#I mean she's not a spectral she's just an OC but whatever

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2510

warnings/notes: n/a

Chapter 4: Calm Before the Storm

The slender fingers of dawn crept through the gaps in the heavy, hand-hewn blinds, casting long, spectral shadows across the timber floor. Bonnie stirred from the depths of a dream-filled solace, her eyes fluttering open to the ceiling above. She lay nestled in Austin's muscular embrace. His chest rose and fell against her back in a rhythm that sang a lullaby of protection, a serenade of safety in this world of wolves and violence.

Her mind echoed with the echo of last night's conversation; Austin's voice rumbling like distant thunder, fierce and unyielding as he told her about the approaching full moon, his duty to the pack, his defiance for her safety. A sense of foreboding filled her heart at the thought of what this could mean for them - for him.

"Bonnie?" he murmured sleepily.

She sat up quickly removing herself from his embrace suddenly feeling very self conscious. “I-I’m fine. Sorry to wake you.”

Austin blinked away sleep, his blue eyes, as cool and piercing as a winter's dawn, focused on Bonnie. He sat up, the quilt pooling around his waist, revealing his chiseled torso.

"Don’t lie to me," he rumbled, reaching for her. His hand captured her wrist gently, but firmly. "You've got that look in your eyes. What're you thinking?"

What was she thinking? She was thinking about how muscular he had become and how cute he looked when he was just getting out of sleep. No, she had to stop. Austin was her childhood friend, the one who had always looked out for her and always kept her safe. This friendship was more important than whatever was currently tugging on her heart. Besides, she didn’t have time to think about it. Not with the impending full moon.

“I’m just hungry,” she partially lied, “I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”

Austin's eyes softened with understanding and concern. He let out a little sigh, and then gave her a soft smile that reached his eyes, a rare sight that was only bestowed to Bonnie. "Let me fix you something to eat."

He got up, grabbing a loose shirt off the floor and shrugging into it before moving towards the small kitchen at the far corner of the cabin. Bonnie watched as he busied himself preparing some food for her - his broad shoulders taut with strength, blonde hair tousled from sleep falling over his forehead.

The sound of sizzling soon filled the quietness of the space, and Austin turned round momentarily, giving Bonnie a comforting smile that made her heart flutter erratically.

Bonnie found herself watching Austin intently. His focus was entirely on the food he was preparing, yet there was a certain grace about him - a lethal elegance that contradicted his rugged exterior. A sudden pang of emotion flowed through her veins, strong and unbidden.

"I'm making some eggs and bacon," he said, "Should only take a minute."

The rustling of pans filled the cabin as he cracked some eggs into a bowl and chopped up some vegetables. The smell of frying bacon wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of freshly cut wood from the fireplace. Alongside it, there was a hint of his delicious musk that lingered in the air from last night. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food.

A few minutes later, Austin placed a plate in front of her on the bed, its contents steaming gently. She sat up slowly, taking in the thick-cut bacon and two sunny-side-up eggs arranged neatly on top of toast points. Her mouth watered at the sight and smell of it all. The scent of breakfast filled her senses as she picked up her fork to take a bite of egg yolk oozing over its edge. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste - warm buttery toast cradling flavorful egg yolk, interspersed with salty bacon and slightly charred bits. Austin watched her intently, studying her reactions to everything - including the way she ate his food. It made something stir within him deep inside.

"This is amazing," Bonnie commented between bites.

He chuckled softly from across the room where he sat on one of the log benches by the fireplace, finishing his own meal. "I try my best."

Finishing breakfast quickly, she felt more grounded and content than she had in hours. Despite everything that loomed over them both, this small moment felt like normalcy again; just them being themselves amongst nature's beauty around them.The hearty breakfast did wonders for Bonnie's empty stomach and the fresh air cleared her mind. She leaned back against the pillows, taking in deep breaths of the earthy scent of pinewood mixed with Austin's masculine musk that lingered in the air, wishing she could hold onto this peaceful moment forever. "Thank you," she whispered between bites.

Austin nodded, his head turning slightly towards her with a small smile playing on his lips. He stood up abruptly, stretching his strong arms above his head before grabbing a cloth to clean up any dishes left behind.

The clang of metal on metal resounded as he placed dishes into the sink filled with soapy water. The sizzling sound faded away as he turned off the stove top before returning to sit again near her by the fireplace. He watched her with those calculated blue eyes which seemed to see straight through her thoughts - those intense gazes making Bonnie's heart skip beats once more.

She couldn't help but notice how his body radiated heat; each flex of his muscles shifting under his clothes sent waves of warmth towards her direction. She tried not to focus too much on it but couldn't help herself; his broad shoulders tapering down into a strong V-shape torso leading to lean hips. His blonde hair fell over one eye, giving him a boyish charm despite the roughness around him - an irresistible mix that awakened something inside her.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, blushing as she looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring.

"What is it?" Austin asked suddenly, his icy eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Bonnie's flushed face.

"Nothing," she stammered, shaking her head.

Austin chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that vibrated through the cabin.

"You're a terrible liar, Bon," he teased lightly, moving closer to her. He reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. The touch sent shivers down Bonnie's spine.

The air between them crackled with tension as Bonnie found herself getting lost in those piercing blue eyes again. The distance between them seemed to shrink, making her heartbeat quicken. Austin's proximity and the way his eyes bore into hers was unsettling yet exciting. She swallowed hard, trying to gather herself.

The peaceful moment was abruptly shattered by a guttural growl that resonated outside the rustic cabin. Austin sprang from the bed, his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. He rushed to the window and cautiously opened it. In the distance, he could see the headlights of a bike pulling up to the cabin. Cursing under his breath, Austin knew exactly who it was - Jerry, who always seemed to show up at the most inconvenient times.

Without hesitation, Austin grabbed Bonnie's hand and pulled her out of bed, rushing her to the back door. He swung it open as quietly as possible and gestured for her to hide outside. She looked at him with confusion and worry etched on her face. "Who is that?" she whispered.

"Jerry," Austin gritted through clenched teeth. "That son of a bitch would be the only person to come visit me after just seeing me last night. How did he even get along with me in jail?"

Bonnie froze in shock. "You went to jail?" Her voice trembled with concern.

Austin didn't have time to explain now - there would be plenty of time for that later. "Just go hide," he urged, motioning for her to find a place to conceal herself. Just as a knock sounded at the door, he made sure Bonnie was safely hidden before quickly answering it himself, bracing himself for whatever lies or excuses Jerry had concocted this time around.

"S'up, boss?" Jerry greeted brusquely, his figure massive and imposing even in the early sunlight. His gruff voice echoed eerily through the silence as he kicked the kickstand down on his bike and began lumbering towards the porch.

Austin, who had long learned the art of concealing his true emotions, casually leaned against the doorframe with an air of indifference. "Jerry," he replied coolly, keeping his voice steady. He watched as Jerry squinted at him suspiciously, his broad shoulders visibly tensing under the worn-out leather jacket he always wore.

The two men eyed each other for a moment, taking in each other's hardened exterior. Jerry broke the silence first, grunting as he took a step closer to Austin. "Thought you might want some company after being in the slammer for so long," he said nonchalantly, scratching at his grizzled beard.

Austin nodded curtly, not wanting to engage in any further conversation than necessary. "I don’t."

Jerry raised an eyebrow at Austin's curt response, a hint of suspicion flashing in his gaze. He didn't say anything for a moment, studying Austin's stoic expression. Austin's heart pounded against his ribs like a wild drum. He maintained his indifferent facade, curling his hand tighter around the door frame. Jerry shrugged, looked around the cabin, then back at Austin. There was a silent standoff between the two men for a moment before Jerry finally broke it by saying, "Come on, now. It’s just friendly concern for you. That’s all."

"Right," Austin responded, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Since when did you start caring?"

Jerry gave a shrug, the creeping sunlight highlighting the scars that marred his rough features. "Times change," he said cryptically.

The air seemed to thin between them, the tension palpable. Austin clenched his jaw as he contemplated Jerry's words. His right-hand man had never shown any sign of concern before. Something was amiss.

"Well, your sudden change of heart is touching," Austin said, injecting a note of sarcasm into his words, "But I don't need company. I need quiet."

Austin didn't miss the flash of annoyance that crossed Jerry's face at his refusal. His large hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening visibly. But instead of lashing out as Austin expected, Jerry slowly unclenched his fists and relaxed his stance.

"Alright," Jerry said gruffly, turning away and heading back towards his bike. But before he could hop onto it, he paused and turned back to Austin. "Just remember," He said, his eyes cold and hard. “Tomorrow is the full moon. The pack will expect you to lead the hunt since you’re back.”

With that, he revved his bike loudly before roaring down the dirt path away from the cabin, leaving Austin alone once more in the serene wilderness. Austin watched him until he was nothing more than a speck in the distance, a feeling of unease settling deep in his gut.

Austin took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unnerving encounter. As soon as he was sure Jerry was far enough away, he called out to Bonnie who emerged from her hiding spot behind a large tree. Her eyes were wide with fear.

"Is it safe?" She asked tentatively.

Austin nodded, stepping forward to embrace her in his arms. He breathed in the familiar scent of her hair, a mix of vanilla and honey from her shampoo. She didn't resist but her arms hung limply at her sides. "What about the hunt? Jerry has a point. They'll be expecting you." It would be suspicious if he didn't show up for the pack's regular hunts, especially since it had been awhile since his last one. Someone would come looking for him and find Bonnie in the midst of her first full moon transformation.

Austin sighed, rubbing circles on Bonnie's back to soothe her. "I know," he said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew what the full moon would do to her, how it would awaken the beast within her. It was something he wished she never had to experience.

"I can't leave you alone during your first transformation, Bon," he admitted, his grip tightening slightly around her small frame. "It's painful... and dangerous."

"But what about the gang?" Bonnie asked worriedly, her voice muffled in Austin's chest. She knew better than anyone how crucial Austin's role was in the gang and how dangerous it was for him to defy their expectations.

Austin sighed heavily again, running a hand through his messy hair. It wasn't going to be easy dealing with the gang's questions and suspicions. But he had an idea - a risky one. He pulled away from Bonnie, looking down at her with determination burning in his blue eyes.

"You mean more to me than any gang or code," Austin's voice resonated with sincerity as he spoke, his eyes locked onto Bonnie's. She understood the weight of his words, their predicament a testament to their bond. "There's an old bomb shelter underground in the woods, a few miles from here. My dad used it to train me when I first turned. It's secure, no way out once you're in. During the hunt, amidst the chaos and bloodlust, I'll slip away to be with you." The plan was daring, risking exposure if anyone caught wind of Austin's intentions. Yet, he hoped his aggressive display at the bar had deterred prying eyes.

Fidgeting nervously with her hands, Bonnie longed for Austin's presence during her impending transformation but not at the expense of his allegiance to the pack. While she had never felt tied to their ways, it had always been different for Austin. His destiny seemed predetermined by his father's legacy within the Blood Moon Riders.

"Austin... during my first shift, I won't be myself," Bonnie confessed worriedly, haunted by visions of losing control to primal instincts and savagery. “Austin…I won’t be myself during my first transformation. Dad said it was like having no control over your body, thinking of nothing but blood and rage and tearing things apart. What if I hurt you?”

Austin met her apprehension with a smirk that drew a pout from Bonnie as she crossed her arms defensively. Stepping closer, he reassured her with unwavering confidence. "As an alpha, I possess strength beyond that of regular werewolves. If things go awry, I can hold my ground against you."

"But won't the full moon affect you too?" Bonnie pressed on anxiously.

Acknowledging the challenge in her gaze, Austin admitted candidly about controlling his own transformations except during pack hunts under the full moon when primal urges surfaced briefly before being suppressed by guilt and remorse once blood was shed.

Before Bonnie could voice further concerns, Austin interjected firmly yet tenderly. "No arguments," he asserted with conviction in his eyes,"I will protect you."

"Even from myself?" Bonnie questioned softly, uncertainty lingering between them like an unspoken dare.

With a resolute nod and a steadfast gaze fixed on hers, Austin affirmed his vow without hesitation: "From everything."

Stay tuned for part 5!! Click HERE to view!

[a-driftamongopenstars]

lost and found; guardian oc x crow

happy birthday to @wakai-suzume and here is your gift :D hope you like it!!

also on ao3

Hawk’s cry rings through the air as the final bullet flies straight into the Ogre at a speed that shatters the matter itself, and the creature falls in the groans of pain. Amora, reappearing from the cloud of smoke and letting go of her Spectral Blades, jumps away from the falling body, only High Celebrant’s blood trail on her feet.

There are voices in her head, but she can barely hear them.

“...trapped… lost…”

She doesn’t understand. The high of using the Light, its taste, is withering, and all she can hear is Osiris’ buzzing in her comm. The ringing noise in her head is splitting, deafening, she can hear him say that they are lost, that Crow and Glint are now lost in the Ascendant plane, but words are jumble, the meaning is inconceivable.

