floor so the two men were both wearing nothing but boxers as Klaus smiled at him with a devilish grin that almost made Lucas weak at the knees before the original hybrid pulled the red canary’s body in towards him as they shared a passionate kiss, their tongues crashing against each other’s as Klaus made his way towards his bed and threw Lucas down on to it before climbing on top of the younger man with excitement in his eyes.

Klaus wasted no time in attacking Lucas’ neck with kisses causing Lucas to let out groan after groan as he began kissing his way down Lucas’ impressively muscled body slowly moving his mouth lower and lower as he worked his way towards Lucas’ boxers brief before tearing them off to reveal an already erect and throbbing member which was at least 8 inches of pleasure.

Klaus was beyond thrilled to see he had made Lucas that ecstatic already and before he knew it he found himself slowly taking the tip of Lucas’ dick into his mouth teasing the tip with his tongue, licking it slowly then quicker before removing his tongue and then repeating a few times before deciding to take more and more of Lucas inside of him as he heard the Red Canary moan louder and louder.

Klaus continued to take Lucas deeper and deeper into his mouth enjoying the feel of Lucas’ entire body shaking as Klaus thrust his mouth up and down Lucas’ member while using his right hand to begin playing with Lucas’ balls moving his hand further and further before sticking his pinkie finger into Lucas’ tight yet excited asshole, the sensation of Klaus’ finger inside him causing Lucas to shake even more viciously as his groans of pleasure continued to get louder and louder.

Lucas found himself in pure ecstasy as Klaus continued to take all of him inside his mouth while fingering Lucas’ hole, slipping in two fingers inside of him as he thrusted his head further down Lucas’ member picking up the pace and continuing to make Lucas let out a series of increasingly louder groans as he began thrusting himself harder and harder into Klaus mouth.

Klaus stood back up ripping off his own boxers revealing his very impressive member in the process much to Lucas’ delight who wasted no time in pulling the original hybrid towards him as Klaus lifted Lucas’ legs onto his shoulders so he could face Lucas as he slowly pushed his throbbing dick inside of the Red Canary’s tight hole.

Klaus thrusted himself into Lucas with such force it made Lucas whimper, the sound of Lucas whimpering making Klaus smile as he leaned in to kiss Lucas passionately and began thrusting himself in slowly at first, continuing to passionately make out with Lucas as he began thrusting himself harder and harder into his eager hole as the two mean began groaning in sync to the pure pleasure of their two bodies connecting.

“Bite me!” Lucas demanded through a series of groans, surprising Klaus with his demands who was hesitant at first. “I trust you.”

That’s all the permission Klaus needed as he went full vampire mode while still inside of Lucas and suck his fangs into Lucas’ neck, draining him of his rather exotic blood while continuing to pound the red canary’s ass harder and harder as he felt the blood from the canary enter his veins causing Klaus to hit a level of pleasure he had never felt before as he began grunting louder and louder while pounding Lucas into the bed harder and harder until he found himself shooting a load inside of him while stopping drinking from his neck at the same time before collapsing his naked and sweaty body on top of Lucas’, his dick still inside of Lucas as he continued to unload himself inside of his ass.

Klaus didn’t stop there it wasn’t enough just to make himself come he wanted to make Lucas come too and so he quickly began kissing his way back down Lucas’ chest working his way back to Lucas’ throbbing member which looked more than ready to unload as Klaus put his mouth back around Lucas’ dick and began thrusting Lucas’ dick further and faster down his throat, not taking Lucas long before he found himself coming inside Klaus’ mouth who was more than willing to swallow Lucas’ load.

Rebekah Mikaelson had grown somewhat fond of the canaries herself well more so Laurel Lance and not so much her sister’s killer or the canary that took up far too much of her brother Klaus’ time but ultimately her fondness for Laurel had her second guessing the desperate need for avenging her sister Freya I mean after all they had forgiven Marcel for killing Finn although admittedly they were a lot less fond of Finn than Freya.

Rebekah was relieved for a brief moment after hearing from Elijah that her brother Klaus had managed to broker some kind of peace with the canaries but that moment didn’t last long as Elijah then revealed it was Lucas Lance that Klaus had made the pact with.

Now Rebekah had no reason to hate the Red Canary I mean it was the Black Canary who had attacked her and the White Canary who had murdered her sister and she was thankful for Lucas’ attack on Marcel but she knew Lucas was the least trustworthy out of the three canaries and she also knew her brother Klaus was growing fond of him which was not a good sign for anyone.

“And you’re always accusing me of sleeping with the enemies.” Rebekah quipped immediately waking up Klaus and Lucas after vamp speeding into her brother Klaus’ bedroom the next morning to find Klaus momentarily asleep and naked while cuddling into an equally asleep and naked Lucas, only covers hiding the two men’s modesty. “I guess however it’s different when you’re the one getting laid Niklaus.”

“Well this is awkward!” Lucas gushed as he sat up in the bed at the same time as a speechless Klaus, both covering themselves up as much as possible with the covers.

“Not really my dear brother has had far worse bed companions than you although I admittedly he’s also had far better.” Rebekah replied to Lucas, enjoying revealing to the Red Canary her brother could do better a little too much.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in here?” Klaus snapped at his sister, finally finding something to say.

“Your latest lunatic lover’s former partner has been located by Davina, so I figured we strike now kill the bastard and get back to doing whatever the hell it is we’re doing these days.” Rebekah answered her brother, while giving him a disapproving glare. “That is if you can pull yourself away from making this canary cry long enough.”

“I like you!” Lucas laughed at Rebekah only for her to respond with a death glare aimed right at him, making it clear the feeling was far from mutual.

“Can you meet us downstairs?” Klaus asked, clearly ashamed by his sister finding him in this situation with an enemy knowing he had spurned her many times for the exact same thing.

“Trust me it would be my pleasure to get the hell away from this mess as quickly as possible.” Rebekah replied before a wicked smile appeared across her face, realizing a way to make things even more awkward between the two men as she revealed to Klaus. “You know he’s already slept with Kol right? I’m guessing Elijah’s next.”

Rebekah sped out of the room more than happy to leave Klaus with that bit of information as Klaus turned to look at Lucas, shocked to know he had already been with his brother Kol which was a tradition in his family he wasn’t particularly a fan of, as Lucas just sat there looking at Klaus unsure of what to say to the original hybrid unsure of whether he was meant to defend himself or just get changed and pretend what happened between the two of them never happened, just like he did with Klaus’ younger brother Kol.

Catching her brother Klaus in this particular situation did amuse Rebekah immensely especially with her history of sleeping with the enemies and being torn to shreds verbally by Klaus for doing so but unfortunately her amusement was also met with fear knowing her brother who acted like he had no heart tended to love just as carelessly and reckless as she did when given the chance.

In that moment Rebekah didn’t care about bloody betrayals, potential deaths or even the chance of daggers making a comeback if Lucas and Klaus became a true partnership what she feared more than anything was her brother developing feelings for someone unworthy who would hurt him and that’s when she realized the tables had turned and she had become Klaus as she began to wonder if that mean she was justified to kill a lover of his for a change.

Sara Lance wasn’t exactly thrilled about walking into enemy gates with Laurel and Oliver despite knowing she could trust either with her life she also knew she was ultimately walking into the home of a family who’s sister and lover was taken from them by her a family who supposedly couldn’t be killed and had recently aligned themselves with her little brother Lucas who had recently turned Sara from a canary into a vampire, a vampire who could no longer canary cry a power which the White Canary had quickly found herself missing.

The Mikaelson’s were notorious on their earth and although she hadn’t been there long, she had already heard many monstrous and terrifying stories which neither member of the family came off particularly well.

She wasn’t judging as she had quite a few of her own horror stories from being in the league of assassin’s knowing if she had worked for them for a thousand years the stories about her would be as bad as the Mikaelson’s but she was very much aware this family were extremely deadly and wanted her dead and that left her somewhat cautious but she had no other choice knowing this alliance benefited them for now until they got Bane out of the way.

Sara had never actually met Bane before but she had went up against Batman or rather her former master Ra’s al Ghul had and for someone to go up against Ra’s and survive well that made him a formidable foe in her eyes and this formidable Bat had been broken by Bane many times before making him just as dangerous as Ra’s or Batman, if not more and she knew her siblings were going to need all the help they could get to take Bane down.

“I’m all for keeping the little brat alive for as long as possible even if he’s one big bitch fit in overdrive but when did we get desperate enough to start trusting this lot again?” Sara asked Laurel as she, her sister and Oliver walked into the compound to be met by Rebekah who vamp sped herself into the compound.

“It’s our family who should be doubting ourselves after all you are the bitch who killed my sister so if anyone can’t be trusted it’s you.” Rebekah snapped at the White Canary.

“Hate to say it Sara but she has got a point.” Laurel butted in, all too quick to tell off her little sister.

“Seriously Laurel now is not the time to take a swing at me.” Sara told the Black Canary while rolling her eyes out of frustration.

“Well I for one am just glad everyone’s coming together to get Luci out of trouble I’ll be the first to admit his kind of trouble has definitely grown bigger over the years but damn it’s a good dose of nostalgia helping him out of another scrape.” Oliver said with a joking tone, hoping to cut the tension between the three ladies.

“I’ve got to ask ladies what the bloody hell did you ever see in this pompous fool?” Rebekah asked Sara and Laurel who instantly laughed much to Oliver’s embarrassment. “I swear my brother Niklaus randomly hunted down a werewolf just like him years ago just for sport if you’d like I could snap his neck right here and you girls will have one less thing to hate each other for.”

