#i have a british accent/ i could be immortal/ i am a bastard

[amarkofcain]

You're Jonah Magnus

Jonah Magnus disease got me lads ✊😔

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Librarians

(Story Post)

After spending another night with Diederich, Nari was back at the library. There was a different guard at the front desk time which meant another hassle to get back in. She asked for both his patron card and ID and things seemed to be going well until she tried to have him leave his phone because ‘smartphones contain silver'. When he argued that there wasn't even half a gram of silver in the average smartphone, she then said it was to enforce their ‘no photography’ policy, something that was never even brought up the last time he entered. At that point, Nari asked for Kobann and had to be escorted inside again. Looking up at all the seemingly infinite rows of bookshelves, Nari sighed and tried to remember where he left off. He decided it might just be better to start with a whole new section and see what he could find. Like before, he'd started around noon, but he figured the sun was going down when he noticed more and more perusers passing by. Some of the vampires climbed the ladders like him but he noticed more and more were able to float from floor to floor, a vampiric ability he wasn't even aware of. It was the floaters that made him most uncomfortable because they made no sound as the went by, eyeing him with curiosity and disapproval, he bet. So, when one vampire floated up next to him on the fourth floor and placed a hand on his shoulder, he was caught completely by surprise. Instinctively, he spun around and went for a neck grab, but the other vampire was quicker and caught his wrist.