“No, shut up, shut up,” she mutters to herself, gritting teeth and hoping that reality would respond, that Crow would interfere. She toggles the comm, she calls out to Crow.

“Crow? Glint? Anybody?”

But the answer is silence.

She should be roaring. Screaming in pain of devastation. The idea that she may never hear or see Crow again is pinching at her heart with unpleasant ache, even as her mind is trying to catch up with that realization. It cannot be.

Whatever her Ghost has just been saying, she can barely hear it. Her mind awakens from heartbroken fog only when a portal tears through the reality of the Dreaming City, and the power of Ascendance flows through her body again, a familiar state of being that joins her with this world and makes her one.

“I don’t know if you can hear this…”

“Crow?” she whispers, but his voice goes on. Only a recording, then.

Amora pushes herself up to her feet, and then off of the landing and to the floating platform that materialises beneath her feet. She reaches up, and there is another. Up and up and up, the further she pushes herself, the more Crow speaks, the words he says, it fuels her heart with such rage that she can barely see.

“Thank you. For letting me make a choice.”

“You are not done yet,” she says to herself. And this here is her choice.

The jump into the portal is that of a beast as she brings Light into the darkest of realities. The Light is surging through her, and she feels its power building up. Soon, she will be one with the Void, an unstoppable force. A reckoning.

“Amora?” Crow’s surprised voice reappears in her comm, and she grins, a grin that is hidden beneath the helmet.

“Did you think I would leave you here?” she replies, jumping across the endless maw of the Ascendant Plane towards a broken off platform. It threatens to throw her off, but she endures, running further.

“I can handle this,” Crow interjects, worry woven through his words, but Glint has none of it.

As soon as Amora makes it to the half-shattered gazebo, the rest is history. The speed with which she slices through enemies is terrifying, they crumble to dust, they fall to her blades, to her bullets. She roars, letting it all out, she breaks the barrier of a Serviter that immediately explodes into pieces, and its bits leave scathing scars on Amora’s armor.

“Now, Amora!” Crow calls out, and the deal is sealed.

She splits herself into non-existence, vanishing as the Spectral Blades form within her palms. With the speed of Light she crushes herself into the High Celebrant, tears streaming down her cheek, because she knows the end is so close. Because Crow is out. He is safe.

She will see him again.

At last, the High Celebrant’s body is pierced with the sharp blades of Void, and it falls to a heap of crumbling bone, its head scattering and the glow dissipating within its face.

The Light lets go of Amora again, and exhaustion takes its toll. She cries out in painful relief that everything is over. She knows that Crow will be there, on the other side, but the terror of losing him is still letting go of her heart.

Amora can’t find words to name that feeling that swells inside her when she thinks of his fair features and voice and presence. But she likes it. And she wants Crow to know that she feels it.

It is time to get going, and Amora is to bring the High Celebrant’s head to the Crow. The bitterness in his voice is a sobering reminder that whatever has been happening between them, whatever chemistry may have been building, could soon end in the Spider’s lair.

To free Crow from one cage and send him to another. How ironic.

A portal appears in the vicinity, calling to Amora with its ever warping surface. She steps into it, falls through and falls until her feet hit the ground once more, and the sweet essence of the Dreaming City enters her lungs.

Crow stands there, clothes damaged and torn here and there, his cloak looking worse for wear, but his eyes glowing as brilliantly as ever with their golden burn.

He couldn’t be more beautiful if he tried, Amora thinks. He is more beautiful than anyone she has ever met.

With a sure hand, she slips her helmet off and lets it drop to the ground. She runs forward, wiping away tears and smearing dust over wet cheeks, she runs towards Crow whose eyes widen.

She has never let him see her face before, and the awe on his face is pleasing, making her cheeks redden with blush.

Amora throws her arms around his neck, a grasp so tight. She feels his body melt against her own, and his arms slip around her waist in a warm hug.

She breathes him in, she feels the warmth of his body seep through her. She feels the residue of his golden Light.

“Thank you,” Crow whispers, tickling her ear with his gentle voice. She cannot find words to respond, only to hug him tighter.

Because if she lets go, he might as well disappear again, and she cannot have it happen. Not now. Not when she has decided what this aching feeling in her heart means.

[regenlen]

For @dmc-oc-week!

It’s here! Normally this is where some sweet art would go, but I can do stick figures at best so you’re going to have to use your imagination.

Instead, have a fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111381 

It's a longfic about Nero and Vergil's search for answers about Nero's mother, Mel, and what became of her. It’s 115+k words of alternating between the present day, where the two of them (with some help) investigate what happened to Mel and why she seemingly disappeared and abandoned Nero, and the past through Vergil’s flashbacks to his time with her.

One part mystery, one part Sparda family drama, one part a study of traumatized men and their emotional constipation, and one part regret simulator: the Vergil edition. If you’ve got time to kill, please do check it out! Below is the prologue to help give a little taste.

One warm day in June, at the apex of the Qliphoth, a fight to the death unfolds between two brothers of blood whose ideals have repeatedly sent them on a collision course with each other. But this fight isn’t destined to end like the others have. It starts out rather similarly, but things take a turn when Dante drops a very, very unexpected bombshell on Vergil. “You cut off your own son’s arm for this?”

Vergil hears the words, but he doesn’t really process them. He just reacts at the opening Dante’s left. He quick-steps and slashes Dante, slicing open a wound in his shoulder before Dante can get his sword up to block. What he does process is Dante’s judgmental, angry tone, and he instinctively balks against it. “My son means nothing to me!” He says the words without actually thinking through the ramifications. (Noticing a pattern here yet?)

He’s met with absolute fury. Dante yells and summons Cerberus. Vergil barely realizes it’s out before it’s hooked his right ankle. He’s yanked forward and has to awkwardly hop to try and steady himself. It leaves him wide open to a slam from Dante’s sword, and he’s sent careening across the arena. It smarts, and Vergil struggles to get going again. But he’s ready when Dante comes charging. Just in the nick of time he dodges his attack and counters with a swipe of Yamato. Dante barely manages to block the blow with his sword, but the force of the attack has him sailing away and colliding against one of the pillars at the edge of the arena.

Vergil falls to a crouch, breathing deeply to try and regain his strength. As his adrenaline subsides and allows him to think clearly again, Dante’s earlier words finally sink in. Did he just say…? He shakes his head in disbelief and looks up at Dante. He can’t believe – but when – what?! “Nero… is my son?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Dante says. “You can’t remember through that thick skull of yours?”

His son. He has a son. That boy whom he had maimed, who had helped him when he had been at his lowest and had been decent to him, is his flesh and blood. And yes, he can remember through his thick skull, because there’s only one person it could be. Even after the long passage of time and the havoc Mundus’s torture wrought on his mind, he remembers her. The realization releases an onslaught of heartbreak and regret. “Well, well… That was a long time ago.”

Dante laughs a little. “I guess you were young once, too.”

He had been once, yes. Young and ambitious and very, very foolish. It hurts to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wants to focus on this fight and not on the torrent of emotions swirling in his head. Vergil assumes a battle stance, and Dante begins to do the same.

“As much as I’d love to hear that story,” Dante says, “I think it’s about time we…”

“Ended this,” Vergil finishes, fully assuming his pose. They can’t ignore this fight. They need to settle this, for once and for all. It beats dwelling on things he can’t change.

They bring out their super powered devil forms and hurl themselves at each other in a last bid to conclude their feud. But of course, nothing ever goes the way the brothers expect, because there’s one thing they didn’t count on: Nero.

There’s a flash of light and the deafening sound of something hitting the ground at an alarming speed. The brothers find themselves halted dead in their tracks, held back by the only other person who has a say in this feud of theirs.

When Dante and Vergil just manage to process what’s happening, they’re shoved back and sent skidding across the ground.

“What form of power is this?” Vergil wonders at the spectral arms resting on Nero’s back. But more than that, he’s gobsmacked by how Nero had managed to not only reobtain the power he’d been robbed of, but how he also had become stronger in such a short amount of time.

“What the hell?” Dante groans from across the way.

“This ends, right here.” Nero looks at neither his uncle nor father, but he’s clearly addressing both of them.

Vergil grimaces as he stands up. This is an unexpected development, to say the least. Nero initially had come to this city to kill him. Vergil didn’t think that would change, even after learning the truth. But it seems the boy has another goal in mind. He wants to make sense of it, but his mind still reels at the implication that this young man is his son. Yes, he looks like him and has the same powers, but he still can’t quite believe…

“Listen to me,” Dante seethes as he walks towards Nero. “I told you already, this is not your-”

Nero doesn’t even blink as of those arms lashes out with frightening speed and hits Dante square in the jaw. He goes down like a sack of bricks.

“You listen, dead weight. I won’t let you kill each other. There are other ways of settling your differences.” Nero turns, fist gripped tightly as he slowly approaches Vergil. “I’m putting a stop to this sibling rivalry.”

And for a moment, Vergil isn’t on the Qliphoth, but in a small apartment in Fortuna. And it’s not Nero staring him down, but a young woman with short, curly blonde hair and green eyes. She and Nero hardly look alike, but they share the same determined stare and set of their jaw.

Vergil shoves the memory aside, trying to forget that face and the conflicting emotions it brings with it. He instead forces out a laugh. “Ahh, you came all this way just for that.”

“Vergil… V… whatever you call yourself, Dante’s not going to die here and neither are you. Do you have a problem with that?”

Yes, he did come all this way just to stop them. Vergil thinks it’s a bit foolish; how does he think he’ll go about doing this, exactly?

“‘Not gonna die,’ my ass,” Dante complains as he sits up, rubbing his jaw. “That bitch slap nearly killed me.”

Dante’s words bring Vergil out of his reverie. They also set off that part of his brain that short circuits his sense of logic. Because instead of trying to level with his son like a normal person should, he hyperfixates again on his grudge match with Dante. He nods and swings Yamato into his other hand. “If I beat Nero… then by default, I beat you.” He points Yamato at Nero. “Agreed, Dante?”

“Whatever. I don’t really care. I’m just gonna sit this one out.” Dante falls back onto the ground.

There’s a heavy moment of silence as Nero’s expression hardens, unflinching in the face of Yamato’s blade pointing at him. “When this is over, I’ll make you submit…” Those spectral arms lift up, and the hands crack their knuckles. “Father.”

Father. It pulls at a heartstring Vergil never knew he had, and with it, he realizes just a moment too late that maybe, just maybe this isn’t a good idea. Now faced with actually having to fight his own son, doubt creeps in. Vergil slowly circles back a bit. When Nero swings out his sword, Vergil’s back goes ramrod straight. No, I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have- “Stand down,” he says. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Nothing to do with me?!” Nero shouts. “It has everything to do with me!”

“Nero…”

FUCK YOU!” Nero flips him off and transforms into his devil state.

Vergil now has no choice but to fight. But as Nero charges at him, sword swung out, an amused thought crosses his mind: …you are, without a doubt, your mother’s son.

[buns-with-a-book]

Prompt from here and here. Set before the events of FFXV, Ardyn/F!OC cw: injury, blood, implied death

Ardyn was beautiful and terrifying. 

What was supposed to be a typical inspection, with just her and him, turned into an ambush from Lucian forces. Ardyn pushed her back, to safety, as he faced the Lucian assassins on his own. Whatever magitek he was using to form those spectral weapons was clearly still a secret project of some kind (and Ardyn was full of secrets), but the shimmering pink hues were beautiful and dangerous. The Lucian assassins clearly were outmatched-

No, one of them was flanking him. She clumsily pulled out her gun, nervous to even try and take a life of another human. They wouldn’t hesitate, she couldn’t either-

Bang!

She let out a shaky breath, watching as the Lucian assassin stumbled back, holding their shoulder. What relief she had was replaced by fear. She stumbled to her feet, trying to keep herself on the move, when searing pain made her cry out. She stumbled to the ground, holding her shoulder. She looked around, trying to see where the assassin was. 

“Who did this to you.” A familiar growl made her pause. Ardyn’s voice was warped with fury, making her shudder. 

“I-I don’t know, I-” She whimpered, burying her face in his chest. She heard the sound of blades hitting the ground, of Lucian assassins being slain by those spectral weapons of his. She kept her hands tight on his clothes, trembling until all was quiet. 

“Cassandra?” Ardyn’s voice made her look up, meeting amber eyes full of worry. Before he could ask any more, she began to cry. 

“I-I’m sorry! I just, I wanted to help, I didn’t mean to get hurt-”

“Shh. Shhh....” He gently hushed her. “Let’s get you somewhere safe so I can look at that cut.” She nodded, letting him carry her to safety.

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 14/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,226 Warnings: M for Mature Content, Mentions of blood

Notes: Ha ha ha... Beetlejuice is a ghost/demon and thinks about Bad Things.

Chapter 14 - In Which Blood is Thicker

Sleeping next to a breather was not what he expected.

He had watched those television comedies with Lydia often enough to know that sometimes breathers were not put-together in the mornings. Usually some mishap involving children or in-laws causing some situation with comedic timing and slapstick. Occasionally, Lyds would torture him with feature length romantic comedies. Beej would squirm around on the sofa, making retching noises whenever things got too sappy, all in hopes of making his bestest best friend laugh.