“I don’t hate my sister…I’m just severely pissed off at her.” Laurel answered Rebekah, Sara feeling relieved that her sister didn’t hate her despite having every reason to.

“I’d never hate you Laurel you’re my big sister when I think about what Oliver and I did and how much we must’ve hurt you it makes me sick.” Sara explained to her big sister. “We were young and stupid, and it never meant anything.”

“Sara’s telling the truth Laurel it meant nothing which I guess just makes everything that much worse because I really did love you and I fucked it all up.” Oliver apologised to Laurel who clearly looked confused on how to take her ex’s and her sister’s apologies.

“I’ve lived over a thousand years and in those thousands years it’s become impossible for my siblings not to share lovers at some stage Klaus and Elijah fought over Tatia then Katherine although admittedly Klaus wanted her for more sacrificial reasons than romantic…Klaus also knocked up Hayley who was in love with Elijah but that came after she got pregnant which isn’t as weird as it sounds and now Kol and Klaus seem to be sharing your brother.” Rebekah revealed to the three of them, surprisingly finding herself trying to calm the tension instead of stirring it up for a change. “What I’m trying to say is shit like that happens all the time but in the end family’s all you got whether you want them or not.”

“I for one definitely second that beautiful sentiment from my dear sister Rebekah.” Elijah agreed after vamp speeding over to announce himself to the group. “I’m Elijah Mikaelson I don’t believe we’ve quite had the pleasure of meeting until now.”

“Wait,” Sara said, demanding Rebekah’s attention. “What do you mean your brothers are sharing my brother?”

“I think that kind of explains itself Sara.” Laurel laughed at her younger sister. “I figured that’s why he suddenly partnered up our brother tends to only ever stay loyal to people he wants to sleep with.”

“I guess he never slept with Bane then.” Oliver continued to joke, trying to take some seriousness away from their current situation.

“Well at least the man stays loyal to who he sleeps with.” Elijah teased the Green Arrow, amusing Laurel in the process as the two found themselves meeting each other’s eyes mid smile, a look Oliver noticed and wasn’t amused by.

“I was going to ask where’s my brother, but I no longer want to know instead I’m going to ask where’s Hayley from what Laurel says she seems to be the only one I’m willing to even consider trusting.” Sara asked Rebekah and Elijah.

“She’s other wise engaged with factional business.” Klaus announced as he appeared at the top of the stairs, now fully clothed, before vamp speeding down to stand beside his sister and brother. “Besides I think there’s enough people invited to this party as it is.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Lucas said, the next to appear at the top of the stairs, also now fully clothed. “Now let’s jump right to the killing which preferably doesn’t result in me also being killed!”

Nobody was happy with this particular alliance but Sara had no choice she didn’t want to see he brother dead and neither did Laurel or Oliver and surprisingly to everyone including himself neither did Klaus, or at least for now although a certain revelation about his younger brother Kol Mikaelson definitely had him beginning to reconsider.

Lucas Lance wasn’t foolish enough to believe his recent dalliance with Klaus Mikaelson would earn him any loyalty and he had spent too long avoiding his family to freely put his faith in his sisters but he also knew they were his only option to go head to head with Bane and stay alive.

Now what Bane had in strength which had amplified since coming to Earth Blood he had matched in intelligence which meant a drawn-out plan was never going to work and Lucas knew this.

So instead of trying to play a game of wits with his former cellmate a game he knew he’d never win instead he decided to tackle him head to head in a battle of strengths and with the Mikaelson family uniting with the Lances power was most definitely on their side but that didn’t necessary mean a win was on the cards for the Red Canary.

“It’s awfully brave of you to arrange this little meeting and I’ve got to say that little magic trick with the paper appearing out of nowhere was impressive but I’m not foolish enough to believe you came alone.” Bane said to Lucas as the two stood in the middle of Lafayette Cemetery. “I’ll just have to kill every idiot you fooled into helping you and then I’ll kill you.”

“And people say I can hold a grudge I mean so what I screwed you over to get a head start on getting the hell away from Arkham as fast as I could it’s on you that you didn’t screw me over first.” Lucas replied, trying to mask his fear which amused Bane who laughed at the Red Canary’s fake act of bravery.

“You always did talk far too much!” Bane told Lucas before running towards the canary only for Laurel to appear from behind a tomb releasing a canary cry stopping Bane in his tracks as he quickly found himself struggling to stand as Laurel’s canary cry continued to grow more powerful.

Lucas quickly joined his sister Laurel by releasing a cry of his own, aiming it at Bane only for Laurel and Lucas to be left stunned when a portal appeared in between them both and right in front of Bane which was most definitely not a part of their plan as they stopped their cries and watched on in shock as Bane found himself dragged by a unseen force towards the portal before flying right in and disappearing within the portal.

“That was way too bloody easily I mean quite frankly it was a bit of a let-down.” Rebekah moaned as she sped her way into the cemetery, until she stood beside Laurel.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen I’m not entirely sure how it happened.” Lucas replied to the original female vampire as all three of them continued to stare at the opened portal.

“We made it happen Lucas just like we did before…I think that’s the portal back home.” Laurel revealed to her younger brother as Klaus, Sara and Elijah sped into the cemetery, the three of them now standing next to Laurel and Rebekah.

“Are you going to go back?” Sara asked her sister, knowing she couldn’t return home, fearing Laurel would leave her on this earth.

“It’s my home Sara…Star City needs the Black Canary.” Laurel explained to the White Canary as Oliver appeared from behind another tomb.

“I’m sure it could do with the Green Arrow too…I mean two vigilantes are always better than one.” Oliver said to them all, making it clear he was ready to return home.

“You were always the best of us Laurel.” Sara admitted as tears formed in her eyes while she walked over to her sister and gave her a tight hug.

“This is probably the time where we leave the canaries to their goodbye cries.” Rebekah suggested to Elijah and Klaus. “Besides brothers we have much to discuss back home.”

Laurel Lance’s family meant the world to her but then she lost them one by one all starting with the supposed death of her younger sister Sara which was quickly followed by her younger brother Lucas going off the rails, her father drinking himself to death and her mother deserting them all.

Before she knew it she was alone, hurting and had a new powers to come to terms with and so she made the decision to put those powers to use as she became the Black Canary and vowed to keep her home Star City safe.

Earth Blood gave Laurel her sister back and somewhat helped her bond with her brother but it was never her home and she was always determined to go back, the only problem was her family wanted to stay put and now she had to choose between her home and the friends who became like family or her actual family not that there was much choice because unlike her siblings she always did the right thing and being the Black Canary in Star City was the right thing to do.

“Wow Oliver really wasted zero time in getting the hell out of here shame I was planning on getting around to killing him once the whole Bane business settled down.” Lucas said breaking the silence between him and his two sisters as he, Laurel and Sara stood side by side in Lafayette Cemetery looking at the opened portal.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that mainly because once I go through there, you’re no longer my problem…unless of course you’re suddenly wanting to go home.” Laurel replied to her brother.

“No thanks sis, the enemies on this earth are far better than the ones on the other earth Bane was a painful reminder of that.” Lucas told the Black Canary before speeding out of sight.

“I guess that’s his way of saying goodbye…I guess that little brat is just my problem now.” Sara said to her sister, trying to mask her sadness over saying goodbye to her.

“Once I’m home I’ll get to work on closing this portal from both sides hopefully that’ll keep people from visiting here although if they really want to, I’m sure they’d find a way.” Laurel replied, also trying to mask her sadness. “I really wish we could’ve had longer to work everything out because believe it or not I still love you and I’m really going to miss you again.”

“Well if you miss me too much, I’m sure you’ll find a way to get in touch at least time you know I’m alive well undead, but you get what I mean.” Sara joked with the Black Canary before giving her sister another hug. “It’s probably best if I stay dead on that Earth.”

“Yeah I figured as much.” Laurel responded as she hugged her sister even tighter. “Please keep our psychotic little brother from winding up dead and keep the alliances I’ve made with Davina and Marcel under no circumstances can the Mikaelson’s be trusted.”

“Yeah I worked that one out pretty quickly.” Sara admitted as she broke off the hug with her sister. “Don’t worry I lived with assassins for years this earth is going to a breeze in comparison.”

“I guess New Orleans needs the White Canary just as much as Star City needs the Black Canary.” Laurel said with a smile on her face, knowing she could trust the White Canary to keep Earth Blood and its inhabitants in line.

Laurel and Sara stood there for a moment basking in the moment that they had the opportunity to be reunited as they tried to hide their sadness over their reunion being cut so short as Laurel and Sara wished Lucas stuck around for a proper goodbye, both knowing in his own way he did say goodbye.

The two Lance sisters continued to stand there for some time before Laurel gathered up her strength to walk through the portal as Sara watched on with tears on her eyes as she watched the Black Canary, her sister, disappear into the portal believing she would most likely never see her big sister again.

[mikarashis]

Ensemble Stars Episode 2 Analysis

Alright, now things are starting to get good

We start with Anzu giving a recap of the school again, and then...

Hey Enstars? That ripped Valkyrie poster outside the school gates?  Can we not do that?  I was not prepared...

Okay, I was spoiled for this so I knew Natsume was in this episode, but I still might have squeaked a little when I heard his voice.  

