#she spent most of her time as a more animalistic than humanoid form but she occasionally had fun pretending to be a full human too

[chimeric-art]

My original design for Chimera's humanish form, using @miss-mossball 's [fairy base]!

[atalante241]

A Ninjago AU where when the FSM first made Ninjago the celestial bodies of The Moon, The Sun and The Stars (in the order above) were humanoid beings that controlled the nights and days of Ninjago, but at somepoint the FSM decided to make them the celestial bodies themselves. The celestials didn’t object to it, and left the planet peacefully.

The Sun and Moon have almost been completely forgotten, only some small tribes dedicated to them still remember them. The Stars are more well remembered because they used to help and guide travelers to their destinations, and continue to do so from the sky. This has gained them a small cult like following with people who travel or don’t have a home, as it is belived that the stars protect anyone seen by them.

While she still had a body The Moon was know for gifting beauty, grace and healing to those who served her. He gifts came in many forms like water that would keep the earth alive, and beauty in society in the form of peace. She also gave straight out beauty to forms she belived to be deserving of it, it is said that she kept the Badlands alive and after she became the moon itself the land dried up leading to the now infamous empty dessert between the Sea of Sand and Ninjago City. According to people who met her whenever she moved her hands ten bells rang in unison and her eyes would be pitch black unless light shined on them, so it has become common practice to hang a bell from each of your hands and to cover your eyes in someway when praying to her.

If she speaks you’ll hear emptiness as a sound, it is rumored that her schreech could kill.

The Sun was asked for strength, bravery and safety. He too would give them in many forms like safety in warmth and strength in allies and brute force. The Sun was know for being prideful, his eye shining brightly no matter the strength of darkness. His pride was something to be vary of, there being the tale of the city of Hono Mizu where the citizens hadn’t seen of The Sun celestial ever so they had denied his existence. The Sun had been outraged, so he had spewn lava from the sea destroying the once great coastal city. Only leaving the Boiling Sea behind them. It is said that The Sun would live in the Fire Temple, killing anyone who stepped in it. So the practice of praying to The Sun is to kneel before the gate leading into the temple six hours before sun set, and not to raise one’s head before the sun has set.

When angry he rattles the rattle at the end of his tail, his arms ones of bears and The Sun is the strongest of the celestials.

The Stars would gift anyone in need of them directions to the answer to their problems, it was rumored that if there wasn’t one the traveler would become one of the scales on their tails. No one has seen The Stars move, and the few that have couldn’t keep their eyes on them for more than a second. The Stars were know to be animalistic, it is rumored that Hiroshi’s Labyrinth was where they spent their time. They don’t have a set religious style, but most followers write small poems on waterproof paper and tie it to direction signs, even in the city.

The Stars are usually spotted sitting on something or in water, the two halves seem to want to separate from one another but attack anyone who tries to separate them.

In their humanoid forms each of them has the ability to float/fly, a godly amount of super strength, levitation and none of them need food or air to be alive. And in general other godly powers except creation.

So one day the sun, moon and stars disappear from the Ninjago sky. Making everyone panic about the sudden darkness, the only exists it light sources being electrical and fire ones. But for some reason they don’t work at night, the fenomenon obviously gains the attention of the ninja so they’re tasked with figuring out what happened and how to fix it. They take a trip to the few museums located around Ninjago until finally they end up at the library of Domu, there they find the stories and myths about the celestial. They first brush if off but later go back when they bump into on of the three while going to the next library, while this is happening three serpentine travelers have accidentally found The Sun wandering the desert. The Sun attacks them setting the are where the confrontation happened aflame and turning some of the sand into glass, the three serpentine escape somehow but barely alive.

When they get back to the current serpentine home they tell them what’s happening up-ground and of their attack, the serpentine are super weirded out by this because they had no idea that anything like this was happening because they live underground. They somehow contact the ninja, telling them of what happened, the ninja soon realise that it’s the celestials from the scrolls and the sky. With some scroll reading they find out that the celestial are mostly peaceful beings, and for some reason are acting more angry. They also find out that they have to construct a metal staff out of a certain type of metal that can be found in the Floating Ruins, and for the spear to work the certain marks on the celestials bodies have to be pierced, they also find out from the library that an old woman had borrowed the last scroll out of the four.

Along the way they keep stumbling into the celestials and having to kinda fight them but they just end up running for their lives because beating basically a god is very hard, but during these they realise that the celestials are acting very robotic. When they finally get to the Floating Ruins they quickly find the metal, Kai and Nya are tasked with melting and shaping it to the spear. While the sibling do that the others leave to look around the ruins, during that they find the old woman the people at the library had told them about.

They end up in a confrontation with her during this they find out that she wants to become a celestial being also, so she took the celestials from the sky and took their minds so they’d help her. Zane being a smarty pants broadcasts the speeche to the Bounty letting Kai and Nya in on what going on, so they alter the spear so instead of banishing the celestials into the sky when it pierced them through the mark it would break any abnormality to their bodies holding onto them. Even people.

So a little scuffle happenes but somebody’s abel to pierce the three celestials with the spear, making them gain cogniance. They end up punishing the old lady by imploading her for messing with the minds and bodies of celestial beings, and making her soul into one of The Stars scales.

The ninja don’t end up putting the celestial beings back into the sky, they do it themselves but this time they have more power over their forms. So while as the stars in the night sky The Stars can lead people with small light orbs that float along the road, same with The Moon and The Sun with their respective things.

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Halloween is on the way~ Hee-hee so enjoy this little spooky treat~

Featuring: The Polterbitch

The Polterbitch is a terrifying, ghostly entity that manifested from Amy’s intense feelings of anger, hatred and resentment towards the people she felt hurt by.

This was inspired by IT, The Conjuring, Paranormal Activity and Lights Out, scary… because the polterbitch is very much like the ghosts in the Conjuring, Paranormal Activity and Poltergeist, but it’s also kinda sadistic like Pennywise... 

Lol it’s to be expected given that Amy was born from American Horror Story... so naturally... she brought the horror story to UA or at least lets them know that they need to start believing in horror stories.