Of course, he would never tell her that he would watch those same movies by himself when no one was home. What could he say? He was a sap. Besides, some of what he learned from those films had come in handy when trying to win over Holidae.

Those stupid movies never told him what to do afterwards.

Beej stared down at her, hovering just a few inches above her sleeping form, tilting his head this way and that. He had taken the liberty of extending the fold out sofa before they were ready to settle down, knowing that she didn’t have the ability to just… be comfortable like he could. Holidae was in a deep sleep by the looks of it; her body contorted awkwardly, her top half twisted one way and her bottom half facing the opposite direction. One arm was up by her head, the other draped over her stomach, and the blanket he procured for her was tangled between her legs.

Occasionally, she would take a deep inhale through her nose, shifting herself into some other odd position before calming back down. Six times in the past four hours… he counted.

Beetlejuice reached down, flicking some stray hair away from her neck, seeing the dark, angry bite he had given her during a heated moment. The contrast against her pale skin was so stark, a reminder of how fragile humans really were when they were still alive. He made a mental note to mark her up more when she was healed; he wanted her to be reminded of him, not to think he was mean.

A small twitch of her skin caught his eye; the steady pattern of her heartbeat, prominently displayed through her veins. He placed two fingers against her neck, like he’d seen in Lydia’s beloved medical dramas, surprised at how strong it was against the pads of his fingertips.

After a few moments, he placed his fingers against his own neck… and frowned, dragging his claws down his skin in frustration.

Holidae was shifting again, turning her body fully towards the center of the bed, so he slipped into bed beside her just in time for her arm to slide over to rest in the middle of his chest. Her warm touch made him shiver, ironic as it was, and he carefully pulled her in closer to get as much of that warm feeling as possible. A couple of extra spectral limbs helped him accomplish that, moving different parts of her body subtly as to not wake her up just yet.

With a small noise, she snugged herself between the bed and his soft body, blindly reaching down to pull the blanket up to cover the both of them. It was such an innocuous gesture, but it was a gesture the ghost was not used to receiving, and he froze in place while she adjusted herself.

Instead of shying away from his cold aura, she took it upon herself -whether or not she was awake to realize it- to try and get him warmer. What did it mean that even in the midst of a dead sleep she’d rather stay beside him than seek her own comfort? Maybe nothing. He knew he had a penchant for taking things a little too literally; seeing hidden meanings in things that weren’t actually there. This could have been one of those times, and Holidae was just acting out of reflex of his body temperature.

If that were the case… nah. Better to not start dwelling on the negative.

Beetlejuice maneuvered his way down the mattress, his extra limbs keep her still until he found the spot he wanted; his slightly pointed ear pressed just below her collarbone. It came with the added benefit of his head tucked against her bare chest, but that was just a bonus. Her heartbeat was what he was after.

If asked, he could never really explain his fascination with a breather’s heartbeat. It seemed like a troublesome thing to own; all kinds of things could speed it up, slow it down, stop it entirely. Brittle. Delicious, according to some denizens of the Neitherworld he had acquainted himself with, but he hadn’t personally partaken in that rare treat… yet. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind over the decades.

What would his breather’s heart taste like? Would it be sweet like her skin? Sour? Bitter or savory? Would it be soft, or gamey between his teeth as he slowly gnawed on each sinew and muscle? What would his precious Holli look like bereft of life? He certainly considered her good-looking, but oh how lovely would she be with her serene, sleeping face drained of all color? Her chest lovingly split open just enough to reach through and steal her heart away? It had been a long time since he snuffed out a human’s life… was it a skill that grew rusty with disuse?

Carefully, with the utmost delicacy he could manage from his position, he pressed the tip of his claw into her sternum. A small drop of blood welled up… and then a line of it as he dragged it down her skin in a smooth trail. He reached just below the curve of her breasts before he felt her moving and froze, snapping out of… whatever that had been.

Holidae’s arms wrapped around his head, and he could feel her nuzzling into the fluff of hair upon his head. Beej took an edge of the blanket and pressed it against her chest, dabbing the blood away as quickly as he had made it appear.

“…wake?” Holidae mumbled into his hair, yawning heavily.

“A little, but you can keep sleeping.” All of his violent thoughts were melting away in moments, replaced by the feeling of her leg moving itself up and over the swell of his hip. “Or did you have something else in mind, my little Holly-Jolly?”

“…why do you have so many arms?” Holidae lifted her head up, blinking sleepily and trying to wrap herself around him tightly. “I don’t have enough.”

Ah, she wasn’t exactly awake from her nonsense muttering, but he was surprisingly content to forego round two of their playtime for now. She was trying her best to match his hold on her, so he dismissed the extra limbs in order to keep her from getting too anxious. Holidae eased her arms from around his head, choosing to bury her hands in his hair instead.

“I like the amount of limbs you have,” Beej mumbled, near purring like great beast.

Holidae started giggling quietly, trying to muffle the noise in the crook of her arm. Beetlejuice lifted his head, one eyebrow quirked in confusion as he stared up at her, watching her shake with laughter.

“You like my limbs~” Holidae cackling now, “My limbs are me. You like me~ You think I’m sexy~”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs

[chimcharstar]

ALL THE COLOURS

HERE WE GO BOYS

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

I’m feeling tired because I’m supposed to be in bed. But happy because I did the work and I can get away with sleeping in and things are just chill right now. I have devised a way of sneaking waste food at work. If you put it in these little metal containers and hide them under the fridge, nobody notices them and throws them away. This eve I dined on garlic bread and prawns.

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

Walking with coffee and tunes. I’m trying to appreciate things in my life I will feel nostalgic about later in the moment, so I don’t regret anything. This is one of those things. Although I might not have the tunes part for long because I fucking broke my headphones and they may or may not start playing my music out loud for all the world to hear. I hope people like disco!

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

Food from my old workplace. I have trouble finishing food usually but not this stuff. I will probably scream while eating it. You know this and you love me

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

“I Will Survive”. People were singing it in the Office and I guess it’s so famous and ironic and cringey now or something. But then I remember that one fucker

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

Herbie Hancock. I don’t know if I’ll listen to every single thing from him but I was just listening to some funk as you do and his like solos? I was vibing. We were having brain to brain communication. It was an experience. It was so so good. It was good fucking music. Listen to this shit. Herbie Hancock - I Thought It Was You This stuff makes me want to wiggle on public transit. 

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

Bonsais and my quiet neat fucking room. Or not giving a fuck in other people’s mess.

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

YOU HO

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

We reblog asks and send each other all the asks. ADHD disaster energy finding balance. The worst posts I’ve ever seen followed by revenge. Two gay best friends who are best friends. No seriously I am so grateful for your unconditional love and your warmth

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

Autumn. When the leaves were falling and the sun was shining all bittersweetly I was running around taking so many pictures because there’s like this golden time and then it’s gone.

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

I like to buy too many plants and pretty rocks that are just vibing. I just like to wander around with coffee without a schedule. Listening to funk and disco. Seriously I’m the coolest person ever

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

U HO. And some online mutuals of course :) I feel like I don’t turn to people when it’s real sad hours though. I just give my ocs more PTSD.

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

Relaxed evenings. Fuck mornings. All my mornings are slow buddy. 

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

No, because I had to go and cancel my Netflix as all my favourite things got more episodes. 

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

Oh right brained bitch.

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

No, paintings are stressful. It’s always like “Holy shit, that must have been so much work! I don’t enjoy painting myself! This person is better at painting than me!” I have much love in the heart for Van Gogh.

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. I could say a cat, because I want to lie down in a patch of sun, knock things over, and complain loudly. I would say a dog because I think people are way better than they really are, am tenaciously loyal to them, and get excited about going for a walk.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

Whatever this one hot guy at work has.

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

FOR FUCKS SAKE okay I’m going to google what my type is

You got: Mr./ Mrs Perfect

You like someone that truly has is all. You need someone who is well rounded in all aspects of life. When it comes to looks and personality, only perfection receives your affection.

Wow, what does that mean at all

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

Ok, one of them gave me cheesecake, one of them offered me pizza, another one is the guy whose Facebook you stalked for me and we still couldn’t find his birthday but I laugh about one adorable photo still (the car one), and one of them I spent half an hour trying to find where I put the birth chart of and we’re actually really compatible. I’m sorry, if you want more information I’ll have to ramble about it in your messages.

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

OH I JUST WANT TO WALK DOWN A STREET HOLDING HANDS AND GO TO A RESTAURANT WEVE NEVER BEEN TO BEFORE AND TRY SOME FOOD AND LAUGH A LOT, AND THEN MAYBE GO ENJOY THE VIEW OF THE OCEAN AT NIGHT. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? IS IT?

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

I don’t know, fuck it let’s go to the aquarium!

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

I dunno man. I feel like I wouldn’t if it wasn’t socially acceptable but I’m also wild and crazy.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

I REALLY ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORKPLACE. And my living situation is pretty okay. It’s not great I guess but I’ve been coming a long way.

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

Literally what are these colours. Okay, I’m looking forward to putting wires around crystals to make them into jewellery. Then, I want to give the jewellery to my friends. 

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

An old as fuck, old fashioned as fuck haunted-looking mansion I can give some love.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

I need the outdoors bro. I need those trees. I gotta live in the countryside again someday.

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

Write some books! Run rampant in the city…

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

I think it would have to be the hills where I grew up. It was bursting with biodiversity, there was a rustic sheep farm, everyone shut the fuck up, there would be frogs, the smell of the fresh air in any season, some days would just be heart-stoppingly beautiful and I ache for it sometimes. Birdsong? I heard some birdsong today and I wanted to cry. I remember our hedges would be deafening with the birds in it.

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

Today, it finding something I maybe could sit around and read and then finding it in me to actually get out of bed lol.

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

The one I just had. A lot of it is blurry, which is frustrating because I got some strong almost-memories of it throughout the day, but it sticks out to me because I was bawling my eyes out a lot in the dream, and I also hurt myself the way I used to and I had to check that I hadn’t done it in my sleep. But I think it was a very expressive dream and those are my natural emotions.

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? 

I like the idea of a husband and some dogs, cats and chickens. Kids maybe.

how many of each?

A lot of chickens, but not too many please.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

I do like my name, and I did give myself a different name. Even if I knew how annoying everyone would be about pop culture Gordons, and I did. I still would choose this name.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

I’m running out of things to say as my favourite scent. OK, Nomad from Old Spice. I don’t know why, I think it must suit me or something. Maybe it’s the citrus… stuff going on there.

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

Red Rose, my mom made it for me as a kid and she drank it all the time while teaching me piano or reading books.

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

Flowers, to show off to everyone, and then I don’t know, maybe some fucking pumpkins and easy things like corn and peas.

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

I think I’d be happier to have one if I knew no one was watching my antics LMAO

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

Best of both worlds

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

I’m still thinking of where I grew up. I see the sun through the branches of very old maple trees, and hear the wind in the long grass.

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

Yes, but I could make it better by moving in with cleaner roommates and getting a cat. And maybe work at something I’m actually interested in, or go to school or something.

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

I don’t have plans, but I’d like to visit Mexico, France, or Japan.

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

Kinda French. I want to learn Spanish… now Portuguese because everyone at work speaks it… literally, any very popular language. I want to learn so many languages

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

BRO WHAT IS A BOOK

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

Yeah, I’m reading a personal account of a Satanic cult. I had to stop reading it because I wasn’t ready for the graphic details.

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

Megamind/Thor Ragnarok

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

Wow I feel really called out right now. I was going to eat some chicken because I’m hungry. Because that’s what I should be doing at 3AM.

umber; have you drank enough water today?

Yes, but probably not. I’ve been trying really hard today though.

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

Probably you again, welcome to the salt mines!

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

Buying a plant, rolling around on my fuzzy blanket, videos of cats being idiots, little unexpected thoughtful gifts, people sharing food.

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

A Treasured Mutual once spontaneously said I was a really good person because I was chill and they felt free to be themselves, to be vague.

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

Looking around my room, it would seem to be whatever those studying people organizing notes with the window open on a sunny day have. I don’t know if this is me, but my room looks… vaguely feminine and organized in that way.

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

I’m in my PYJAMA CLOTHES. I only want to take a selfie with GOOD NATURAL LIGHTING and the DAYTIME DARK CIRCLES around my eyes not the NIGHTTIME DARK CIRCLES. Maybe I have one hanging around

[iamwhelmed]

Win One, Have Two: Chapter 6

*rubbing hands together* Oh boy, I’ve been waiting for this one for awhile. If you’ve read some of my other fanfic, you might be familiar with the OCs introduced in this chapter ;) (I’ve been waiting for FOREVER to say that!) Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for reading!