“Whoa! Sorry if I scared you,” the stranger said grinning. He was tall, he had dark hair like Diederich's, and he looked rather smug with his uncomfortably intense eyes. “What do you want?” Nari growled, yanking his arm back. “I don't like to be disturbed.” “I just noticed you're new around here, that's all,” the stranger said. He had some kind of British accent. “Maybe, I could help you out.” “I'm not looking for help,” Nari said. The strange vampire tilted his head. “Oh? Most vampires come to the library because they're looking for help with something. Whether it's learning about their own immortality, or discovering new powers, or…” He glanced at the book in Nari's hand. “…starting a family?” Nari blinked and closed his book. “Who are you? Do you work here?” “Ooh, I got it right, didn't I?” The stranger was quite pleased with himself. “No, I don't work here, but I might as well with how long I've been here.” He offered a hand. “Everett.” “Nari.” He took the hand to shake it but was quickly pulled close to the stranger's chest. “H-Hey!” “I could help you, you know,” Everett said, smiling down at him. “With the whole baby thing.” Nari curled his lip in a sneer. “Let go of me. I have a partner.” Everett let go and grinned as he pat Nari on the head. “Don't get so worked up, I'm only joking! I too am taken.” He leaned back, looking up towards the upper levels of the bookshelf they were currently standing on. “Wes! Come down here for a moment!” Another vampire floated down, this time with sandy curls and bushy brows, and he held a finger to his mouth. “Shhhh! We're in a library, remember?” “Wes, my dearest!” Everett went in for a kiss, but the other vamp blocked him with his hand. “Who are you harassing today?” he asked. Nari noticed this new vampire preferred to remain afloat whereas Everett had alighted on the floor beside him. “Ah, this is…Norris?” Everett guessed, patting Nari's back a bit roughly. “Nari,” Nari correctly, glaring at him. “Stop touching me!” “Nari, I'm Wesley,” the other vampire said, offering his hand. “I'm really sorry about my partner. He's a menace to society.” Nari just looked at the hand and wrinkled his nose. Wesley sighed and grabbed Everett by the ear. “What did you do? He won't even shake my hand!” “Isn't that a thing in their culture?” Everett asked. Nari just put his book back and started climbing down the ladder. “I'm done… I give up.” Wesley gave Everett's ear a good yank. “You racist shit, look what you've done! Apologise!” “Shh, we're in a library, my love!” “Apologise.” Everett dove down to meet Nari on the next level upside down. “Nari, I'm sorry if I offended you. I was just trying to make friends.” “I was not.” Nari got off the ladder and prodded Everett in the forehead. “Just leave me alone.” “Hold on, hear me out for a moment,” Everett said righting himself so he could stand with Nari. “I really could help you find whatever you're looking for with this baby business. Wes and I have been coming to the library almost every day for decades. We know the books. The one you had out was not going to help you, but I could tell why you might think it would.” Nari frowned. “You've read all the books?” “Oh no, it would take a millennium to read everything in here,” Everett said. “I'm only just hitting my 180s. But I have read my fair share and more. I know the system they've got here. I know what books are practical and which are just hogwash.” Nari exhaled through his nose. “…So, since you seem to know everything, what do you think I'm looking for?” Everett smiled. “You want to know how to increase your chances of having a viable pregnancy with your partner.” Nari blinked. “How did you figure that?” “The book you had out,” Everett said. “It was about some Russian vampire queen with fifty children; it's a go to for a lot of vamps like you. But it's completely fabricated.” “And you know that how?” Nari asked. Everett shrugged. “It was just classic sexism. They thought she was a vampire because she appeared youthful for many years and was able to produce children well into her fifties. Men just like to call women monsters when they do anything they thinking isn't normal for a woman. That's all.” Nari put his hands on his hips. “So, what do you actually know about vampire pregnancy?” “One moment.” Everett held up a finger and then floated away to a far-off shelf several rows down and several levels up. Nari just opted to climb back up to look for a different book. He forgot however that the other vampire was still there. Wesley smiled sheepishly. “You really do have to forgive Everett; he can be an asshole sometimes. But he means well.” Nari sort of ignored him because he was trying to pinpoint what was giving him a vibe that this vampire was different. Then it clicked. “You're American.” “That's right, pardon my accent,” Wesley said, bashfully rubbing his neck. “I'm surprised I still got it with how long I've lived with Evie.” “I've never met an American vampire,” Nari said, although he hadn't met a lot of vampires in general. Wesley nodded. “Yep, they really like to keep it in and among the Europeans, I've found out. I got lucky, I guess.” Nari wrinkled his nose. “Lucky? This is a curse.” Wesley continued nodding. “Yeah, I felt that way for a long time… But, Everett saved my life.” “…He turned you?” Nari asked. Wesley put his hands in his pockets. “Yep. WWII, nazi I thought was down picked up his gun, shot me right in the back. I would've died that day if Evie didn't turn me.” Everett came back with a couple books in hand. “He still blames me for robbing him of his hero’s death, though.” Wesley grinned and wrapped an arm around Everett's neck. “Yeah! You just had to be the hero in that situation, huh? Bitey bastard…” “I thought only ancient vampires could turn people,” Nari said. “Really, really old ones.” “The natural ability to do it did peter out a few hundred years ago,” Everett said. “But like a lot of vampiric abilities, turning can be learned by any vampire. I frequented the library many years before joining the military. I'd never turned anyone before though.” “Why'd you learn it then?” Nari asked. “It's a bit embarrassing…” Everett admitted. “He had a wife before,” Wesley said. “He wanted to turn her so they could be together forever. But she got pregnant while he was in basic training. Postman. You know, the classics.” “Ah…” Nari eyed the books Everett had. “So, these are supposed to help me?” “Yes, I can't remember which, but one or more of these talks about birth chance I think,” Everett said. “What do you think, Wes? Take ‘em back to the house for a study session?” “Yeah… We've only been here a bit, but I'm already getting tired,” Wesley said. “I found what I needed.” “You can't take the books out of the library,” Nari said. “Not with that attitude,” Everett said. “Come. Follow us.” “What?” They both started to float down to the main floor. Nari tried to climb down after them, but it took him a lot more time. Everett came back and met him halfway up. “I could carry you down.” “No, thank you,” Nari huffed. “Are you sure? I've got strong arms. I've carried Wesley around quite a bit.” “I'm perfectly capable of climbing down on my own,” Nari said. “I don't even know why I'm following you…thieves.” “We're borrowers, not thieves,” Everett said, setting foot down on the ground just as Nari made it to the first floor. “We’re strong believers that library books are meant to be borrowed. Come on, Wes can't hold out much longer.” “Don't rush me,” Nari said. They led him through the labyrinth of shelves all the way to a little fire exit guarded by what looked to be another familiar. “The library had to put in a fire escape a couple years back to bring the building up to code,” Wesley said. “But it's clearly guarded,” Nari complained. “Hey, Ozren!” Everett went up and patted the guard on the chest and Nari noticed him slip something into his chest pocket. “You have a good shift, buddy!” The guard just acted like he didn't see them at all as they slipped past and through door. Despite a warning on display saying an alarm would sound, everything remained silent. Once they were in the hall beyond the door, they stopped for a moment. It was a narrow passage leading to another exit door, but Nari noticed there was also a wheelchair folded up against the wall. Wesley floated to it eagerly and unfolded it, before taking a seat. He sighed happily and hung back his head. “Oh my god, floating is so exhausting!” Nari stared at him for a moment. “…Can you not walk?” “Nope.” Wesley used his hands to pull his legs up onto the footrests of his wheelchair. “Already told you, I was shot in the back. Hit my spine.” Nari blinked. “But you can float. Why don't you do that all the time?” Wesley frowned and tilted his head. “Did you not just hear me say how exhausting that is? I only learned it so I could use the library. I much prefer my chair. This place has zero accessibility. It's a nightmare.” “Oh.” Nari blinked some more. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise…” Wesley rolled over to him and patted his back. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get out of here.” “Right.” Nari looked at Everett. “What'd you give that guard?” “Cash, obviously,” Everett answered. “He’s a familiar. They don't pay him anything. It's so easy to bribe a familiar.” “Got it...” Nari said. “I still don't know where you're taking me...” “Just to our house,” Everett said going down the hall and opening the door for them. “You can meet the others!” Wesley said excitedly as he went outside. Nari followed them out nervously. “Others?” “You’ll see.” “You’ll like them.”

