#VAMPIRES WHILE DRESSED AS DRACULA. YESSS

[gothmessi-remade]

🦇 @killrockstar

[trashyswitch]

Virgil's Post-Halloween Adventure With Roman

Virgil has been really down since Halloween came and went. So, Roman creates a full Halloween city so Virgil and some of the other sides can bring their Halloween fantasies to life.

This was requested by @puppysparkles03. You wanted drastic measures, so: HAVE AN ENTIRE HALLOWEEN TOWN! XD Hope you like it!

Virgil had been in a sad mood since November started. Virgil got his chance to dress up and be his scary self for halloween but...now that Halloween was over, Virgil had grown sad. He loved halloween. Why couldn’t it be Halloween for longer than an evening? The only things that have made Virgil somewhat satisfied was his Halloween candy. Virgil’s been eating tons of halloween candy as of late. From sweets to mini bags of chips, to juice boxes and candy corns, even a rice crispy square ended up in his halloween bag. That was a nostalgic moment for him. It was nice to eat a rainbow (gay) rice crispy square.

One day, Roman managed to get Virgil out of his room for a little adventure in the mind palace. Despite enjoying being out of the room, Virgil did grow annoyed by all the walking. “Can’t you conjure up a train or a car? Or, maybe even a horse and buggy?” Virgil asked.

Roman giggled. “Come on, Virgil! It’s such a pretty day for a walk. Wouldn’t you agree?” Roman asked. Virgil only let out a grunt as a reply. Roman turned to face him. “Come on, Hallo-whiner. I think you’re gonna like the special place that I conjured up, just for you:” Roman told him, grabbing his hand.

Virgil looked up at Roman with the smallest glimmer of hope in his eyes. Roman summoned some black eyeshadow, and help Virgil touch it up. “There ya go. And some blood…” Roman started drawing liquid red face paint dribbles that ran down the corners of Virgil’s mouth to the sides of his chin. “There! Maybe some red lipstick-”

“No red lipstick.” Virgil told him.

“Oooor no red lipstick.” Roman changed up his wording before putting the lid on his lipstick. “Okay! Looking all halloweeny!” Roman declared.

“I thought Halloween was over?” Virgil told him.

“Not unless you want it to be over. And something tells me you don’t want Halloween to be over just yet.” Roman admitted.

Roman picked up Virgil and walked up a hill. Soon, the luscious green grass disappeared from his vision and dark purples, oranges and blacks filled his vision. Virgil’s eyes widened when he realized what it was: It was an entire halloween city!

“What do you think?” Roman asked.

“Are you kidding?!” Virgil reacted. “I LOVE IT!” Virgil yelled, grabbing his shoulders with a big smile on his face. Roman giggled and looked over at the halloween city. “Now: I have given you the ability to snap into the halloween costume of your dreams!” Roman explained to him. “For example:” Roman snapped and watched as a bunch of material surrounded him before disappearing with his costume on himself.

“Oooooh! A roman emperor?” Virgil specified.

“Indeed! A Roman emperor who must rule with an iron fist!” Roman explained. His clothing consisted of a white robe with a brown rope tied around his middle, and a long red sash that was wrapped around his left arm and flowed down the rest of his lower body. To top it off, Roman had a golden laurel wreath on his head! He looked amazing, to be honest!

“Do you have a costume preference of your own, Virgil?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded and snapped his fingers. A whole bunch of material surrounded Virgil, and soon flew away and disappeared to reveal Virgil’s brand new costume.

Roman gasped and dropped his jaw. “OH MY GOSH- SWEENEY TODD! YESSS!” Roman reacted, covering his mouth.

Virgil was dressed up as Johnny Depp’s version of Sweeney Todd. He had his brown hair spray dyed black and gelled back, with a white big streak in the middle left of the hairline. He had the slightly tattered vest tuxedo with a belt on a pair of striped pants, male ankle boots and a pair of fingerless gloves on his hands. In his vest pocket were some plastic traditional barber knives, and in his pants pocket was a vintage pocket watch.

“HELL YEAH! I LOVE Sweeney Todd! Classic musical!” Roman declared.

Virgil looked at his own costume and started acting a little like a fanboy. “I’ve always wanted to dress up as this character, but it’s a really hard costume to pull off.” Virgil admitted.

“Oh! You forgot something!” Roman told him. Roman summoned a long black coat and put it on Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil smiled and put it on. “It’s gonna be a little cold in there.” Roman let him know.

Virgil blushed a little. “Thank you.” Virgil replied.

“Now come, my killer barber! We shall visit Halloween City!” Roman declared, pointing to the city. Suddenly, a big horse and buggy came rolling up right beside them. Virgil and Roman hopped into the horse and buggy before the horse was signalled to start clop-clopping to the city.

The city itself was FILLED to the brim with stereotypical halloween stuff. There were stores for buying and trying on halloween costumes of large variety, big towers with witches and cauldrons so you could make your own spells, a big library filled with horror, thriller and grotesque-themed books and movies in them, a cemetery filled with floating ghosts, skeletons and zombies, and there were even caves surrounded by dead forest that housed the cats, snakes, bats and vampires. The more that Virgil saw out the sides of the horse and buggy windows, the more excited Virgil got!