Also I can’t believe he’s just doing some sort of spell on the front walkway to the school (someone on twitter was trying to figure out what it was and the best guess so far seems to be some sort of love potion in hex form which...this is Natsume, so I believe it)

Hello, sir

This is actually good advice because Anzu really is being pulled in a lot of directions but while her character development has been...minimal at best, she actually is very perceptive and comes from a school that might be even wilder than Yumenosaki so she’s fully capable of figuring out what’s going on.

A wild puka-puka appears

‘Two to about five people’  *looks at Mama* ...yep

Okay I laughed at this, it came out of nowhere but this is the kind of humor I appreciate and I found that overall the kind of...extreme exaggerated style of the first episode was tempered a bit.  Enstars has a lot of very ridiculous humor but it’s never so over-the-top that it feels out of place and I’m guessing that’s a harder balance to strike in animation form than just written words in the game stories.  

I actually forgot this is foreshadowing because they use rabbit metaphors so much in this series even when it’s not related to, well, Ra*bits.  Though this one definitely is.

Hi Yuzuru

Happy Birthday Shinonon, you deserve better than to have this episode aired right before your birthday started

HONESTLY Subaru and Hajime have the purest relationship and I’m so glad it gets focus here 

We don’t get to hear much of this song but I still really like how they’re using all the music in ways that aren’t just ‘performances’ so far.  (Also I just noticed Subaru clapping in the background, amazing)

I can’t believe Rei can be woken up by flute music

I’m laughing so much at the shadowy figures in the back because we’ve already seen Kanata like.  Hanging into the fountain.  Super intimidating.  I’m also surprised that they’re sticking with the ‘three oddballs’ thing from the main story because at the time it made sense since Shu and Natsume weren’t in the game yet, but we literally saw Natsume *this episode* so it’s....I get it from a story perspective since Shu and Natsume don’t really help out with the whole ‘revolution’ thing, but it will be weird if they suddenly are all ‘jk nevermind there were five oddballs all along!’ at a later point.  

Oh good bondage!Koga got included after all 

I was expecting them to go all-out on making Rei this sexy/dark/mysterious presence and they certainly did, I mean we all know he’s just a weird vampire grandpa but he’s good at fooling people at first…

He blush

They really only have two songs at the moment, huh

Subaru please be gentle with her.  I realized watching this that Rei’s whole ‘oh I have good hearing so I know everything about all of you’ thing suddenly becomes a lot deeper when you find out his past and learn just how he knows so much about the schol in general...

This isn’t nearly as dramatic as the CG from Rei’s game card with the same scene but we do still get the...vampire reference…

Look at these children

I think we eventually decided that Arashi was responsible for Ra*bits’ outfits because of some things Mitsuru said in Marionette but they certainly make a statement.

Hokke you’re in theater club with *Wataru*, of all people, I refuse to believe this is your first time doing improv comedy

I’m so happy they found a way to get the way Nazuna talks when he gets flustered into the subtitles

Souma doesn’t actually get an introduction screen here so I hope he gets one later on

They reeeeeallly went all-out for this performance, but even though CG in idol series is normally shaky at best I was expecting a lot considering how good the models for the 3D Dream Live shows are and it does look relatively the same so I’m happy with that! 

Everything with the backdrops and the effects is so good too, I was slightly worried how they would pull off the whole ‘idol group hierarchy’ thing but like...Akatsuki’s music has always been some of the best in the series so even though things are definitely ‘rigged’, they’re still top-tier of their own merit and I think they showed that well.  

I feel like this was done better in the stage version where Subaru was actively trying to get people to stay and watch instead of just...sitting there…

THEY’RE SO CUTE THOUGH please support these kids.  I do have to wonder since Nazuna...Nazuna at least would know how things work, and he would know that they had no chance since he used to be part of one of the top units of the school, but he believes in these kids and would want to give them any chance to succeed even if the whole system is against them.

We also get a lot less of Hajime crying here than in other versions of the main story but maybe that’s okay because he should never have to cry at all ;;;;;

I think this part with Subaru finally having his revelation and discovering a reason to fight was really nicely done too; Subaru was...a bit overwhelming in the first episode but again his character was balanced out much more evenly here.  

And with that we’ve already zoomed through about 30 chapters of the main story in forty-ish minutes, which is kind of wild.  Obviously they’re trying to move through it quickly to get to other things, and in some ways I think it works?  They’re hitting all the important parts and if people want the more fleshed-out version it’s a way to entice them to the game itself to read it, but overall I think this episode was a lot more solid in terms of all the elements coming together.  

Next week we apparently get...one single small Sena Izumi…

This will be...fun...

[leonard-cohen-the-second]

Distractions: Chapter 6 of When Two Hearts Collide

Pairing: Copdoc

Rating: It has changed from T to M

Ao3 // FFN

Summary:  Lauren is adamant about helping Trick, but what she finds is all too weird. When she tries to share it with Tamsin, the latter is all about distracting her.

The folder Trick had given Lauren was tucked tight against her shirt as she walked along campus. She didn't know why she felt the urge to hide it, but after feeling the sun on her cheeks her hand darted underneath the brown leather jacket instantly. Her backpack secured the folder to her chest, its excessive weight effectively causing a constant pressure on her upper body to hold it in place, and she briefly thought of how Tamsin had seemed surprised by the weight when she picked it up to throw it a couple days prior. Surprisingly it didn't hurt Lauren or seem very hefty, and even with the small smile that appeared on her features from thinking of the taller blonde, something else was weighing her down.

Why would someone she had just met entrust anything with her? The freshman had encountered Trick yesterday, and only for a brief moment. Had Tamsin truly been talking her up to the man? Well, she countered as she usually did, he had said himself Tamsin did not speak much to him. If she did not speak then Lauren's name would not come up; if Lauren's name did not come up, then there was no way a trust could be built. If no trust could be built- oh, you get the idea, she thought, rolling her eyes at herself for her overthinking. It bugged Lauren all the way back to her dorm room, and she quickly shrugged off her backpack and grabbed the file before it could slide down her shirt to the floor.

Lauren's fingers brushed against the blue manila cover, her body rocking into the bed as her back pressed softly against the headboard. She didn't take off her shoes, choosing instead to lay them softly onto her side of the bed, before taking a deep breath and opening the folder slowly. Her brown orbs darted through the pages, flipping through the sheets fervently before starting all over again. At first she couldn't comprehend what she was reading, and by the third read through she could only slightly understand it. What the readings were showing, blood platelet levels, vital signs, even usual ranges like blood pressure were all over the place. She was reading it through and now taking notes on a small pad she had retrieved from her side table when Tamsin sauntered through the door.

A beat of silence passed before the mattress compressed beside Lauren and she felt a hot presence next to her. “Hello, doc,” Tamsin whispered into the freshman's ear.

Lauren flicked her head upward, running her eyes over the woman before nervously chuckling and leaning back. She stuttered out, “S-sorry, Tamsin. I was lost in the chart.” Her hand waved toward the blue folder before resting her cheek onto her palm. “How was your day?”

Tamsin scooted further into Lauren's space as she played with strands of the latter's hair. Her eyes flicked down for a moment before they found chocolate brown orbs. “It was fine. So what's this chart for?” Fingers began to rake through honey blonde waves, tangling themselves gently before skimming Lauren's shirt. It was a long, drawn out motion, one that Tamsin continued languidly.

“Trick gave it to me,” Lauren replied, clearing her throat and swallowing hard. She did not know if it was because of how she felt with Tamsin being so close to her, or if it was because she was willingly telling this woman the truth. At the furrowed brow that the taller woman sported, Lauren continued, “I was looking for a quiet place to read my.. Star Trek book.. and I remembered the Dal. Did you know he has this very creepy lair down the old stairs in the bar?” Lauren's face scrunched slightly before she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. Waving her hand in front of her face she fervently said, “Anyways Trick asked me to help and take a peek at his friend's chart. He said she was extremely sick, and I did stumble in and just start reading this big book and-”

Tamsin's back straightened slightly, something that would have gone unnoticed if not for their close proximity, and she cut Lauren off, “A big book?”

“Yeah, he called it the Book of the Fae. Don't worry the first question I asked was if it was a cult.” Lauren smirked and let a small chuckle leave her throat. “Rest assured: it's not.”

“Good looking out,” Tamsin remarked, her eyes downcast and her hand moving even slower than it was before in Lauren's hair. “So I doubt doctor-patient confidentiality really applies here so tell me about the chart.”

Slight laughter filled the eerily quiet dorm room, and Lauren wondered if the sound proofing always made it sound like this. The sound she had emitted fell harsher than she remembered it doing when they had watched The Stuff or when she was generally laughing at Tamsin do something foolish for the sake of getting a reaction out of her. There was something wrong, something that wasn't being said, and she could literally feel it creeping up her spine. The tingling sensation did not stop when she slowly began, “Well for one I've never seen numbers like this in blood palettes before. I've read about some reaching into the millions but this is a bit extreme. How this patient is still alive and hasn't developed a blood clot at the base of the spine, or anywhere for that matter, is beyond me. A-and look at this,” a delicate finger pointed toward the numbers marking blood pressure, “it far exceeds anything I've ever seen before in a patient that was still alive. Even the previous charts indicate the numbers have rarely fluctuated!” Lauren ruffled through the pages, pulling out the first medical paperwork from three years prior. “Now Trick said this woman was extremely ill, but with these numbers she should already be dead. She must be a really heavy drinker,” she muttered.

“Out of everything you just said, why must she be a heavy drinker?”