[huckleberrysaywhen-blog]

“Pick Your Poison”

Featuring Lucy, Gabe, and Quinn

“What are we gonna do with him?” Muttered a typically excited, happy voice that was now low and rumbly with confusion. American, male, and definitely rather young.

“I do not know. Perhaps we may send him to Lucille.” Said the second voice, softer and much more dainty. It was also male, although donning a much more British-English type of speaking, watered down as if he had spent too much time with the Americans.

The partners were both standing above a man’s unconscious body, splayed out ungracefully by their feet. He seemed to be stretched out like a trapeze artist reaching for his next checkpoint. He was fair-skinned, with a head of long, messy blonde hair, and eyes that were half-closed and glazed over in his unwanted slumber. His clothing was very ripped and it was now difficult to tell what he had been wearing.

The American accent rose up again, more panicked and stressed. “I don’t know, Gabe, maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should’ve stayed in the underworld. This dude didn’t haf’ta die.”

Presumably, the Englishman named Gabe turned his head in the shadows to see the American. “Since when have you doubted me, my love? Since when have you become so feeble?” His voice was low and soft, purring the words that rolled off his tongue as smooth as velvet.

The American nervously shifted to face him. They were both drowned out in darkness, but it could hardly be made out that they were in the shadows of an alleyway. The disturbing drips of an unknown liquid rapped quietly on the asphalt below them. The stench of the dumpsters floated around them like a thick woman’s perfume, and the bustle of the city life outside them seemed to fade away when he stared up at Gabe.

“Oh, Gabe, I don’t know, maybe since this guy’s friends tried hunting us. The humans have always been stupid! They’ve never really believed in us, and the ones that did, we killed! But this guy, he-- he had an army, Gabe, he could kill us, he could kill you...” His voice faded toward the end of his sentence, strained and thick with worry. He reached out and set his hand on top of Gabe’s, gripping his fingers tightly.

Their fingers intertwined like vines, knuckles turning white from the heavy hold they had on each other. Gabe’s voice was low and soft, as he took a step closer. “Please, my love, do not fret. They’re nothing different from the other stupid mortals. We can kill them as easily as we did the others. And, before you protest...” He leaned down, nose to nose with the American boy who was much shorter than him. “Although you dislike Lucille, he disposes of bodies quite well.”

Gabe’s partner’s breath caught in his throat at the closeness of his warm companion. In the dim light, he stared up at Gabe’s bright amber eyes, glittering a fierce yellow. He admired the pupils that were slit vertically like a cat’s. He couldn’t resist letting his eyes wander across his partner’s face; perfectly shaped, angular yet soft with curves...