“You made all this?!” Virgil reacted.

“Yes, I did!” Roman replied.

Virgil gasped and looked around more as the horse and buggy dropped them off in the middle of the city. The middle of the city has a simple, run down fountain in the middle with vines circulating the brick water pit. In the middle of the water fountain, was a few skulls lined up like a square with an infinite waterfall running through their eyes, nose holes and mouths, that fell into the water pit below. It was kinda creepy, but...strangely beautiful to look at.

Virgil almost immediately ran up to the big victorian library. “COME ON, ROMAN!” Virgil yelled to him.

“I’M COMING!” Roman yelled, quickly catching up to him.

Virgil walked up the stairs and quickly opened up the library door. The Victorian library was just as vintage-looking as it was on the outside. Only change being the place looked like a clean kind of vintage. The metal looked polished, the huge shelves looked old but not dirty or super run down, the ladder was wooden but stable and well made, and the middle aisles of shelves had movies and VHS tapes that you could borrow! This wasn’t just a victorian era library...this was a super old building that had been well kept and updated throughout the centuries!

Virgil happily looked around. “Logan would be over the moon about this.” Virgil told Roman.

“I know! He already IS!” Roman told him, before pointing to the ancient kids stories sections. There, hidden within the aisles, was Logan reading a Brothers Grimm fairytales from the 1800’s!

Logan looked up and smiled. “Hello, Virgil. I love the costume.” he greeted, giving Virgil an excited smile.

Logan was dressed up as Charlie ‘The Tramp’ Chaplin. He had the large bowl hat, the mustache, the large shoes, the suit and everything in between! He even had a bamboo cane perched up against the library shelf while he read.

“Hi Logan. Charlie Chaplin, huh?” Virgil reacted.

“Indeed. One of the most well known actors of the silent era.” Logan replied.

Virgil smiled and decided to ignore the bad things about Chaplin...for now. “Enjoying the book?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, I am! This is simply a collection of the Brothers Grimm stories compressed into one novel. It’s very interesting understanding just how much grim topics they could handle back in the day.” Logan told him.

Virgil nodded and started to look around himself. He found an aisle filled with classic novels like Little Woman, The Pride and The Prejudice, the Nancy Drew series, the Frankenstein novel and the original Dracula, an aisle filled with Shakespeare books, an aisle filled with outdated nonfiction books on multiple subjects, an entire aisle dedicated to the decades of encyclopedias, and even an entire aisle dedicated to the Marvel comic books throughout the decades! Virgil practically LOST it when he found Edgar Allen Poe novels, and quickly bought them. To make things even cooler, Roman summoned some 1800’s original bills and coins so he could pay for them! Virgil owed him a huge hug for that one.

After visiting the library, Virgil was brought to the cemetery to take a walk with Roman. “You are gonna LOVE this!” Roman told him. They only got a few minutes to walk around the cemetery before the huge clock tower struck 12.

Suddenly, a bunch of skeletons came digging out from under the graves and started dancing! The skeletons were very cartoon-like, similarly to Disney’s skeleton animation! And the best part? They were listening to ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons’ on a big radio as they danced around!

Virgil was smiling through the whole thing. “This is awesome!” Virgil reacted.

“I’ll say!” someone said, walking up to him from behind. Virgil turned around and widened his eyes. “Oh my…Are you Ed Gein?” Virgil asked.

Remus chuckled. “You bet I am!” Remus replied.

Virgil rubbed his nose, but chuckled a little. “You couldn’t go for leather face? Or Norman Bates?” Virgil asked.

“Nope! Gotta go all out!” Remus declared. “And what better than a guy who does more grave-digging than murdering?” Remus joked.

Virgil nodded, but awkwardly looked away. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Remus’s costume.

“WHY HELLO THERE!” someone yelled behind him. Virgil yelped and turned around. It was one of the dancing, singing skeletons!

“O-oh...You talk?” Virgil reacted.

“You BET I do! Call me Skelly!” the skeleton introduced, holding out their bone hand.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the name. “Virgil.” He replied, shaking the bone hand.

“What’s so funny? Is my name rib-ticklin’ to ya?” Skelly asked, showing off his ribcage.

Virgil stifled a laugh and pushed their shoulder. “Knock off the puns. You’re not as humerus as you think.” Virgil told him.

Skelly frowned at first, but quickly caught on. Skelly pointed to his own shoulder and smiled widely, before laughing. “Not bad, ol’ chum!” Skelly reacted. “Now tell me: Are you a skeleton too?” Skelly asked.

Virgil thought for a moment. “Well, not exactly. I do have a skeleton in me, but it’s filled and covered with flesh and organs.” Virgil explained.

“Wow! So, you have muscles?” Skelly asked. Virgil nodded. “A heart?” Skelly asked, pointing to the left side of his own chest. VIrgil giggled and nodded. “Oh! What about a skull?” Skelly asked before knocking on the top of Virgil’s head.