On AO3

On Fanfiction.net

“You’re insane!” Spender sighed. As a friend of Mina Zarei’s, for most of his life, he’d expected her to, well, “go off” on him, and he’d known what he was getting himself into when he called her and asked to meet immediately. That didn’t necessarily make handling her any easier. “Taking the train out of Mayview right now? It could take weeks to find your student! Maybe months!” She paced in circles around the street corner they’d met at, waving her arms around as she spoke. “And even if it doesn’t, I could manage all of two trips passed the barrier! A third trip if we’re feeling unimaginably lucky! And there are other agents, of much higher priority, that need to enter and exit this town!”

“I’m well aware. I’ll return the children home once the weekend is over. Should we not find Isaac by then, I’ll continue searching on my own. My mission is to save him, we can wait to find a way to bring him home.”

Zarei fell silent beside him. He exhaled and watched the cold of the air turn his breath to a white, rounded cloud, then tugged his scarf over his mouth. The temperature was beginning to drop in their neck of the woods, and it only worried him more. Bleeding? Wounded? And freezing? How could I let this happen…

“Fine. I will offer my assistance this once, and just this once.” Zarei scoffed and mumbled something under her breath, expression of disbelief along with some choice curse words, he thought he might have overheard. “You’d do well to keep in mind that Isaac O’Connor left Mayview of his own volition, Richard. He wasn’t kidnapped.”

His eye twitched. “He couldn’t have gotten outside the city alone.” He turned his sharp eyes on her, and she squinted back at him. “For all we know, somebody else left the note.”

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped before it became firm, teeth grinding together. “You-- I know you are not insinuating--!”

“You just seem awfully intent on keeping me behind this barrier! Why would you have reason to be so darn difficult if you weren’t the one who aided in his escape!”

She leveled him with a glare, nose scrunching, corner of her lip curling like it was shriveling. Her aura swayed over her head, over her shoulders, but he remained unyielding, yellow creeping off of his skin. She seemed to think about something, he saw the thought process bubbling by like boiling water, before it evaporated, along with her aura. Her hands fell limp at her sides, and she shook her head. “I’m merely keeping our runaway in mind. That boy is no weakling, and he doesn’t want to be found. Experience or not, you’ll gain injury bringing him home.”

Spender deflated. His aura dissipated, and the tenseness, like bricks, over his shoulders crumbled away, along with the anger, the suspicion. He frowned at her, brows furrowing. “I’m sorry. I should have known you were only worried for my safety.”

She scoffed, and he couldn’t tell if the blush of her skin was a result of the cold air, or the natural wall of his old friend Mina Zarei. “Who says I was worried? You’re merely a patient, and it is my professional code to prevent and repair any harm that may come to you.” She sighed, and shrugged that conversation off. “You don’t need to apologize.Your paternal instincts have rushed you into a blind panic.” Spender hoped Zarei gave his colored skin the same cold-air excuse he’d given her, but he knew he felt heat rising to his face.

“Wh-what? Whatever do you mean?”

Zarei chuckled, readjusting her scarf so that it covered more than just the skin of her lower collarbone. She was smiling at him, sardonically, and that always meant trouble for him. “You’ve never been one to take a job leasuriley. Your intentions were never those of a mentor.”

He winced, and tugged at the collar of his heavy jacket.

Isaac stirred at the sunlight spilling in between two semi-closed curtains.

He should have had a headache, or at least a sore spot at the back of his skull, what with the blow to the head and all, but it was resting against what felt like a fluffy feathered pillow-- like the one he had at home. His eyes, that had been squinting at the light of the window beside the bed he laid upon, opened fully. Home? He couldn’t have been home? I’ve gotta--! He tried to raise one hand to his head, and found his mind was far more awake than his body; his fingers twitched, but his arm wouldn’t move. The near-constant nausea he’d been experiencing was but an extremely unpleasant memory, and the damp bandages that’d covered his body were completely dry, or maybe they were brand new? How long had he been out?

Isaac took a deep breath and urged his body to sit up. To his relief, it listened, and with will alone, he pressed the palms of his hands to the bed and raised his chest from the mattress.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

He jumped, falling back against the bed with a yelp. He nibbled on the inside of his bottom lip, turning his head cautiously to the door at his right. A girl stood at the threshold, leaning against the wooden paneling as she tapped the butt-end of her pencil against a clipboard. His first thought was that she was a nurse, and that he was in a hospital of some sort-- but that didn’t fit. She wasn’t in the normal nurse scrubs, she wore no gloves, and he was sure the pleated skirt she was wearing wasn’t hospital-safe-attire. The biggest giveaway, more than her casual state of dress, was her age; she couldn’t have been any older than him, actually.

Her eyes drifted from the board to him, almost teasingly, if he was reading her smile correctly. “You had three different infections in your abdomen, arm, and eye, not to mention food poisoning, and you were halfway to death’s door when we found you. Blood loss and all that…” She set the board on the desk at the side of the door in stride, and approached him like he was an old friend, not a stranger. He instinctively curled up, pulling his body away from that side of the bed. She took a small pen out of her pocket, twirling it between her fingers before flicking on the light at the end. She held it over his eye, which he was just noticing was unbandaged, and he shut it. “Ah, ah! Don’t do that. I need to see. Open.” He didn’t know why, but he listened, and she took his chin in her free fingers and pulled the light back, and then pressed it closer. “You nearly lost your eye, ya know. Be thankful ya didn’t, you were awfully close to it.”

He resisted the urge to blow a raspberry at her. “Who are you?”

Satisfied with whatever it was she saw, she tucked the pen away. “Oh, whoops. Yeah, guess I should have said something earlier. Sorry, dramatic effect and all.” She gave him a smile, less teasing and more friendly. She smiled at him the way someone would had they been assigned partners for a science project, the way someone would smile if they were being introduced by a mutual friend. She held out a hand to him, nails suspiciously manicured for somebody who treated wounds… assuming she was, actually, responsible for his care. When he hesitated to respond, she reached out and took his hand in her own and shook it. “I’m Clara Appleby. Fellow spectral and nurse-in-training!”

Wait. Fellow spectral?

Isaac snatched his hand away, heart plummeting in his chest like she’d tied an anchor to it in a sea of- of-- fear, panic, paranoia. “Wait, how did you--? Does that mean you’re going to--?”

“Confine you to the bed for a few day’s rest?” She shrugged. “Whatever is best for your wounds which, by the way, are now wrapped correctly.”

He swallowed hard. Did that mean the woman from before was an agent of whatever secret gathering Spender had been a part of? Was she sent to capture and return him? No. It had to have been a coincidence. There’s no way I’m important enough for that…

“Was there” he leaned up a little further, enough to draw Clara’s eye, but not enough to warrant a scolding finger in his face. “Was there a woman involved? A woman who-- who found me? I remember--”

Clara was nodding before he could even finish, cupping one hand over her mouth.

“MISS ROSE!”

“-- a woman?”

His hands were on his ears even as the last words left him, and soon after, the booming sound of footsteps came clamoring to the door. Then she was there, bending over the doorway, heaving, the last face he remembered. Her leather jacket was falling off her shoulders, leaving one string of her purple tank up and one falling down the side of her arm. She had one hand on the hinge of the door and the other on her bare knee, and she looked exacerbated. “Clara, don’t you do that unless it’s an emergency!”

Clara shrugged. “Hey, new kid woke up! Said he wanted to see you.” She gave him another wave and parted through the door, the woman-- Miss Rose-- sliding in as she slid out.

Things were silent for a moment, and Isaac took that time to observe his surroundings, since this was, decidedly, not his bedroom (thank goodness). The walls were olive green, very different from the pale blue of his wallpaper. The room was small, and only fit the bed he was in, a glass-door cabinet-- filled with varying medicines, bandages, ointments…) at the foot of it, and a desk to the side, but it was homey, comfortable. He would have taken a glance out the window, but that would have required sitting up more, and he had a feeling, if the dull pain in his stomach was any indication, that to do so would mean a world of pain.

The woman-- again, Miss Rose, he probably should remember that-- looked to him, crossing her arms casually across her chest, using a hand to brush a strand of raven silk out of her face. “So, how ya feeling, kid? Isaac, right? I’ve seen you on the news--”

“You work for the people Spender works for, don’t you?”

Miss Rose seemed startled, she blinked, then snorted. “Richard Spender? No. Gross. Actually, I’m with a group called the Cousinhood. Heard of ‘em?”

“No…” Isaac turned away from her, setting one hand in his lap, at legs that still felt so tired and so weak, and the other at his wrist. “What’s the difference?”

“Well,” she came over to sit at the foot of his bed, crossing her legs, though her body was twisted to face him. “The people you’re talking about are the Consortium.” She set one hand at his leg, just above his foot, and he moved like she’d burnt him. He expected a look, a change in expression-- irritation? Disappointment maybe? She only smiled and retracted her hand. “Anyway, the people I work for don’t usually… like those people. But we coexist most of the time.”

Okay, so if she doesn’t have a reason to know who I am, then--? “How did you know I was a spectral?”

“I saw your aura when those police cars passed by.”

Oh. Isaac bit down on both his lips, red tingeing his cheeks. Miss Rose chuckled, and whatever embarassment he felt before skyrocketed well passed acceptable levels. He hated being in the activity club because of this exact feeling. Seemed he couldn’t escape it. Still, even if he didn’t end up in a hospital, or at home, surrounded by cops and paparazzi, he’d still be found, and by a spectral no less. The situation was just as bad as it had been before, except he’d been presumably stitched up, so physically, he supposed he was in a better position than he might have been before. “So, are you taking me back to Mayview?” He might have had a chance if he had to fight, at least a better one than he would have had fighting her earlier. He balled his hands into fists, legs tensing under the covers; he had to be ready to move.

Miss Rose hummed, placing one contemplative finger under her chin. “Well, that’s probably a good idea, as not taking you back may just add fuel to fire with the whole unspoken war we’ve got going on,” Isaac grimaced and shut his eyes tightly, he’d have to fight her “-- but who the heck cares? I mean, you ended up here for a reason, didn’t ya?” Wait, what? He turned his wide eyes on her, and when she reached out to pat his head with a smile, he let her. Her touch was soft, kind, warm like a mother’s. He’d forgotten what that felt like, to feel a hand that gentle on his head. His nose twitched, and Miss Rose tittered to herself. “Well, I should go help Crawford with dinner. He gets so pouty when he has to do it all himself. Come join us when you’re ready! I’ve got some people I want you to meet.”

He wasn’t wearing the jeans, shirt, or jacket he had been the day he left Mayview (for good reason, probably, they were covered in blood and worse), and when he glanced down at the blue button-up nightshirt and pants, it was odd to think about complete strangers undressing and dressing him-- even weirder to think about a girl doing it, if Clara had any part in piecing him back together. He’d stayed in bed for another hour or so, just laying there, resting. He wondered if they’d found his cellphone in his back pocket, and if they had a charger for it at all. It was silly, but some part of him still felt the urge to check the web for the latest episodes of an anime or two he’d picked up the weeks before he’d taken off. He’d missed an entire month of episodes, after all. Something cool might have happened.

It was the smell of dinner that gave him the will to get out of bed. He smelled pepper, and garlic, and cheese, surprisingly, thankfully, no meat. He didn’t know how to politely decline after all these strangers had done for him, turning his nose up at hospitality might have been hard. His stomach was growling at him, at he was reminded that he still hadn’t eaten anything for two days, let alone how long he might have been out. For all he knew, it’d been far longer than just two days. “Okay, c’mon Isaac, you can do this.” He took a few deep breaths, then pushed himself up off the bed. His abdomen was screaming at him, dull pain becoming heavy. He fought against it, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled up, pulled forward. Eventually he came to a seated position, legs hanging over the side of the bed. There were slippers he hadn’t noticed before, and he gratefully placed each foot in either one.

He left the room and looked to both sides, finding that, to the right, there was more of a hallway to explore, one door across the hall from him, one to his right, and then another diagonal to that room at the very end of the hall. To his left was a twisting staircase and, if his nose was correct, that was the way to the kitchen. He placed one hand on the wall and took careful steps toward the stairs, taking in the decoration around him. The walls were a mustard yellow, but the paneling was wooden and white and polished. There were no pictures or paintings to speak of, but there was a coffee table with a neat vase, filled with a single lily, jutting out the top, alongside a picture frame of what appeared to be Miss Rose-- younger, his age. She was grinning to the camera with her arm around a tan boy, who seemed less than pleased to be snapping a picture. Between them, there was a smaller girl, still his age, but she seemed to-herself, bookish maybe. Wide-rimmed, rounded glasses did that to a person. It was the only picture in his line of sight.

He carried on down the stairs, hand clenching the railing so tight, he thought his nails might draw lines in the paint. Each step was slow, and scary, and quite a few times his body spazzed and his grip on the railing lessened. He paused, and took another breath, and continued. One foot after the other, until eventually he came to set a foot on the deep brown wood of what appeared to be the living room. A lime green couch sat before a stone-adorned fireplace, a small TV hanging upon the wall. There was a yellow carpet set below, and over it was another coffee table. This one was covered in neatly-placed remotes, some more pictures, which appeared to be of Clara and another kid, little older than them. There were two or three there, standing in frames beside a pile of teen magazines and, Isaac squinted, magazines with cars on the front? Huh. Behind the couch was a wide open floor with a large mat thrown down, probably for sparring, considering the spectral thing and all. And beyond that matt was the front door. He turned his head; the garlic and pepper and salt smell was wafting from the room to his right.