Background:

After Amy temporarily quit UA, she isolated herself in her mansion, with Shinsou, Madison, Mallory and Coco there to keep her company. Unfortunately, Amy was distraught, upset and still feeling angry towards Izuku (who broke her heart) and Aizawa (who she felt close to but he upset her greatly) and All-Might (to a lesser extent), in her anger, a curse was born and accidentally unleashed into the school only moments when Amy exited the grounds.

After her departure, the class noted that it felt off without Amy and expressed concern when she left, with Mineta especially terrified and thinking that she probably cursed them. Soon after, strange things began to occur throughout the student’s school days, beginning with moments when the lights would turn on and off or noticing that things had been moved, with glass cups having been shattered or the refrigerator left open throughout the night with some snacks eaten.

 However, Izuku was the first to become a victim of these strange happenings, with his homework assignments suddenly flying out of his backpack, or attempting to get a glass of water only for the glass to never fill up no matter how much water was poured into it. A visible event that startled those who witnessed it.

Tokoyami accurately deducted that it was a curse and reluctantly noted that Mineta was right, but Izuku didn’t really want to believe that curses were real, but it didn’t stop his classmates (including Todoroki, Uraraka and Aoyama) from kinda avoiding him when unlucky things started happening to him.

Initially, the curse did mostly harmless and minor tricks, such as turning the lights on and off, placing objects in different places in the dorm buildings and opening the doors through invisible means. As well as more bad luck occurring, with Izuku got the full brunt of the curse, but Aizawa faced several misfortunes as well.

Other simple things happened, such as perfectly ripe apples ended up being rotten and decayed upon being chewed, Izuku’s All-Might figurines are stacked up in a way he didn’t stack them before after turning around for a moment, his homework papers suddenly come flying out when he opens his bag  and then a raccoon kept randomly attacking him upon opening the refrigerator, the pantry, his locker and when he tries to shower.

Likewise, Aizawa was attacked by the same raccoon when attempting to sleep in his sleeping bag or when he attempts to grade test and after grading them, the next day his students note that there weren’t any grades on the papers when he returned them. All-Might however, experienced more harmless tricks such as finding his books stacked up when he turned around for a moment, or finding playing cards in his wallet instead of money when trying to buy snacks.

In the duration of a week, the students became paranoid and a disgruntled Aizawa set up cameras to figure out what was happening and to his and their horror, the cameras showed things happening such as the doors being opened and items being moved in the kitchen, and it became more apparent that the curse was real. The curse’s tricks became less harmless and the curse began to take on a humanoid form that lurked in the shadows and began to openly terrorize and horrify any who were unlucky enough to encounter it, or if it simply felt like screwing with their minds.

Students such as Izuku, Uraraka and Jirou then pleaded Shinsou for his help, but when he visited the dorms nothing happened during his presence (due to his friendship with Amy), and he was aware that there was a minor curse on them, but he neglected to tell them just for his own amusement.

Shinsou: There’s nothing going on here you lunatics.

Izuku: Then why are all these bad things happening?! I spent the entire night locked in the pantry downstairs and my phone j-j-just died! I had it charged and it just died! And the lights wouldn’t even work!

Uraraka: Three days ago I saw the door close! By itself! And a chair moved by itself too! Aizawa-sensei was with us he saw it!!

Shinsou: It could’ve been your classmate Hagakure.

Jirou: It is NOT Hagakure! There’s something going on in here! And it all happened as soon as Amy left!

Shinsou: A lot of things have happened whenever she leaves. Not just this series of unfortunate circumstances and coincidences.

Mineta: These aren’t coincidences! It’s a curse! An evil witch’s curse! She cursed Midoriya and now she’s cursed all of us!

Shinsou: (irritated) You guys were going through a lot of stress during the time before and after. Perhaps it’s just your guilt manifesting.

Izuku: Shinsou it is NOT that! Please just tell Amy to stop doing whatever she’s doing, please?! I beg of you...!

Shinsou: She’s recovering at her house. You should’ve been nicer to her when she was here and maybe she would, but she doesn’t have to, because she isn’t doing anything.

Amy had no idea what was going on though, as she was unaware that she had placed a curse on UA and that it gleefully terrified and haunted the school. At least until her classmates began texting her and begging her to help them and turn off the curse, initially she didn’t believe it because she wasn’t aware that she could create curses, but Todoroki’s text ended up convincing her to go back momentarily to UA for inspection. 

To her horror she realizes that she did indeed place a curse upon them that took on the form of a poltergeist that she dubbed a ‘polterbitch’ because the curse had no desire to kill anyone, but rather, just enjoyed playing mind games and scaring all the people she hated, and she found it hilarious due to how many people and children were frightened by the haunting. 

Still, because some of her friends were afraid, she reluctantly lessened the curse after reading a spell on how to, and to her annoyance she discovers that the curse was born from her emotions and it urges her to work on herself because while she admits she still holds anger towards certain people, that she doesn’t want her friends and the people she liked to suffer for it. 

Taking this to heart and working to improve on herself, Amy’s curse began to dissipate, the happier she was with Shinsou and her girlfriends, and also... meeting Ashlen online also brightened up her spirits, along with meeting her friend Ambrose is what enabled the curse to be uplifted from UA with nothing else occurring afterwards.

Personality:

The polterbitch, strictly speaking, functions as a curse and a poltergeist that haunts the area it was placed upon, as Amy unknowingly cursed UA in her moment of resentment and anger. Initially, it began as a curse that enabled unfortunate mishaps to occur throughout the dorms and played harmless pranks that alarmed and freaked out Amy’s classmates and friends particularly since they couldn’t explain them. It has a wicked sense of humor as it finds amusement in scaring the daylights out of people, even giggling at their fear, but it can be playful as well as it also giggles at the frustrations of Iida, Bakugou and All-Might.