“Quinn, I am flattered, but focus on the matter at hand. Help me tie up this man and get him to Lucille.” Gabe muttered, nose brushing Quinn’s cheek as his head turned away. Although it was a soft touch, hardly there, Quinn’s body was racked with a shudder.

“O-oh, okay.” He stammered out, helplessly turning after Gabe, who had stepped closer to the unconscious body once more. He dumbly stared at Gabe, his mind foggy with matters that would have to be tended to much later.

Gabe arched over, the lights from the nearby market illuminating him for a split second. He was pale-skinned, a muscular form that was rather broad-shouldered and overall large, even as a silhouette. He had a head full of dark, thick hair; presumably a dark brown or black. He had a dainty nose, upturned slightly, and pouty pink lips. Quinn often commented he looked “handcrafted with love.”

“I do suppose we can take him back to the castle--” Gabe began, crouching down over the body and rolling him onto his side, beginning to draw his limbs together to bind them. However, he was cut off by a very heavy German accent, still throaty and hissing as if it were born in the heart of the Fatherland.

“Well, Gabriel! Quinn! How nice to see you! Oh, and I see you have our friend here, the little ​besserwisser​.” The words seemed to uncomfortably shove and rattle against each other as they tumbled past the thin, faint lips of the German that was now standing at the entrance of the alleyway.

Quinn exhaled sharply, swinging his head downward and covering his face. “Oh, kill me now.”

Light from the market street dappled Quinn in such a position, revealing the beauty of the boy. He had skin that was sun-kissed and mottled with freckles absolutely everywhere, and a large beauty mark beside his left eye on his upper cheekbone. His hair was thin and wispy, but silky soft. It, strangely, was black at the roots and faded into shades of gray and silver until it was snow white at the tips. It was long and untamed, slightly curly at the tips.

Amongst his beauty, were the set of peculiar objects amongst his spine. They weren’t completely visible until he turned to aggressively face the German, in an attack stance. He looked like a gray wolf alpha, baring his teeth and bristling his spine to protect his young. A look of sheer vengeance and natural-born hate searing in his breast.

He had wings. A beautiful, large set of wings upon his back. They were extremely large, a wingspan that could easily wrap two average-sized humans comfortably. The light dappled them a mangy, dirty yellow, swamping their beauty, yet it was clear that they were silver on the undersides and solid black on the topsides. The beauties had the traditional upside down “V” at the bone’s bend, and the typical shine of a vulture’s wings.

“Ahh, ah, calm your mutt, why don’t you, Gabriel?” The German laughed, high and maniacal at the sight of Quinn’s glare that was shooting daggers. His fists flexed at his sides, lips peeled back in a disgusted expression. His gray eyes were turned silver, burning hatred, pupils dilated completely.

Gabriel cocked his head upward from where he crouched over the collapsed body. “Well, hallo,​ Lucille.Lendmeahandwiththisbody,andwecansettleyourdifferencesatthecastle, yes?” He offered, as he slid his hands underneath the body’s armpits. Gabe heaved upward as if carrying a toddler, holding it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Lucille was well-hidden in the shadows of the alleyway entrance, about twenty paces away from the boys. However, it was undeniably him, due to the revealing accent and schoolgirl giggle that Quinn despised.

“Slut bastard.” Quinn spat, hissing like a feline. If he were, his spine would be bristling, tail puffed completely. Instead, his wings kept twitching and rustling, fingers flexing. He was visibly itching to attack Lucille.

“Oh, relax, ​der Schatz,​ you just go back to being Gabriel’s lapdog. Do not be jealous of what you will never be.” Lucille cackled, head tipping back slightly. His eyes flashed a glint in the darkness, a wisp of scarlet red.

Quinn stepped forward, aggressively. “Oh, you take that back, Lucy, you bastard--” He fully intended to bash the German’s perfect face into a pulp.

But something stopped him. He hesitated, looking down to see Gabe’s free arm pressed against his chest.

“No.” Was all Gabriel said, his eyes slowly settling on Quinn’s face. They were burning with the authoritative power of a king. Well, Gabriel was a king. And although lovers, Quinn was his immortal servant nonetheless.