He pressed on to the kitchen, still careful, though he’d forgone his hold on the wall. The first thing he saw was a sliding glass door, leading to a wide open, grassy field on the other side of the room, and the rectangular dining table nestled between the open kitchen and that door. Clara was sitting at the very end of the table, legs crossed, as she occupied herself in deep conversation with-- whoever that was, the weird beanie-wearing kid sitting across from her. Closest to Isaac were the counters, fridge, and literal cowboy standing there piling a mixture from a bowl into hollowed red and green peppers. Isaac closed his eyes, pinched the back of his hand, and opened them again; nope, cowboy was still there, large hat, guns at either hip, large buckle, boots and all.

That was when Clara noticed him, and she briefly jumped out of her conversation to lean forward and greet him. “Hey! Miss Rose gave you the clear to get out of bed, huh? Get over here!”

Isaac glanced from Clara, to the cowboy, and sighed because somehow the weirdness of Mayview had followed him.

He padded across the tile floor to the table, and the stranger wearing the beanie twisted around in his seat, one arm slung over the back of the chair. His eyes were dark brown, the darkest Isaac had ever seen, and he had a smug, cheerful grin on his face when he offered him a hand. “Isaac, right? Hardy Deering.”

Isaac raised a hand, hesitantly, then went ahead and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Hardy, I guess.”

“Oh uh,” Hardy’s grin turned sheepish, and he tugged at the bottom of his beanie. “Deering.”

“Hardy.”

He turned and gave Clara a glare. She only grinned and reached over to pat the chair next to her. “Come sit by me!” Isaac turned to give the odd cowboy another glance before slowly carrying himself over to the seat. Hardy turned back around to face them, and Isaac took another second to glance around the room.

“So, um, what is this place?”

“One of the Cousinhood’s bases” Hardy shrugged “but to the rest of the world, we’re a small, independent boarding school.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what? Why a boarding school?”

Clara leaned forward, setting her chin in her cupped hands. Isaac had her full attention, and he wasn’t 100% sure how to feel about that. He never had anybody’s full attention, let alone a stranger’s. Hardy seemed more casual, chiller maybe. More like Max. “I mean, if you were a normal person, and you didn’t know about all this spectral stuff” she waved her hand in a circular motion “wouldn’t you find it a little creepy that there’s a fully grown woman lugging around a bunch of kids she clearly has no relation to? It was either boarding school or orphanage.”

“And, if she finds a kid with abilities,” Hardy was toying with a pair of headphones, which were tangled around his neck like a necklace, fingers spinning one bud around and around. “Parents rarely want to relinquish all rights just ‘cause some lady wants their kid. Legal system doesn’t take too kindly to kidnap, so…”

“The Consortium has one, too.”

“The Consortium?” Wasn’t that the secret agency Mister Spender worked for? “Are you talking about the Activity Club?”

“Yeah! So you do know it!” Clara pointed at the cowboy with her thumb “When Miss Rose and Crawford heard about it, they figured they’d level the playing field and start collecting spectral kids, ya know?”

Hardy mumbled under his breath. “Start teachin’ ‘em young.”

“Wait,” Isaac glanced between the two, “So they’re basically grooming you guys to become Cousinhood agents? That’s-- something about that seems wrong!”

Clara looked to the ceiling, head bouncing back and forth as she weighed what he said with what she knew. “Yeah, but that’s why the Consortium does it, too.”

That’s not--! Isaac went to retort, but found that he really didn’t have anything to say. He didn’t know anything about the Consortium, and that was their fault anyway. Who was he to jump to their defense? Who was he even trying to defend? Spender? Well, I guess it’s my fault they were keeping information from me, anyway. It’s not my place to judge. I don’t even know who came up with the club idea. Sounds like it’s a new thing? He placed his hands on the table, moving to stand up. “I’m going to go to the bathro--” It happened fast, faster than he could catch. He felt something drift between his thighs, and when he glanced down, he found a steak knife, protruding out of the chair between his legs-- it’d barely missed. Isaac squeaked, and made a move to jump out of the way of any other sharp kitchenware flying his way, raising his forearms over either side of his head.

“You’re gonna sit your butt back down.” His eyes met the cowboy’s, and he was unsettled to see the sharp eyes of fatal intent staring back at him. He readjusted his hat, and gestured pointedly at the seat. “Dinner’s ready.”

Isaac alternated his gaze from the knife, to the man, then reached down and grabbed the handle of the knife, pulling it out with a little bit of force, before plopping back down into the seat. Content with that, the man returned to slipping on oven mitts before bending down to open the oven. Isaac only watched, mildly horrified, as a complete stranger, who only seconds ago played target practice with his limbs, pulled stuffed peppers from the oven and gave them a hearty sniff before setting them atop the counter to serve. Hardy leaned over, whispering to Isaac indiscreetly.

“You should see what he does when you don’t clear off the table.”

Miss Rose chose that moment to enter the room, running a towel over her head. She glanced over to Isaac, giving him a small, warm smile, and a wave in greeting. When she noticed the stuffed peppers were done, and the cowboy was using a spatula to place them on plates, she grinned from ear to ear and set the towel around her neck. “Smells delicious! Let’s eat!”

“Are you sure you packed everything?”

Max groaned, doing his best to stuff the already towering mountain of shirts and jeans and metal into his backpack. “Yes, Dad. I’m sure.” He’d noticed, with some curiosity and some irritation, that his father, in all his good intentions, had become much more accustomed to being a dad than he had in all of Max’s twelve years of life. In fact, he dared say he’d become too accustomed-- almost Helicopter Dad accustomed. It was almost like the monster attack on the school had changed him, freaked him out so much that he felt Max had to be in his line of sight 24/7, and though Max appreciated the overwhelming love and responsibility that radiated off his dad constantly now, he couldn’t help but be concerned his dear father was taking things a little too far.

“Your toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Your charger?”

“Yes.”

“Your--?”

“Dad, look, I’m packed! I promise!” Max sighed, slipping his arm through the sleeve of his bag, tugging the strap over his shoulder. His eyes met the anxious, dread-filled pair of his father, and it took everything in him to glance away, to not agree to stay home. This was too important. Isaac was in trouble, bad trouble, the kind he’d stayed up at night thinking about. “You should” he tugged the other strap over his arm “trust Mister Spender more. He’s been doing this a long time.”

“Max,” His dad came up behind, somehow managing to stuff his clothes and toiletries, which were still pouring over the side, into the bag, dragging the zipper up to secure the mess that was sure to spring on Max later, like a jack-in-the-box, when he readied himself for bed that night. “As much as I’d like to believe that this Mister Spender is a- a master jedi or something, I just” he set his hands on Max’s shoulders and turned him around so they were face-to-face, and Max wondered if he knew he was giving him the parental equivalent of puppy-dog eyes. “I just don’t know if I can trust this man yet.”

“Dad, I’ll be fine. We’re just going to look for Isaac!”

“And Isaac has weather powers, right?” Zoey came around the corner, holding a can of generic soda, popping it open with her thumb and pointer finger. “What if he tries to fry you?”

Max frowned and closed his eyes.

“We’re not even friends. We never were.”

He’d said it one second, and the next, Isaac’s fist, and Isabel’s hand, were taking up his entire vision. He blinked, and Isaac’s eyes met his. He could see the anger, the rage-- he watched it all fade away, like somebody had taken a needle to a balloon and watched the air drift out and deflate. Anger turned to guilt, and rage turned to horror. Isaac went from an unstoppable force of judgement and nature to a fragile, trembling boy. Right in front of his eyes.

Max opened his eyes. “Isaac wouldn’t do that.” Never again.

Twenty minutes later, after his dad had just about exhausted all of his probing questions (and Max’s patience), he’d walked his son out to the car. Max tilted his cap and said goodbye, walking around the front of the car to open the passenger door and climb in. Spender rolled down the window and greeted Dad Puckett with an awkward grin. Puckett smiled and said hello, just as awkwardly.

Spender went in for a handshake, Puckett went for a high-five. They both noticed, and slowly tried to transition into what the other was doing. Spender raised his hand vertically and Puckett moved to set his hand horizontally, and their hands just brushed each other. They pulled back, chuckling even though neither found the situation at all humorous. They both read the other’s mind and went in for a fist-bump-- only to miss by an inch. At that point, they both gave up the pleasantries and shied away.

“Max!” Ed called up to the front seat from the middle of the backseat, smushed between Dimitri and Isabel. “Dimitri is touching me! I wanna switch seats!”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow, turning from the window to his peer. “You’re the one with a finger in my personal bubble. ‘Sides it doesn’t work that way.”

Max leaned further back into the front passenger seat, slumping down for good measure. “I’m sitting as far away from you all as possible. I don’t want to risk your uncoolness slipping off on me.”

Dad Puckett smiled at his son, then exhaled heavily. “Mister Spender. I’m hoping Max will return in one piece.”

The gawky smile on Spender’s face fell to a frown, and he nodded to confirm he’d heard the word of a concerned parent. It was, after all, his job as a teacher. “I promise you, I will never intentionally put your son in danger.”

Dad Puckett laughed under his breath, raising a hand to run through the hair that was loose from his messy ponytail. “I don’t want promises you won’t put him in danger, I want your word you’ll keep him out of it, too.”

Spender blinked, and before he could process what Puckett had said, he was pulling away from the window. Silently, unsurely, Spender rolled the window back up, then lifted his foot from the brake. The car started with no problem, and drove away, leaving only Dad Puckett standing behind, watching as his son drove off.

“Stop the car!” Ed was in the middle of a fit, throwing his arms around the car in screaming like a child-- probably because it was making Isabel laugh, though Max and Spender were more or less feeling grinded by the noise. “I have to pee! I have to pee!” Isabel was cackling, holding her sides and bending over, and Ed was almost intentionally throwing his fists, softly, in her direction. She batted him off, but that made it all the more difficult to keep her giggles in check. Dimitri was unfazed, if he noticed Ed’s fake tantrum at all with his headphones on.

Spender groaned, fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. “Ed, please. We just left Mayview thirty minutes ago. It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

Ed paused in his fit, setting his hands at his knees. “Okay, but no, seriously, I really need to pee.”

Spender slammed his forehead against the wheel, then looked back at the road. It took them a minute, maybe a minute thirty-seconds, but they came across a convenience store, empty and unburdened by cars and people, aside from a single truck pulled up near the employee entrance, and a police car parked by the front doors. He pulled into the spot furthest from the door, then gestured for everyone to get out. “Don’t take too long, children. Isaac is waiting for us!”

The convenience store was no more impressive than any that might have been found in Mayview-- even less impressive than the one Max lived in, actually. His convenience store had an entire upper floor with a sweet family room pit. Good luck topping that… not that there would have been much point in a convenience store being so impressive. People would stop by regardless. THe group parted, Ed to the bathrooms, Isabel to the slushy machine, Dimitri and Spender to the rows and rows of snacks, and Max, well, he wandered around near the front where the candy was. The two cops, who more than likely belonged to the car parked out front, didn’t appear to be checking out anything, and the cashier seemed a little more than concerned with whatever conversation the three of them were holding. Max, doing his best spy impression, moved his attention on the candy further back, inching his way to the candy at the front of the small aisle.

“That boy that came in a week ago, the one you called in?” Max’s ear perked. “We have reason to believe it was Isaac O’Connor.”

The cashier gasped, raising one hand to her lips, looking between the two officers with wide eyes. “Oh no, you’re kidding me… oh crap! I should have kept a better eye on him! I thought he looked suspicious but--!”

The other officer, who was taller and broader in the shoulders than the other, set a comforting hand at her shoulder. “Would you tell us what happened? We’re hoping you could give us some clues.”

“Well, nothing I haven’t already told the police! He came in near the end of my shift, and he went to the bathroom. I don’t think he came out, I didn’t see him anyway, but he was in there for a long time, and I didn’t really notice ‘til I heard him screaming.” There, her voice started to crack, her eyes started to water, and she did her best to hold them back, shaking her head and using the sides of her fingers to wipe away the salt gathering. “It was… it was the worst thing I’d ever heard. You know, you hear somebody scream like that in a movie, it’s scary, ya know, but-- but hearing somebody, hearing somebody scream like that in person…”

Max grimaced. Probably too much to hope he just ate something bad…

He made his way over to the salted snacks aisle, as fast as he could without looking suspicious-- for what? He wasn’t sure, but the whole spectral thing had him on guard, and none of them needed any extra attention. Spender had just taken a bag of chips off the rack when Max set a hand at his arm. Spender turned to look at him. “Oh, Max! Have you picked out something? This weekend is on me--”

“It’s Isaac.” He pointed, subtly, to the front counter, and Spender followed his line of sight. “He was here. She saw him. She…” he swallowed. Just thinking about it was hard. The imagination was almost always worse than the reality, but he wasn’t so sure at this point. “She heard him screaming. Bloody murder. Like h- he was being attacked or--!”