Mischievous at first, the curse became increasingly wild, turning lights on and off and being especially active at night time and shortly afterwards began to take on a more active presence to the point where Dark Shadow, another entity, was able to communicate with it through the TV one late night at 3 am. However, when Todoroki (who had trouble sleeping) arrived in time to watch the shadow talking to the TV he was skeptical until he heard a voice’s whispers and believed it to be Amy, and in turn, the curse took on her form (albeit appearing more like a specter, ghostly figure) and began to speak to him. Implying that curse still retains Amy’s attachments as it seemed to recognize Todoroki and it took her form for him to be comfortable with and it seemed the most comfortable interacting with him as it never attempted to interact with any other friend.

The polterbitch does not seem outwardly cruel, or rather, is selective in who it plays tricks on, as it did nothing to harm friends like Shinsou, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu or Kaminari, even helping them when they misplaced items with the polterbitch putting Kaminari’s correct book in his backpack or attacking Mineta when he attempted to look up Yaoyorozu’s skirt. Although it still enjoyed playing harmless tricks on Iida and Bakugou, but more out of playfulness rather than malice as it fondly giggled at their annoyance and did nothing to harm them.

Unfortunately, it retained Amy’s anger towards certain people as it went from speaking calmly with Todoroki to animalistically roaring when Aizawa found Todoroki still awake at an ungodly hour and it immediately fled when spotted by him. Likewise, the polterbitch took a twisted delight in terrorizing Izuku in particular by playing endless tricks that became much more fearful that scared the hell out of him. It seemed to also have Amy’s sense of humor, albeit far more wicked as it enjoyed the fear it got out of people, including the Big 3 and Aizawa, who were visibly startled by it’s actions such as shutting the doors and moving chairs before their eyes. Although, the polterbitch did also use physical violence when especially provoked, as it also beat the tar out of Mineta during an exercise for spying on the girls.

Showcasing that the polterbitch has two sides, one that is gentle, playful and passive with Amy’s friends, and another that is aggressive, sadistic and beastly towards the people she hates or feels anger and resentment towards..

The polterbitch is assumed to speak, as Dark Shadow and Todoroki seemed to hear and understand what it was saying, but when others watched it interact with them, they heard nothing from it as it’s mouth opened.

It’s cruelty and trickery all varies and depends on Amy’s emotions as the polterbitch is fueled by Amy’s negative emotions such as anger and resentment towards certain people, however, it can be staved away by happiness and love as the polterbitch dissipated with a smile when Amy received love and support from friends such as Shinsou and Madison, and when she found comfort in a new friend. 

Abilities:

Curse Embodiment: The polterbitch functions as a curse built from Amy’s anger and resentment and thus primarily acts on these emotions to terrify the people she’s most angry with or simply hates. 

Intangibility: The polterbitch can go through walls and other items. 

Invisibility: Although it lurks mainly in the shadows, the polterbitch can make itself invisible from others and also lets itself be seen when it wants to be seen. 

Teleportation: The polterbitch can suddenly appear in other places, although it’s implied that it can do this through the use of shadow travel and lurking in darkness.

Speed: The polterbitch is very fast, but primarily utilizing darkness for speed. 

Fear Inducement: Stemming from Amy’s resentment, the polterbitch induces fear in those it’s creator is angry with and gleefully does so in an almost sadistic manner.

All in all the polterbitch is a metaphor for lingering toxicity and how it can harm others, even the ones you didn’t intend to hurt and that it can return, but it can also go away too and it can stay away as long as good choices are made for ones self.

Incantation: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...

[thebeautyofdisorder]

The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapter 8

A/N: Okay, sorry it’s been like two weeks since I posted the last chapter. I am such a mess. This is a bit shorter, more of a set up than anything, but informative? I have so many ideas for this, that it took me a minute to figure out in sequence what’s going to happen when.

Pairing: Dracula & Agatha/Zoe, off and on Dracula/OFC

Rating: M, for blood, language, and mercenaries with guns.

Chapters 1-2 Here - Chapter 3 Here - Chapter 4 Here - Chapter 5 Here - Chapter 6 Here - Chapter 7 Here

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE - or enjoy below the cut

Chapter 8

By all accounts he appears as a human man, at varying states of age depending upon how regularly and well he is fed, lingering even at his most satiated at around 45-50 years – presumably the age of his death. His hair is thick and inky black, kept shorter and slicked back when in public view; his nose aquiline and aristocratic; his eyes appear black at a distance but in close quarters and lighting seem to have a dark mossy-brown hue; admirable bone structure, and a mouth that is at times both harsh and jovial depending upon what impression he wishes to put across at the time. His accent is tainted by those of his victims, but always holds a slight thickness and gravel, reminiscent of his native tongue. His teeth, even when not in the state of blood frenzy, still seem longer and sharper than normal, particularly the canines. His fingernails also are long and honed to a point, and seem to be of inhuman durability and sharpness. He is excessively tall and somewhat broad, though of a generally slim build regardless of his bestial strength. No physical deformities upon the rest of his body when in his humanoid state, though his eyes can seem to gleam in the darkness like those of other nocturnal beasts.

When in the presence of human blood, those eyes dilate and become ringed in crimson, and all blunt edges of his teeth sharpen to slight but lethal points. Animalistic tendencies manifest – hissing, snarling, growling, the hunched stance of a predator, etc. Interestingly, he also seems to bare all the normative signs of the common morphine addict – tension, restless movements, irritability, the inability to control his emotions and behavior. He possesses speed the likes of which the human eye can barely detect, but only in small bursts in the midst of attack, by my witness. He was able to manifest a continual fog, as stated earlier in my narrative, and could very well be at fault for the storm swirling in the seas now, as I write. He can deform himself to fit into any small space, one could assume, though I have only seen him do this by defiling the physical forms of other living beings – notably a wolf at the convent, and the late Jonathan Harker, who was also undead at the time. Whether that’s relevant to this ability, I don’t particularly know. He can call wolves and bats to his service, and possibly flies – whether this works with all creatures and he’s merely chosen these for theatrical purposes, or if he’s limited to creatures of darkness and decay, I have yet to discover.

The ‘kiss of the vampire’ is a strong opiate, meaning most victims are often unaware of his bite or the danger they are in until it is too late. He can create and control the dream state in which they enter, often choosing scenarios of an erotic nature. Whether this is for his own amusement or because of the effect it has on the blood, I can only deduce. This method seems to be equally employed through both sexes though I have yet to see any direct indications of intercourse, willing or unwilling. If he possesses a sex drive at all, it is seemingly outranked by his desire to feed.  

