#mojave vampire au

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: Hollywood is Dangerous

Chapter 6 of The Lonesome

A03

Tom was assured by his lawyer any further questioning about Norman’s murder was just that, and he wasn’t considered a suspect, they just might show up from time to time, bugging him with more questions than he wanted to answer.

The last thing he needed was detectives on his ass, he hadn't fully processed the damn bite on his arm and what it all meant, not really. Everything was happening too fast, and though he felt out of control numerous times before, nothing compared to this.

His mind went to his soon-to-be ex-wife and his kid. He always figured they were better off in England anyway, aside from the money he’d send, he didn’t have anything to offer them.

If he stayed alive through all this, he’d find a way to go back to his life as usual, keep working, and keep his family away. He’d run the risk of her hating him even more, and missing out on a relationship with his child, but he already didn’t know how to maintain the little they had. If he turned into a vampire, then what?

More on A03

[katiefrog217]

Walks with Aziraphale were always so amusing, especially when he took one of his different forms. Tonight, Crowley took note of a few different reactions:

1. Much to his bemusement, quite a few people crossed the road entirely just to avoid him (he didn't know why, he thought this particular form was very charming).

2. Those who didn't avoid them either didn't notice at all, or cooed adoringly at his companion. A few snake enthusiasts tried their best to impart advice upon him (Yes, he was aware it was a chilly night to have a python outside. Yes, he was aware that he had a few extra rolls on him, and he would appreciate it if they didn't body shame him, please and thank you).

3. He had a particularly interesting encounter with a stranger who tried his best to buy Aziraphale from him (he didn't know whether to laugh or be offended on his companion's behalf when the person subsequently dropped their price offering upon learning he was male. He turned them down, of course).

This just in: local vampire hunter tries his hardest to look cool in front of his crush.

I said soon and I guess I meant now haha.

I could help but draw Crowley and Aziraphale from @mrghostrat 's new Vampire AU (thanks for the permission btw!!) and I'll be damned if I couldn't pass up the opportunity to draw Ball Python Azi after being deeply entrenched in Ball python morphs and drawing them for the past few years.

I'm also a big sucker (har har) for any kind of vampire au, so I was incredibly excited to draw this!! I'm still not confident in my ability to draw Crowley (or jackets oof) but I tried.

On that, while I have ya'll here, a few fun facts about Ball Pythons and Morphs:

Azi looks to me to be based on a Blue Eyed Lucy (Leucistic) ball python. Leucistic is different from Albino - both lack pigment, but Leucistics only lack pigments in parts, rather than entirely like with Albinism. The fastest way to tell the difference is the eye color.

Blue Eyed Lucies have eye colors that range from Black to Blue - blue obviously being the more popular eye color.

The whiter the snake, the more sought after it is (not all Lucies are pure white, depends on the morph combo)

Unlike a majority of ball python morphs, Blue Eyed Lucies don't have a distinct gene combo that defines them. Generally, their morphs included Mocha, Mojave, Lesser, Butter, etc. The combos are generally endless. A Super Mojave (Mojave bred to Mojave) will produce a fairly grey/white snake, but their heads tend to be a very dusty grey, and isn't an ideal combo for a Lucy.

A snake that seems incredibly white when hatched may change color as it ages and become less white. This is common for all morphs, and their patterns define themselves and get stronger with age.

In breeding, males are generally less desired than females, and run at a lower price generally. This is because a single male can breed multiple females, so it's less effective to have more males in a clutch than females.

Obesity in snakes IS a real thing, and generally hard to manage if you do have an obese snake. Snakes tend to retain weight well, so exercise is really the only method to help bring their weight down (plus smaller meals). Good luck if you have an obese snake that isn't particularly inclined to be active.

Ball Pythons generally tend to have what's called a 1,000 gram wall - in which a snake that hits 1k grams stops eating and will not gain more weight. No one is 100% sure why this phenomena happens, but it's incredibly common.

Not a fact but opinion: Paradox ball Pythons are my favorite morph. If you want to see some incredibly interesting genetics, look them up.

[hypermoyashi]

Fic Rec: bite my lip (drink my war)

Author: minsazucar

Fandom: Trigun

Relationship(s): Vashwood

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Reincarnation, Non-Linear Narrative, Unreliable Narrator, POV Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Temporary Character Death, (like lots of that), lots of hurt and only some comfort, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Trigun Maximum Spoilers, but very minor like just allusions since this is an AU, Vaginal Sex, only relevant for the 2 minor sex scenes and i forgot abt it bc of the Trauma, setting: Chihuahuan/Sonoran/Mojave deserts

Summary: “So, what is it you want to know, Wolfwood?” The smart thing to do would be to ask for the best motel in town, maybe to even try and dig for information about possible vampire activities. You know, something useful. But Wolfwood is tired of useful; sometimes, he has to take what he can get. “What time do you get off?” or; the Vampire x Vampire Hunter AU that we all want but make it a Reincarnation Tragedy (written for the VashWood Big Bang 2023)

I won't say much to spoil the fic, but this is honestly really really good. The way the reveals happen slowly through the fic is so good, and the concept itself is really, really interesting. Definitely recommend checking it out!

[read it on ao3]

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Hahaha, you’re good! 

So this is for the urban explorer au, right?

On with the fic!

--

Peter fiddled with the camera in his hands, maybe it might be better to use his phone for this, but then again, phones broke easier and they often didn’t have night vision. Plus, old school shit like this was so much more fun, gave his videos a whole Blair Witch or REC feel to ‘em.

He sighed as he got himself ready to go explore an old roadside hotel, one that clearly had been left to rot or blow away with the Mojave sand about fifty years ago. The old neon sign right off the road had a very dated look, and not in a retro way people were obsessed with nowadays. 

“Fuck, I hope this place doesn’t have vampires.” He muttered to himself as he patted at his belt, a few stakes were tucked into it, just in case.

Ever since he ran into that Lucian guy at the old office building, where the vampire had been camping out, Peter had been much more careful about the places he explored. Yes, he still filmed these places, still pretended he was hunting vampires or ghosts or whatever the fuck he said at the beginning of a video, but there was a real threat now, lurking behind corners in the shadows.