“It’s worse than I thought.” Spender frowned, and Max was sure he’d crushed the bag of chips in his clenched hand. “We need to move quicker.

Ed stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his wet hands on the sides of his jeans. Isabel came to his side, doing her best to stick a top on her already-overfilled slushy without making a mess for the one employee on the clock. She looked up at him, and he gestured to the bathroom stiffly. “I think that is the creepiest public restroom I have ever used, and I am including the one I used in that haunted house when I was five and a ghoul jumped out at me mid-flush.”

Isabel smiled at him, and sure she laughed, but it was forced, he could tell; he always could tell. He stepped closer to her, and held the cup still as she wrestled with the top. After a moment she got it on, and she thanked him, but that still wasn’t it. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to start a tickle fight with you in public?” She blinked, and he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t test me, Isabel. I will do it.”

AGain, she laughed, but the usual charm wasn’t there. She frowned at him, then at the floor, fingers tapping along her large styrofoam cup. “Hey, Ed? Are you worried about Isaac?”

He frowned back at her, and tilted his head. “Of course I am!”

That must not have been the answer she was looking for, because she turned her head away, and didn’t bother to part the hair that’d fallen into her face. Ed took a step forward, setting a gentle hand at her arm, just below her shoulder. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just--” she paused, then turned to look at him, annoyance, annoyance at somebody and he wasn’t sure who, twinkling in the iris of her eye. “I’m not! I’m not worried about Isaac! Whenever I think about him, I ju- just feel numb! So what, he came back for us? Well, he was the reason we were in a cell to begin with!” Her voice was raised dangerously high, but not high enough he was super worried about it. A convenience store had to be one of the least embarrassing places to be a public disturbance, and the place least likely to have people take you seriously. Their conversation was likely falling on deaf ears. “I’m still mad at him! Even if he is in danger, is it really our problem? He left on his own!”

“Is that what this is really about?” She huffed and pouted up at him, and he tilted his head. “Because maybe, you’re covering up what you’re really feeling with what you’re used to feeling. Maybe you’re so worried about him, that you can’t help but repress it because you don’t know how else to handle it? You know, a defense mechanism.” Isabel stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, and her mind was reeling behind her eyes, her expressive eyes where he could always tell what was running through her head. Then she set her slushy aside, on the sidebar where people usually added milk and sugar to their coffee, and leaped into his arms, squeezing him around the neck.

He started, falling back a step before catching her, hands set unsurely just below her shoulders. Something was different this time, and he couldn’t, for the life of him, piece together why it was that Isabel felt perfectly molded against him, why the tug of her arms around his neck were electric and intoxicating all at once, or why the hair that’d flown in his face, because she’d held him so suddenly, felt as soft as a steady stream of water against his nose. She balled her hands in fists at his back, and pulled him even closer. “I-Izzy!”

“Ed, thank you.”

His heart flipped, and he wasn’t sure his eyes could be any wider. He eventually figured out that his hands should have been at her waist, and he set them there accordingly. Before long, before it got weird, she pulled away, but not too far. She giggled and pressed a finger to his nose. “What’re you blushing for?”

“I-I’m not!” He said, as he started blushing even more.

[merryfortune]

okay so about your new ocs do you have refs for them???? bc i reqlly want to try and draw them and like i know i have that oc ask but ive hit sort of an art block and im hoping your ocs will help

I am super flattered but 90% of the references I have for characters are super out of date so I’ll just list some OCs who would look fab in your art style. That and the first time I answered this, I finished getting all the photos ready then left the page to get the links to the doll makers I used and my inbox crashed.

Decently long post so it’ll go under the cut, hope someone grabs your attention and you are allowed to go “fuck that, I think this character should look slightly more like this” or whatever, What’s that ao3 tag that’s like “canon is slow roasted at 250 degrees” or whatevr, yeah, you’re allowed to do that to my characters peace xx

Don’t Fear the Reaper: Catalina Sanchez

12 year old, scruffy mauve dress, Argentinian (darkish brown skin), big honey brown eyes, sandals, she’s pretty thin but she gains weight over the course of the story, fluffy auburn hair to her shoulders (dyed; original colour black; changed to help hide her identity), short fingers and small hands, pretty dainty looking, thick and fuzzy eyebrows

kinda resembles this Sailor Moon character:

Oceanic Heart: Alaris

16ish years old, her boyfriend Malachi often says that she is as flat as a chopping board, real world equivalent of her ethnicity would be Chinese, elf ears!!, long white hair, purple eyes, translucent fairy wings, wears a hot pink and gold Cheongsam with a subtle floral motif, usually has a pretty airy expression on her face, a gentle smile, overall she is short with a little bit of chub but she does have long legs and very thick thighs (no thigh gap here, lads), also!! most importantly: she hates shoes and only ever wears specially padded white socks to protect her feet, she does have “”tattoos”” but not in places visible I do believe either that or they exist but are undefined (a heart made of the ocean, baby pink in colour, and a set of butterfly wings inside of circle; pastel yellow)

Avian Claw: Wisteria and Faust

Wisteria is kind faced girl, purple eyes, wears a simple purple dress with pink accents, freckly!!!, wild and loose long brown hair that goes past her waist, she ages considerably through the course of the story 13 -> 15 -> 25 so interpret as you please (same for Faust)

Faust: sharp face, often remarked as being snake-like, grey hair in a very serious style but would definitely rock an undercut, brown eyes, thin and tall, very pale, navy blue slacks with a short sleeved white button up with a powder blue cravat

Spectral Unity: Chelsea aka Bubbles & Amelie aka “Princess”

Chelsea: somewhat resembles Lilie from Princess Tutu tbqfh, 14 years old and a little bit curvy, thick shoulders, wears a green halter top with a white floral motif and denim shorts, freckly thighs, pretty pale, blond hair which is usually straight and in two pigtails on the side of her hair, no noticeable hairband, white sandals with a little bit of a raised heel

“Bubbles” - Chelsea’s superhero alter ego. Wears Naruto style white sandals, a navy blue olypmic style one piece. Curls her hair and uses aqua ribbons as hairties, wears Lego Robin style goggles with this outfit

Amelie: 12, think a less freckly, ‘meaner looking’ version of Wisteria (yes, they are probably related), more tame brown hair but it can get pretty feral like Wisteria’s lol, brown eyes, 90s anime mean girl laugh (and aesthetic) to be honest, pink button up dress with collar, white shrug, white strapless sandals decorated with purple bows, pretty thin

“Princess” - Amelie’s superhero alter ego, hair in twin ponytails with purple ribbons, a pink tiara, white and purple sweet lolita style dress with pink socks and white sandals (that don’t have bows on them but do have straps), wears a white eye-patch with a love-heart stitched onto it over her right eye

A Book of Fairy Tales: Daisy and Matt

Daisy: 15, very brown skin, very brown hair past her shoulders (actually, that’s a lie: her hair is reverse ombre with varying shades of brown; darker at the top, lighter at the ends), very brown eyes, no defined outfit but usually colourful shirt and skirt combos or generic Australian school uniform (skirt option, of course), if she has to wear pants they’re probably capris), short with a bit of chub

Matt: 16, angsty male protagonist with nothing to angst about and is hilariously made the butt of many jokes because of it™, pretty pale some freckles but not many, messy black hair, average height but not tall, average body build/flat stomach but no muscle kinda thing, same as Daisy - has no set outfit like the other characters, pretty generic clothes (a lot less colourful though but sometimes paint splatters are a Thing), loves denim and leather jackets tho, generic Australian school uniform too; tracksuit option, none of them fancy kharkis here lads

Psychic Services Association (PSA): Ace of Hearts [no proper name yet] and Queen of Clubs [no proper yet; nicknamed Queenie tho]

Queenie has a slight alternative outfit: sometimes, she wears a camera on a strap instead of her tassel necklace

[anotherdirtylaferte]

Tales from a Dream-Walker: Quartz Amplifiers - OC

Materials:

2 or more crystals, quartz, or crystalline minerals

Comfy place to meditate

I was thinking that it was time to try something different.

I had read about a type of meditation on a friend’s blog, and thought ‘Oh, what the hell, why not?’ I’m not the “strongest” at any of these “astral projection” or “lucid dreaming” techniques, but I feel I have been partaking in these activities for a while now, so I believed myself to be prepared for this… meditation.

I wasn’t…

I was sitting comfortably on my bedroom floor. The directions for this technique said to sit perfectly still, focus on your breathing, and also focus on the stones and crystals around you. (You can also lie on your back, on a couch or sofa, for this.)

Oh yea, this meditation involved pieces, boosters so to say. The term ‘pieces’ refers to crystals, pendants, and stones that one can use to “focus” or “amplify” a meditation or meditative state. I happened to have several pieces so I didn’t have to go out and buy any.

I had my nine pieces laid out around me in a semi-circle. My favorite piece, the tea-candle sized Tibetan quartz, was positioned directly in front of me. It was my favorite because it was a gift from a Native American friend of mine. She had been the one to get me involved with these activities in the first place.

I was sitting patiently, focusing on my breathing, and keeping my stones and crystals in my thoughts. The meditation I was performing was supposed to channel the energy I was using to focus on the stones and in turn they would amplify an astral projection, and I have heard and read about this process being “intense.”

My breathing was calm and controlled, I did all I could to stay alert, and it seemed as though thirty minutes had gone by. I felt my body begin to vibrate and that is when the true experience began! The strangest suction sensation came over me, as though a powerful vacuum had been placed a few inches from my chest. It was a rough experience. A sensation as though large fingers had penetrated into my body coursed through me. My chest got a sensation as though somebody was pressing against my chest with both hands and palms flat. I could feel them latch onto me and as they began to dig into my body, I could feel my insides move. These massive, unseen hands had a spectral hold upon me. They clamped upon my being as though grabbing hold of the front of my shirt and jerked me forward. I could feel myself or rather, my ‘astral’ self, leave my body. Again, they pulled upon my being and jerked me forward and away from my physical body again, this time with a lot more power and with a stronger sense of urgency. Then, with a stronger and more forceful tug upon my body, I came free and ‘stumbled’ into the space in front of my physical body. Almost as though I were floating, I was hovering in front of my physical body.

I was RIPPED out of my body! Never before had I experienced such an explosive out of body journey; such a drastic change of mental planes. I felt myself, as if thrown by an invisible beast; go through a colorful “light” barrier, which I could only assume was my astral-self passing quickly through the “crystalline amplifiers.” Let me try my best to describe the next sequence of events:

There was a moment, right after my consciousness left my physical body, but right before I ‘filtered’ through the quartz, where I was an ethereal form. Time seemed to have slowed down. I could see ‘through’ myself as well as the objects around me. My physical body was covered in what felt to be pins-and-needles but it was not a painful sensation as one might think. It was actually a very soothing sensation and warmth radiated from my body. A constant tugging, yet nothing too serious, nagged on my lower back. Upon inspection, a ‘tether’ left my body at my lower back, just above the tailbone, and I followed the ‘cord’ back to my physical body where it seemed to connect to my forehead, where the hypothetical “third-eye” would be. When I turned my attention around, away from my physical form, nine fantastically colored tunnels lay ahead of me in a semi-circle around my astral-self. I could feel wind behind my being, pushing me towards them. I can remember thinking: Nobody is going to believe any of this shit!

As I drifted closer to the tunnels, it occurred to me that distance was warped here. The distance from the “tunnel” and my astral-self was a lot larger than the distance of the crystals from my physical body. As I neared them, the wind behind me had picked up and I could now feel a suction sensation towards each of the tunnels. My physical body was tingling all over the back. As I strained to stay focused on the traveling, I felt the strongest pull from the deep purple, bluish tunnel directly in front of me. In this “plane” the crystals all appeared to be portals of some kind. The larger, more majestic (or so I thought) of these portals was directly in front of me. I knew it was related with the Tibetan Quartz because of how the layout of the crystals corresponded with the layout of the tunnels. Then, without warning, a sudden pull on my astral body jerked me towards the center tunnel. I fought to stay put; I focused on all of this, trying to remain calm. I wasn’t ready to leave this experience yet.

I fought the urge to tumble through into whatever was on the other side. I almost felt as though I was walking backwards, against the band of a giant slingshot, and I was the projectile. The pull got stronger and I could no longer fight it, I released my hold. I rocketed through the tunnel ahead of me. When I shot through the threshold, my mind was basically blown. As I came through the threshold, I entered a realm of unimaginable beauty. Every surface reflected brilliant hues of brilliant colors. Everything seemed to be made of glass, or maybe even quartz, either way; everything reflected the light and bent it in many different angles. Every time a ray of light crossed over another section of itself, a rhomboid rainbow would appear. At times, there were entire “clouds” of such brilliant colors and so many overlays of the colors that entire sections of the room were plain white. It was an incredibly brilliant white, and upon closer inspection I could actually see every single color of the rainbow, even colors I’d never seen before. I focused on my surroundings.