He is highly intelligent and possesses a biting wit, which in another context might even be endearing, and his charm is carefully honed to attract potential victims. Though his mental weaknesses are notable, including his arrogance, lack of self-awareness, and dependence on his victims to take in and retain key skills and information. As opposed to learning the language of a new land through study, he merely drains one of its countrymen and absorbs their inherent knowledge. This leads to a flurry of unpredictable behavior and reckless death, and also speaks of his impatience and lack of discipline, which has undoubtedly lessened with age. He was, in life, an excellent ruler and even better general with a skill for strategy currently wasted on petty mind games. If he could ever reach a point of managing his appetite for blood and destruction, he could be an invaluable resource - a first-hand witness to the last four hundred years of European history.

I’m sure you will, dear brother, quickly dismiss this as folly, but however much you would like to categorize him as yet another mindless demon from the pit, I assure you he is anything but. He may fear the cross, but don’t think there is a heavenly power that instilled that fear. It reeks of an entirely human weakness. You would do well to remember that, should you run across him or any of his kind in the future. While his existence seems to have been very luck of the draw, it’s nowhere near as anomalous as Dracula himself would like us to believe. Others could have survived and done what he has done. In fact, I could almost guarantee it.

Zoe read through Agatha’s words again, this particular afterward for maybe the twentieth time since she’d found it. Not for any particular information, more over just marveling at the clarity, simplicity, and dare-she-say fondness with which it was written, in comparison to the information she’d been brought up with. Shockingly, the nun was able to more realistically sum up the vampire than any other Van Helsing before or after her (granted, she had the firsthand experience), and with so much less fire and brimstone, religious nonsense. It was half of why she’d spent so long away from ‘the family business’ as it were, until she’d had to take over the institute. Science had always been the only god she would acknowledge.

Whatever logic Agatha had administered from across the pond however, while well used, had been entirely riddled with her elder brother’s showmanship and particularly Catholic brand of fending off the forces of darkness. Agatha may have seen him as the devil incarnate, but that didn’t stop her from acknowledging his humanity – and in that, Zoe couldn’t help but agree. Dracula was very much still a man, no matter how immortal or powerful, and he still had all of man’s other weaknesses, sans physical vulnerabilities. Minor detail.

She supposed it had made it easier for both the zealot and the scientist to see their subject of animosity as no better than a rabid dog that needed to be analyzed and destroyed. But that had never been the case at all. A self-serving lesson to learn, she had to admit, but an important one. So long as he had retained some of his humanity, there was certainly hope for her.

It was the only thing keeping her sane through the mock trial this experiment had turned into. Every turn she was being questioned and analyzed harder than she had since grad school, and yet still regarded as the antagonistic and dangerous party. It was a contradiction that made her genuinely question the mental capacity of her colleagues.

Yes, let's aggravate the person we're terrified of. Honestly.

Their latest critique, however she loathed to admit it, was actually sound. They needed a control. A 'direct contact' feed to compare to her bottled one, and they all knew there was only one vampire to compare to. Clearly they didn't actually expect him to participate, they only wanted to de-legitimize her process.

But it would make an impact, wouldn't it?

-----

It was just before sunset, traces of red just beginning to seep onto the surface of the sun, and for the first time in a great while, Count Dracula was unenthused. He was beginning to be rather fond of daylight, even if it came with certain disadvantages, as he was beginning to discover. Perhaps vampires were better off as creatures of the night after all.

Most if not all of his preternatural abilities were greatly weakened by the sun, though why he wasn't sure. It made him feel languid and slow, which was perfectly fine for an afternoon on the beach, but highly inconvenient when he got hungry and none of his more willing resources were available. Physical conditioning or a lesser reality of the lore he'd always accepted, who was to say?

Who indeed.

He had given Zoe plenty of space to run her little experiments without interference, aside from keeping an 'eye' out to ensure she wasn't in any immediate danger. But there was only so long that would last, and despite having ample opportunity to create more brides...he felt like he needed more answers before that inevitability occurred.

Agatha had been right, annoyingly, as usual. Lab rats were not something he needed, especially ones who could question him on topics even he didn't fully understand anymore.

If the Van Helsing women were good for anything, aside from healthy competition, it was certainly bluntness and clarity. Being the only thing close to another vampire of any mental capacity to be in his proximity for over 300 years certainly didn't hurt.

Zoe Van Helsing was someone he needed, a concept he could scarcely understand and wasn't entirely fond of, but if he wasn't mistaken, she needed him as well - and hated it even more.

----

"Dr. Helsing, is this really necessary?"

Zoe found herself staring at the younger but far more egotistical doctor through the glass that separated them with an expression not unlike one would give a particularly frustrating insect who refused to die as fast as she wished it would.

"Is what necessary?"

The man, Dr. Connors, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, punctuating his next words with unnecessary flare.

"Well, our sponsor doesn't understand the necessity of this trial, when it cannot possibly prove anything. All of our intel on the 'vampiric condition' states simply that they require blood to sustain life, but also that it's nearly impossible to kill them. Surely your continued …  existence without blood doesn't fully prove or disprove anything. And without anything to compare it to…"

"For now," she interrupted stubbornly, attempting to ignore his tendency to discuss her as though she were a theoretical construct.

"Even so," he continued blandly, "There are surely better uses of our time, in the face of an increasing number of...undead. Preventative measures, protection for the innocent. Unless you can get some sort of control data…"

Their 'sponsor' had sent this idiot to report back on how his precious money was being spent,  and it had become an increasingly infuriating thorn in her side. Or stake in her heart, she was sure he hoped. Zoe had just begun to second guess her tendencies toward homicide, when she felt the tell-tale hairs begin to rise on the back of her neck.

"Oh fuck me," she cursed aloud, completely indifferent to the confused looks of those observing her. They wouldn't be confused for long.

"Careful what you wish for Doctor."

