#should the mortal he's in love with be human or a werewolf?

[edmunderson]

got jumpscared by the new CAS poses i swapped in. enjoy the fae king's ass

[merakiui]

hello! I'd like to participate in your event and check in at this lovely hotel of yours! could I ask for a flower bouquet from Idia? I would like some lemon squares and perhaps sugar stars (teratophilia/monster of your choice or werewolf whichever is easier!) if the latter is off the menu then just the lemon squares is fine. Thank you for hosting this event!

yandere!idia shroud x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, teratophilia, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied stalking note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

Beyond limestone pillars twined with verdant strands of ivy, past orange groves in full bloom, and situated in the center of a marble platform raised ever so slightly, the culmination of humanity—a perfect, precious mortal of flesh and blood—sits in slivers of sunlight and brings brush to canvas. It is not the artistic ability that has left such a hellish, frightful creature so wonderfully enthralled but, rather, the nature in which you resign yourself to the arts, blinded by a celestial cloth, enveloped in the natural temperatures that surround you. Your hand is led by sensitive intuition, acutely aware of the colors that stain a weathered palette, and you grant life to marvelous mirages.

It is that same tender, loving hand that shall slay him, should he step beyond his bounds and interfere with the era of human creation. The world, as it has now become, is dictated by categories so studiously documented on stone tablets and spoken freely in the streets and on hilltops by philosophers excelling in all subjects. And within these groupings the gorgon is feared as the fiend and the human, most often, is celebrated as the courageous hero. Idia is neither fiend, nor hero, but for the sake of human comprehension he must be viewed as the former.

Humans are cyclical creatures, bound by schedules and the times brought on by night and day. Despite the routines they subject themselves to, whether out of necessity or for the sake of comfortable pleasure, humans continue to fascinate. Idia was never partial to them, and yet whenever he admires you his opinion regarding humankind brightens just like the far-off horizons you often portray. And every other day when the sun is at its lowest, just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting everything in creamy yellow-orange hues, you stand at your makeshift easel and paint the world as you hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it.

Idia is content to watch from afar, studying you as though you are the most abstract art he has even beheld. Most days, he’s grateful for the cloth that keeps your sense of sight contained, for if you were to look upon his ghastly countenance you would most certainly harden into an artifact lost to time.

And yet it is the allure of the unobtainable that pulls him to your person.

You feel the disturbance before you hear it. He’s standing near you; you're sure of it, and for a moment you halt your activity, head tilted skywards so that you may listen to the one who looms behind you. With a gentle breeze combing through the greenery and the sounds of various animals filling the silence, the atmosphere is rather tranquil. It’s broken by the fast-paced thrumming of Idia’s heart and his nervous, labored breaths. 

Interactions with humans—especially with his most beloved—are petrifying. But he persists in his endeavors, rooting himself to his spot, unwilling to retreat when he’s managed to accomplish this much. His hands hover above your bare shoulders, and for a second he wonders whether delicate, human hands would fit in clawed, monstrous hands. He’s far surpassed the point of no return and so, with shaking arms, he lowers his hands onto your shoulders.

You don’t flinch, but you do turn your head towards him and by some frantic instinct his eyes and the eyes of a dozen snakes squeeze shut. It is not you who will turn him to stone—this he knows well—but it’s the dread that you might remove your blindfold and bear witness to such a grotesque visage that has him shrinking away. 

“May I be of help?” you ask, and your voice wavers in a way that tells of uncertainty, of candlelight struggling to survive as it’s slowly snuffed, of worries laced with underlying curiosity. “Your hands are very…cold.”

Of course they are. He’s always cold. So cold. So lonely. What he’d do to warm himself in your embrace, to curl into your anatomy and feel that warmth between every sugared smooch, to tear the chiton from your figure and place frigid palms upon a perfect, pretty canvas. 

“S-Sorry… Sorry,” he whispers, cursing himself for his inability to speak syllables without a stutter or a hiss. “I… You… I… U-Um, I…”

With this proximity, he can smell the flowery fragrance that envelops your person. Even your canvas is decorated in shapes reminiscent of the most beautiful blossoms. Experimentally, he squeezes your shoulders, claws just barely raking over skin, and you flinch away. 