Lauren hummed before pulling her gaze from the paperwork. There was a lilt in her voice when she said, “Oh I just meant with this acute hypertension it's usually caused by something. Drinking is a common factor in young and older adults, while the condition itself is more so found in older women. I bet she had a wild life. That or she's a vampire with the factor of healing she could accomplish with these levels of platelets.”

Tamsin didn't seem to care for Lauren's snicker or poor joke, and suddenly raised fully. She stopped playing in Lauren's hair and her hand shot out and closed the folder. With the freshman began to state her opposition to it, the taller woman instead changed her position and moved in front of her. She scooted the blue folder backward, using her body to shield the sight of it, as she slowly put her hands onto Lauren's folded legs. She balanced there for a moment, taking Lauren in, before she whispered, “Ah, but if only vampires were real. I have a feeling you'd be even more turned on right now.”

A crimson blush spread furiously over Lauren's features but she did not move away. The weight on her knees was not harsh, and instead she welcomed the physical attention. It had only been a day after their date at the clearing and it was like Tamsin was ready to take whatever this was to the next level. What was college if not sex filled parties with roommates! Okay there was much more to college than just that. There were pretty girls, and blondes, and really green eyes and- oh shut up, you're just describing her!

Lauren's hand caressed Tamsin's cheek before she pulled the woman in to her. The taller woman's lips were much softer than they looked as they brushed against Lauren's. Tamsin's scent was familiar yet different, striking her with citrus and honey, vanilla and lavender. It filled her up as her chest heaved, a soft moan escaping her lips before Tamsin deepened the kiss. A hand moved from Lauren's knee to her shoulder, pushing her back onto the bed, before a perfect body laid gently on top of her. Tamsin's once tight bun slowly unraveled, strands of hair raining down around Lauren as she played in the waves. Somewhere at the foot of the bed the blue folder could be heard hitting the floor, but it was barely noticed as a hand went to Lauren's throat and her breath hitched.

Tamsin disengaged from the kiss, a large smile on her features. “So that's your kink, huh?”

“What are you going to do about it,” Lauren breathed. She found it extremely difficult to suck in air being so close to the Icelandic blonde. It felt as if she weren't breathing at all, her chest falling and rising shallowly, but her heart throbbed almost painfully. Her word choice was obviously intentional, and she smirked up to the woman as if daring her to take the bait.

Lowly chuckling, Tamsin leaned in slowly while she kept her eyes on Lauren's. Her tongue flicked across Lauren's upper lip, never breaking eye contact as she simultaneously ground her body into her. The darker blonde moaned lightly, following the movement of their bodies, before grabbing the back of Tamsin's head and tangling her fingers into hair. She pressed their foreheads together as Tamsin continued to grind, breathing heavily in sync, before she aggressively sucked the woman's bottom lip. Teeth bit into flesh as Lauren bit down before sucking softly to alleviate any pain Tamsin would feel, moving into a passionate kiss.

Tamsin's hands gripped roughly underneath Lauren's thigh, her other still on the side of the woman's neck as she balanced on her knees. Her heart felt like it was going to explode, among other things, and she disengaged from the kiss suddenly. Green orbs peered into brown as Tamsin let go of the darker blonde's neck and placed her hand on the bed. She slowly let go of Lauren's thigh to instead caress her cheek, glancing at every detail on the woman's face, moving strands of disheveled hair. This woman was truly beautiful...

Lauren said her name softly, her own hand going up to brush a stray hair behind the taller woman's ear. It sounded so soft, so caring and loving, that it seemed to finally break Tamsin out of whatever she had been feeling in that moment. She smiled as she descended into a soft kiss, it becoming passionate and slow as their teeth nipped and their tongues tasted. This was different than either women had before, something new as they explored each other. They took their time, Tamsin beginning to grind softly into Lauren before the latter began to undress. With each article of clothing came kisses to flesh, soft biting as well which earned both women moans.

The last piece of clothing to go on Lauren was floral designed panties, Tamsin stopping as her fingers brushed lower stomach. Both hands were playing with the hem, Lauren now slightly off the bed and holding herself up as Tamsin's knees dug into either side of her. “Are you sure this is okay?” Tamsin breathed, trying to come up for air from their many kisses.

A chuckled escaped the darker blonde, her teeth catching before sucking Tamsin's bottom lip. “You sound so unsure, Miss. Badass.”

“Consent is important,” Tamsin replied before her hand went to Lauren's throat. She gently squeezed as she made the premed look at her. Her core throbbed when a languid moan hitched out of the woman she was about to fuck. Tamsin's other hand moved further down over the panties, pressing her fingers softly against the outline of Lauren's sex. It was time for her to grin and chuckle, pleased with the pleasured face the woman made, before she breathed, “You're dripping for me.” A pitiful whimper came from Lauren before Tamsin squeezed her throat tighter and continued, “I won't take that as an answer.”

A furious nod was not enough, and Lauren quickly half yelled, “Yes, I'm okay with it!”

“You're lucky these rooms are soundproofed,” Tamsin breathed, instantly and skillfully thrusting her fingers inside of the fabric before into Lauren.

The dark blonde's mouth opened as a wave of pleasure cascaded from her cunt throughout her entire body. She lay still for a moment as Tamsin breathed a curse before beginning to move inside of her. It was slow and deep, the woman's fingers curling in just the right spots and Lauren's back hit the bed and her legs wrapped around Tamsin's. The tall woman continued to squeeze her neck as she began to move faster, marveling at the sight in front of her. Lauren's bare breasts, her throat, her cunt: Tamsin almost lost it at the sight of such beauty. Women were gorgeous but Lauren? She was on a whole new level.

Lauren's short nails dug into the flesh of Tamsin's shoulder, her breath hitching and the pitch in her moans becoming higher. “T-Tamsin,” she stammered out before a stream of curses followed.

Tamsin could feel the darker blonde's walls tightening around her, and before she could reach climax the woman stopped moving, a smirk on her features. Before Lauren could voice her annoyance, Tamsin's body moved swiftly down and her hot mouth was around the woman's clit.

“Oh fuck,” Lauren breathed, one hand pushing Tamsin's mouth ever harder down, while the other balled into sheets.

Reverberation from Tamsin humming out her own satisfaction made Lauren almost come right there. It felt so fucking good, Tamsin's tongue felt so damn good! It flicked against her clit hard then languidly soft, her fingers moving at odds with whichever she would do. Soft and hard, or hard and slow. It was maddening. It was so fucking good!

It didn't take long for Lauren to come after that, her hips rolling into Tamsin's mouth as her body arched slightly. A long, loud, satisfied moan came from her lips as the spasms that wracked her body lessened. Tamsin smiled up at Lauren, kissing the woman's clit once more before trying to go in again. Lauren laughed, catching Tamsin quickly before her oversensitive sex could cause another bout, and she was happy to taste herself on the woman's lips. Her arms wrapped around Tamsin's torso, her fingers brushing against the woman's sports bra, as she giggled with ecstasy.

“I needed that,” Lauren whispered.

Tamsin chuckled, placing her fingers that had just been inside the other in her mouth. Her eyes never left Lauren's as she swirled her tongue around them, lapping off every drop of the woman, before licking her lips. “You taste so fucking good.” She chuckled as Lauren made a uncouth sound, kissing the woman again. She swirled her still wet digits around her nipples, pinching them between her index and middle fingers. “So,” she said, propping herself up with a hand, “what ridiculous horror movie do we get to watch tonight?”

“Who knew you were so domestic,” Lauren chortled.

Tamsin shrugged. “There's a lot you don't know about me, doc.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I secretly think you're really hot.”

An incredulous laugh filled the room before Lauren covered her mouth, still giggling. She let her hand rest on Tamsin's cheek, her thumb stroking softly. “Well you're sweet and salty enough to be classified as a sap, I think.”

Tamsin groaned, letting her head fall onto Lauren's chest before shaking her head. “Why are you such a dork.”

“That's why you love me,” Lauren burst out before chuckling. Realizing what she had just said she quickly followed up, “I mean... that's why I have to be silly and out of touch. Because you, um...”

“It's okay, doc. Don't give yourself an aneurysm. Sex can do all sorts of things to your head. I get it.”

Lauren nodded up at Tamsin. “Yeah, exactly.”

Tamsin smirked before giving Lauren a quick peck. “I'm going to freshen up. I'll be back.”

The tall woman shimmied off the bed, rifling by the side of the bed for her fallen top. Something else slid across the ground, but Lauren didn't pay much attention to it and instead was reliving the last few sentences. Her eyes were on the ceiling as she also replayed the extracurricular activities that had also just happened, and did not see Tamsin holding something close to her chest, just out of eyesight. Lauren could feel herself getting wet again as Tamsin left the room with a wink, her clothes draped over her arm but not fully laying down as if something was underneath them.

No, Lauren didn't see any of it as Tamsin left the room. She was just too happy.

[vomiting-out-words]

Boyfriend’s Background Commentary - The Twilight Saga Part Dos

Movie: Twilight - New Moon

Director: Chris Weitz

Cinematography: Javier Aguirresarobe

Budget: 50 million USD

Release Date: November 20th, 2009 (Canada)

Watched: August 30th, 2018

Boyfriend: @shiftaria

Part Uno - Part Dos - Part Tres - Part Cuatro - Part Cinco

After literally taking five minutes to even getting to the movie, due to the boyfriend shitting around and making many references made about my breaks due to the position he got me into, we finally pressed play. Shifter is telling me all about how he barely remembers the movies, and he’s very confused about the opening scene. Very professional. He’s also making the connection between the heavy reference Romeo and Juliet.