And he wasn’t sure if he’d get lucky with Lucian showing up again.

Though he really, really hoped.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that super hot, super mysterious man in the leather jacket. He was very pretty too and had an accent that almost seemed to mask a different accent, the more Peter listened to the recording from the office.

He still hadn’t posted that video, he wasn’t sure if it would be right to do so. Plus, the building caught on fire later that night, apparently he heard something about it happening from a lightning strike, but he wondered if Lucian had a hand in it. After all, it was the sight of a vampire nest, and it might be wise to destroy a nest so others wouldn’t take it and make a new one. 

Still, Peter was gonna keep doing what he was doing and hope that there wasn’t a nest waiting for him inside this place. 

But maybe a Lucian might be inside? Yes? 

Probably not, that’s wishful thinking.

Peter turned on his camera and started an intro on the fly, explaining the hotel’s history a little, because lots of these sorta videos did that, before he made his way inside. 

It smelled horrible here, like rotting wood and fabric, along with stale weed, probably teenagers hanging out here. Unless if vampires liked to partake. Peter spoke as he walked around, pointing out the things he saw, nearly screaming when he stepped on something crunchy, only to see it was a mummified bird. 

He walked around the hotel, chatting about this and that, even promoting his show, as he always did, before he actually did scream when something grabbed his shoulder. He turned around, free hand on a stake, only for his clip-on torch to shine on the face of-

“Lucian!?” He gasped, both from surprise and the terrible amount of dust and stale air in the building.

“I’m surprised you remember my name.” Lucian replied, looking bemused. “Looking for trouble again, Mr. Vincent.”

“Nnn- no, just, uh... just doin’ some... huntin’! Vampire huntin’!”

“With a camera.”

“And a little urban exploring.” Peter mumbled and shut off the camera, He looked at Lucian’s face and glared. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” The shorter man said, though he was smiling anyway. “You do know it isn’t exactly wise to make commentary when vampire hunting, yes? It will draw attention right to you.”

Peter made a series of noises before pouting. “The viewers like me talkin’ about the shit I’m filming. But I guess that’s how you heard me?”

“I heard you long before you entered the building. Pulling into the parking lot? Not a smart idea if there are vampires here, they’ll be very aware of you long before you’re aware of them.”

“Oh.”

Peter hadn’t even thought of that, shit, that... yeah, that was just asking for trouble. “Then how’d you get out here, it’s a bit of a distance from the city.”

“I drove, but parked a bit down the road.”

“Oh.” Peter repeated, remembering passing a truck that was parked off the side of the road while on his way here. “Fuck, you’re a professional, aren’t you?”

“In a way, I suppose you could say that. If you are looking for vampires, there are none here, I’ve already checked. It’s not really a safe place for them, not a lot of dark places that would do them well. There is a nest of very angry coyotes upstairs though.”

“Fuck.” Peter frowned. “I wasted a trip out here then.”

“Well, I’m sure your... viewers would still appreciate whatever video footage you’ve taken anyway.”

“I guess, could do a bit more explorin’ before I head out. Wanna explore with me?”

Lucian frowned. “Might not be wise, I should get going.”

“Come on! It’s fun! I’ll even keep you off-camera if you don’t want that!”

“I... guess.”

“Cool, let’s get back to work.” The actor started up his camera again. “Got a torch?”

“Ah.” Lucian blinked. “Oh, yes, uh, but the batteries died before I came to see what you were doing.”

“How’d you find me then?”

“You have your own, and you’re very loud.”

“Rude.” Peter smirked, then lifted the camera up to face him. “Sorry about that, just had a conversation with a guy who saved my ass a few weeks back. And no, I’m not postin’ that video, you don’t need to see me gettin’ knocked around by some... weird guy who wanted to bite me. Wasn’t a vampire!” He added on when he saw a look cross Lucian’s face.

“Anyway, back to business!”

--

Peter thinks that if he can run into Lucian again, maybe he might get him into his bed.

Not happening, Peter. At least not right now. Lucian is a classy man, he likes romance. 

[wishing4nuclearwinter]

19 and 22 for sol~

19. If your oc were to turn into a vampire or a werewolf, which would they be, and what would they be like? If they already are one of those, what would they be like as the other one?

Ohohoho so I’ll try to keep this short because I could scream about my vampire!Sol AU for a year. I have had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while where either A. he was a vampire pre-Goodsprings which is why he ended up in the Mojave in the first place while trying to run away from people who might try to abuse his powers or B. he got turned by Doc Mitchell in order to save his life after getting shot.

Either way, Sol would have an extremely difficult time with the whole drinking human blood thing, but I think he would mainly hunt Legionaries so it would be OK. He’d definitely use his powers to fuck the Legion up even worse than he canonically does and probably end up on their list of bogeymen alongside the Burned Man. I don’t think he would be all that much different personality wise, though he would loathe the loss of being able to bask in the hot desert sun. He’d probably be slightly more reserved and withdrawn. Some good sunglasses to hide his eyes would be a nice addition to his Look.

I have a second part of this tho that involves werewolf!Arcade (as a result of Enclave experiments). I’m imagining them both trying to hide it from each other but then Sol just. rips out Vulpes’ throat in Nipton and everything falls apart from there

22. Does your oc believe in ghosts?

Officially and logically? No. Functionally? Kind of. He doesn’t believe in the supernatural, but he has weird relationship with both himself and his pre-Goodsprings self. For a while, he believed that he was practically a ghost living in someone else’s body until that original inhabitant would return. But at some point he begins to actually connect with pre-goodsprings Sol and he realizes it is more like the other way around. He will swear up and down that ghosts aren’t real, but he can’t explain why he could so clearly feel that second presence/person for so long. Why they could speak to him, however briefly, before he released them.