“W-Wait! I just want…” He swallows his apprehensions when one of the many snakes wriggling atop his head nudges him encouragingly. Another one lowers to your cheek, prodding you with its smooth head. You try to take a step back, but the tiny reptile hisses a low warning and you go obediently still. “I just want…t-to stay like this…a little longer…”

Please.

It’s wrong and many levels of forbidden, but the contact is everything he’s ever dreamed of. You’re a sanctuary—a beauty not meant for a monster—and if he could just show you that he could be your haven, in spite of snakes and scales, you might come to accept him. An impossible fiction, perhaps, but even so it’s all he’s desired.

With anxiety-riddled submission, you remain rooted to the marble platform. Idia’s grown daring now, a hand snaking along the length of your arm to entwine his thin, spidery digits with yours. Your breath hitches; he’d like to taste your heartbeat, feel it between pointed fangs, and savor your every sigh.

Carnal instinct leads him in a one-sided waltz. He presses himself against you, caging you between his arms and the easel, and ruts his hips slowly, awkwardly. He’s every bit as inexperienced in this as he is with the intimate intricacies of human affection, but then it’s the friction and the sound of your quiet, quickening breaths that has him hardening against the fabric of his own chiton. His presses kisses into your neck, stamps each one onto you like a special marking, until you’re shuddering in his arms. Tears dampen the cloth wound tight around your eyes, tracking down your cheeks in fat, salty drops.

“D-Don’t cry! Um… I… Ah…” Gingerly, he brings a finger to your face to swipe the tears away. Another snake nuzzles your arm, and another presses its head to your lips, a forked tongue flicking out to smell the potent scent of fear clinging to you. You whimper, and it’s equal parts heartbreaking and enticing. “It… It’ll be okay.”

It’s a promise. 

Trembling hands take hold of the fabric of your chiton, lifting it to reveal your rear. He’s thought of this moment for ages—though for a human ages could only mean a decade. It feels as if Idia’s fallen at your feet for worship ever since he opened his eyes on the world. 

“I… I’ve always thought about you—about this.” He places his palm upon the small of your back and observes how your spine straightens in alarm. “I think you’re…” His voice lowers anxiously. “R-Really nice…to look at.”

Your mouth opens and shuts, only to open once more when you gasp. His cock curves up between your ass, and he grinds against you with more determination this time, fueled with newfound confidence. Two fingers prod at your mouth and you deny him with a dismayed whine, but then there’s a cacophony of hisses coming from the many snakes on his head and you part your lips slowly. The digits slip inside, and you suck on them weakly, your cries coming in muffled hiccups. 

Idia exhales a giddy, breathless giggle. “Cute… Really cute…” Fondly, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

If only he could brand this experience into the forefront of his mind forever…

Unless there’s a next time, and there will always be a next time. 

A forked tongue traces along the shell of your ear. He’s smiling a wide, toothy grin as he rolls his hips, searching for that fabled seventh heaven. And perhaps it's a delusion, but he thinks you’re matching his movements now.

Delusion or not, he’ll carve it into his very existence until he’s a sculpture chiseled whole.

[whereserpentswalk]

They say there was a monster hunter, who had killed countless cryptids and entities, who fell in love with a vampire. They fell in love when they were fighting, but as they rolled around it soon felt as if they were playing, and soon they kissed, and he forgot about her fangs that could have so easily bitten him. And for once he chose not to kill a monster.

And she told him that she could be with him, and be his lover, for as long as he wished. But she reminded him that she was a free being, that she would never be tamed by him, and never made to put down her weapons, and be made to be like a human bride. She would never be able to marry him by any law, never have sex with him or bare his children, never take him as her only lover, or his god as her only god, and when he died her life would still be far from over. And he agreed with his words, but hoped she would change her mind some day on all things.

As as the hunter was still young, he let her hunt with him. She could see and hear better than any human, and knew where her fellow unseelie lurked. She could hypnotize a mothman as he shot at it from the ground, and could track a werewolf in the darkest of nights. And they would run together across city streets in the moonlight, and for a time their love was true. And all the local bars and local artists began to know their names well, and as the cold autumn night winds blew in their hair, they knew eachother at their best. Soon they had an apartment together, and he would brush her hair in the morning light as she slept.