Everyone but Zoe took a startled glance around. She turned around, eyes directly finding the dark ones on the outside of the glass, quirking a stern brow despite the relative chaos of everyone else receding into the corners in panic.

Count Dracula merely flashed her a shit-eating grin in response, relishing her disapproval in equal measure to the human fear beginning to fill the room. Pungent and yet satisfying, she noted, rather unhappily.

"Oh Zoe how the tables have turned," he couldn't resist prodding at her through the encasement, ignoring the guns pointed at his back in favor of taunting her, hands in his pockets. The picture of malicious nonchalance.

She wasn't trapped, as he had been. They'd learned their lesson in that regard at least, but it was a barrier she'd permitted for her own sanity. Watching everyone walk on eggshells around her was grating, and it ruined her focus. Plus, it helped with the sensory overload until she got more accustomed to it.

"And yet you're still the one at gunpoint," Zoe shot back with a hint of a blithe smile.

He turned and directed his overly fond smile towards the tattooed gentleman with the over-sized assault weapon, greeting him like an old friend. The man that Zoe had never seen with a single facial expression looked so dumbstruck that she had to fight down a laugh. This was apparently the last straw for their visiting dictator.

"Count Dracula," came more of a squeak than a shout from the bespectacled doctor's mouth, with such a forced amount of distaste that Zoe was now certain he had lost his mind entirely. "You will not be permitted to attack anyone here."

Shooting Zoe an incredulous look, mostly as she could read translating to ‘Is he serious?’, the vampire watched her answering eye roll very obviously telling him ‘He's an idiot, but reports to the money’.

Dracula finally looked away from their silent exchange, and took out a small pocket flask, not unlike the one he'd left her before, and shook it in the other man's general direction as he passed by him with total indifference.

"Not to worry, I brought my own," he stated, opening it and taking a long swig. It cleared a direct pathway for him easily, bee-lining for Dr. Bloxham who sat at the control panel. She naturally flinched on his approach, despite trying to hide it. He noticed and flashed her a charming smile, to his credit only showing the slightest hint of fang.

"Terribly sorry about the finger," the Count apologized humbly, almost convincingly sincere as he draped a long arm over the back of her chair. "...But would you mind letting me in?"

Bloxham looked somewhat confused. "You want to go in there?" Her eyes shot up to the ceiling. The sun had not completely set. He gave her an encouraging smile with a faint trace of pity.

"I would love to go in there."

Zoe merely rolled her eyes and tapped on the table with relative impatience, as he paced through the parted seas of scientists and interns alike to join her in the completely ineffective glass prison.

"You evil little thing, you didn't tell them," he accused with quiet glee as he approached her from the opposite side of the table.

"If their superstitions help them feel safe, then all the better for me," she excused in a murmur, hoping he hadn't just given the game away completely.

His grin was one of near pride, as he bent his tall form forward to rest his hands on the table. "I can go slit his throat if you want me to. Heaven knows you won't."

She sighed, not trusting herself to answer. "Why are you here?" she asked instead.

"You needed me, didn't you?"

------

Okay, so this could go really amusingly or very terribly - we’ll see what I come up with, eh? Shouldn’t be as long of a wait this time, fingers crossed.

Tag List: @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @charlesdances @punk-courtesan  @crowley-needs-a-hug @hoefordarkness @bellamortislife @malkaviangirl @imagineandimagine @chelsfic @dracula-s-bride @my-fanfic-library @hyacinth-meadow @mymagicsuitcase @littlemessyjessi @desperatefrenchwriter @ss9slb @crazytxgradstudent @claesbang @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @gettingcrazyforlife @carydorse @dreamerkim @gatissed @alhoyin @girlonfireice @festering-queen @jangleprojet  @guardianbelle @vampiregirl1797

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[fing-thing]

An attempt at writing fiction.

Chapter one:

A dark silhouette alone on the balcony, eyes closed feeling the breeze from the end of a long summer day.  Rolling hills immaculately kept with bushes trimmed into a multitude of creatures, throwing distorted shadows across the gravel pathways throughout the estate. Placed within the grounds was a house so vast it could be a palace housing the royal families of Valoran.    Either side of the balcony there were windows befitting to that of a church, with coloured glass capturing murals of landscapes.  

Isolated within the vastness of nature the estate was still not out of place.  Cities such as Noxus were created through desecrating the environment, paying no heed to what was there beforehand.  The estate was formed with the land and has the stature of an ancient tree.  

From the open doors a light, uplifting melody was playing intertwined with the soft soprano vocals of a woman.  What the song was about does not matter, as it is spoken in a dialect that few understand, the runic letters of power.  To those few the words from the song can be used to manipulate the energies all around into wonderful and dangerous tools.  

Framing the face of the figure is long white hair, cascading down to the small of her back. Her hair flowed with the wind much akin to willow branches, swaying but not erratically.  The dipping sun set the sky aflame with warm reds and desert oranges creating an illusion of gold.  A smile graced the lips of the figure, removing the hard lines on her brow. These lines are far too mature for one too young.  

A deep breath in followed by an even longer one out, she despised the social charades.  As an ambassador of Demacia these events were compulsory, especially when you had exhibited the old powers.  Well in reflection it is not all bad; if she was anyone else’s daughter other than royalty she would have been cleansed.  

She opened her blue eyes, drinking in the peaceful serenity of the Inonian plains.  Her eyes were a cold icy blue; similar to that of the tundra, sparkling with a Yordle’s mischief.  Throughout the blue there were hues of the rainbow, as if sunlight was being split in the spectrum.  Another exasperated sigh escaped from her lips.  Too much time had been spent away from the party.  

Turning her back to the idyllic scene she begrudgingly entered the vast ballroom.  The ballroom could have housed a small village within it and had space for growing fields.  With ornate redwood arches reaching across the ceilings which were carved with all manner of birds.  It was too clever and precise work for human hands, much more delicately constructed in comparison to the exports of Zaun and Piltover.  At a glance the birds appeared to be roosting within the beams. She turned her nose up at the way that the Vastayah used their power for trivial aesthetics.