Quinn’s head ducked. He backed away a few paces, stumbling over his own feet. His silver gaze was averted away, hands coming to touch his throat and chest, nervously. He acted like that of a submissive dog, or wolf; even licking his lips to silently beg for forgiveness. He cringed at the sound of Gabriel’s boots hitting the asphalt in rhythm, beginning to walk away.

Lucille thought this was extremely funny. Quinn, however, did not, but could not come to his senses to beat some sense into the German for disrespecting him with laughter.

“Let’s go, boys.” Gabe purred, low and commanding. He began to walk out of the alley with the body limply swinging over his shoulder, one heavy arm wrapped around it’s hips to secure it to his person.

Quinn and Lucille exchanged a glance before following after. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing.

After a struggle of getting back to the hell castle in the underworld with an added body, the boys were sitting in the second tea room, sharing a kettle of mint tea. The castle was extravagant; three whole stories. It belonged entirely to Gabriel and Quinn, and rarely Lucille spent an evening.

The second tea room was small; hosting a red velvet sofa with golden embroideries and a golden frame, very Victorian. It had a matching armchair that Lucille lazed across, and a small Italian coffee table that was solid glass, including the legs. The walls were littered with old photos of people; some including Gabriel, some including a white-haired man, some including a large creature with terrifying red eyes and large goat horns protruding from his forehead. Mysterious folk.

Amongst the photographs, there was red-and-gold wallpaper, as well as many bookshelves pressed against the walls. Instead of containing books, they seemed to contain handmade ledgers, leatherback mostly, with scribbled, messy labels on the spines. A large glass and marble chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the room with gold.

Gabriel delicately handled the china, that was white with navy blue patterns and trim, pouring more steaming mint tea into Quinn’s teacup. Quinn wasn’t big on tea at all, he’d rather down a bottle of Kentucky bourbon, but Gabe forced his lover to learn tea manners.

“Thank you, again, Lucille, for all the help.” Gabe said, sincerely. His amber gaze flicked up to the German, briefly. He set down the china teapot beside the larger hot water kettle in case they wanted more. His palms set on his trousers, smoothing the wrinkles in the thighs.

Gabriel dressed quite handsomely; typically in three-piece suits, but at the least, velvet black trousers and a white French dress shirt, tucked in. On this particular occasion, he donned a black three-piece with a white undershirt and a dark red bowtie nestled under his chin. It had been difficult to see, in the dark alleyway, but was now beautifully illuminated.

Lucille flashed a grin. He, like Gabriel, dressed handsomely, and was just as beautiful. He had a head full of raven-black hair, long and untamed in his face. It framed his eyes that were a bright scarlet, with flecks of remaining brown in the centre near his dilated pupil. He had a constellation of freckles draping his nose and high, protruding cheekbones; pale, soft skin clinging to dainty bones and the curves of his feminine body. His height to weight ratio was off; he was very slender and thin, narrow-bodied and the smallest of the trio, as well as the shortest.

Typically, Lucy was found wearing the same outfit every day. It was a priest’s jacket that had been modified to drape floor-length, similar to a trench coat, but it was split in the front and back up to the waist like a riding duster. It was solid black, and buttoned up completely. Underneath his modified coat, he had a pair of black shorts that were shaped like women’s underwear. He also had fishnet stockings that gartered to the shorts. His boots were black and leather, settling just above his knee, and showing off a four-inch heel.

As well as his promiscuous outfit, Lucy had a range of jewelry. Black earrings draping across his cartilage and two black studs in his earlobes, as well as a silver chain around his neck that had a sterling silver charm of an upside down cross. Usually, he wore a scarlet neckerchief, as well as a white knit scarf around his neck.

Not to mention, the German painted his long, claw-like nails black, and often wore a cat-eye liner above his slitted, lazy red eyes.

Gabriel called him his “little incubus.” It wasn’t far off from what Lucille was.

In hilarious contrast, Quinn usually wore hoodies and jeans. Casual, and human-like. Although, he did have to cut holes in the shoulders of the hoodies and t-shirts so he could fit his wings through.

“Well, I believe we should go check on our friend, ​ja?​ ” Lucille said, standing up from where he’d been prowling on his armchair like a male lion. He dusted his coat off, re-wrapping his scarf around his neck.