Virgil yipped at first and flapped his hands above his head. “Oi! My noggin’s not for knockin’!” Virgil warned.

Skelly chuckled at that. “What about ribs? Do you have a ribcage too?” Skelly asked, poking the left side of his ribcage.

Virgil jumped and stepped back, throwing his hands up in defense. “Okay buddy...No poking.” Virgil warned.

“Why not? Ticklish ribs?” Skelly asked, poking his ribcage again. Virgil wheezed somewhat and flapped his hands at him. “Dohon’t you dare…” Virgil warned.

Roman walked up to Virgil and picked the man up before throwing him at Skelly. “Have fun!” Roman told him.

Virgil squeaked and reached his arm out. “NO!” before landing into Skelly’s arms.

Skelly caught him perfectly and held him like a baby. “What a cute little fleshy skeleton I have! I could tickle you here,” Skelly started poking and prodding his ribs. “Here, here,” Skelly poked his front ribs. “Here, Aaaand HERE!” Skelly placed its claw tips onto Virgil’s belly and started skittering his fingers on his belly.

“What thehehehe- HAHAhahahaha! Whyhyhyhy thihihihis?!” Virgil asked, falling into a fit of giggles.

“Oh! It’s quite simple, really. I remember hearing from a certain someone, that your black makeup turns a dark purple when you’re all flustered! Isn’t that right, Emperor Romulus?” Skelly explained.

Roman giggled and shook his head. “It’s Roman, Skelly.” Roman corrected.

“Oh yeah…” Skelly muttered as he moved his fingers to Virgil’s sides.

“WAIT! NAHAhahahat myhyhyhy sihihihides! Lahahay ohohoff, mahahahan!” Virgil ordered.

“Lay? Okay.” Skelly laid Virgil down onto the dirt ground and resumed squeezing his sides.

“ThAHAHAt’s nahahahat whahat Ihihi meheheant, ya doohohohofus!” Virgil reacted.

“Really? When you said ‘lay off’, you didn’t mean ‘put me onto the ground and continue tickling me’? I could’ve sworn that was what you meant.” Skelly teased.

“Thahahat’s NAHAHAT whahahat I meheheant, ahahand YOHOHOHOU knohohow ihihihihit!” Virgil shot back.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so harsh on me. Looking at my point of view, you’d be confused too.” Skelly lightly argued.

Then, Skelly decided to pull a move that would drive anyone mad: Skelly started quickly spidering his fingers up and down Virgil’s ribs and sides. “NOOO! NO, NONONO- SKEHEHELLYHYHYHY! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Virgil laughed. Virgil’s eyeshadow color started to change the longer that he was tickled. And the higher up that Skelly’s fingers went, the more hysterical that Virgil’s laughter became. “WAHAHAITWAIT! DON’TGOAHAHANY- AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOUHUHUT!” Virgil pleaded through his laughter.

“But why? You seem to be having so much fun! I can see it in your eyes!” Skelly proclaimed. “Well...below them, anyway.” Skelly followed up. Virgil’s eyeshadow had turned a pretty hue of purple rather quickly. Roman’s mouth widened excitedly as he gazed upon Virgil’s flustered face. “Roman was right! His eyeshadow CAN turn purple when flustered and happy!” Skelly reacted.

Roman smiled. “So Virgil Sanders enjoys being tickled?” He asked.

“IHIHIHI DOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOT!” Virgil tried to protest.

Roman just giggled at this. “Your eyes and eyeshadow marks give you away. Not only are you flustered by tickling, you seem to love the affection!” Roman explained out loud.

“Well! Rattle my bones and call me Skelly!” Skelly declared in surprise. “This Sweeney Todd is kinda cute!” Skelly declared.

“AHAHAHAM NOHOHOHOHOT!” Virgil protested.

“You really are, Virgil.” Roman replied. “Right, Skelly?” Roman asked.

“You are indeed, right!” Skelly replied.

As much as Skelly wanted to keep tickling him, Roman soon gave him the signal to stop. Skelly followed what he said and retreated his bony fingers. Stepping aside, Skelly let Roman walk up to him and help Virgil up.

“You okay?” Roman asked. Virgil nodded and took Roman’s hand, allowing him to help him up. Virgil’s eyeshadow was still quite purpley after all that. Roman giggled at this and rubbed his cheek. “Still flustery purple.” Roman told him happily.

Virgil giggled and shook his head as he pushed Roman’s hands away. “Stahap that.” Virgil told him, still quite flustered. Roman, Remus and Skelly all laughed at this.

Soon enough, Virgil and Roman moved on, to explore the rest of the city. As they left, Virgil and Roman gave Skelly a goodbye wave. “Bye Skelly! Have fun singing!” Roman yelled to him.

“Will do!” Skelly replied.

“Thank you for the fun time, Skelly!” Virgil said to him.

“Not a problem at all!” Skelly yelled back.

Virgil, Roman and Remus went to a special costume shop next, where he happily got himself a pair of bat wings and a vampire cloak!

By the time the clan got back, Virgil and the sides were feeling as happy as could be. They quickly started showing off their stuff to each other.