Spreads throughout the floor were hundreds of the Vastayah, with a handful of humans and even less of the elusive yordles.  At just over 2 feet tall they were hard to spot in the melee.  A colossal head of a war-scarred hammer was bobbing through the crowd comically out of place.  That was all she needed as she delved into the crowd.

She wrinkled her nose again. The Vastayans have an animalistic musk, whereas the civilised human cultures cover themselves in sweet flowery scents.  This is one of the many subtle differences between the humanoids and herself.  At a glance they all looked like a normal human, albeit a very beautiful human.  Upon closer inspection there were long pointed ears nestling on either side of their head, much like wildcats.  They were covered in fur that matched the hair on their head which ranged through the brightest colours.  All of them, without exception, had the body of a trained fighter and had overwhelming strength.  The most noticeable feature was their feet with long paw like feet, emulating that of a hare.

Strangely the Vastayans also had one wing asymmetrically positioned on their body. In males the wing comes from the right side, whereas this is the opposite in females.  There is an old folk’s tale as to why there is not a single Vastaya with two wings.  But it is not a happy tale which almost ended with the mass genocide of these strange humanoids.

[wendynerdwrites]

@jonxsansaremix

Jon x Sansa Remix: Day Two - Comics/Graphic Novel Couples: Fables - Bigby Wolf x Snow White

(Reposting my fic from last year since I did this couple. But the photo edit is new and I’m actually pretty proud of it)

“Then she gets even more frustrated, meaning I turn back even further, and There’s too much to hide, so I can’t go to work, then she gets even more upset, and it’s just this whole cycle!”

Jon quietly swears under his breath as he enters the main office. Of course Beauty and Beast are the first visitors of the day. He and Sansa clearly don’t have enough headaches to deal with.

Rarely does the Deputy Mayor of Fabletown have an easy time receiving petitions— Ichabod Crane, her loathsome predecessor, left a mess with his departure. And even if he’d been a model civil servant, there is never enough money, time, or magic to solve all the problems the citizens of Fabletown have.

Sometimes, Jon wishes he hadn’t taken Sansa and King Cole up on their offer all those years ago and let them turn him back into a man. It’s true that as Sheriff, he has fewer bureaucratic nightmares to handle than Sansa, but she had so little support that Jon is compelled to assist her whenever possible.

Not that he is great at the whole diplomacy thing. Even without his past as The Big Bad Wolf and the whole “brought back from the dead” baggage, Jon isn’t much of a people person. Being stabbed by one’s brothers didn’t inspire much of an inclination towards trust, and though it’s been years since he was a full-time wolf, many of his more base, animalistic instincts remain.

Still… he couldn’t ignore Sansa’s problems even if he wanted to.

It’s been both better and worse since The Farm. Better for Arya’s sake. Most Fables, whether they were from Planetos or some other homeland, had trouble adjusting to life in the Mundy World. Planetos was one of the more brutal of the homelands even before the adversary came and ran them out. But Arya had a particularly hard time adjusting. Decades spent causing trouble, partying, messing around with that idiot, Jack. Sansa and Arya never got along well, but that didn’t stop the older sister from worrying about her constantly.

Arya found her element in the Farm, though. The sisters even found a way to communicate. And with that part of her life stable for the first time in centuries, Sansa is in a better place mentally.

But then there are the physical injuries. Sansa still needs her cane sometimes. Even now, it is propped up against the side of her desk, an oddly modern-looking thing amidst the scores of medieval-style magical artifacts the littered the cavernous main office.

The sounds of Beauty and Beast’s complaints echo off the enchanted, ever expanding walls. It is hard to believe that a woman as small as Beauty can make so much noise. But then, she always does.

Sansa sits as perfectly prim as she always does, but Jon can smell her the tension on her. He could smell it from his cigarette-filled apartment three floors up. She’d been in a decent mood this morning, too.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything other than what I always tell you when this matter arises,” the Deputy Mayor says in her most neutral tone. Jon can tell she’s longing to rest her head in her hands the way she always does when frustrated, but she stays firm and tall now. “Either you resolve your issues so that the curse no longer makes Beast change back, buy a glamour from the 13th floor, or go up to the Farm.”

This has happened a thousand times. The nature of Beast’s curse, contrary to the Mundy version of their story, mean that his appearance depended on the feelings of his wife. When Beauty was happy, Beast looked like the handsome prince of Happily Ever After. When Beauty wasn’t, he began to regain his more beastly features: eyes turning red, teeth becoming fangs, horns protruding out of his temple. At the moment he was still man-shaped, but fairly demonic in appearance nonetheless.

The couple are utterly devoted to one another. But they also had a bad habit of living outside their means. Their elegant Woodlands apartment does not reflect the piles of bills they hid within their 18th century french cabinets.

“You cannot possibly expect us to live amongst those…. Animals!” Beauty cries out, as she always does.

“It’s not so bad, Beauty,” Jon says, walking towards the desk. They all turn to see him. He gives a sardonic smile. “Most of them up there are a fair sight tamer than I am.”

Sansa’s lip twitches for half a second. Beauty scoffs at Jon and turns back to the Deputy Mayor.

“The cost of glamours these days is absurd, and it is only climbing. We couldn’t possibly afford one. And I’m a lady! I can’t just sleep amongst the the pigs and toads and badgers! That might be well enough for that vulgar sister of yours, but—”

Sansa gets to her feet at once, eyes flashing. Even Jon steps back a couple of feet. He hasn’t seen her this furious since Beauty mentioned the dwarves.

“My sister is leading the Farm and contributing to this community. Which is more than I can say for you. I’ve given you your options. Now get out.”

The couple get to their feet. Beast keeps his red eyes fixed firmly on the ground as Beauty drags him out. Once they’re gone, Jon pulls out a cigarette and lights up. Sansa’s emotions are overpowering his senses. There are a few moments of silence before he gingerly approaches her desk.

Sansa’s face is in her hands. “How many are in line outside?”

“Only a half dozen,” Jon says, as gently as he can, “Boy Blue said you wanted to see me?”

Sansa glances up at him. “I just wanted to know if you have any news on Goldilocks.”