At first they thought they were alike. But as he saw her hunt more, saw her mouth open wide into a mess as fangs and sharp teeth and then fold back to human shape, saw her run naked to chase down a stray goblin, and saw her sexless body naked, with scars from where her humanity was lost, he began to see her as a wild beast he had on a leash. And as she saw all the things he hunted, how willingly he would trust the testimony of humans, and how little he would show ugly things mercy. There were many creatures she had to convince him not to kill, as many as there were creatures she helped him kill, and she too felt she was hold a leash with a wild beast at the other end more and more as time went on and on.

And as he got older and older, and he began getting stranger and stranger freinds. Strange to the vampire at least, to the monster hunter they were very normal. No longer did he know the poor, the students and teachers and programmers and artists. Soon he had freinds who worked in finance, in law, who ran startups, or women who lived like pets in their husband's laps. And suddenly he wanted her to look presentable to them, even if they knew she was a vampire she couldn't be the kind they would be afraid of. Her mouth couldn't open all the way, it had to remain in a human looking state. And she couldn't spread her wings, and she had to move like a human, and dress well around them. And when they ate she couldn't drink blood, she just had to be served mortal food, and state at it as she ate nothing. And he'd pet her little head as he answered so many questions for her.

And as he got older still he began to have richer and richer clients. Fewer people in danger and more and more people looking to get rid of "problematic elements". And more and more did the hunter look at the vampire and realize that he was older now, and she was still young. And he wondered if he should have told her to transform him when he was still young, and make him like her, of the unseelie kind, forever young. Yet he thought he was too late for that, not knowing how much older he still had to grow.

And eventually, as he was older, and his clients ever richer, he told her that he was moving. He didn't ask her. He told her. And it was assumed she'd move with him. And he took her to a town, just outside of the city limits, where you needed a car to leave. And there was nothing to do at night, and no cryptids or entities but her. And there was a big house with a TV. And he would drive into the city to hunt, without her. And she would no longer walk the city streets, free and wild, and she would no longer have freinds outside of him. And she was alone, for the first time in centuries she had nobody.

And once, after they had lived together in that town for years. As he had grown older, he told her that it was time she finally slept with him. He pointed to his body and explained to her that he had needs as a man, and she had duties as his wife, and it was the first time he ever called her his wife. And as she told him no, he pulled down his pants, and began to force her mouth open. And it did open, but he had forgotten how wide it did open, she had made it look human for him for so long, and soon the bottom half of her face had once again shown itself as a mess of sharp fangs and many jaws.

They say she flew back to the city that night. And say that his body still sits in that empty house. Cold and abandoned, stripped of pants, and drained of blood, doomed to be forgotten.

[bogleech]

Okay sorry but I didn't even make it halfway through the first episode of the Wednesday Addams show before I was too bored and also just dumbfounded by how badly Tim Burton fucked up the whole concept. I know I was just saying this but the entire premise of the Addams Family and their entire appeal as characters is that they’re eccentric and morbid enough to scare people but they’re not supernatural in any way, they’re kind and loving and they aren’t actually aware of being strange. The whole humor of the original show and comics was that they acted like a picture-perfect wholesome happy family who also happen to like medieval torture devices and cemeteries.

So naturally Tim Burton makes this “older Wednesday Addams spinoff” all about how she’s a cynical morbid goth who can’t stand her parents and goes to a boarding school where she’s considered (quote) a “psychopath” who terrifies all the other students and not only is this obnoxious cliche bullshit, not only does it have absolutely nothing to do with the Addams Family at all, but it makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER IN ITS OWN CONTEXT because, oh yeah, the school she’s going to is for kids who are also werewolves and vampires and shit like that. Burton can’t resist the whole “goth girl terrorizing the prep normies” routine even while insisting on a setting where everyone is a monster anyway, and maybe the joke is that the normal mortal human is 2spooky for even the vampire and werewolf kids but he also gives Wednesday psychic powers, which she keeps secret from her fellow supernatural beings for no interesting reason, and it’s just the most ridiculous mess of a concept even just minutes in. Nothing wrong with people liking it as its own thing, it’s probably fun if you take it as a self contained setting with its own distinct characters only loosely related to the Addams Family, but I just don’t understand what the thrust of it could ever possibly be. Her character dilemma is that she’s a different kind of weirdo than all the other weirdos?? And Morticia is like a smothering mom for some reason? Or Wednesday interprets her as such??