Remus got a fake skeleton from the prop shop, a witch potion bottle filled with thick blood, and a big black victorian portrait from the vintage market! He was non stop talking about having his room all halloween-y, till Remembrance day comes around.

Logan got himself a dozen books, a vintage writing book, a fountain pen and multiple ink reloading viles! He was all set for some journaling.

Roman got himself a classic king crown, an empty treasure chest to fill with items, and some vintage, expensive-looking jewellery for himself! He looked super excited to look like he was covered in riches.

Besides the bat wings and the cloak, Virgil also got himself some ruby red lipstick, a pretty black vampire choker, and a pair of black formal shoes.

With how the day went, Roman could proudly proclaim that Halloween City was a big success! Roman placed the entire imagined place into a pretty notebook and carved the words ‘Halloween City’ and ‘open on November 1, 2021’ into the front before placing it onto his book shelf...

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Snake Bite

Chat log: Alastor learns to dab, Sir Pentious bites Alastor, and a couple of lonely old villains reluctantly talk about feelings and friendship.

If the read more doesn't work for you and you've gotta see this WHOLE LONG CHAT LOG on your dash, 1) you're probably on mobile, and 2) I am very very sorry, it's tumblr's fault and I did what I could.

Sir Pentious

Pentious is waiting outside the Hotel in HIS realm, he's out back in the garden and pacing... well. As well as a snake can pace. He's occasionally slithering in a circle.

Alastor

Alastor's practically scrubbed his skin raw in the shower; he's brushed his teeth until he's numb to the taste of artificial mint; he's picked a bow tie out of the ones Angel gave him—one of the red-and-gold ones designated for "sparkly douchebags" with the matching rose-shaped pin; and he's left something like a will with Rosie, along with a note to put it into effect if she hasn't heard from him by Monday.

He doesn't know what to expect.

He knows biting is going to be involved. He knows Sir Pentious wanted him to clear his schedule, with no indication of how long he was supposed to clear it for. Everything else is a mystery. Interpreting Sir Pentious's words literally, he's going to get bitten, writhe around for a while in excruciating pain, and then go home.

But knowing Sir Pentious—knowing his own—it might be a plot to disable Alastor so Sir Pentious can gloat over him for an hour before taking off his head with an exterminator's blade. And knowing the population of Hell in general, it might all be a euphemism for something far more salacious that he was simply expected to assume. All he knows for sure is that Sir Pentious is going to be very close, and aside from that it's going to be very unpleasant.

He could have asked for clarification. But asking for clarification would imply that his answer would change depending on Sir Pentious's.

It won't.

So here he is. Painfully clean, absolutely clueless, braced for anything, looking around the lobby, and realizing he's actually braced himself for anything EXCEPT the possibility that he might be stood up completely.

A few minutes after one, he sends out a few shadows as espionage—to Sir Pentious's room, to the boiler room, to the hotel's public areas—and finally, relieved, heads to the garden. He wasn't expecting outside. Maybe Sir Pentious wants to show off his big victory over the great Radio Demon.

When Alastor finally sees him, by way of greeting he calls out, "So how DOES one perform a 'dab'?"

Sir Pentious

Pentious awaited him in the garden, merely to avoid the eyes of that Weird Cat and the others who hung around the Hotel. The outside was brighter, and provided much more ominous lighting. Upon seeing Alastor and hearing his voice, he perked up quite suddenly, hood raising.

The question gets a scoff out of him.

"THE DAB? YOU DON'T KNOW??? IT'SSS LIKE THISS!" Stretching one arm out to the right, he bends his left at the elbow, and dunks his head towards the bend in his arm, holding the pose for at least three seconds.

Alastor

"Like this?" He copies the gesture, a mirror image of Sir Pentious's. A new weapon in his arsenal. "Ha. Like Dracula trying to hide from the sun." He plays a sizzling bacon-in-a-frying-pan sound, like vampire skin burning in the day.

Sir Pentious

Pentious claps his hands together, clearly amused.

"YESSS, JUSSST LIKE THAT! THEY HATE THAT ONE THE MOSSSST."

Alastor

The applause sends a jolt through his chest that he studiously ignores. "I'll add it to my catalogue of torture techniques."

He'd stopped walking far enough away from Sir Pentious that they're out of arm's reach of each other but close enough that they can talk at a normal volume—he wants to get so much closer and stay so much farther away, and this is the point where the impulses barely balanced out. Doing his best not to sound as awkward as he feels, he says, "So, speaking of Dracula..." He spreads his arms: here I am, ready and willing. "Were you planning on having this bite out here? Fine weather for it."

Sir Pentious

Pentious eyes him--he's happy with this distance, too. Satisfied, though, he wants to get closer too... his fangs ache a little, watch the other spread his arms. Yes, they had agreed upon that... At the time, he really didn't think that Alastor would agree. And now here they were! His head darts around some, the cobra looking him over.

"YOU AREN'T GOING TO TRY TO SSSLITHER OUT OF THISSS, ARE YOU, DEEREST ALASTOR?"