Oh, and sexual comment, commenting on Jacob’s long, beautiful hair. Right, it’s Bella’s birthday. Edward is fucking jealous of Jacob… Apparently, Edward is also a fuck boy, which I wouldn’t put past him, mainly because they imaged him that way. Kind of bothered by that since he’s much more respecting. The acting is much better than the first one, at least that’s my opinion.

We have gotten to the wonderful birthday scene by this point. Now, Shifter was really hyped about it due to the Volturi. I mean, Michael Sheen is a really good actor and makes a wonderful addition to the cast. Also, the phase with the painting was beautifully done, and just really makes it a cool way to get the backstory on characters. Now, when the party actually starts, I actually get rather confused. Wrapping paper does NOT cause that bad of a paper cut, and like I get Jasper is still getting used to blood, but like, none of these reactions have happened before. There have to be other times before that moment for Jasper, so why react now? He knows Bella is taken, he’s been around her when she was dying on the floor of the ballet studio. Yet now he’s reacting, what stopped him before? So many questions and like no answers.

Que sad cutscene about the soul and sad music video; while music lyrics are connected to anything Shakespeare related, Shifter is really picking up on that, he has been since the movie started. I’m glad he is, but it seems like the movie got that point across a lot better than the book did, as the book only gave the reader really angsty teenage girl diary for the most of it.

Finally, Edward appears again, like he’s off to a funeral. He tells Bella that his family and himself are leaving, using a very half-ass excuse about Carlisle. Really, Edward starts using emotional manipulation to get her to understand, bringing a real dick about all of it. Oh, and why the conversation has to be so far out into the forest? Great question, Shifter, we honestly have no clue. It was actually really stupid because as soon as Edward leaves, she chases after him, eventually getting herself lost. Would really help if we knew what Charlie was doing during all of this.

Shifter made an excellent point about the camera angles that were used for the goodbye when Edward gave that final kiss. As the angle started normal, Bella’s world felt right, it was perfect, then the angle started to become tilted, showing that Bella’s world was falling about in those very seconds.

“Oh! One pec! And called it!” -Shifter

Now, at this point, we paused because we were having a conversation that all the natives in this movie are from Canada, and it seems to be true.

Fun Fact: Shifter and I are both Canadian.

Back to the movie. We get a really nice time transition, with a really good monologue, showing what Bella was going through, what Charlie was dealing with. Finally, we get back to character conversation, where Charlie is trying to do the proper thing for his daughter. It’s really amazing that Charlie is trying to so hard to help his daughter. He loves her, yet stepping up into full-time father mode, it’s still pretty hard. Charlie will support his daughter in any way he can.

This next scene was really strange, because of ghost!Edward. Like I know in the book Bella is literally going crazy with grief at this point, but doing something stupid and dangerous to invoke those hallucinations should be red flags. Personally, I think it would have been better if Edward actually looked like he was there, rather than like cigarette smoke, kind of made it less of an impact to the movie. Thanks to Jessica literally putting the idea into Bella’s head that she needs to do the crazy shit to invoke an Edward Episode, she gets two dirt bikes, taking them to Jacob, because she needs help to rebuild them.

We once again paused because Shifter pointed out does twilight, a new moon, an eclipse, or the first light of dawn vanishing the horrible night have to do with vampires? Like that’s all werewolf stuff, none of that can be traced back to vampire myths. I actually had to take a step back, quest what this story was even about anymore like none of it made sense. At least now. Really messed up with this.

Ah, the famous age conversation strikes again, it’s interesting, but very unnecessary truthfully. Especially since it started to turn into a cougar joke.

“I am very confused by my teenage daughter. Send help.” -Charlie Swan, 2018 (Shifter)

I really like Jacob being around Bella like their relationship is nowhere as toxic has her’s and Edward’s. It’s healthier for Bella too. Jacob is a really great person as well. Shifter needed to point out that when Jacob and Bella were driving that is was really old school Hollywood, something I never really paid attention to before. Anyway, more backstory about Sam and a bit about why Jacob is really paranoid, well, bothered by him. It’s a good way to get information since the movie was getting to the point where it would be picking up its pace due to oncoming conflict about plot movement. Jacob and Bella ride bikes, Bella gets her Edward Episode, only to hurt herself, which leads to Jacob becoming shirtless, which was very welcomed by myself since these wolf boys are very good looking and a lot more character development than any of the vampires, at least in the movie, both parties were given equal development in the books, and you knew more about them.

Anyways, with Bella spending time with Jacob, she’s becoming more human again. With that, she’s becoming social with her friends again, even planning a night to the movies with her friends. Only for Bella to be stuck between Mike and Jacob, who both have a thing for her. Though, Jacob, he makes a move, even understands her. Only Mike to return and somehow gets under Jacob’s skin.

We actually all know why.

Bella is once again in distress, trying all her options to get ahold of him until she finally just drives to his house, in the pouring rain. Now there is Jacob; short hair, tattoo, and no shirt. Very hot. And Bella accuses Jacob of breaking up with her, fine choice of words, Bella. They exchange ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ conversation, but Jacob is really worried about hurting Bella due to seeing what can happen if he loses his temper in front of Bella. All of this leads to Bella coming up with the bright idea to travel out into the forest to the field. Not safe at all.

Seriously, it’s a terrible idea considering she runs into Laurent, who came to Forks on a favor to Victoria. Bella can’t lie to save her life either, almost leading her to get killed once again. The only reason she was saved this time was huge ass wolves, that everyone decided to think were bears, even Angela mentions about them a few scenes back. Bella rushes home to tell Charlie and Harry is over. It’s very clear that Harry knows about the wolves, so he agrees to help Charlie.

That very same night, someone comes knocking at her door, well, window, and it’s Jacob. Who really is trying to tell her what is up, and the kicker is; as Jacob verbally says on screen, Bella already knows. Thankfully, it only takes her a night to sleep on it, with a really fucked dream to go along with it all. Cut to her bargaining into the Black Household, needing to see Jacob, only for her to find Jacob sleeping. All seemed well with the world until her eyes locked onto Sam Uley and the others showing up. Storming out as Bella ‘Fight Me’ Swan towards them, yelling, even going as far as to slap Paul Lahote; who fought back, Really dumb on Bella’s part, almost leading to herself getting killed again, under twenty-four hours. Embry Call and Jared Cameron take Bella back to Emily Young’s house; Sam’s fiance. Emily has a really bad scar on the right side of her face due to Sam accidentally losing his temper. The pack is rather welcoming of Bella, Paul even apologizes to her once he returns from fighting with Jacob.

Now, it’s finally known why Victoria keeps coming to Forks, the only issue, the pack never knew until now. This leaves the movie to show what is going on when Bella decides to go cliff diving a few days later because she needs her Edward Episode. Only issue is, Bella doesn’t pay attention to the condition of the ocean. And considering Victoria jumping into the water to get away from Jacob earlier, not surprising that Victoria sees Bella in the water. Que Bella hitting her head and start stinking.

“I thought Edward’s power waw to read other's mind, not Force Projection.” -Shifter.

“Oh! Sexy McWet!” -Shifter @Jacob

How Jacob found Bella is something I totally forgot from the book, but sadness; Harry Clearwater is dead due to Victoria. Now, Jacob is really starting to open up to Bella about all of this, telling her about Sam and Emily. They almost kiss, I might as well scream because Jacob is so much better than Edward. Just Bella is stupid and doesn't listen to Jacob when she sees Carlisle’s car, because she’s going to take the risk. And surprise, there is Alice, making Bella really lucky, because it could have easily been Victoria as well. This is where the viewers find out that Alice can’t see past the pack. Oh, and Jacob doesn’t give a shit about rules and there’s apparently something totally between Jacob and Bella- Oh, wait, phone rings. Great, cockblocked again and Bella, you fucking suck.

Road Trip to Italy, to save the asshole that is an emotional manipulation, but whatever. Alice also steals a car and speeds, all calm, like nothing is wrong. There’s Bella in the passenger freaking the fuck out because they only had five minutes. Skip to Bella literally telling Edward that she can let him go, so just let her go, Edward! In comes, the Volturi, who are all wonderfully cast, and Shifter clearly has a boner for Aro; who is played by the wonderful Michael Sheen (I wouldn’t stop writing his name). Just the Volturi is beautiful, and very well played. This entire scene is just masterfully done, it suits such an old coven that is the government of all vampires. Also, Michael Sheen speaks beautiful Italian.

I literally don’t speak Italian, so this is just my observation. It sounds like he’s been practicing it for years.

Then surprise, Bella is in bed, back home in Forks. Edward is back, I am just upset, he could have just let her go, the Volturi wouldn’t be marking the Cullen’s down in their black books. They even go as far as to put Bella’s immortality to a vote, really torturing Edward, which he deserves. Sadly, Rosalie is the only one who’s said no. Kind of wish that more of them said no because Bella deserves so much better. Thank god Jacob is a no too, but he’s so wounded. Bella, you damn bitch.

Also, HOW IS A PROPOSAL A GOOD WAY TO END A MOVIE?!