[shellheadtmark2]

all cruising the dash this afternoon has done is remind me my verse list is woefully incomplete and i have plotting ims to make so here’s a quick list until i get off my ass and like.  actually update my googledoc/verse pop up:

616 / COMIC VERSES

main:  main verse for this blog.  main marvel continuity, does not include secret empire or tony stark: iron man. 616 invades mcu:  hi, welcome to the multiverse.  default verse for mcu interactions, otherwise known as 616 tony pesters the mcu crowd.  twice the tony flavor in a new fun package. superior:  superior iron man, tony still under the inversion spell and living his best(worst) hedonistic life. classic:  everything pre-1996/modern 616 as set in the appropriate timeframe.  otherwise known as tony with the mullet.  rollerskates.  nipple knobs. ai tony:  what it says on the tin.  tony’s brainprint ai as activated post civil war ii. civil war au:  tony turns mole for team cap during civil war instead of doubling down. civil war - warzones:  the what if where civil war has drawn on for six years and the country is split in two. civil war - good end:  the what if where tony and cap come together to find a peaceful solution to shra instead of war. iron man - sorcerer surpreme:  based off the 90s what if where tony becomes the sorcerer surpreme to find a way to heal stephen’s hands after causing the accident that injures them. marvel zombies:  superheroes are now zombies and have devoured everything.  now they’re starving, so it’s time to eat the multiverse.  the more they eat, the more like themselves they feel and the clearer they think.  highly triggering. ultimates:  (still rereading ults i have to do it in bite-sized pieces and you know why) it has president cap, what more do you want.  a different origin for earth’s mightiest heroes. marvel 1872:  drunkard blacksmith falls in love with sheriff.  sheriff is killed by terrible people.  blacksmith drunkard goes on revenge rampage.  other stuff happens.  avengers are born.  you’ll never look at danny boy the same way.  the cowboy au. iron man noir:  enviable 1930s wealthy adventurer goes on adventures for men’s magazine.  has a failing heart.  punches a lot of bad guys.

MCU VERSES (NOT PREFERRED / REQUIRE PLOTTING)

main:  canon divergent post-the winter soldier.  not endgame compliant.  includes director of shield and gotg verses. director of shield:  post-tws - shield revamps with tony as director.  lead up to civil war. gotg:  post-civil war tony takes off to space for a while, has adventures, hooks up with the gotg. civil war au:  tony refuses to sign and the avengers go to ground to fight a secret war against the accords.

CANON AU / AU VERSES

616 fallout 4 companion:  default has maccready and steve pulling him out of stasis after a rescue mission gone wrong before the war.  railroad heavy.  traveling handyman.  full of annoying we can do it attitude. mcu fallout 4 companion:  the arc reactor’s kept him alive and he’s been rebuilding new york bit by bit.  follows the prydwen into the commonwealth. mcu courier six:  kept in stasis in a vault until the first battle of hoover dam.  odd jobs around the mojave.  gets shot in the head in goodsprings.  the iron mailman. 616 vault resident:  fallout 76-based.  funny how tony got talked into a tour of vault 76 on the day the bombs fell, right?  almost like vault-tec knew they were coming.  responder.  fire breather. skyrim:  the last living dwemer on nirn.  tinkerer.  smartass.  loves to pester the college and calcelmo.  great for tours through dwemer ruins.  gets confused for an oversized bosmer a lot.  will let you believe it.  part of the formation of an alternative choice to the companions who seeks to do good for the sake of it.  not a typical specimen of a dwemer. eso:  breton dwemer-obsessed scholar trying to stay out of the war.  fails at that.  also a vampire! no powers:  tony’s just a mechanic living paycheck to paycheck.  all those brains and none of the opportunities.

[trilogie-du-brasier]

I. J'AIMERAIS : MINOTAURUS INEST – poème pour Calista (10/2020) II. J'AI AIME : VENDANGES D'ETE – poème pour 'Narcisse' (09/2020) III. J'AURAIS AIME : PANTHERES – Poème pour Julia (09/2011) 

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Préambule

Je ne sais jamais vraiment lorsqu'un corps est disposé à être enlacé même lorsqu'il se dénude face à moi.

Je ne sais pas trouver les mots qui enjoignent une âme à s'attarder durablement dans mes quartiers.

Je ne sais pas non plus me taire car le silence me renvoie à mon cubiste faciès qui aurait tant besoin de s'apaiser sur le ventre d'une femme.

Il existe pour chacun un être qui a vraiment besoin de nous; mais nous nous donnons le plus souvent à ceux pour qui nous ne sommes point nécessaires..

Je sais bien que l'herbe est plus verte partout ailleurs que sur mes terres; je sais bien que personne ne me sortira jamais du labyrinthe dans lequel j'erre depuis toujours..

Mais ce soir paisiblement je viens m'asseoir: je laisse mon âme s'embraser au souvenir de ta personne..

Je t'offre une allégorie: celle de ce brasier intérieur que je porte en moi depuis des décennies tel un talisman..

MINOTAURUS INEST -Veneris monumenta-

J'aimerais que tu te postes à nouveau au sommet de mon lit le dos apposé contre le mur de mon salon, quasi-nue.

Un quart de siècle nous sépare en âge, mais tes yeux francs, intemporels, presque mystiques m'adressent un familier langage..

Laisse-moi déposer ma joue très doucement dans le creux de ton cou, être la plume qui rejoint son nid..

Je suis un enfant, une panthère, une brise d'Eté; je suis un grand soleil près d'un refuge aux portes de coton..

Ta bouche est une fleur sauvage, qui parfume mon âme de papillon. Vois mon aile silencieuse se poser sur la soie de ton épaule chaude !

Le temps suspendu infuse mon âme à ta presqu'île; Mon souffle sur ta peau me grise: tu es ma vapeur d'absinthe !

Ta chevelure est désormais un vaste champs moissonné à mon vexillum externum.

Ton épiderme irradie contre le mien comme un pain chaud sorti des braises !

Aucun des chats sacrés de l'antique Egypte, n'a transporté autant de lumière que ta peau : Hathor, Isis et Rê se sourient et se taisent lorsque je te caresse.

Tes deux pyramides sont des flacons de rivages. Fais-moi boire de ton lait; enfante ma déraison !

Mes griffes de faucon ratissent ta nuque; je porte mes dents à ton cou, je mordille ta chair tel un vampire avide..

Je suis ton Minotaure, ton Lucifer, ton Dracula !

Mes doigts délicats viennent broder d'audaces un incertain langage à même tes seins..