Alastor

The jolt is replaced by something more like a knife at the punny term of endeerment. He thinks he kept his wince off his face, but he's not totally sure. He lets his arms drop. "If I was going to be a coward, I would have gotten it over with before agreeing to meet and wasting both our time. I even dressed up for the occasion." He tilts his head, calling attention to his new bow tie.

The trophy Sir Pentious is showing off in his own attire hasn't escaped his notice.

Sir Pentious

"AH, I NOTICED. SSO HAVE I."

He pulls on the bow-tie gift from Alastor, truly VERY smug about it.

"THEN HOLD SSSSTILL..." He moved closer, quite suddenly--the rapid and threatening striking of a snake, his tongue flicking as he was mere inches away from the other.

Alastor

Alastor's eyes widen, he leans back, and his hand flies halfway up to his throat; and then he freezes. Damn. So much for acting completely unflappable.

Sir Pentious would enjoy seeing him flinch, at least.

So. Outside it is. Sir Pentious is probably hoping half of Hell will hear him make the Radio Demon scream.

Alastor completes the motion of his hand up to his throat, but only to undo his tie and fold down his high collar. When was the last time he'd been this close to Sir Pentious? Alastor can see individual scales on his face. He forces himself to make eye contact, offers a wan smile, and says, "Ready when you are."

Sir Pentious

He certainly does enjoy it.

His tongue flicks again, the appendage briefly touching the other's cheek. He didn't MEAN anything weird by it, but he certainly got a scent of him.

Pink hellish slitted eyes focused on the other, and he opened his mouth, baring those enormous fangs. Not yet dripping with venom, but oh the threat was there... Not allowing for anymore hesitation, he lunged--SINKING his fangs into Alastor's neck, deep and piercing.

Alastor

Alastor's eyes automatically squeeze shut as Sir Pentious licks him, his breath freezing. Before he has a chance to process the what the hell that means—

He gasps in sharply, a noisy crackling sound, as Sir Pentious's fangs sink in; but the gasp itself is buried under the sound of his voice stuttering across several stations, bursts of overlapping songs—a few incoherent notes of "Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life" and " Snake Eyes" and "Black Snake Moan." The pain from the bite alone is excruciating. Focusing. Focusing him primarily on the fact that Sir Pentious's face is pressed between Alastor's shoulder and his throat.

Sir Pentious

Pentious didn't really know what to expect upon sinking his fangs in, but the radio sounds should have been first on his guess list. It was definitely jarring to hear them so close to his head. Pentious places his hands on both of Alastor's shoulders, now digging his claws into his suit. Just claw him up! Why not!!!

At this closeness, it was all too easy to hear that raspy, human like breathing that cobras made. Like he was going to devour the Radio Demon whole.

Alastor

If Sir Pentious wants to take a strip of Alastor's throat with him when he pulled back—hell, if he wants to take Alastor's whole shoulder—Alastor isn't going to complain. He has to bite his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed to fight the urge to bite Sir Pent back—he's RIGHT THERE, it would be SO EASY to taste his blood—but that would be the end of this trust exercise.

At times it's struck Alastor that Sir Pentious's hissing sounds more than passingly close to a radio's static—and that's even more evident now, hearing his breathing like a rush of wind over a microphone, blowing over his neck. Alastor tries to steady his stuttery station-jumping breath. He leans into the pain cutting up his shoulders and curls his claws into the fabric at the waist of Sir Pent's jacket.

Sir Pentious

He can taste Alastor's blood, and it fills him with madness.

Pentious draws back, blood coating his fangs, as he holds the other up.

"HHMMM.... YOU REALLY DIDN'T MOVE. HAD YOU TRIED, I WOULD HAVE INJECTED YOU WITH MY VENOM!!!"

... But also, the lack of trying to escape, of trying to turn this into some sick broadcast... It resonated with the inventor. Pentious looked over his former ally, and frustration filled his gaze. Frustration and longing.

"... Why couldn't you have ssstayed?"

Of course, this wasn't the same Alastor. Not his own, but... whatever. A moment of vulnerability, just one.

Alastor

Alastor leans longingly after the retreating fangs before catching himself and straightening back up.

At the question, for a moment, his smile almost cracks. His brows draw closer, the corner of his bloody mouth twitches. When he replies, the constant distortion overlaying his voice dies. He almost sounds like a person. "Because I'm a coward."

He didn't mean to say it. He would never have said it under any other circumstances, but he's dizzy and lightheaded and euphoric from the pain and the close contact, and sick guilt he's spent over half a century trying to suppress is buzzing in his chest—and he's said it now.

Sir Pentious

The admission causes Pentious' hood to flare out--whatever he was expecting to hear then, well, just as before, it completely caught him off guard. He couldn't take it at face value, he couldn't trust him. His hand immediate shoots to Alastor's neck, grabbing him and pulling him closer.

"ARE YOU MOCKING ME, ALASSTOR? TELLING ME WHAT YOU THINK I'D WANT TO HEAR??? YOU??? A COWARD??? YOU MUSSST THINK ME A FOOL!!!"