[asktailikku]

For anyone over the age of 20, put your mind back to spring 1997 in the build-up to Disney’s One Saturday Morning on ABC.  On April 19th of that year, Disney premeired a new series on the channel called Nightmare Ned.  The series focussed on a 10 year old boy named Ned Needlemeyer (voiced by Courtland Mead) who has recurring nightmares every night, through which he has a better understanding of whatever is bothering him while he is awake.  Also appearing on the show are some of Ned’s schoolmates, including two bullies named Vernon and Conrad (voiced by Jim Cummings and Dan Castelanetta respectively), and his parents (the father, Ed, is voiced by Brad Garret).  The show lasted for twelve episodes due to creative differences between the show-runners and the show going over budget.  Any and all references to the show have simply been ignored by Disney as no rereleases of the episodes have been made on Disney XD or on DVD (here’s hoping for an appearance on that new streaming service)

In October of that same year, Disney Interactive released a CD-Rom based on the show, developed by Window Painters and Creative Capers.

This time, the plot centers around one big nightmare that Ned has from being home alone after school one day.  A storm takes out all the power in the house, warping it into something sinister.  As Ned tries to go to sleep through all the thunder and lightning, he is grabbed by a monster whose arms burst through the walls from behind his bed, dropping him into the nightmare world, and plaguing him with five Shadow Creatures.

The game is a sidescrolling adventure game set in five different levels.

The Graveyard Nightmare.  This nightmare is usually associated as the first level, due to it being directly in front of Ned on the “overworld” of sorts.  This area has the standard horror tropes of a gravedigger, zombies, evil trick or treaters, crypts, pumpkins, ghosts, and the Grim Reaper.  According to some fans, this represents necrophobia, as well as other standard horror-based fears.

The Bathroom Nightmare.  According to the manual, everything bathroom related has come to life and is after Ned.  Such things include a living barrier of razors, a labyrinth of pipes, massive toilets, as well as various unplayable transitions that show many more horrors that Ned has to get by (such as the one above).  Also included is a song about one thing that most children at that age fear: puberty.

The Medical Nightmare.  This is actually a dual-themed nightmare, originally set in a waiting room.  Jumping on the gurney brings Ned to the Doctor’s office, which begins with a runaway gurney barrelling down the hallway with operation happy surgeons trying to grab organs from Ned.  The end of the hallway is the operating room with an Electric Beaver running the operation, done in a manner similar to Wheel of Fortune.

Jumping on the giant mouth-shaped chair brings Ned to the Dentist’s office, which here is a giant mouth with various creatures hiding in the gums and teeth, “tooth worms”, braces and rubber bands, and the dentist himself.  There is also a little ditty sung by a uvula.

The School Nightmare.  And I mean that literally.  This stageis based around Ned’s school in the waking world, mixed with Alcatraz.  There are three layers to this nightmare.  The first being the school halls themselves, filled with rampaging students, bullies, evil librarians, janitors, and the school nurse.  The second is Craft Class, found within a locker.  This is where many of the game’s “boss battles” are located.  The bosses are done by digitizing stop-motion animations of various arts and crafts.  These include a chicken made of papier-mâché and macaroni, a skeleton made of cotton, paper plates, and pipecleaners (one that looks a lot like Jack Skellington), a Clayfighter 63-2/3 reject, and a vampire made out of a milk carton.  Beating the bosses will change the drab environment into a diorama of George Washington chopping down his father’s cherry tree.  Losing to them will make it into a diorama of Washington Crossing the Delaware.

The third layer, and possibly the most well known on line, is the chalkboard.  This is because of the song playing sung by a math teacher who is clearly taking drugs (as confirmed by the songwriter, Jim Owens) with many nonsense questions.

Train A is carrying 200 people going 80 mph on a 92-mile track, and is at the 46 mile mark.  Train B is carrying 200 ducks, going 40 mph, adding 1 mph each time one of the ducks quacks.

Madeline has 87 pomegranates and her cousin Riley has a $20 bill and 18 dimes; How many pomegranates can he purchase even though they are not for sale, which she has told him over 18 times? (The logical answer is that he will get every single one due to him having $21.80, but the teacher states that answer will still come to zero since THE STUPID POMEGRANATES aren’t even for sale.)

A pop-quiz that takes up the half of the song, followed by a nonsense bit that includes knowing how much kerosene costs, making the result of a few more mathematics into a dish by putting it in a 9 x 13 pan and cooking it until it browns, turning all the sixes you have so far into nines, subtracting a forty-third, dialing “9”, taking a right on 82nd, adding a half, picking any card, dividing it by 99 and then by 40.25, drawing smilies in the zeroes, crossing out everything you wrote, and if they don’t have the answer just going ahead to bunt and get the runner to score. (Jonathan Vecci on a YouTube upload worked out the answer to be 14,501.54440727273 based on the market price of kerosene on November 11th, 2017, wich was $3.238/gallon)

STRIKE THREE! YER OUT!

Suffice to say, this is also my favorite area of the game because of the boss fights and due to the trippy animations on the chalkboard whenever you hit one of the word animals and they change into something else that rhymes with that word, save for the Bees and the “Snake/Drake/Cake”.

The Nightmare in the Attic, Basement, and Beyond. The most linear nightmare in the game as the manual points out that the ultimate goal is to make it to the hidden shortcut to the Graveyard Nightmare.  The nightmare is set within a haunted house with various oddities in the attic, a living boiler that belches flames, and a violent flock of birds, two black cats playing with mirrors on ladders, a fortune telling machine that gives up on cryptic hints. The Basement is where things get really strange with wallpapers that comes to life to give Ned an atomic wedgie, a dragon that tells stories from “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” in prose form (and voiced by Edie McClurg), a violent freakshow of various taxidermied together chimeras, and a trip into a “jungle” within the basement.  This jungle includes a circus act of juggling jug-headed Siamese twins from Skipback County called Petey and Repetey, always bickering with eachother.

The game ends when Ned encounters each of the Shadow Creatures three times in each nightmare, with each encounter slowly turning them into someone that Ned knows while he is awake.  Once all five are turned back to “normal,” the ending plays, although depending on how many “hours” were spent; in the game you have no healthbar and life counter, so you are practically immortal, save for the bosses in Craft Class.  If you press Q on the keyboard, get stabbed by the dentist three times, or getting sent to the principal’s office and getting the wrong number on the phone, you lose one “hour”. If you waste less than 8 hours, you get the good ending where Ned has conquered his nightmares.  If you waste 8+ lives, you get the bad ending where Ned has become paranoid.

If you want to try playing this game, good luck trying to find a good copy of the game online, and even then you need to play it on Windows operating systems between 3.1 and Vista; it will not run on Windows 7-10, unless you run it in a Virtual Machine or DOSBox emulating Windows 3.1.  Disney has yet to acknowledge this game outside of the brief rerelease that came packaged with Villains’ Revenge.

“Oh, gosh!”

Hope to see you all tomorrow.

Sweet Dreams are Made of Screams For anyone over the age of 20, put your mind back to spring 1997 in the build-up to Disney's One Saturday Morning on ABC. 

[ishouldprobablybewriting]

On Wanting, Avoiding, and Leaving

So a few weeks ago, @honeydrippin-cutefattie messaged me gushing and being an absolute amazing and adorable human being so I decided to write her a thing. Its completely late cause I’m a slack human being but still. 

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Cas x plus size reader

Word Count: 2558

Tags/Warnings: None. Language and sexually suggestive themes, maybe?? Seriously though mostly just fluff.

It had been one of those days. One of those hot, sticky, shitty days. Strike that- it had been one of those weeks. Literally. You were covered in residual gore and funk and sweat from weeks' worth of hunts in the middle of May, mostly around and between Texas and Tennessee, that couldn’t be washed off with just a quick fucking shower in the motel. Which was only made worse by the fact that it was following a month of non-stop hunts. It had been well over six weeks since the Winchesters, and you, had had a breather, much less been back to the bunker. But you were finally home. Dean pulled into the garage and you were pushing on Sam’s seat before he could even open the door, begging to get out. Your plump arms were heavy with your pack, and despite your rounded size, you squeezed out of the Impala and made a beeline for the showers. 

You grabbed a towel from one of the storage closets along the way. You dropped the duffle bag with a thud by the shower door, and took your clothes from your pack. And then dropped them. The stench was palpable. Guess the quarter-mat and sink-washes didn’t quite do the job. You pause for a moment, considering your options. Option one: Take a shower, put on clothes that smell like monster guts. Fuck that. Option two: Walk all the way down the hall and back just to get clean clothes before you can shower. Eh. Better but not ideal. Option three: Say fuck it, shower, cover what you can with a towel after and walk back to your room quickly after. Not great either. But, honestly, it’s not like you, nor the boys, were particularly body shy- despite the difference in your body types with the boys all tall and lean and muscle and you soft and round and curvy. Fuck it. Option three it is. You strip off your black, thread-bare tee-shirt and peel your jeans off your plush body. The spray of the showers in the bunker was mercifully strong and the water heater- enchanted- was quite literally never ending. The room filled with steam quickly which helped undo the stress of the past few weeks spent slashing your way through the American south. What really worked wonders, though, was the harsh pounding of the water pushing against your muscles and burning your skin slightly. After thoroughly scrubbing off of the first few layers of skin, you begin to feel more like yourself. More like a person. You spend a few moments more breathing in the steam and releasing the tension from your muscles. You turn off the water and wring out your hair a bit before finally toweling off while stretching out muscles a bit. Taking one last deep breath of the fresh steamy air, you wrap the towel around your plush body, holding the not-quite-long-enough towel tight across your soft breast and tucking the ends under one arm. It didn't cover everything, but it covered most of the important bits. Your thighs still showed in all their jiggly glory and the swell of your plump ass caused the towel to rise up a bit and show it off. You snatched your bag off the floor and wrenched the heavy door open. You heard the boys down the hall in the war room laughing loudly at something. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. You just wanted to crash, hard, into your bed and sleep. You walked down the hall, towards your room- and the war room- and heard him. Cas. The angel you try desperately to avoid. And couldn’t bare to stay away from. “I do not understand. I did not tell a joke.” You could almost see his head tilting like a puppy dog while his blue eyes shone, eyebrows scrunched as he tried to figure out why the boys were laughing at him- again. Sam turned his head and saw you, “Yo! Finally out?” Of course Sam called you out. “Yeah, yeah.” You stopped at the end of the hall, leaning slightly against the wall, bag clutched in one hand and towel clenched in the other. “Not my fault you two were too slow to get in the shower first.” You send a wink towards Dean, “Couldda joined me, if you were in that big of a rush.” Sam groaned and Dean laughed, “Yeah, maybe I’ll take you up on that next time, kid.” You made sure to keep your eyes on either of the Winchesters and strictly off the angel. You weren’t stupid. You know how he looks at you. How he pines for you and searches for you whenever he shows up. But you weren’t going to act on it. Not until he gave you conformation. You couldn’t risk it. “Jesus. Will you go get dressed, please? And stop flirting with Dean!” Cas’s head swung around and he tried not to glare at Sam, before giving you that pleading look again. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t resist looking at you like that. Like he needed you. Like he would go to the ends of the Earth, to Heaven and Hell and back for you. Literally. \At first it was your soul. He was attracted to the brightness. It was sparky and soft. And warm. Like nothing else he had ever felt. 