Des alcools de prune et de poire coulent à présent de tes tétons; je t'attrape au cou, tel un canidé, pour te tirer lentement vers moi; je sens tes fioles d'effluves infiltrer mon cœur; Ta bouche capture la mienne comme une proie fébrile. Tes bactéries s'engouffrent dans mon sang, restaurent ma matrice.. Je vois des gouttelettes d'eau fines bouillir sur ta peau puis s'évaporer au diapason de tes soupirs..

Tes aréoles crantées pénètrent souplement mon torse. C'est alors que le grand mât du Drakkar se lève et tu l'absorbes sans tarder tout entier en toi, dans ta forêt d'éponges.

Ta rosée coule déjà du septième ciel convoité. La chambre se tapisse d'un rouge-violacé..

Je sens ton odeur animale qui s'abat comme une tempête: tu plantes tes yeux intenses tel des ancres dans l'océan de mon âme. Je me retourne tout entier sur toi, ragaillardi par ton puissant courant.

Ta bouche carmin a faim de recevoir l'écume de ma lèvre.

Je t'ensevelis d'une vague puissante et j'engouffre encore davantage ma corne de Minotaure dans le tréfond de ton corps.

Voici l'offrande de nacre: de multiples orages tonnent dans ta chair Tu tressailles d'accueillir dans ton caveau ma liqueur de perle.

L'onde de choc de ma queue se prolonge tel un écho parmi tes dunes.

Tu m'enfonces tes ongles dans le dos si profondément que je sens distinctement ton nom se graver sur mes os. Je plante à mon tour mes dents dans ta jugulaire tandis que tes canines percent mon épaule.

Je m'abreuve, tu me bois, nous nous embrassons follement pour partager ce vin de messe.

Je ramasse au sol des caillots de raisin et je les porte à ta petite gueule affamée. Tu les dévores en me dévisageant.

Ta bouche coule infiniment jusque dans ton nombril et abreuve les petits papillons qui palpitent dans ton ventre.

Le coutelas divin de ton sourire en coin me suggère un sacrifice à venir

Tu t'éclipses dans la salle d'eau et déjà tu m'inspires de vilaines rêveries..

Relevant une pièce d'étoffe trop ajustée à tes hanches tu me laisses entrevoir l'arrogante colline hirsute.

M'empoignant le vit en me fixant des yeux, tu veux me voir céder à proférer mes ordres rabaissants.

Ta bouche lascive de succube réclame la lie de mon calice !

Ta main est un nid à serpents; elle me caresse et me compresse pour que je crache enfin tous mes mots volcaniques.

Tu m'engloutis de ta gueule de fauve pour m'assassiner de plaisir.

Des torrents hypnotiques se répandent en moi, tandis que tu bois toute ma fontaine.

Démon repu, tu m'adresses un sourire. Je suis une comète dans la galaxie de tes yeux fauves.

Aucunement je n'ai la beauté d'Artemis, mais je peux être un grand forgeron de volupté ! Fais de moi le gardien secret de tes moiteurs, l'arboriste de ton plus secret jardin..

Je l'avoue, je suis parfois jaloux des visiteurs que tu salues de ton candide balcon. Tous ces mirages, si laborieux, sont autant de déserts..

Et si chaque homme est fait de sable, je serai ton désert de Mojave, ton Dasht-e-lout, ta Kébili. Je serai le Queensland bouillant au milieu des montagnes de feu.

Mon orgueil est un empire suintant, et tu le sais toi qui réapparais dans une robe andrinople..

De ton dos je m'approche; tes ourlets, déjà, se pourfendent de flammèches..

Je veux sédimenter encore à ton épaule; j'entrevois tes doux seins dans l'écorchure de ta robe; ta bretelle s'affaisse ainsi que ta chute de reins; soudain, le bas de ta robe s'enflamme

Tes doigts fraîchement vernis soulèvent avec une insolente lenteur le tissu embrasé !

Le bas de ton dos est désormais tatoué d'obscurs hiéroglyphes; «Sois indécent» chuchotes-tu.

J'ai besoin de lécher ta petite béance, comme un chien des enfers !

Tes canines d'orque scintillent dans le miroir; Tu lèves un bras au ciel; tes doigts gracieux s'éventaillent et s'enroulent tandis que la chambre prend feu.

Je pointe à mon tour vers le ciel un index qui se change en verge féconde; et tandis que les parois de ton éminence charnue s'abandonnent à mon autorité, j'enfonce un doigt séminal à ton nombril..

Des Jigokubana naissent soudain dans tes cheveux; une nuée de papillons pourpres et ocres comme sortie des enfers, vient butiner chacune de tes mèches, éteignant les feux alentours de battements d'ailes..

Des abeilles rouge-ponceau surgissent à leur tour. Tu étires ta langue en récupère de tes doigts un étrange miel que tu portes aussitôt à mes lèvres, à mes seins; de mon gland jusqu'au galbé séant.

Tu n'aimes rien tant que me sentir palpiter dans ta bouche; tu me dégustes infiniment, tandis que des plumes d'ange tombent très lentement sur nous comme une fine pluie; tandis que des sirènes au lointain nous chantent leurs plus doux sortilèges..

Sois mon alcool, mon brasier, ma folie, sois ma déesse et ma putain, Sois le petit matin des longues nuits.

Le soleil s'attarde sur mon torse lorsque tu le caresses. Je veux te voir tournoyer en riant dans des champs de coquelicots mutants.

Sidère-moi; écorche-moi de souvenirs violents !

Fais de moi le buvard de ta cyprine et de ta lave, de ton urine et de ta bave. Baise-moi comme si j'allais crever demain. Je veux mourir et ressusciter dans tes bras..

Je veux tes hanches et tes pieds dans ma bouche, ton cul sur ma gueule et ma queue dans ta main. L'un dans l'autre, je veux nous mélanger encore et toujours !

Je veux tes mamelons sauvages, ta peau soyeuse, tes épaules et ton cou.. Je veux surtout tes yeux cosmiques au fond des miens tes cuisses et ton pubis amarrés à ma taille, quand je viendrai cent fois sur toi pour te donner mon âme !

Je rêvasse, je me languis, je me dilue.. Entends-moi s'il te plait, rejoins-moi ! Viens contre mon épaule et contemplons les derniers instants de ce monde-ci !