Not that it sounded any which way! But... Pentious was angry to hear it, all the same. It's like he wanted the other to deny it, he wanted him to make up some sort of joke and play him for a fool. He wanted an excuse to tear him apart--but hearing this vulnerability in return put a sense of mortality in him he hadn't known in so, so long.

He'd been betrayed by his only friend, after all, and the serpent struggled so much in trying to make any.

It had been years since then, but still... It hurt him in a way he hadn't thought possible for his old black heart.

Alastor

His hands immediately fly up to the hand around his neck, claws digging into the wrist, prepared to wrench it off—and then, just as abruptly, he forces himself to let go. No, damn it, he's not here to fight.

"You don't want to hear this! I don't think there's a single answer you'd trust out of me but whatever's the cruelest thing I could think of to say—no matter what the truth is." Wasn't that the point of this exercise? To get around the limitation of words, the fact that Sir Pentious couldn't trust and Alastor couldn't be trusted?

So much for that. Hadn't Alastor already known there were no such thing as second chances? Let him be torn apart, it would heal in a few days and he'd learn an important lesson.

Sir Pentious

"CAN YOU BLAME ME!?"

Pentious' voice cracks as he speaks, and he eyes where he'd bit him. He had to think of Valera's words... He seems lonely. She'd compared the two, made them sound so similar... Could trusting him really be a good idea?

... He really did enjoy that visit they had together, eating pasta bolognese and drinking brandy. It had been so... familiar. Pentious frowned, frustration and... distress pulling at every part of himself. His claws flexed, but he pulled them away from Alastor's neck... and he looked down, pulling at his hood like he were considering covering his face with them.

Alastor

"No! I can't!" His voice is thick, a feedback echo whining under his words. "You have EVERY REASON not to trust me! I'd sooner ask Saint Peter for a second chance than ask you." He flings a hand carelessly in the vague direction of Heaven.

And yet, for a moment he'd been stupid and let himself hope. He had to remind himself who he was here to help. "I'm not ASKING for a second chance. Just—don't fight me. And I won't have to fight you."

He feels colder without Sir Pentious within touching distance. He crosses his arms tightly, biting one corner of his mouth to make sure his smile is still up.

Sir Pentious

It stings.

Pentious knows how he's being difficult. His hands open and close, and he grits his teeth, eyes closed tightly. He wishes he could just... move past this and immediately either be fully friends or fully enemies. This was purgatory like no other.

Agreeing to anything felt like giving up and the snake wasn't good at that either.

He glares at Alastor, "DON'T GO ANYWHERE. LET ME THINK."

Alastor

What is there to think about? How hard is it to decide whether or not to keep starting one-sided fights with someone?

But he collects himself. He takes a deep breath, uncrosses his arms, smooths out his bangs, clasps his hands behind his back, corrects his posture, fixes his smile properly back in place, and tries to look past Sir Pentious's visible turmoil and at the garden. Lightly, he says, "I'm not leaving," and immediately regrets as he realizes how easily he could have followed it up with this time.

Sir Pentious

Sometimes he wants to just... grab him by the face and force that smile OFF. But he'll calm himself...

He can't have him as a rival, or as a nemesis. Their paths were too different, and not only that, they were from entirely different Hells!

So close, yet.... Pentious took a deep breath. You're not losing anything, man. You're not. Why was this so hard?

His gaze travels back to the bite, and he flicks his tongue.

"... WHEN WASS THE LASST TIME YOU ALLOWED YOURSSSELF TO BE ATTACKED LIKE THAT?"

Alastor

He blinks, taken aback by the question—and then has to stop and think.

He's always had an unusually casual relationship with pain—and that only increased after he died and no longer had to worry about any damage being permanent. Hell, he's voluntarily been skinned alive so that he could get his own hide tanned—but that wasn't being attacked, that was more like an extreme cosmetic surgery. He's let people who would otherwise never leave a scratch on him get in a stab wound—but that was so he could lure them in close enough to rip them apart. As a child he'd sometimes been too afraid to fight back—but that's very different from consenting to being attacked, isn't it?

"Never."

Will Sir Pentious even believe that? Probably not. Of course not. Alastor wonders why he bothered to ask.

Sir Pentious

He looks at him a long time... studying his expression. Looking for something to pick apart... but it was always that same damn face.

The hum of radio feedback if he stared too long.

Alastor

There isn't much to pick apart. He meets Sir Pentious's gaze when he feels that sharp stare on him, then almost immediately looks away.

He wants to ask whether he ought to be contributing something to the proceedings or if this thinking Sir Pentious is doing is still a solo endeavor, but he forces himself to swallow his nervous chatter and quietly start playing "Snake Eyes" again to fill the silence.

Sir Pentious

The tune is so jaunty, and Pentious twitches... but this was exactly like Alastor, too. You couldn't have a moment's silence with him... The snake groaned, covering his face. Alright. Alright.

".... ALASTOR."

Alastor

The music snaps off. "Sir Pentious?"

Sir Pentious

... You know, it was. Definitely surprising not to hear "Sir Harold". It takes him a moment.