Then it was your actions and your words. You seemed to have this way. No problem killing monsters and getting bloody, but still able to genuinely comfort and care for victims. You were kind enough to stop the brothers before they wiped out a pack of vampires who had gone vegan, working as mediator while things were being worked out, yet diligent enough to continue checking up on them to be sure they stuck to their diet. Hard enough to damn near decapitate whatever monster of the week popped up in a single swing and yet soft enough to care for three weeks for a baby left after a rougarou started snacking on her family. Smart enough to know, fluently, at least six spoken languages and three dead ones, but humble enough to know that there's an eternity more you could learn. Flirty enough to keep up with Dean, but down-to-earth enough to be approachable. That, of course, was a whole nother problem. Forget the fact that Cas was convinced you weren’t interested, or that even if you were, he wouldn’t be able to make you happy, to keep up with you. He hated watching you be approached by man after man- and sometimes woman- when you went drinking with the Winchesters. So he tried to stay away. Tried to distance himself. It just made him think of you more, worry about you more. He almost couldn’t stand it anymore. Which is why he was standing in the war room, mouth agape, staring at your soft, thick thighs. He wanted to feel your warmth. First hand, preferably. “Alright, well. I’m fuckin’ beat. Night, ya’ll,” you announce. Sam and Dean chorus the sentiments back and you turn to head back to your room. You try desperately to ignore the slight gasp from Cas as you turn around and the towel you were still clad in, slipped slightly from your body, showing more of it to him. And the boys. Mostly to him.

Dean slapped Cas in the ribs after you left. “Jeeze, man. Just go ask her out already.” “What?” Cas looked at Dean, back after you then back to Dean. “No. Don’t be absurd, Dean.” “Absurd?!” Dean sat up quickly. “Are you kiddin’ me?” Cas got that look on his face again- head tilted, eyebrows scrunched, eyes searching. “Seriously?” Sam chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief before taking a swig of his beer. “What? Dean, I don’t understand. Why would I ask her to leave? She is a valuable member of this team.” “Dude,” Dean started, laughing at Cas’s expense, “Go. Ask. Her. Out. On a date. You’re obviously into her.” Cas let out a disgruntled noise, “That would not be advisable.” “What?! Why not?” Cas just stared at Dean and sighed. “Dean…” “Look, Cas,” Dean slammed his beer down, “Ask her out or don’t. But stop looking at her like that,” he gestured to Cas. Cas pressed his lips together and thought about the plump woman of his - well, not quite dreams. Angels didn’t sleep so they didn’t dream the way humans did. But Cas knew, even Heaven would seem lackluster without her. He was at an impasse. Cas had seem the types of men that she brought back to the hotel room, or went home with. Cas did not fit her “type”, as Dean would say, at all. Surely she would feel uncomfortable if he did “ask her out”. It would islate her. She would leave. He wouldn’t even be able to look at her anymore. She would leave. Sam and Dean would blame him. She would leave. That was unacceptable. He wouldn’t do anything to risk her leaving. It would be easy.

It was not easy. The following week consisted of: Dean all but living at the bar in town, and going home with a different woman every night; Sam spending the majority of the day running and doing a thorough restock of spell ingredients; and you demanding Cas’s help in rearranging the library and the war room to make it more efficient. Which, under normal circumstances, Cas would have been ecstatic to do. Except, it seemed like you knew of his feelings and were bound and determined to make him act on them. Temptress. Tuesday you wore ratty gray sweatpants and a tank top because “Fuck normal clothes”, or so you said, But what got him was how you bounded from the kitchen, singing his name out to find him with not just one but two cups of coffee in your hand. Your simple kindness softened his heart, yet again. Wednesday he found you seated on the floor surrounded by ancient books, sorting them as logically as possibly, and cussing enough to make even Dean blush. It was strange how endearing he found your colorful vocabulary. He followed your orders dutifully, sorting and moving books with a smile. By Thursday, Cas was sure you were trying to torture him. He heard you call for him and when he appeared, he damn near lost it. He actually whimpered. Fuck. You were bent over looking for something- he couldn’t look away from you long enough to figure out what it was- and the grunting fueled the sinful thoughts the black shorts sparked as they rode higher and higher until the soft curve of your ass peeked out from under the cuffs. The long whining “Caaasss!” and accompanying ass jiggle from you stomping your foot truly tested him. He avoided you for the rest of the day. It didn’t stop him from thinking of you though. Friday, Cas resolved, you would not be able to tempt him. He found you in the library reading, three open books, stacks of closed books nearby and a full mug of what he assumed is now-cold coffee in front of you. He noted that the books open were all three different languages, one extremely ancient. The scribbles on the page proof that you had been translating them. You were wearing the same shorts and off-the shoulder sweater from the day before. Cas took a deep breath and pointedly avoided looking at your plush warm thighs or soft silky exposed shoulder. He chose instead to keep his eyes on the table. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, “Have you been here all night?” You jumped a bit and looked up at him. Your eyes were wide and a soft smile grew on your face. “All night?” You clicked your phone and saw the time- 9:30 am. “Oh. Yeah…” You looked around and saw how all the books and artifacts you were organizing were still in stacks scattered around the room and your coffee- that you swore was steaming and fresh not five minutes ago- was not just room temperature but stale. “I guess I have been,” you smiled at Cas. “I have have gotten a little distracted waiting for you to come back.” All plans Cas had of keeping himself away from you, avoiding making you leave were gone. His feathery brain short-circuited and he couldn’t think of anything else but your round face, how your eyes sparkled at him, how bright your smile was. “Beautiful,” he breathed. You tilted your head, scrunched your eyebrows and smiled at him questioningly. Cas suddenly realized he had said that out loud. He didn’t mean to. Your smile slid into a smirk, digging into one of your chubby blushing cheeks. “You think I’m beautiful, Cassy?” you teased. Cas stiffened and stood up quickly to make his retreat. His plan was failing miserably and the best tactic at this point was retreat, obviously. But you caught his wrist and no matter how lightly you held onto him, he would never shake you off of him. Cas wasn’t sure he was even physically capable of doing that. “Cassy?” you questioned, standing up and stepping closer to him. He still refused to look at you. “Cas.” Your demanding tone finally got him to turn. His eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed. You grinned up at him. “So?” “Absolutely.” Your smile and the energy that burst from your soul and seeped out your rounded, gently curving body melted him and gave him courage to continue. “You’re the most amazing creature I’ve ever seen. Heart, soul, body, brain. You amaze me.” Cas leaned in slowly, asking for permission and searching your eyes for rejection. He found none. Your finger met his lips and you looked at him suspiciously. “Nothing you learned from the pizza man.” Your eyes raked down him, “Not yet, at least.” You grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours in a soft heat. When you finally pulled away, Cas looked at you like he was trying to figure something out. “What?” He was silent for a second more, “I don’t want to make you leave.” You looked at him for a beat. Then two. Then three. Then, you busted out laughing. Not a cute giggle or a soft laugh but a loud, snorting braying kind of laugh. “Oh Cas! I’m not going anywhere. I swear.” The look of relief that washed over him was almost comical. It made you smile. “Is that why you didn’t come back last night?” “I, uh…” Cas flushed bright red, “that is…. Yes. Yes it is.” He sighed, the cat was out of the bag- another saying Dean had taught him. “I was afraid that my feelings would be… unrequited. And, upon you finding out about them, would make you leave. I did not want to make you uncomfortable.” “Huh. I thought you were just avoiding me because you didn’t like me.” “No!” “Well. I, for one, am glad we got this cleared up. I mean, I have a ton of questions but I can ask those after you help me clean this mess up, Cassy.” Teasing him was just too much fun. “Is this where I am supposed to ask you out?” “Yes, yes it is.”

[bestfriendforhire]

Children of BFFH, Entry 99

 I sighed, bored with waiting to arrive.  The plane ride had been boring, since Father insisted that I needed to study the entire way.  He didn’t believe that I’d find time to study during my stay, which was possible.  Four probably didn’t need any more sleep than I did, so he might play games with me throughout the night.