And why does thing have STITCHES?? It’s bad enough this character became canonically just a hand, it was way more interesting when he was just a hand and arm attached to something unseen, HENCE THE NAME, but I guess he’s been portrayed as just the hand for decades now, so whatever, he’s a guy who’s just a hand for no explained reason and THAT’S why he’s called Thing. But Tim Burton feels he should be explicitly some kind of undead Frankenstein deal?? God that’s boring. That’s the most obvious route you could ever possibly take.

[cawthorntales]

"What are you doing here? Did I do something wrong?"

"No Blake." Grim answered. "I've done some thinking and realized that I can't expect you to trust me over the society if I don't tell you everything."

"Really?" I asked surprised.

"Yes." Grim replied.

"Can I ask a question?"

"You may."

"Why do you care so much about Ambrosia? Is it because it brings people back? And you are against that. There would be no suffering for you to enjoy?"

"Is that what you think?" Grim asked. I could tell I'd offended him.

"Well you are the Grim Reaper."

"I lack morality yes. But I am not heartless or cruel. I don't take delight in what I do."

"Then why do it? I was a kid. I needed my family."

"I know you did and I am sorry I had to reap them, but it was their fate." Answered sadly.

"Their fate was to be with me. To see me grow up." I retorted trying to not cry.

Look a balance needs to exist in the world. Do you know what would happen if everything just existed forever? Eventually resources would crumble from overpopulation."

"Then how come supernatural's are immortal? How is that fair?"

"But they aren't Blake. If a werewolf is attacked with silver they die, if a vampire is exposed to sunlight, staked in the heart or doesn't feed they die, if a fairy is exposed to poison or attacked with steel they die. It's true that they can go on forever unlike humans, but they aren't invincible. They can die too. And look at all they give up. Vampires can never feel the sun, werewolves can lose themselves and control if they aren't careful, fairies health are tied to their home. And all of them have been persecuted and hunted just for who they are before humanity got better."

"I-I never thought about any of that."

"As to why I care about Ambrosia that ties into the society. Despite what you think I would have no issue with people using Ambrosia to bring a loved one back for a second chance. In fact I am a believer in second chances. But I also fill it is something that effort should be put into and earned. Not something you could just do willy nilly."

"I guess that makes sense." I answered.

"Plus the society uses it for evil."

"What do you mean?"

"I know the founder of the Ambrosia Society in fact three hundred years ago she was my best friend."

"I never would have pegged the Grim Reaper to have friends."

"There's a lot about me you and other mortals don't know Blake. Anyway I trusted Deanna more than I had any human before. I knew she was scared of dying, but as her friend I tried my best to reassure her that when her time came it'd all be ok. I even broke my own rules and told her how old she'd be when her time was up. Little did I know she was using me. Our friendship was never real.

She learned as much as she could about me, my powers and the supernatural world as a whole. She used that knowledge to craft the first ambrosia and the first young again potion. She then fled with her findings and went into hiding. She built her society up with other criminals and together for centuries they've built their criminal empires. They've done every crime you can think of. I've tried and tried to stop them, but reaping them when I do catch one does no good as they just use the tools at their disposal to revive.

Because of the Ambrosia Society and my own foolishness for thinking I could ever have a friend thousands of people have died or been harmed of the centuries before their time. I have to stop them and I have to make Ambrosia something only people with pure intentions can access."

"I'm sorry." I said." I can't imagine that kind of burden. They sound awful. But why are they helping me?"

"They usually don't interact with the mortals who partake in my quest to learn ambrosia. That is why many don't get far. They must see potential in you. Deanna is wanting to recruit you."

"I'd never join."

"He said that too."

"Who?" I asked.

"Mortimer Goth. He told me he just wanted his wife Bella back. I saw him as a potential friend."

"What happened?"

"The society got to him. They told him they could bring his wife back and he could make himself even richer off of the schemes the society had. He feel for it."

"Mortimer doesn't seem like that?" I questioned. I'd only met him once when I first came to town and he sent me the Grimophone, but I'd not heard from him since.

"Because the society betrayed him. They brought his wife back like he promised, but she was disgusted by what the society is about and she didn't want her or Mortimer involved. She threatened to expose them. Deanna killed her. They then tossed Mortimer out and moved locations. He once again lost it all."

"That's awful. However I can promise you I am not swayed. I do not care about money, power or whatever else they can offer. I just want my parents and sister. So I will continue to learn what I can from them. I can play stupid until I have the information you need."