Jon cringes. Their favorite terrorist. It was thanks to Goldilocks that Sansa had that cane. “Nothing new, I’m afraid. I just… I don’t get it. You’d think I’d be able to sniff her out. But she’s just… Disappeared.”

“Do you think she may have gotten her hands on any magical artifacts?”

Jon groans. “I didn’t want to admit it, but it seems more and more likely each day. What I don’t understand is—”

“—How she got it. But we have to find out. If there’s some unauthorized enchantments out there again…”

Jon nods. “I’m making Goldi my first priority, before anything else.”

“—I may just have a lead for you on that!”

Jon groans. Wonderful. He turns and Sansa rises to greet the Fabletown government’s primary financial benefactor, Bluebeard.

Of all the Fables that had fortunes in the homelands, Bluebeard somehow managed to be one of the few that retained his. He supposedly had endless treasure rooms in his Woodlands penthouse, and as such, he was the source for much of the government’s funding. Meaning they had to keep him happy. As with most Fables, that was easier said than done.

The former pirate strides in, as he always does, as if he owned the place. His head shines so brightly that it makes Jon wonder, not for the first time, if he shined it with the same polish that went on his italian loafers. The pirate’s hand is planted firmly atop the pocket of his brocade vest. Jon tensed up. He could smell the magic.

“I think you may want to look into that criminal, Greenleaf,” Bluebeard says smugly, coming close to the desk.

Jon rolls his eyes. “We’ve told you before, Bluebeard, Greenleaf is now a legitimate enchanter and part of the 13th Floor, under the employ of Fabletown. She is not—”

“—Once a criminal, always a criminal!” Bluebeard insists, reaching into his pocket.

“Is that so?” Sansa says, brushing a lock of her red hair back and giving Bluebeard a pointed look. The pirate has the decency to blush.

“That was before the amnesty! But she… She’s been dealing black market enchantments for years, and I don’t believe she’s stopped!” Bluebeard pulls something from his pocket— a carved wooden trinket, like a wine cork, but with a stopper— and plants it on Sansa’s desk.

Sansa and Jon both lean over to look at it.

“It certainly looks like one of Greenleaf’s…” Sansa glances at Bluebeard. “Any idea what it is?”

“A glamour, of course. Just like last time.”

That would make sense. Glamours could mask scent. Jon tentatively reaches for it and opens it.

Blackness.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Jon feels amazing, in his element. He isn’t in his wolf form, but he is definitely closer to nature.

Swimming, in fact. In a proper river rather than one of those chlorinated monstrosities the humanoids prefer. Languidly, Jon reaches out and grabs one of the salmon swimming by him. It’s only when he feels the satisfaction of the fish squirming in his hands that he realizes something is amiss.

He’s not supposed to be here. Wherever this is. He guesses the wilderness of Washington State or Oregon, judging by the smell of the trees. It’s evening, just the beginning of sundown. And for a lost wolf, he feels amazing. More amazing than he’s felt in… He’s not sure how long.

And he can smell her. Sansa. Gods can he smell her. He can smell more of her than ever. Jon braces himself and bursts towards the surface. Her scent— lemons, roses, sunlight, vanilla, oak, ink, alcohol and amber gris from that perfume she always wears— almost knocks him out. There’s something else there, too. And Jon immediately knows why he feels so good.

Uh-oh.

Jon calms himself and processes the situation. Sansa will probably be waking as well, or soon. He’s not sure if whatever enchantment that brought them here affects full humans differently than wolves.

Whatever reason they’re here, it can’t be good. He curses. Finally, after years and years of waiting and hoping and dreaming… And he can’t even remember the act!

Then there’s Sansa herself. Gods, this isn’t good. She’ll be horrified. After everything she’s been through, mating under magical influence… She can’t know. Not yet. Not until Jon knows they’re safe.

He bursts out of the water and follows her scent back to the camp they apparently made. Jon is a bit shocked. They have everything— brand new camping equipment, including one large tent and what appear to be all new hiking clothes— strewn all over the ground of their camp site. Khaki cargo shorts, t-shirts, new boots, thick white socks, a sports bra…

Jon glances down and realizes he’s naked as his Name Day. He thanks whatever gods might exist that no one saw him walking back. He grabs his shorts off the ground and pulls them on before gingerly venturing into the hub of that smell, the tent.

He almost faints again. There she is, lying amidst a collection of water-resistant sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows, in all of her glory. If Jon couldn’t smell it on her before, he’d know for certain now that the two of them had slept together. She lies on her back, legs spread, dried fluid clinging to her inner thighs.

Jon stops moving for a short while and just stares at everything he’s dreamt of for the last four centuries. Her pink-tipped breasts, the thatch of auburn curls between her legs, the swell of her hips, the whiteness of her skin. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to pounce on her.

He can’t let her know, not yet. The hair on the back of his neck prickles, and he can smell it. Danger.

Jon works fast and carefully. With every ounce of grace he has, he manages to slip her shorts and t-shirt on. He even does the socks, but doesn’t dare to try with the bra or panties. Thankfully, she stays asleep, but begins to stir when Jon gets her second sock on. Jon tries to play it off, purposely jostling her and whispering her name. “Sansa… Sansa, wake up.”

Her eyes flutter open, and Jon recalls the Mundy tale about her being woken by a prince’s kiss. He wishes he could wake her that way now. But no. Whatever they did under that spell, it was only magic. She’s not his.

Sansa sits up suddenly, her face a mask of panic. “J-Jon? What is going on?! Where am I? Why are we—?”

“I’m not sure,” he confesses, “But you can bet there’s some kind of magical element to it.” He rubs his normally clean-shaven chin, estimating the growth there. “I say we’ve been gone for about three days. We’re in Washington State.”

“Washington—” the blood drains from her face, “Oh gods.” She looks around. “Goldilocks?!”

Jon lifts his nose and inhales deeply. He can smell it. Amidst steel and motor oil and paint. “Yes. She’s behind this. And if she has even half the ballistic power I’m catching off of her, then we need to move. And quickly.”

“Where’s my cane?!” Sansa asks, looking around.