Je veux me noyer sans fin dans des étreintes folles; je veux brûler d'ivresses, célébrer le feu qui me porte et qui m'emportera jusqu'à l'ultime crémation ! . . . . . . . VENDANGE D'ETE

«Je te sens encore en moi et c’est merveilleux.»

Nos conversations les plus profondes m'as-tu dit se font à-même-la-peau..

Dans la chair du débat, nous avons pourtant tardé à entrer !

Peu prolixe sur tes fantasmes, je t'effeuillais mes vicieux grimoires..

J’envisageais un grand festin de luxure, mais ce bouquet final, vibrant entre mes anses est à présent une allée d’asphodèles dans mes artères échaudés.

~

Les séquences me hantent ; elles passent, défilent et repassent dans mon sang bouilli ; échouent dans de blancs mouchoirs..

~

Tes lèvres se scellent aux miennes par de grisants verrous, sitôt dégondés, sitôt rappelés à la forge charnue..

Tes seins, citrouilles pétries jusqu’à l’ivresse, par mes mains gourmandes et frénétiques: le carrosse est lancé, le feu aux écoutilles !

Ta voix déroule de petites musiques, de charmantes extases.. Tu chuchotes des mots comme des sortilèges..

Je mords chichement ton épaule, infiniment tenté d’y boire un sang doux et intense !

Je remonte la clairière tempérée de ton cou pour y broder mes ardeurs..

Ton oreille, si délicate à ma langue, entend bien que j’écrase à ton corps mes amphores d’épices..

Tu aimes être giflée, et je prends mon plaisir à contenter le tien !

Je t’attrape la gueule, je compresse tes lèvres avides de crachats ; je saisis ta gorge, je la sers. Tes yeux se dilatent ; ton sexe s'ouvre..

Je viens t’ensevelir comme une vague lourde, me répandre tel un prédateur piégeant sa proie pour lui dévorer soudain la bouche !

Je m'écrase à ton dos, je capture ta gueule, je la tourne vers moi.

Ô que tu aimes ça ! Index, majeur: coutelas caressant ta langue d’avaleuse de sabre ! Tu suces mes doigts comme des sorbets..

Tes dents sont des ornières quelque peu acérées pour un fourreau d’épée.. Je n’aime rien tant que ta main incertaine cherchant à faire blanchir ma lame ;

de cette lave tu te forges à moi !

~

Ta gorge est un flacon sans fond, que j’aime compresser de l’extérieur; de l’intérieur..

Tu as la moitié de mon âge, pourtant ce tubercule carnivore au déploiement de tes cuisses absorbe intensément chacun de mes torrents dans sa forêt d’éponges.

Ta bouche est une autre caverne étrange où je viens me répandre en cascades blanches indigo..

Dès que je veux dormir, tu viens me réveiller; tu me prends dans ta toile de dentelles pour te piquer à mon dard..

A mon tour, je te réveille..

Mes bras deviennent enfin des bras lorsqu’ils enlacent ton corps ! Lorsque tes cuisses capturent mes hanches, le dragon millénaire crache son feu dans ton faste volcan !

De longs week-ends électrisés à ton réseau ont restauré mon hypophyse avant de délaisser mon câble dénudé à même l’orage..

~

Bien malgré moi, j’aspire encore à déverser de pleins barils d’alcool de nacre pour enivrer chaque vallée..

Caresser ce cou, bestiale romance; lui faire absorber toute ma semence..

Ta peau a parfois l’odeur des bêtes grasses; ta nuisette est un tue-la-mort !

Pourtant j’étais loin d’être rassasié de toi, possédé d’une viscérale foi, jusqu’à crucifier ton ventre à ton stérilet.. «Avoue que tu es fier de toi» me lanças-tu.

Tu n’aimais pas que je m’excuse; tu aspirais aux collisions qui laissent traces..

~

C’est alors que reparut le voyageur.. Ce quinquaméricain, boucher/militaire que tu croisas à Prague, et sur lequel tu harponnas, bienheureuse, je ne sais quel mirage..

Il s'était éclipsé, six mois durant avec tout son mystère, Ô mystère, ce paravent de vacuité, si cher aux pleureuses !

Moi, je te fais l'économie des petites phrases vaporeuses déversées aux gamelles des candides rêveuses..

Je ne suis pas de ce bois qui méduse et chavire le radeau !

Tu as éveillé un dragon affamé, alors forcément je m'enflamme !

~

Tout comme ce voyageur, je t’ai connue à surgir pour mieux disparaître: un pied ici, un autre au dehors..

Souviens-toi, la première fois que tu me proposas la botte, tu venais d'absorber ton conjoint !

Cet élégant Massaï blanc mis deux ans à dérider ton pistil.. Il me fallut deux jours pour que ma lance effile ta cible de velours.. A ton caveau, quelques gorgées de Romanée Conti !

J’aurais peut-être dû m'élancer plus tôt dans tes eaux, toi qui venait parfois amarrer ta barque à mon épaule pour y passer des nuits sans remous..

Nous aurions aimé dépraver nos fluides, vautrés dans la boue. Tu m’aurais braqué la face contre ton huître, fauve ! pour m’en faire ruisseler chacune des saveurs ; à mon tour, je t’aurais nettoyé de tes copeaux..

Poire William, chocolat chaud, dans tes collines et tes ravins. Rhum et pommes broyés déversés sans tact à tes lèvres indécentes..

Aucun gaillard à la ronde ne dégondera ta chair avec plus grande ferveur que la mienne, tu le sais !

J'ai dégusté tes hanches, tes doigts et péronés, pimenté tout ton ranch chevilles, cul et poignets..

C'est pourquoi en-corps et encore, chaque amante repointe inlassablement ses seins à ma bouche sa croupe à ma souche jusqu'à ce que je chasse âprement la bête..

Un mois durant, je suis resté ivre du sang de nos sexes gorgés.. Je voulais encore pétrir et détourer ton Lys, ta Sapotille, ton Physalis..

Mais Septembre à présent, délave le soleil délave mes ardeurs..