"I hope so." Grim said before he vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

Second Inquisition WOW

I don't even know how to preface this, because this is some massive tonal confusion. I guess the best way to put it is that for all I love Werewolf and Vampire, I am not blind to the horror they are for humans. Though my go-to question for anyone writing monster hunters is why they hunt, I still feel hunters are extremely important to the narrative as a counterpoint to the monsters. So when I read the introduction text for the Second Inquisition book for V5, my jaw hit the floor.

"The theme of the Second Inquisition is determination – aimed at the player coterie. Like a certain killer cyborg from the future, the Coalition can’t be reasoned with, it can’t be bargained with. It doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear and it absolutely will not stop. Ever. Individual Inquisitors or soldiers or cops or nuns can be reasoned with and bargained with. Most feel fear, some feel pity, and even a few feel remorse. All those deviations and human moments make excellent stories, ripples in the flood. But the narrative relentlessly washes over those stories, replacing every flawed or broken foe with two more – ten more — out for revenge or salvation. The Inquisition as a whole – both as a conspiracy and a movement that enflames that conspiracy – will not stop until every Kindred burns. Conveying the impersonal, implacable determination of a gigantic bureaucracy to crush the player characters should not be impossible in the 2020s – but it should be very effective."

Why this made me stare at the screen, is how the Inquisition was introduced in an older book;

"The theme of The Inquisition is the crusader. The Society of Leopold sees itself as humanity’s last stand against the encroaching hordes of the World of Darkness. Inquisitors are the new Crusaders; all the Earth is their Holy Land. But theirs is a lonely struggle, bereft of the support of those whom they would save. The general populace does not know of the struggle, and would most likely think the Inquisitors are mad. Inquisitors are holy knights, alienated from their fellow mortals by their knowledge of what awaits. Some within the Inquisition are zealots, it is true, but it is better to err on the side of caution than to let slip the defences of humanity." The difference is stark, especially as they are talking about the same sort of hunters. The reason I find the newer book's take extremely strange, is due to the fact that the player characters in VtM are undead bloodsucking parasites that manipulate humanity and have magic blood powers that make them much stronger than an average human. Yet the V5 book chooses to introduce the inquisition as horrible people who will never stop hunting poor innocent vampires. It goes even as far as the art.

(Start ID; A mixed media picture with modified photographs. A bald man in a trenchcoat is scowling with his fists clenched. He is holding the severed head of a female vampire from its hair. The expression on the head is of wide-eyed horror. End ID.)

(Start ID; A book cover with the text Inquision as the title, with a crosshair symbol reading 'Year of the Hunter' on the bottom. The cover art is a painted picture of a bearded man in a trenchcoat and torn jeans wielding in one hand a large cross and in another a lit torch. There is a shotgun and spent shells on the tiled floor. Just outside the light of the torch, a horde of vampires with glowing eyes has surrounded the man, some shirking from the light. End ID.)

One treats the hunter as a threat overpowering a vampire. The other treats the hunter as a lone figure surrounded by a mass of vampires. Let me be quite frank, humanity in WoD are the mice that the cats (vampires) hunt. Hunters are the mice that fight back. A vampire in VtM, regardless of edition, has an advantage over a hunter. Vampires use humans as prey, the polite ones pay them for it but they don't HAVE to. In V5 you are given various methods to hunt for your blood, some which are cruel. Painting the people standing up to creatures that actively harm humans as the abusers and the ones in the wrong is extremely tone deaf. Vampires are not some oppressed minority trying to eke out a living, a vampire is creature that needs to drink blood to survive and human blood is the best. In V5's own lore, it is only recently that vampires are even put on the backfoot at all. Before that, humanity were pawns in centuries long grudgematches and at best a quick bite snack at wost fleshcrafted into sacks hung from hooks. Can there be good vampires and bad hunters? Of course, WoD is all about the shades of gray. It is when the basic set up of the setting is turned around like this that I have a problem.

[stuairi675]

Entry 3: 19/10/24 - God I Hate Elves

God, I fucking hate elves.

Sorry. I know that’s a hell of a thing to come out the gates with, but Jesus have they ever earned my eternal disdain, the eternal aspect being pertinent in particular. Due to the famous immortality of elves, they’ll be able to fully appreciate all its intricate nuances.