He takes out a GUN, and aims it at Alastor.

"TELL ME AGAIN WHAT YOU WANT OUT OF THISS, AND I WILL NOT QUESSTION IT AGAIN. YOU HAVE MY WORD ON THE MATTER. DO YOU WANT TO BE MY ... FRIEND? OR DO YOU JUST WANT ME OUT OF YOUR HAIR?"

Alastor

Oh—oh, good god, he hadn't planned on being asked directly. (Or with a gun. But the gun was meaningless, the gun was for emphasis. The gun was an exclamation point.)

Being honest had been the biggest mistake of this conversation so far. The closer Alastor got to telling the truth, the less trustworthy he sounded, the less Sir Pentious was going to take what he said into account. The safe answer was "out of my hair." It was the answer that would make sure Sir Pentious was...

... gone, again. Gone and safe.

But, unless Alastor was completely wrong about everything he thought he knew about this Sir Pentious—

—it sounded like he was, impossibly, offering Alastor a second chance.

He croaked, "Friend."

And then, with the dam broken, more tumbled out: "I give you my word that's not what I came to ask for. I'm only here to try to get myself out of YOUR h—hood. But if— What I want— That's what I WANT."

Sir Pentious

Well, he was damned. Valera was right.

This Alastor, much like himself, was a lonely old man. He wanted to be his friend. The snake could only stare, his arm lowering, and with it the pistol too.

"... Really?" This wasn't a voice of accusation or vitriol, or demanding anything. Just, outright, innocent confusion.

Alastor

Alastor had been half expecting a bullet through his pretty new rose-shaped pin. He HADN'T been expecting that look. Perplexingly, it looked like a sort of expression that suggested that Sir Pentious might actually believe him.

A wild panicked voice in the back of his head tried to tell him to yell JUST KIDDING, drop Sir Pentious through a particularly painful portal, and bolt from the scene like a buck out of Hell.

It was the same panicked voice that had gotten him into this mess fifty-fucking-four years ago. He wasn't going to listen to it again.

He looked for something snappy to say, couldn't find anything, and said, "Yes. Really."

Sir Pentious

VALERA WAS RIGHT AAAAAHe put the weapon away, straightening his Alastor's bowtie, and gave a smile... although it was strained. Struggling. "... YOU REALLY ARE FROM ANOTHER DIMENSION, YOU KNOW. THISS COULD NEVER BE MY REALITY."

Alastor

Bow tie. Right, he should—Alastor straightened his collar back into place and retied his now slightly bloodstained bow. "Nor mine," he muttered, his smile sinking toward a grimace. He could have said the exact same words to his own Sir Pentious—but those words NEVER would have been trusted by someone who knew exactly what he'd done when he left. The only reason he'd gotten this far was because that not-knowing meant he could get the benefit of the doubt.

What could he do, then, but milk it for all it was worth as long as he could?

"I can't do anything about my duplicate in your universe. But any time you care to come to mine... well." Well. Friends.

Sir Pentious

Oh, damn. There was that warm feeling in his chest--it felt like he had internal bleeding. It ached and stung, and Pentious clutched his suit some to try to soothe the pain.

He was too expressive for his own food, clearing his throat.

"DON'T SSOUND LIKE YOU'RE ABOUT TO TAKE YOUR LEAVE, ALASTOR. I TOLD YOU TO TAKE THE DAY OFF, AND YOU'RE GOING TO!"

Alastor

"Am I!" His face lit up. "Why? Are we finally going to get to thar part you promised where I'm crying like a baby from pain?"

Sir Pentious

"WHY DO YOU SSOUND SSO EXCITED?"

"YOU WANT THAT?"

Alastor

"Well, you were so graphic about it, you got my hopes up! I set aside the rest of the week to recover and everything." He paused just long enough to get Sir Pentious time to process that. "KIDDING! No, what did you have planned?"

Sir Pentious

.......... NOW HE'S ADVANCING ON ALASTOR, hood raised and eyes glowing red. That menacing long grin.

"OH, NO, ALASTOR, YOU WERE SSSSO EXCITED. I INSSSISSST!"

Alastor

For a moment, he stares at Sir Pentious, eyes wide. Somewhere beneath his usual static, S.O.S. beeps in Morse.

Then he flatly asks, "Do we have to?" But he's reaching for his bow tie again. One final test would be fair, wouldn't it? Alastor deserves at least that much.

Sir Pentious

Oh no. He looks conflicted!!! This man just told him he wanted to be friends!

",,, ALASTOR! YOU CAME HERE WANTING TO BE BITTEN AND POISONED AND NOW YOU DON'T WANT IT BUT ALSO DO?? BE CLEAR, BE CONSISE!!

Alastor

"I was joking about the poison part!" No more masochistic humor in THIS universe. "It sounds a little bit extreme for my idea of a fun afternoon. I was willing to do it to prove my, ah... sentiments—but if we're PAST that, I'd just as happily move on to something less excruciating."

Sir Pentious

He HUFFS. His fangs ache, wanting to bite into something again, but also... He looks strained.