Le bon vin a tourné, la vendange d'Eté n'a plus son amertume.. . . . . . . . PANTHERES

Je veux me répandre sur toi comme une poutrelle de feu, propager mon onde sur ton corps alangui..

Panthère de rêverie, je viens frotter mon ventre sur ton écrin de mirage. Les copeaux de mon âme pénètrent tes reliefs ; je suis ton piège à loup décapsulant tes alcools d'ivresse , Je suis l'étoffe lourde qui vient boire à ton étang de nudité. Je t'attrape au cou comme un jeune tigre joueur , tes mains empoignent mon torse mûr.

Ma peau est à point, tannée par la ferveur de tant d'années de passions. Je veux planter mes orages dans tes perles d'abysse aux mystères pédants, troubler le reflet dérangeant de tes grands yeux félins..

Tigresse, tu peux lâcher ton râle, je défenestre ta pudeur. Les parfums de l'amour fermentent dans un ballet de gestes, de cantiques éperdus. Tous mes wagons sauvages viennent claquer sur ta rame ; mes canaux électriques se tendent comme des arcs et tu me plantes ton haleine jusque dans les tripes..

Tu me décoches tes discours en regards impétueux : - Achève-moi, que j'absorbe enfin ta matrice ; crache ton encre-crème à mon sexe carbone !

Tes pupilles débordent de fuel ; j'attrape un ange-mateur par les paluches et je le broie dans ta chevelure qui s'agite soudain comme un nid à serpents ; je casse le diable en deux et je poivre ton corps ! Montre-moi tes dents de hyène échaudée et j'inverse tes pôles, je te brode à l'épaule un murmure-baiser..

Ma langue mutine câline tes commissures de cuisses, puis je remonte à tes crocs qui capturent mes lèvres. Mon aréole soudain -impaire et passe- devient l'ostie de messe basse : je te chuchote à l'oreille tes propres aveux dans l'ascension de la jouissance..

Culmine ma belle, culmine ! Je te rejoins soudain dans l'albédo violemment déployé..

Oooh, j'adore l'écho de ton timbre vibrant lorsqu'il va pour découdre tout un pendant  de ciel !

Je m'assoupis -relax- bordé par ton aisselle fumante..

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[itsthesinbin]

12 hours later and I remembered I was gonna talk about my vampire courier. anyway i might use that dinogeddon creator on dolldivine to make a ref for her in a bit but for now let me tell u abt her,

her name is Minnie and she’s 19 so I can be a Disgusting Self Insert. She’s a skirmisher character- good at both stealth/long range and close-combat fighting.

She’s a Brujah, recently turned at age 13/14 by an Asshole, and hates living in the Mojave bc the sun is Fucking Torture on her. Her main way of getting blood is finding bloodbags and, now, draining raiders dry when she kills them.

She hates pretty much every faction, but her morals seem to align with the NCR enough that she’s on good terms with them. The only faction she’s actively helping is the Boomers- who, in my fiction/au, are a small society of supernaturals hiding from the rest of the Mojave. They teach her how to be a vampire/control herself/ect in exchange for her help.

She’s tiny, she’s angry, she’s hungry, and she’s gonna fuck Raul super hard.

[artemiseamoon]

This week

Updates posted for:

11/5 ✔️

Updates coming up

[eureka-its-zico]

Half Bitten: Part 2

Prologue  Part 1

Scenario: A vampire!Jimin AU

A/N: I thought long and hard about how I wanted this storyline to go. I could keep it basic or actually attempt a decent plotline with it. I thought about it so hard I ended up dreaming about freaking vampire Jimin, and from that this idea was created. I hope to keep it suspenseful and interesting. I hope you all enjoy. Much Love, Jenn @blue1928

Genre: Jimin x Reader

Words: 2571

Disclaimer: As always, the gifs used are not mine and belong to their rightful owners!!

It felt like the Mojave had taken up residence in your mouth. You were on your third glass of water, eyes peeking over the edge of the glass at Jimin’s position. It had been his request that you go to the diner down the block. There wasn't much you could do in the way of arguing with him. I mean how could you argue with a…

No. You still hadn’t been able to acknowledge the possibility. It seemed so ludicrous. Mythical creatures were meant to be fairy tales, some little nightmares that you told over campfires. You were tempted to ask him if he was real if that meant the boogeyman was real too. You didn't though. You could only handle so many traumatizing truths at a time.

You set down the glass and tucked your hands between your legs. Your gaze landing on him and skittering away until you noticed a smirk creeping back on his face.

“What?”

Jimin leaned forward to grab his coffee and the motion sent you jumping back as if he’d stung you. He gave you a reprimanding look with a sigh to accompany it.

“You really should stop being so jumpy. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Sorry. I tend to have trust issues when I watched someone tear out a man’s throat.”

“That man was going to kill you. I figured you would be more grateful than this.”

You blanched, mouth agape, as you watched him casually take a sip from the cup.

“Saving me is one thing. Murder is another.”

While his face appeared ageless, Jimin’s eyes aged considerably. His gaze heavy with the weight of centuries playing behind their vast darkness.

“That men intended to murder you, like he’d done to countless others, and would continue to do long after you were buried six feet under. I did this world a small service. No one else is going to experience the terror that you felt.”

“You’re trying to tell me you're some vigilante running around saving defenseless people from bad guys?”

The disbelief clung to your words. Your head snapping away from him as you shook your head.

“Vigilante: no. Someone with common decency: yes.”

A prick of guilt stung in your chest. You were being an asshole, you knew, but it didn't change the fact that he’d murdered that man. That he no doubt probably murdered hundreds of others over his entire life.

“Have you ever killed someone who was an innocent?”

You weren't sure if he would answer you. Jimin’s form turning as still as death; the only movement was his eyes as they roamed over your face.

“If I say yes, does that change your opinion of me?”

“I already have an opinion of you. It's not good either way.”

“Then this questioning is pointless.”

“This entire exchange is pointless!” You seethed.

You ran an agitated hand through your hair, tossing it behind your shoulders as you glanced around the diner. There were small families sitting in booths farther away. An elderly man by himself on a bar stool, and a couple placed at the window. The neon sign lighting their skin up in pink hues that was oddly romantic. The only two people on your side were Jimin and you.