Jon sighs. “Sansa, I don’t think we can afford to have you moving like that. You’re going to have to ride me.”

She blanches. “I—”

Jon shakes his head. “No, I mean literally.” He grabs her hand. “Come on.”

He drags her out of the tent, closes his eyes, and concentrates. He thinks of darting through the woods, the smell of blood on his muzzle, the wind at his fur. He feels himself expand and rise.

When he opens his eyes, he’s no longer a man. He’s gigantic, covered in white fur, mounted on four legs. Sansa stands a few yards off, hand over her mouth. Jon crouches down, lowering his massive neck.

“Get on,” he growls. He can smell her fear, but she grits her teeth and mounts him, straddling his neck and fisting his fur.

He bolts, traversing the woods and climbing the mountain ahead. Sansa clutches him as tightly as she can, but still bounces. Jon keeps going and going, feeling his muscles strain themselves. He can’t possibly escape. Not yet.

He finds a remote ledge surrounded by trees and stops short.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asks.

“Resting. We’re not going to outrun her entirely. We need her to catch us so we can get rid of her once and for all.” Jon sighs. “But before she does, I need to get a few hours sleep while it’s still dark enough to conceal us. And so do you.”

He gets on his belly and closes his eyes. Sansa slides off of him, nodding, and settles herself against his side. “…Jon.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t help but notice… There was only one tent and sleeping bag. And I’m not wearing a bra.”

Jon groans internally and opens his eyes. “You want to talk about that now?!”

Sansa scowls at him. “Don’t give me that. You’re the one who made that absurd overture.”

Jon rests his left forward paw over his muzzle and tries to look away. Right. The night he made a complete arse of himself at the Remembrance Day Ball. When he’d used her sister’s disappearance to trick Sansa into being his date. Not one of his brightest moments. Even now, she’s looking at him with the same expression as when she told him that if he really wanted to get the girl, he should be honest with her and not use a potential tragedy to mislead her.

It had been months since, but he is still reeling from it. “And you’re the one who rejected me. What’s your point?”

“There was one sleeping bag, one tent, and no bra. So answer me. You and that nose of yours would know. Did we or did we not—?”

“No,” Jon lies, not loving himself for it. He can tell her later if he needs to. But now he needs her rested and clear-headed. That’s not happening if she knows. “If I had to guess from the amount of tracks I spotted, I’ve spent this entire trip in wolf form, sleeping under the stars.

The look of relief on her face stings a little. “Good. But Jon…”

“What?!” He asks impatiently. He’s exhausted.

She bristles at his tone. “You can’t blame me for worrying. And wondering about this attraction you suddenly have for me.”

Sudden. That’s hilarious. “Sansa, I’m exhausted…”

“I can’t sleep, Jon. I’m too wired by everything. I need to know, though. We’ve known each other our entire lives. We’ve been reunited for centuries. Why, after all this time, are you interested in me?”

“It’s not ‘all of a sudden’, Sansa.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon decides to change back. This was better expressed in his human form. Once back, he grabs her hand. “Come on, if we’re going to be awake, we might as well be moving.”

She stumbles behind him, “Come on now, you’re stalling.”

Jon sighs. “You know I spent a long time as Ghost, right?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I spent enough time as the wolf to adopt more than just the physical form before Melisandre brought me back. And while I was a wolf, I sort of…. Became part of the community.”

“The direwolf community?” She giggles.

“Don’t laugh, it’s real. Wolves have their own intelligence, their own customs, and their own legends. And while I was with them, I learned of one of them. It was about mating. And how we find our mate in the person or wolf who just… Smells right. And after we find that person, we’re attached to them. When we found one another again, I caught your scent and after that you became… the woman I can’t ignore.”

She almost trips. “That’s flattering.”

“It’s the truth. I can always smell you. Not just your presence, but everything about you and what state you’re in. It’s part of the reason I smoke so much— to block out the smell. And why I went rogue for so long. I knew you’d never be interested, so I tried to stay away. But I couldn’t. I could still smell you.”

He feels her tense up, smells her trepidation. “Jon, I—”

“I never wanted to force anything on you, Sansa. Even after you all came looking for me, I didn’t come to Fabletown expecting anything. But I decided that if I couldn’t ignore you, I could try to satisfy my feelings by protecting you.”

“Still, though, you can’t expect me to react well to you stalking me all these years.”

“I can’t help it!” He scowls. “And it’s not just— I mean, yes, I know where you are every second of every day. Not because I want to. I just do. I’d stop if I could. But it’s not just that. I know your mood, your health. The rare times those smiles you fix for the community are genuine. The periods where you feel so overwhelmed you’re almost ready to give up, but never do. I know when you’re thinking about the time you went to Cersei back in the homelands and when you blame yourself for Father’s death, which is all too often. I know when you’re blaming yourself for Arya’s troubles. I know when you’re in your bathtub crying, which happens at least twice a week. I know when you’re wondering if it’s somehow your fault your marriage to Harry ended the way it did. I know when you’re afraid, like now. But I also know that you’re starting to understand.”

She takes a deep breath. “Jon… I’m tired.”

“Just a little longer, Sansa,” Jon says, picking up the scent. “She’s getting closer.”

~_~_~_~_~_~

They’re at the John F. Kennedy airport, exiting the gate, when Sansa speaks to him for the first time in hours. There’s been a lot of silence. Jon likes to tell himself that it’s over the ax Sansa drove into Goldilocks’s head, but he knows better.

“Jon…”

“—Look, if you want me to move out, I can.” He says quickly. “Whatever you need.”

She shakes her head. “No. Jon… Look. At this point in my life, I’m not interested in tricks or grand gestures or whatever you thought you were doing with that stunt at the Remembrance Day Ball. That being said, I’ve been thinking about it. And… If you’re willing to give me some time and then ask me out nicely, in an honest, straightforward manner, to go out with you… Well, I might not say no.”

Jon feels his heart leap in his chest. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. But I mean it. Honesty and time. I need both.”

Jon pauses and takes a deep breath. “Well, then, Sansa… There’s something you should probably know…”