 Glancing out the window, I happened to notice the driverless cab next to me, one of James’.  Father had recently made a deal with James for that cab company to be introduced throughout a few cities in Russia.  Europe had already embraced Best Friend for Hire’s transportation services after seeing the greatly reduced accident rate and improved transit times.  Ultimately, I still found the subject boring.

 Knowing that I needed to understand the workings of everything and actually studying it all were completely separate things in my mind.  I didn’t want all of my time spent guiding other people!  Maybe Alaric would give me a reprieve?

 I had tried picturing Alaric from the last time we met, but Four popped into my head, having been on that trip.  He was a couple years older than Alaric and me, and had brilliant violet eyes that I could stare into forever.  They were just that beautiful!  I wished that I had made a better impression on him when we met.  Sadly, I had attacked his little sister when she proved to be formidable.  Father understood why I had been investigating, but he reprimanded me for not trying to speak first.  That was when he pointed out that the Eternal Princess Aaliyah was far more dangerous than she appeared.

 All Slayer descendants worth mentioning knew that Aaliyah was brilliant, the notable ones also knew that she was the world’s only living assassin—she mercilessly kills anyone who tries to take her jobs, but only the strongest families know that Aaliyah is Death herself.  According to Father, Aaliyah has been around for all of time and is rumored to literally collect souls as people die.  He claimed that even a Slayer, such as Alaric, would be killed instantly with the slightest touch of Death’s scythe, and that weapon is said to destroy body and soul.  If not for the desperate seriousness in Father’s eyes when he had told me, I would have thought he was telling a tale.  Well, meeting Mariasha and Serenity did help to persuade me as well.

 Serenity had effortlessly broken Father’s arm, looking as if she had merely been playing, and her movements were so fast that I couldn’t even follow them.  Mariasha had created something around him that he told me was unbreakable.  The ability to create with a thought was startling, a power I hadn’t heard of until then.  Going by what Father had told me, Serenity was Death’s own granddaughter and Mariasha was Death’s daughter.  I needed to be careful around them.

 Save Alaric, I had gone my life without realizing there were children near my age who could compete with me on anything.  Finding out there were numerous was a bit frightening… and exciting.  I had played through my brief fight with Lucy time and time again in my head, and I wasn’t certain I could beat the smaller, younger girl even if I had given it my all.  She was at least as fast as me, strong enough to fully block my strikes, and she had enough skill to turn most strikes with minimal effort.  The more I thought about our brief fight, the more I believed that she had taken me lightly enough to have held back for the sake of her clothing.  Only when Father had arrived did she start getting serious.  I could only imagine what Four might be capable of.

 After dozens of little daydreams, some extra studying from the books with me, and a few stops to relieve my boredom, I finally passed the gates into Somerset Estate.  King James Michael Somerset III was the man who had bested Father with a single spell, shattering every last bone in Father’s body and forcing him to yield the fight.  According to Father, that was the single most excruciating experience of his entire life.  If not for the swift care of Alma, Father would have died.  Since then, stories of James’ talents had only grown, such as an account from James’ wedding where he had incapacitated Adelmar Slayer while Adelmar struggled with his dragon nature.  This man deserved every respect.

 From the immaculate yard covered in fancifully pruned bushes, picturesque trees, and perfectly trimmed grass to the enormous, lavishly constructed mansion, Somerset Estate was made to impress.  I doubted many had come here and left still feeling they had seen better.  With eyes as sharp as my own, I could always find something out of place, at least elsewhere.  James’ yard didn’t even have a stray twig visible from the front.

 “Greetings, Marisha.  Will you please follow me?” asked Mila, the first daughter of Death as I approached the door with my courtesy gift in hand.  Though artificially constructed, Mila’s place as Death’s daughter was made indisputable by the lack of people willing to argue with Death.  Despite her position, she looked perfectly humble as she waited for me to nod before leading me into the mansion.

 Past two sets of sturdy, wooden doors was a balcony that overlooked the entryway.  Twin staircases led up to the next floor.  Directly ahead was a  shut door, surprisingly not a hallway, though there was a hall to the right and to the left.  From the rails on the stairway to the ceiling high above, the wood was all tastefully engraved.  This was a very nice home.

 Mila led me to the right, turning left as the hallway split.  I caught sight of a very large kitchen, drawn by the smells of well-prepared food.  I resisted the urge to head in there, not wanting to offend my host.  I didn’t doubt Father was right that James would know.  What strange powers must a man have to keep Death herself as a servant along with Death’s daughter?  Would Mariasha join her sister here eventually, dressed as a maid?  The thought chilled me when I realized how easily James could have me bound here.  Father wouldn’t dare argue.

 As we walked, we passed many different people, all confidently walking the halls on the way to some business.  Many of the rooms seemed alive with activity, but I barely caught even a scent of the other children this way.  I certainly wasn’t hearing any of them that I recognized.  When we reached the end of the hall, I froze, a sudden panic rising within me.

 To my shame, Mila noticed, smiling compassionately and motioning for me to go onward.  “I apologize for your discomfort.  My daughter’s scent is heavy with dark energy when she uses her magic, and she’s allowed to use her magic quite often in our rooms.  The scent is nearly impossible to eradicate completely due to the lingering energy.” explained Mila as she continued up the stairs.

 I couldn’t keep from glancing back at the relatively ordinary-looking door that stood between me and Serenity, if she was in there.  Such a door wouldn’t keep me out if I attempted to break it, so I was very certain that the door couldn’t keep Serenity inside.  I hoped she wouldn’t notice me.

 “Yes, you’re smelling vampires here.  The entire wing on this floor is the dwelling of Cosette and Valeria Bourbon.  Please do remember Alaric’s edict not to exterminate vampires indiscriminately when you’re here.  Cosette would probably take offense, and the Master might not save you quickly if she did.” stated Mila offhandedly as we passed near a door on the second floor.

 “I wouldn’t dare.” I assured her.  Though Father had never talked with me about Cosette himself, I had read about her while preparing to come here.  Cosette was the daughter of King Louis XVI of France, a daughter who came about many years after he was presumed dead.  Despite being very young by vampire standards, her position here and personal ability had allowed her to rub elbows with the most powerful vampires in the world.  She was considered to be extremely dangerous and off limits to the family.

 After taking the stairs up another floor, we walked down a hallway with more… unique paintings than those below.  Where I could recognize the work of old masters on the first and second floor, the paintings here were unknown to me, some of them depicting landscapes that simply had to be pure fantasy.  Even some of the vases baffled me, made from materials I didn’t recognize, though they could have been creatively painted to make them look unknowable.  I reminded myself I was in the domain of someone beyond even Father.

 When Mila politely knocked on a door, there was a wait of several seconds before the door swung open without a sound.  My mouth dropped open as I was bombarded with scents I didn’t recognize and the sounds of creatures I didn’t know.  James appeared to be seated at a desk made from driftwood, but the desk sat on a beach.  Despite knowing he was in a very real room, my eyes couldn’t find the flaws in the illusion.

 “Go in.” encouraged Mila, though telling me what to do would have been frowned upon had she been any other servant.

 I did as instructed, still marveling at the surroundings as James seemed to type something out.

 “Welcome, Marisha!  Sorry if my husband’s decor is disturbing for you, but he has the room changed to fit his mood rather often.” apologized Alma, who I hadn’t even noticed.

 I curtsied to her and offered the package I was carrying to her.  “A small token from my family to yours.  My father wished me to convey his gratitude for allowing me this brief stay.” I told her, hoping Father had chosen well.

 Alma opened the carefully carved box, smiling as she said, “James, look what Maksim and Marisha made for us.”

 As James looked up and smiled at the marble carving of their family, I wondered how Alma knew I had helped.  After a few painful, panicked seconds of staring and thinking, worried I had made some sort of mistake, I realized that I had given her children the very outfits they had worn when I met them.  Father hadn’t seen them all.

 “Thank you, Marisha.  That is quite lovely.  We’ll be sure to display it soon.” promised James, standing and walking around to me.  He was a tall man who looked quite young for someone as intimidating as he was.  Of course, his wife really wasn’t any less intimidating and looked equally young, passable for a teenager.  “I do hope you enjoy your stay here, but try not to get your hopes up as far as Four is concerned.  You both have years of growing ahead of you, and I’ve noticed that Messy, that’s Mariasha if you don’t remember, is rather fond of my son as well.”

 I fought the sudden, irrational despair that loomed up within me, but I knew my mouth involuntarily frowned.  Of course, James and Alma would know why I was here.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Father had told them when he had contacted them, wanting to appear forthcoming.  If Mariasha was truly interested in Four, I would be a fool to oppose her.

 “You do realize that Aiden is your age, right?” questioned Alma, smiling warmly at me.  “Here, let me give you a little protection to help you see things more clearly while you’re here.”  Energy suddenly welled up out of her, and I couldn’t begin to follow the huge spell she formed with it before it settled on me.

 “Th-Thank you, your majesty.” I told her, quickly curtsying again while knowing Father could never have done whatever that was.  He had never claimed he could compete with her, only that he once made an attempt for her hand.

 “No need for any of that.” stated James sternly, though he looked amused.  “Just call us ‘James and Alma’ while you’re here, okay?” he asked.

 I nodded, feeling more than a little overwhelmed when I stayed on that strange beach long enough to join the two for some tea.  We chatted about home, the other children here, and the rules for some sort of battle game I’d be asked to join tomorrow.  By the end of that conversation, I was quite certain that no amount of preparation would have really prepared me for coming here.