You wanted to go home. To curl up inside warm bedsheets and fall into a coma, but what was the point? If you got up and left him here you would just see him again in your dreams. Or maybe the boogeyman himself would pull you out of bed by your ankle and under the bed, just like you always thought he would when you were seven.

“What do you want?” You asked, voice as exhausted as you felt.

Your elbows planted on the edge of the table, giving support for your hands to bury inside your hair as you looked at him waiting for him to answer you.

“I thought I already told you: I want you.”

“Why?! I don't understand!”

You flung back into your chair. The panic that’d dissipated hours ago coming into full bloom once more. None of this made any sense. How did your life end up in this mess?

“Then let me explain,” he began taking on final sip of his coffee. “Vampires, like myself, are real. We’ve been on this earth since Adam and Eve. Angels and Demons, and all that renaissance bullshit. Thousands of years ago, Korea was split up into districts: kings appointed. I’ve been in a battle for centuries with another vampire, another king of his area.”

“What's this vampire's name?”

God, there was that word. You tried to shove down how ridiculous it felt saying it out loud as you waited expectantly for Jimin to answer you. Ignoring the look of irritation he wore at being interrupted.

“Namjoon. Now can I finish?”

You waved him on as you leaned further back into your seat. Your arms crossing over your chest as you settled in for the rest of the story.

“In 1869 I met a witch of immense power. She was able to help me keep Namjoon at bay, and keep my territory safe and thriving. Unfortunately, she was murdered by one of his followers.”

“Naturally.”

You raised your hands in submission at his pointed glare. A silent way of saying you wouldn't interrupt again, because you weren't in the mood to die just yet.

“That witch was your great-great-great grandmother, Y/N.”

That wasn't an ending you were expecting. It all felt incredibly too dramatic to be serious. Your eyes roaming his face to see if that stupid smirk was twitching to rise on his lips or if a joke was bubbling in his eyes, but no. He looked deadly serious. Well, if he wouldn't laugh, you sure would.

Jimin actually jumped as you burst into laughter. Your hands moving up to cover your mouth. You were trying to apologize but you couldn't stop laughing to do so.

“You think-you think- I’m a witch?”

Jimin gave you a sharp nod before he replied, “It's in your blood.”

“Look, buddy the only thing in my blood is a family history of diabetes and high cholesterol.”

His face turned to stone when he jolted upright. Jimin’s hands flexing on the table as he struggled to keep his calm.

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“I mean it sounds like one. This all just sounds like a really bad dream. First I'm supposed to understand that vampires are real, and now you're telling me witches exist too? Forgive me for not taking you seriously.”

“You don't understand the kind of danger you're in.”

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes narrowed in on him. No longer feeling playful after hearing the not so subtle threat edged in his tone.

“If I know about you, it's only a matter of time before Namjoon finds you, as well. You're going to be a valuable asset to either side, but I can guarantee you mine is the less painful of the two.”

Your heart felt like it leapt up into your throat. You couldn't swallow past the thundering pulse, your eyes skimming around the diner. You weren't sure what you expected to see. What did villains look like? How could you tell a wolf surrounded by sheep?

Your vision clamored with white dots as you struggled to remove yourself from the booth. You needed to get away from this conversation: from him. A clumsy hand reached out to grab the strap of your bag when Jimin was just there lifting it up and trying to help you put it on. You smacked his hand away and walked around him.

“I don't need your help!” you bellowed, your hands shoving open the diners exit door.

You could hear Jimin talking sweetly behind you. His words apologizing about your behavior. You wanted to tell him to shove his bullshit up his ass, but instead you thought maybe it would give you enough time to get away from him. You didn't bother to look as you stepped off the curb. The only thought you had was keeping track of the danger behind you, that you didn't notice the headlights until they were on you, or the sound of people shouting.

Your head turned to meet the brightness and for a split second, you wondered if it would hurt. If the pain wouldn't matter because death was instantaneous. You figured you would scream. Any sound at all before it ended. You closed your eyes and braced yourself as much as you could for the impact. When it came, it felt oddly soft like a cashmere coat and soothing like a pair of arms enveloping you warmly in an embrace. Who knew that death could feel so...soothing.

Your eyes were still clamped shut. The sounds of a bustling city roaring back to life in your ears as the adrenaline began to ebb from your veins. The angry shout of a startled driver asking you to watch where you were going enough to send your eyes fluttering open.

At first, all you saw was darkness. Your eyes adjusting as you wondered if you were lying flat on the gravel, but if you were, why were you standing? The thought registered enough to have your head crane upwards until your eyes locked with Jimin’s. The realization that he’d saved you a second time left you staying in his arms, instead of trying to evacuate them. The words, “Why,” dying in your throat as you looked over your shoulder.

He had you both on the opposite side of the street. The bystanders who’d witnessed your act of stupidity gawking as they too tried to make sense of how he’d gotten from point A to B so quickly. You dislocated yourself from his arms, but didn't go far.

“You saved me. Again. Thanks.”

It was lame even to you, and you wanted to kick yourself for not sounding more grateful. Jimin seemed gracious enough to look past it. His hands burying inside the pockets of his trench as he shrugged.

“I need you,” he stated matter-of-fairly. “I want you to come to me willingly. I won't force you, or try to win you over, but make no mistake, Y/N. If I know of your existence so does Namjoon, and he won't be as courteous as I would be.”

With those parting words Jimin reached out and took your hand gently in his and placed a soft kiss against your knuckles. He let you take it from his hands as he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Leaving you behind with more questions than answers yet again.

------

You were tempted to go straight home, but you didn't. How could you go home when your brain was running a thousand thoughts per second? You weren’t sure of what to say to Alice. What could possibly make any sense to her for your actions or what happened to you after you’d left her stranded in that cafe. So, you let your feet carry you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall bookstore and creeped into the stacks about the mystics and spells. Your eyes fluttering over the spines of titles that informed you it was about the arcane and witchcraft.

You felt a tinge of embarrassment flush up your neck when the old owner of the store, Margaret, came over to ask if you needed any help. Your hands haphazardly shoving the book about crystals back on the shelf and stuttering out your, “No, thank you’s” and moving to a safer section.