".... SS... SSSSINCE YOU'RE HERE.... DO YOU WANT TO... COME INSIDE???"

Alastor

Is Sir Pentious disappointed? Alastor eyes him carefully a moment, then says, "Sure." After another pause, even more carefully, he asks, "Are you opposed to letting me see what you've been up to in that boiler room of yours?"

Sir Pentious

Little does Alastor know, Penny is suffering from a dizziness spell. It was a side effect of using his fangs like that, even if he didn't use his venom. He had a lot of physicality issues.

Pentious slithered towards the front entrance, "AH, MY RAIL GUN? SURE, AS LONG AS YOU DON'T THINK YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM ME."

Alastor

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Rail gun! Alastor followed after Sir Pentious, just short of skipping in delight. "What would I do with it, anyway—try to carry it around on my shoulder like a bazooka? Ha! No, no—I just want to see what kind of damage it can do."

Then they went inside to play with dangerous toys, the end.

[hazelandglasz]

Let Me Kiss You

Vampire!Kurt, Human!Blaine ^^

Happy Hallow-Glee-een peeps ^^

(Title from Castlevania Soundtrack)

Blaine has always loved Halloween: the costumes, the candies, the chance to let go of his troubles for a night of fun.

What’s not to like?

And when he started dating Kurt, who turned out to be an actual creature of the night, he thought he had found the best partner for his night of celebration.

Except that Kurt doesn’t particularly like Halloween.

Scratch that: Kurt loathes this particular day with a passion only rivaled by his hatred of psychedelic fabrics.

Blaine is willing to compromise, he really is: the beginning of the evening will be spent with Kurt, as a regular date night. And then, he will put on a costume (Gosh, he still had to decide whether he wants to be Legends of Korra’s Mako or Good Omens’ Newt) and go to Trent’s Treat or Treat party.

(The concept is fairly simple: no jokes, no tricks, just treats. Candies or alcoholic jelly shots.)

And the following day can be spent with Kurt, behind closed curtains, just the two of them in the comfort of Kurt’s apartment.

That’s his way of finding a middle ground.

That being said, all of his carefully laid plans fly out of the window faster than Kurt in his bat form when he opens the door of said apartment.

Because Kurt?

Kurt “Halloween is a capitalist shitshow that has lost all meaning and turns me and my kind into costumes, talk about cultural appropriation, Kurt?

Kurt is dressed up.

Granted, he is dressed as Dracula, so, not that big of a stretch, but …

“Wow.”

“Welcome to my lair,” Kurt says in his deepest voice.

(Cheater, Blaine thinks. Kurt knows how his lower register affects Blaine.)

“What is this?” Blaine asks, removing his coat and scarf. “I thought--”

“Make yourself at home, my dear,” Kurt continues, pulling up a chair at the dining table. That’s only then that Blaine notices the beautiful table set for two. He smothers a laugh when he recognizes the plates as the ones belonging to their elderly neighbor, Ms. Roux, but he manages to keep a straight face. 

“You prepared all this? Aww, Kurt …”

“Who is this Kurt? I am Dracula.”

“Of course, of course, what was I thinking. Does that make me Lisa Tepes or …?”

“That makes you my beloved human,” Kurt says, using his powers to suddenly appear behind Blaine and kiss his cheek.

Blaine melts into the embrace with a sigh.

“My vampire.”

“Yours.”

“Does that mean that you will come with me to Trent’s party?”

Kurt turns Blaine so that he is facing him, eyes glowing in the soft light of the candles. “We’ll see if you still want to go once I’m done with you, dearest.”

Blaine is torn between arousal and primal fear in front of a predator. “And what is--what’s your plan?”

“First, serve you dinner, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And then have you for dinner.”

“Ah.”

Kurt’s eyes return to their natural color and he bites on his lower lip.

(The fangs really have no right to look as cute as they do in that moment.)

“Is that--I know you already said that you were fine with me, um, biting you and feeding from you, but is it …” Kurt sighs and closes his eyes, composing himself. “Do I have your formal consent?”

“Enthusiastically yes, my dear immortal.”

Kurt beams at Blaine and pulls him into a thankfully fangless kiss.

“So, you said something about serving me dinner?”

Kurt returns to his Dracula role. “Da, my beloved. Please take a seat while I fetch it.”

In a flutter of his wig and cape, Kurt dances to the kitchen and comes back with a plate that he hides behind said cape.

“Ta-daaa.”

“Um, Count?”

“Yesss?”

“Care to describe the menu?”

“Beetroot pasta and wine.”

“Ah, beetroot. Okay.”

“Ah! And little mozzarella bats.”

Blaine chuckles. “That’s adorable.”

“I am not adorable,” Kurt retorts, squinting at Blaine. “I am--”

“Count Dracula, I know.”

“I am the Night!”

“Oooh, right, that too. I am suitably scared, your infinite darkness.”

Kurt leans closer to peck Blaine’s lips. “Perfect then.”

Blaine raises his glass. “To your cooking talent, my night prince. And to Halloween.”

Kurt sighs, raising his own glass. “If we must--to Halloween.”