Quinn eagerly set down his teacup. Despite hating Lucille and his ideas, he’d do about anything to avoid having tea time. “Yeah, I think so. Who is this bastard, again?” Quinn asked, slowly standing up and raising his arms above his head to stretch. His wings twitched in response to the muscles flexing.

Gabriel nudged all the china closer together for easy cleanup later. He rose to his feet as well, staring down at his subjects.

“He is a half breed like you, my dear. However, he is a mix between demon and human. Access to the underworld, yes, but still suffers a few side-effects. Worse than you, though.” Gabe said, as he snaked his left arm around Quinn’s waist. His warm palm settled on his hip, their sides flush together.

Quinn sheepishly nosed into his lover’s shoulder, willingly pressing against him.

Lucille snorted a high-pitched giggle. “Ah, thank god we don’t have another fallen angel on our hands. I think ​der unser Freund hier​ is enough.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. His eyes always narrowed before he was about to speak something vile, or eat someone alive. “Shut up with the foreign language, Lucy. You know I can understand German, right? And your stupid Latin, and French, and Greek... The list goes on. You’re just a slutty little asshole who thinks he’s great, just ‘cause he managed to get in cahoots with the king of hell. Now, in my opinion--”

Quinn would have kept going, but Gabriel squeezed his hip and dug his nails into his side, causing the wretch to yelp in pain and grip his wrist.

Lucille didn’t seem all that hurt, just snickering his amusement at Quinn’s punishment. “Let’s go see the half breed then, ​Liebling​.” He purred, in that same low, spine-quivering tone of voice Gabriel used. His harsh, throaty accent made it much less attractive, but nonetheless caught the fallen angel’s attention.

Lucy waved his arm, starting to stalk out of the second tea room toward a staircase leading to the basement. They were on the first floor, with one above them; and the holding cells below them.

Lucy trotted down the concrete steps, heels clicking loudly. Gabriel and Quinn followed after, still glued to each other’s hips, padding much more quietly downward.

The underground holding cells contained three metal bar cells on each side of the hallway, with a total of six open slots. There was a large metal door at the end of the hallway, with a variety of locks on it, for dangerous animals that needed to be held. The walls were a mix of concrete, diorite, and a solid form of mercury. Very difficult to escape from. The metal bars were, of course, a mix of various metals and silver, to ward off creatures that were weak to it. It was dim and musky, and smelled strongly of sweat and blood.

Each cell contained a small bed. And that was about it. Only one of the cells was occupied; by the half breed they had captured earlier. And boy, was he pissed. He was awake, and raging.

His claws had dug into the walls, trying to rip holes in them; adding to pre-existing claw marks. His head swung around, staring with sheer hatred at the trio that stepped down the stairs. His voice rose in a high-pitched screech, like that of a hawk or eagle. It was deafening, and made Quinn flinch and cover his much more sensitive ears.

Lucille and Gabriel stared back, unfazed. Gabriel snickered quietly, looking downward and shaking his head. “My, oh my, you poor creature.” He said, softly. Gabe stepped closer to the cell, peering through the bars with his hands in his pockets. His shadow enveloped the half breed completely. What a size difference.

“I’d love to cut you into a fillet and feed you to the hellhounds.” He said, lips twitching up slightly at the corner. His eyes bore into the half breed with malicious thoughts, staring right through him.

The creature in the cell quivered slightly, jerking his blue gaze away. Instead, he glared at Lucille, baring his teeth like a dog.

Lucy giggled, high and insane. He stepped beside Gabriel, meeting the fearless blue gaze with authority. “Oh, Gabriel, I’d like to shove objects down his throat until he suffocates!”

He cried out a little with joy at the thought, flashing his insane grin. His white teeth glinted in the dim light, sharp canines whispering “we want your flesh” to the half breed.

Quinn crept closer to Gabe, shaking his head to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. “I’d like to beat the shit outta him, ‘till he’s begging for mercy, and then I wanna cut out that stupid tongue’a his.” The American accent and slang really came flowing out of Quinn during that sentence, with a faint drawl to his tongue-tip.

Gabriel laughed slightly, quietly. A rare sound. He peered down at the now intimidated prisoner, flashing a smile with rows of shark-like teeth, all triangular and pointed. With promise in his voice, he murmured, “Pick your poison.”