How could you be a witch? The thought alone made you feel stupid for even entertaining the thought. Was this supposed to turn out to be an episode of Charmed? Was Rose McGowan going to pop up any second in character and tell you about your gift? The idea alone left you snorting into the pages of Hemingway as you lazily flipped through.

When it was getting past midnight your phone rang and buzzed with call after call, and missed texts from Alice. Her worry becoming more frantic as she switched from the usual soft letters to all caps. After the thirteenth message you finally replied back simply letting her know you weren't dead and on your way home.

The whole walk to the apartment you wondered what lie you could come up with to tell her, but you were a bad liar. Alice already knew all your tells when you tried. So you’d have to make it simple, yet believable. Maybe something that painted Jimin as a creepy ex you never told her about. The idea was doable, but for some reason it made you feel guilty. As odd, and terrifying, as it was Jimin did save your life: twice. How could you make him a villain when he hadn't necessarily done anything but been a savior?

You were winding your way up the stairs towards the fourth floor when a sudden pang of alarm ran through you. It was so intense it caused your foot to halt on the next step on the stoop. Your eyes looking around the dimly lit hallway to your apartment door in the center. Your heart unable to tear away from the beat of an ominous presence you couldn't place.You wondered if you could camp out on the stairs, but that was silly. There was no valid reason for you to be terrified, and yet, the idea of talking one more step sent your body radiating into hysterics.

A heavy sigh accompanied your next step. Your feet reluctantly moving you forward until you were at your door and sliding your key home. You let it swing open as you warily glanced inside. You moved into the entrance and as your hands moved down to unzip your boots, you called out, “Alice! I'm home.”

When you finished places them neatly next to her tennis shoes, and pushed the front door closed, you moved out of the entrance. Your feet padding into the living room to see she wasn't there at all.

“Alice?”

“I’m in the kitchen!” She yelled back. Your next step halted as she spoke. “Your friend Namjoon is here too.”

The feeling of dread you’d encountered in the hallway suddenly began to make sense. A quiet protest trapped in your throat as your mind struggled to make sense of the situation. Your eyes glanced around the room in hopes of finding something you could use to defend yourself. Your heart sinking further into your chest when you realized there was no point. How could you ever hope to defend yourself against something like him?

With trembling steps, you made your way around the wall divide into the kitchen. Alice working on dinner at the stove and the figure of Namjoon pressed with his back against the wall.

He was taller than you’d imagined, resembling Jimin in the since he seemed incredibly...normal. He wasn't as finely dressed as the former either. Namjoon wardrobe consisting of a simple tee shirt covered in a bomber jacket and jeans. He appeared so completely unthreatening that a laugh of disbelief exited your lips.

Namjoon uncrossed his arms and moved to stand to his full height. You were tempted to go over and bow in greeting, when his eyes changed to crimson, making you want to grab Alice and run from the room screaming.

“Hello, Y/N. I've been waiting for you.”

[artemiseamoon]

I’m trying to stay distracted from the horrors, so hiding here.

(It’s this or cry and scream in fetal position so…)

The way I wanna pull Pedro and Charlie into the Lonesome universe, like some messed up TF reunion within Mojave.

As the story is now, not sure how that would work, esp since I’m nearing the final chapters. Maybe a sequel will be in order 🤔 or i can just make it longer…

If I added them as characters, this is what I have in mind:

Pedro as a detective looking into the Mojave murders…

Charlie as an Occult and Supernatural studies professor who obsessively studies the Ancient Ones and suspects his long lost brother may have been killed or turned by one

The brother:

Yeah, maybe a sequel 🙂 too much to fit in now

There is a new character next chapter tho, the Priest…(you know the deal if you’re caught up with the fic)

[artemiseamoon]

New chapter on A03

Next one in progress. Might be ready this weekend or monday.

Other in progress wips are currently being divided into lists. I’ll resume a couple in the fall, and some more in the winter.💕

[artemiseamoon]

Pt in the works. First draft almost complete. We get to see how Selene and Jack 😁

Stay tuned! Update coming this week to A03.

The Lonesome

A03 only fic, no tumblr previews

Status: in progress | Chapter 1 up now

Read on A03

About: Driven by revenge, Selene makes her way to LA, following the scent of the man who ruined her life. While searching for him, she crosses paths with a dejected actor.

Note: I had the boards already in my drafts, so posting here but for anything new moving forward, it will just be on @artemiseamoon-ficart I have over 100 drafts, so some boards may end up here, until I clear them out.

Note: I’ve made changes to Jack, he won’t be canon in some ways.

Moodboards

[artemiseamoon]

New: The Lonesome

Chapter 7

Fic info

Snippet, read on A03

***spoiler in text, if u have not caught up yet!!!!***

Selene glanced at the rearview mirror, eying the cooler in the backseat. It was amazing really, one could get all kinds of shady shit with some cash, especially in LA. It took less than two hours to find a nurse willing to steal blood bags for money.

This was not what she imagined for herself, within a couple of days she was not only a full vampire, but a killer and soon to be using blood bags like Capri Suns. She was already hungry and woke up that way, same as Tom but was trying to control herself. She realized in her new state that the hunger she felt previously, was nothing compared to this.

[artemiseamoon]

The Lonesome

Chapter 5 sneak peak (out today)

Fic info

A03

Jack guided her into his lap, his hands on her ass, “why be a slave to the government? That’s what all that makes you.” He traced her lips, “it’s better to be free.”

“As much as I appreciate the off-grid life, I don’t know if I’m built for it. Though, it sounds nice in some ways…is that what you do? Mr. Mystery. I know nothing about you, minus your music and reading taste.”

Jack didn’t answer right away, he continued to caress her face, admiring her features. At the same time, Selene watched him. His eyes were hypnotic, easy to get lost in, and even his lashes were long and pretty. She could study his face for hours.

She cupped his cheeks with her palms, “I’ll ask you what you asked me then, who are you?”

“That is the question, isn't it. Many things ma Chérie.” Jack kissed her, then pointed to the guitar in the corner.

“You play?” she got up to retrieve it. “I should have known. Musicians and I… moth to a flame and messy endings.”

“Moth to a flame and messy endings,” Jack repeated as he tuned the guitar, then started to play.