And for what I know to be only an instant, I looked around me and beheld the most detailed and beautiful of visions. I saw my room. I saw “through” my room. I could see outside of my room as well. Everything became see through, transparent; all boundaries slipped away. No limits, pure freedom, I had become one with everything around me. I floated over and passed through the wall of the house and I was now on my front porch. I could feel the heat of the sun that was passing through my astral body ON my physical body. Even though my actual body was indoors, I could hear a dog barking in the distance. It was faint enough that I knew there was no possible way for me to hear that from inside the house. I could see the trees in the front yard as well as those in the surrounding yards. The strangest part of all of this was that EVERYTHING was transparent. Everything had a definite outline, but I could literally see through everything. Looking at bushes and shrubbery was like looking at a clump of really clear bubbles in the form of a bush. This experience maybe lasted a total of twenty seconds but it felt like it had been several minutes.

Then, all of a sudden, a blow came across my jaw, as though being punched and my physical body jerked. A massive cooling sensation overcame me, as though being dunked into cold water, or stepping into a walk-in freezer, and I was slammed back into my body as forcibly as I was taken out. I was startled by the abruptness of the situation. All of this had happened so quickly yet felt so dragged out.

I looked around my room, everything was brighter than normal. And as the ghostly glow began to fade from everything, I noticed my Tibetan quartz on the floor in front of me. It had cracked in half. It lay in front of me in two pieces, its dark center exposed. There was a strange detachment I felt towards this sight, as though I had just heard about the death of a good friend.

It sat there, its two pieces just staring at me.

And I sat there, wondering how the hell that just happened.

I replayed the whole scene in my head. It was an incredible experience. Could the punch-like blow I felt have been the quartz breaking?

Did having the stones around me strengthen my projection or was this whole experience only because of the new technique?

Did the strength of me leaving my body cause my quartz to crack, or did it already have a fault in it?

Because I could amplify “myself” does this show that we are just bundles of energy walking around; bundles of energy that can be manipulated and strengthened? How big can our energies get?

I have more questions now than I did when I first began learning about this technique. The suction sensation I felt was queer yet at the same time fantastic. It’s hard to use everyday words to describe such a unique experience. A huge; I mean massive, vacuum hose being held over my body…

Like I said earlier, all of this happened so quickly, yet took a while to achieve. The sheer physical reactions were enough to make me want more. I will definitely be trying this one again. I got a taste of something… incredible.

Now I want my questions answered…

[buns-with-a-book]

Deflowered

A sequel to Flowers of White, completely spicy. So much spice. Includes SDT spice. 

There’s two poems in this fic. The second one was written by furyeclipse

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC/Vergil, Dante  Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz

Summary:  Vergil despises the scent of another man, of Draco, on the person he considers his. The scent infuriates him, enough to make him act on more base desires.

Days after they crashed her ‘wedding’, he can still smell him on her.

His demonic blood gave him heightened senses, hearing and smell and speed. It usually was a blessing but, in this moment, it was a curse. He can smell that scum, the scent of silver and sage and too-expensive cologne, still lingering around her. A part of him, a deep base beast that he sometimes wishes would just quiet down, snarls every time she passed by him before promptly filling him with shame for snarling at her when the whole affair was no fault of her own.  

How dare Draco, a pathetic excuse of a man who had shown nothing but disapproval and dismissal, believe himself worthy of Cassandra? Cassandra was nothing short of extraordinary, the blood of a warrior-saint in her veins. A part of him was always in awe of how she maneuvered herself on the battlefield, brave and bold and unafraid of the demons they faced. That fool would never know the joy that burned in those deep green eyes of hers when they got paid for exterminating demons, the determination when they clashed in the training room, the way they sparkled with amusement at whatever foolery Dante got into. Draco would never know that and he was certain he didn’t care.

Cassandra was far more than just her ancestor, far more than just the daughter of a warrior-saint. She was a queen. A queen that Draco would never respect, would never appreciate, never be worthy of. (And, if he was honest with himself, he wondered if he himself was worthy of her as well).

“Verge? Earth to Verge?”

Vergil blinked, seeing Dante’s hand waving in front of his face. He was sitting on the couch in Devil May Cry, the setting sun casting long shadows across the shop. Dante was hovering next to him, a curious but playful smile on his face.

“Dante, I’m right here.” Vergil slapped his brother’s hand away from his face.

“Yeah, sure you were.” He smiled and sat down, the couch dipping as he settled next to his twin. “I know that look of yours when you’re thinking really hard. What’s stewin?”

“The best way to get rid of you.” Vergil replied dryly, a spectral sword appearing by his will and pointed at Dante. Dante laughed, of course he would laugh.

“Nah, I feel like trying my luck.”

“Your very horrible luck, you mean.” Vergil raised an eyebrow. Despite his mild irritation, it wasn’t enough to skewer him yet. “I believe even Lady can attest to how rotten it can be.”  

“I can be lucky every once in a while!”

“Like a broken clock can be right twice a day.” Vergil snapped his book shut, finally admitting defeat. “I’m...afraid my mind still wanders back to the day we crashed Draco’s wedding. I can still smell him and it infuriates me, like an unwelcome stench that refuses to leave.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Dante hummed. “You two should go on a date.” Vergil could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“A...date?”

“Yeah! Get your mind off the whole wedding shit.” Dante waved his hand. Vergil closed his eyes in thought.

“Perhaps star-gazing. It’s nice and relaxing, a reprieve we need from...that event.” Even mentioning it left a foul taste in his mouth, Vergil thought with a scowl. Dante let out a soft chuckle, seemingly unaware of Vergil’s inner turmoil...but Vergil noticed the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.  

“Well, there’s this nice forest outside of Red Grave. You can hike to the top and maybe get some ac- OOF!” Vergil promptly whacked him upside the head. “OW! Jeez, I’m trying to help...”

“Your idea of help is not actually help.”

“Look, I know what’s going on with you. You’re pissy another dude touched Cass when that’s your job. God Verge, you’re so easy to read when you’re angry.” Dante crossed his arms. Vergil just stared at him, not sure what to say. On one hand, Dante wasn’t wrong: the thought of Draco touching Cassandra in any capacity infuriated him to no end. On the other hand...did he have to say it so brazenly?! It always infuriated him that Dante had no shame. While Cassandra was more than willing to encourage him in his shamelessness (because she found it hilarious when that very shamelessness got him in trouble), Vergil had to draw the line somewhere.

“...if she consents.” Vergil said, standing up stiffly. “I will ask about...a date.”

“If you don’t run away from being awk-” And that was when the sword slammed down into the floor, barely missing Dante’s knee. “Hey!” Vergil ignored his exclamation as he made his way into the kitchen, where he saw Cassandra enter. Sliding his book into his jacket, he entered the kitchen to see Cassandra hard at work. A savory scent wafted through the kitchen as Cassandra stirred up waffle batter for baking. Aside her stirring bowl was cheese, tomato sauce, and herbs. He smirked, knowing that tonight’s dinner was pizza waffles.

“Hi Vergil.” Cassandra said quickly. “What do you need? As long as it’s not pestering me to finish up din-”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Vergil shook his head, earning a confused noise from her. “I would like to know if you would like to go on a date with me.”

“You sound like you’re trying to ask me out for the first time.” Cassandra said with a soft chuckle. Before he could object, she continued. “I’d love to go on a date. A nice simple date, maybe we can go stargazing on the roof.”

“On the roof of Devil May Cry?” He asked.

“Not in the mood to go anywhere for a bit. If we can stay home, I’d go for it.” A part of him, that hungry beast inside him, purred appreciatively at the idea. He watched her work on dinner.

“As you wish.” A faint smile crept on his face as he watched her work. It seemed like that little affair was nothing more than a bad memory, a memory that was rapidly fading. As she poured the finished batter into the waffle-maker, Vergil’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against the doorframe. The sound of her making dinner was...surprisingly soothing. The fact that he could indulge in domestic scenarios like this was a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. He could only barely remember the last time he was this peaceful, the feeling of contentment with his life being foreign to him. If he had to recall, it would be back in his childhood, before the attack that changed his fate forever. But now, he had that...peace in his life. Reunited with his brother, slowly bonding over the son he only recently found out existed, and with a woman who cared about Nero just as much as he did (but more openly. Vergil being open with his emotions remained a struggle that he tried hard to work through), he was just...happy.  

He opened his eyes, watching as Cassandra finished with the waffles. She drizzled tomato sauce, cheese, and basil all over them. Setting the plate on the table, she walked past him. His nose caught her scent, of herbs and morning mist and too-expensive colog-

No. That was Draco. The beast roiled at the scent. He flinched, thankful that Cassandra wasn’t nearby to notice it.

“Dante! Dinner!” She called before slipping back into the kitchen, followed by Dante padding his way after her call. He rounded around Vergil, pausing next to his brother.

“Did you ask her out?” He asked, ice blue eyes glimmering mischievously.

“Yes.”

“Did she say yes?”

“Of course I did Dante.” Cassandra huffed. “We’re gonna go stargazing on the roof of Devil May Cry in the future.”

“How romantic.” Dante hummed. “I mean, aside from the whole ‘sitting on the roof’-”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic somehow. Vergil’s very good at reciting poetry.” Cassandra said as she prepared a second plate of pizza waffles. She ignored the sound of Dante gagging. “Yeah yeah, you keep gagging all you want mister ���has rotten luck with the ladies’.”

“Ow!” Dante whined. “That huuurts.”

“It hurts because it’s true.” Vergil added.

“Beating up on your own brother…” He sighed in mock defeat. “You two are mean.”

“That’s our job.” Cassandra winked at Dante before handing Vergil the plate of pizza waffles. Vergil took the plate and the fork Cassandra offered before sitting down next to Dante. Cassandra made one last plate of pizza waffles for herself, humming softly as the waffle-maker did it’s work. Vergil closed his eyes, quietly eating what she had served. He remembered the first time she made this meal, and how quickly he made his distaste known until he actually tried it. It was this very dish that made him only occasionally question what Cassandra made (most of the time, as he had come to understand it, some of her more stranger options was just to get Dante to eat more than just pizza and sundaes).

His mind moved away from that memory, to that promised date. If the devil within decided to behave, perhaps it would be just a gentle and loving affair, as she deserved after such tribulation. But it all hinged on if the devil inside him behaved. And if even the slightest hint of that scum’s scent sent it into a huffy rage…

He wasn’t too sure how he would deal with that.

---

The skies of Red Grave City were clear, the summer stars shining brightly above them. As most of Red Grave had been ripped apart, the light pollution was not as strong as it used to be, providing one with a clear view of the stars above. Normally, every reminder of the destruction of the city stung Vergil’s heart with guilt, even if he wasn’t in the right mind when he did stab himself with Yamato.

It was here, on the roof of Devil May Cry, that Vergil found Cassandra. In his hand were three books of poetry, one of Shakespearean Sonnets, his prized book of Blake, and a small notebook he kept in his coat pocket. Cassandra had given it to him on his birthday (a day he usually forgot). He had taken that notebook and tried his own hand at poetry. It’s quality was...questionable but, according to Nero, it was passable. Cassandra was busy smoothing out a large plush blanket on the floor of the roof. Not too far away was a basket, full of sweet and savory snacks to pass the time. Very faintly, in the far distance, he swore he heard a piano playing. Returning his gaze to Cassandra, her attire was a simple deep blue dress, the thin linen fluttering with her movements.

He was right, he thought with a soft smirk. Blue did look good on her.  

“Vergil, I can feel you staring.” Her words, accented with a tease, made his heart jump. He hid his brief surprise as he strode to her, sitting down on the blanket next to her. She smiled to him, laying herself down on the soft blanket. Vergil shed his coat, setting it next to the blasket of food. He set the books down on his coat. She laid down on the blanket, Vergil settling himself next to her as he took out his book of Shakespearean sonnets.

“Shakespear?” She asked, staring at the beautifully decorated book curiously.

“Why not?” He asked in turn. Cassandra laughed.

“You got me there, Mr. Poetry.” She pecked his cheek before laying down. Vergil settled down next to her and opened the book, flipping through the sonnets until he found an acceptable one. With that, he began to read.

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.    Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,    Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes.

Cassandra hummed thoughtfully as he finished reading. “That’s not 18, is it?”

“No. Too overdone. This one is his fortieth sonnet.” Vergil explained.

“Hm. 18 is a classic for a reason.” She hummed.

“Every man woos their lover with 18.” He countered. “But you are no ordinary woman, Cassandra.”

“I’m the only one that’s knocked you on your ass.” She said proudly, earning a chuckle from him.

“I believe that was because you pulled a cheap tactic on me.”

“That was one time Vergil!” Cassandra playfully whacked his shoulder. Vergil sat up, placing the book of Shakespere away. His hand took his small notebook, to which Cassandra raised an eyebrow at. “What’s that for?”

“...I’ve been practicing poetry myself.” He admitted, flipping through the pages. “It’s a hobby I’ve been working on when I am not busy.”

“Aww…” She smiled, retaking her place at his side. She rest her head on his shoulder. “Which one are you going to read?”

“Reclaim. My 78th poem.”

“78!? You either have a lot of downtime or you have a lot of ideas to immortalize in poetic form.”

“A little of both.” He smiled at her surprise. “Shall I begin?”

“Yes, please.” She rested a hand on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting on her back, and began to read.

The rightful queen came home today. She came back with her head high, Proudly bringing the slain man's head for all to see. The dress of white was gifted to the winds and carried away. It's shameful imitation of fabric no longer touched her. Now she's taken back her rightful crown, The light basked in her glory as she came to her knight.

She tilted her head, just a little, and suddenly that scent came back to him. Caught off guard, he let go of the book. It landed on his face rather ungracefully, earning a surprised gasp from Cassandra.

“Vergil?”

“I...I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“I doubt it. You’ve been...stiff ever since we came back from Rothes.” She sat up a little. “What’s going on?” Vergil lifted the notebook off his face, meeting her dark green eyes. They were searching him, trying to find out the answer to his state. He let out a sigh, setting the notebook back with his books. He sat up, helping her into a sitting up position, and turned to her.

“That man...Draco, his stench clings to you. It infuriates the devil inside me. It is of no fault of your own. You did what you had to do to save Nero and I am grateful for your bravery.” He paused, taking in a breath. “It still does not change the fact that Draco dared to touch you, dared to be in your presence when he is not worthy of it…”

“You’re jealous.” And there it was, that simple succinct phrase. “Does that mean your devil considers me a mate or something?”

“Along that line, yes.” He sighed.

“So…” Cassandra’s eyes were closed, the spellblade warrior deep in thought. “Your devil considers me as a mate and Draco’s shit caused them to get jealous and see Draco as competition. Does that sound right?” She opened her eyes, seeing Vergil’s confirmation. He nodded. “Ok, so, how do we deal with this problem?” There was a quiet that fell between them, Vergil’s eyes fluttering closed to think. He could feel Cassandra’s gaze on him, intense and searching for an answer to the predicament. Vergil knew the answer but his pride refused to let him say it. “Is it sex.”

“What?” He blinked.    

“If it wasn’t something like that, then you would’ve said it by now.” Vergil looked away, a blush on his face. “What? I’m not wrong. You never mince words about what needs to be done to solve a problem unless it’s salacious.” And indeed, she wasn’t wrong. Vergil let out a sigh.

“You are...correct. Specifically, it involves scenting.” He could feel his face burn as he spoke. “It’s...messy.”

“We have a bath. And we paid the water bill for the month.” Cassandra said. “Are you afraid I won’t like it? Or I won’t like what will happen.”

“No. It is the fact that all this was born out of a desire to possess you. And you deserve more than someone who refuses to let go.” Cassandra mulled over his words.

“Earthmother help me, you’re such a gentleman deep down.” She said with a smile. She gently took Vergil’s chin, guiding him to face her. “If you’re worried about me consenting, then don’t worry. Of course I’d consent. I know you know your strength and I trust you to not break me too much.” Her hand moved down to take his hands. “You wield Yamato so skillfully, after all. I’m sure you can control yourself or drive me mad with pleasure.” She glanced up and gave him a wink. “I’ll be fine.”

“You���re insatiable.” He breathed.    

“I know.” With that, she leaned forward to kiss him. Her hand rested on his hip, the other threading through his silvery-white hair. She gently nipped at his lips, earning a soft surprised gasp. She slid her tongue inside quickly, taking advantage of his surprise to establish her dominance. He chuckled into the kiss, slowly tipping her back onto the blanket. The hand on his hip moved to rub his groin, earning a low groan from the half-devil above her. He pulled back, earning a soft gasp from her. He leaned back, pulling the dress off her. She aided him in the effort, pulling the soft fabric off her. He leaned back, carefully pulling off his vest. He could see the hunger and appreciation in her eyes, she didn’t even try to hide it. Placing the vest next to her dress, he worked on sliding his pants off. His eyes flicked to Cassandra, who was reaching back to undo her bra. He took in a soft breath, watching as it fell away. He pulled off his pants, noticing how Cassandra’s gaze flicked down to his groin and thighs.

“Yes?”

“Lace underwear, huh?” Cassandra asked, quite obviously amused. He tensed for a moment.

“The other options chafe. It’s distracting.”

“I like it.” She leaned forward, pulling the waistband of his underwear and pulling it back and down, exposing his cock. “And it makes your dick look that much more appetizing.” She smirked at his blushing face, pulling him out of his underwear. “And those thighs? To die for.”

“Are you going to spend the rest of the night showering me with compliments?”

“I might.” She winked. “But I’m not wrong.” She reached down, stroking Vergil’s cock. He let out a grunt, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s a look…” She murmured.

“You drive me mad.” She felt his hand grab her hair. “You insatiable harlot.” She grinned at him, meeting his smirk. Before she could reply, he forced her down onto her back. He presented his cock to her. Quickly getting the hint, she took the tip into her mouth and sucked, swirling her tongue around the slit. He let out a grunt, his hand gripping just a little tighter on her hair. He remained still, groaning softly as she leaned forward, bobbing her head on his cock. Vergil groaned as she worked, her hands moving up to massage his thighs, the very part of him she praised to high heavens.

Well, not that hers were lacking in any manner. But that was neither here nor there. His more immediate focus was on Cassandra, his ice blue eyes meeting her dark green. That half-lidded sultry look made him shiver, a look that shot down his spine and made his cock throb. That deep base beast rumbled with approval at the sight...and it wanted more.  Despite his attempts to stay in control, the beast within refused. He could feel his body shift and change, slowly as his control loosened. He growled as his load poured down her throat. With the last of his control, he moved back. In moments, he transformed with a burst of demonic energy.

Cassandra stared at the now transformed devil hovering over her, wings flared out behind him. The chill of the oncoming night was gone, replaced by the warmth that radiated from the very devil she was admiring. The devil let out a slow exhale, blue meeting green. She looked up and down the devil’s armored body, the deep blue that pulsated like a glowing heart from his chest to his flared wings. She could hear his tail swaying slowly behind him, faintly seeing the sharpened tip from behind his wings. He shifted back a little, as if he was worried that he had startled her.

“Wow...hot.” Cassandra said, earning an amused rumble from the devil hovering above her. Cassandra sat up, her hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. The devil leaned into her hand, warm against her skin. She smiled at the sight. “What? You thought I would be running for my life at the sight of you?”

“...a little.” He rumbled, voice warped from the demonic energy. “From the shock of my transformation.”

“You’re such a gentleman.” She took his hand and gave the warm palm a kiss. With a pleased rumble, he slowly moved his way down to her thighs. He pushed her thighs apart, noticing Cassandra shiver at the claws that pressed into her skin. Vergil leaned forward, his tongue rubbing slowly against her cunt. It rubbed up and down her slick folds, occasionally rolling around her clit, before moving down to push inside her. She gasped out, her hand reaching down to grab his horn. She pulled him closer to her, wanting to feel more of his tongue against her. Her body shook as he gave her more of what she wanted, his tongue lapping up her juices. Cassandra began to grind her hips against his mouth, shivering at the sensations.

He pulled back, letting out a pleased rumble. Cassandra lifted herself up a little by her elbows, looking down to Vergil’s groin. The carapace protecting his cock had split open, revealing a girthy slick blue cock. The bulbous head was slightly larger than the ridged shaft and, at what she presumed was at the base of his sac, was a knot. The scent that reached her made her shiver, a wave of arousal washing over her.

“Shit…” She panted. What was it about the heady scent that just seemed to make her wetter? She was certain Vergil could tell she was more than aroused, more than ready for him, but he restrained himself. “Veergill…” She whined.

“Yes, my love?”

“Nnn...please, just fuck me.” She panted. She could barely think, the heat at her core was almost overwhelming.  She faintly heard a soft but warm hum before the tip of his cock rubbed at her entrance. Her body burned with unbridled lust at the contact, a cry of pleasure ripped from her. The devil pushed the tip into her, earning breathy moans from his writhing mate. With the tip inside her, he paused and looked at her. Even with only the tip inside, he could sense her trying to pull him in. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. She reached up, holding tight onto his scaled body. She let out a whine as he pushed forward, sinking more of his cock into her. He could feel her walls squeeze and ripple around him, a sensation that made it difficult to not start thrusting right then and there. The devil let out a slow exhale, trying to not thrust with wild abandon, not yet.

Until she pulled him close, pressing her lips against his fangs. It did him in.

With an aroused growl, the devil began to thrust hard. He felt her legs hoist around his armored midsection. In the back of his mind, he knew she would come out of this scratched up. He would take care of that later, his mind too focused on the unbridled lust that was spurred on by her moans and cries of pleasure. His wings dug into the blanket below, growling as he thrust into her shaking form. The warmth that surrounded them felt as if it was pooling in his core, his thrusts devolving into short harsh movements. He panted as the knot at the base of his cock began to swell and with it, the oncoming orgasm.

“Vergil! I-I’m close!” He heard Cassandra pant. He could feel it, it was so close. With a final thrust, he pushed the knot into her and roared, warm seed pouring into her. With him, he heard her cry out and tense up around his knot, body shaking as her orgasm finally hit her. After a few tense moments, he felt her body go lax. He looked down, seeing her breathing heavily underneath him. His gaze moved down her body to her stomach, slightly swollen from the seed that he poured into her. If he was capable of blushing, he would be doing it. He stayed there for what felt like hours, the knot slowly deswelling. He pulled out, letting out a soft groan. Settling himself next to her, the devil disappeared with a flash of blue, revealing an exhausted flushed Vergil. She turned to him, reaching out to pull him into a brief kiss.

“Cassandra…” Vergil murmured. “I apologize-”

“Don’t.” She smiled at him. “That was...phew, that was something.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Not much more than sore hips and some scratches, which isn’t a bad thing.” Cassandra slowly sat up, letting out a hiss. “Oof...can you go run a bath? I think I’ll be here for a bit…”

“And leave you alone? Never.” He swiftly picked her up, earning a hiss from her.

“Yowch! Jeez, rail my brains out and all that gentleman behavior goes out the window.”

“You were all for it.” He pointed out. She noticed the hint of a playful smile on his lips.

“Yeah yeah…” Cassandra waved her hand as he slipped back into the shop. Stepping into the bathroom, he laid her in the bathtub. He turned on the water, letting cool water pour from the faucet into the tub. “So, uh…” Vergil glanced at her. “Do I still smell of Draco?”

“No, thankfully.” Vergil sighed.

“Good. I’d rather smell of you than of an old bully.” Vergil wondered if she knew the implication of her words. He turned off the faucet. “I’ll be ok here, you should go get everything up on the roof.”

“Are you sure? It would be remiss if I left you her-”

“Vergil. I’ll be fine. I can bathe myself. You should get that basket of snacks and put it next to our bed so we can munch on those before dozing off.” Cassandra told him firmly. Vergil sighed and stood.

“As you wish.” He left the room. Cassandra went to work on bathing herself, humming softly. She swore she heard swift footsteps, perhaps Vergil pulling on some unknown demon ability. Super speed or something, she didn’t worry herself with it. She continued to wash her body.

“It’s done.” Cassandra jumped and looked up, seeing Vergil back by her side in pants. She stared at him, still shocked at his sudden appearance.

“...fucking hell.” She ran her hand through her damp hair. “I love you Vergil but there’s just some things that surprise me about you.” He chuckled at her mild frustration. Cassandra finished bathing and stepped out of the tub, right into a towel Vergil had for her. She leaned into his strong arms as he dried her body, relaxing. When her body was dry, she leaned against the wall as he drained the tub. As the tub drained, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to their bedroom.

“Would you like me to read to you?” He asked, setting her down on their shared bed.

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “But I’d like to hear some of your works.” Vergil blinked at her before nodding, sliding into bed next to her. He pulled out the notebook and allowed her to cuddle up against his side.

“As you wish, my wild rose.”

[iamwhelmed]

Hey!! I really like the high school comic, and I was just wondering if there's an actor or someone who you think Clara would look like?? Just curious because I can picture stuff better with visual references.... thanks and great work!!

That’s actually a pretty good question!

Since I’m a weab just like our dear Isaac, I think it’s best to use anime characters (since that’s kind of how I envision every character I’ve made ever).

Well, I kind of imagined her to have the face shape of Touwa Erio from an anime I’ve never actually watched, but I’ve seen her come up in recommendations and everything and I just think she’s a really beautiful character, probably one of the prettiest anime characters I’ve ever seen. No doubt it has a lot to do with the gorgeous art style. (I really hope this anime isn’t nsfw, because I kinda wanna watch it but adult animes get weird as heck, guys).

However, for pretty much everything else, I picture her a lot like a black-haired Chisame Hasegawa from Negima: Master Negi Magi.

Perpetually narrowed eyes that make her look unapproachable (even though we know she’s got friendliness in abundance) behind large round black glasses. Of course, I picture her eyes a deeper brown, but still. When I think about Clara Appleby, these are the anime ladies I picture.

I hope this helps you visualize her, anon! Thank you for reading!