And, of course, when I say elves, what I am really saying in whispered subtext is Legolas. 

Sorry Gimli. Whilst I have a great reverence and love for you, your dumbass princeling boyfriend deserves a slandering - made no less worthy of it by him then going out with someone so much younger (perhaps he should be called LEO-las). 

I mean he arrested the guy’s Dad and then proceeded to mock his own future boyfriend’s baby pics (bet that made for an interesting couples therapy session on their honeymoon revisiting Fangorn Forest [treebeard was definitely the therapist, making for a slow session]).

All I’m saying is it looks a bit sus. In my book, Legolas belongs in the same camp as Padme and either one of the two boyfriend options in Twilight, maybe more the werewolf one because of that uncomfortable imprinting business.

It’s just the modern consensus. Every time I show somebody new the Lord of the Rings, without fail Legolas is their favourite character (me and my Mum were arguing about this the entire time) and like… I get it. He does cool shit and he looks beautiful (at least among hobbits and humans - though he’s edged out by Aragorn, [phew Daddy!], and is nothing compared to the sexual powerhouse that is Gimli, son of Gloin). 

But he’s as talkative and actually charismatic as a wet rice cake, I’m certain of this. And I’m certain that the writers of those movies knew this too, because they give all the general chatter scenes to Gimli, the better and more inspirational character. I can’t help but think to that one scene in the second film where Aragorn and Legolas reunite after Aragorn has a “little tumble off the cliff” and instead of having a deep and meaningful conversation illustrative of the full capacity of their intricate and powerful friendship, they cut to a longshot and mute the guys, presumably because the writers attempted to think of a conversation sustained by the loquacious wit of our favourite socially maladjusted wood elf before coming to the realisation that one could never exist. 

Being trapped in a lift with Legolas sounds like it’d be worse than hell.

And yeah, he goes through an arc (allegedly) but so does Gimli – the exact same one - and Gimli has the boon of actually also having a personality, so there.

It’s funny, because otherwise I don’t actually mind the elves in Lord of the Rings. In the Hobbit they’re antagonists (book continuity – always the book continuity with the Hobbit), and in Lord of the Rings they’re far removed from the central plot and act more like other worldly beings bestowing gifts and boons Athena style onto our mortal protagonists. They’re like mini-Gandalfs, who incidentally does cool stuff as well like Legolas but I’m more inclined to favour him because he has occasions where he gets his ass beat and has to regenerate Doctor Who style, and he’s just a sweet old man type dude that visits his little friends, throws cool ass parties, smokes weed and fells balrogs. He just has a more developed and wholesome vibe.

So, elves in middle-earth are implemented quite well in my opinion, but outside of that I just generally hate them and people’s obsession with them. A predominantly Aryan race, extremely self-possessed and arrogant, without hesitation or exception believing themselves to be naturally superior to every other filthier, uglier and lesser species. Gees, what’s not to like? But it’s made up for by the fact that they know how to do their hair.

Now, boys and girls, given the history (and to be honest present) of our own world, what tends to happen when you have a meeting between two groups, one of which believes them to be (and, depending on the narrative, actually is) superior to the other? That’s right. A bad thing, mostly for the group that can’t live to a billion and do backflips from the age of three.

I just don’t like people extolling mindless beauty and idolising an idealised fantasy creature that would a hundred percent bully those people in real life if they existed. Best case scenario is they’re the vegans of fantasy land, worse case is they’re the Nazis.  At least vampires just eat you, not try and give you unwanted life advice. 

And they gave us goths, to which I say: phew Mummy!

Tangent over:

Ruairi

[hyperactivewhore]

I despise both Renesmee Cullen's and Hope Mikaelson's existences. Both characters are plot holes and shouldn't exist.

Renesmee Carlie Cullen is the daughter of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen. She's half-human and half-vampire, and in Twilight, it was explained that only male vampires can have children with female humans. But that doesn't make any sense because vampires in Twilight don't have any blood in their bodies. Then, Stephanie Meyer explained that the venom that is in their bodies works similarly to the bodily fluids that are in humans. But if that was the case, then Bella shouldn't have gotten pregnant. She should have become a vampire after having sex with Edward. Renesmee is called 'half mortal and half immortal' by Aro, but how can a person be half mortal and half immortal? She's either mortal or immortal. She can't be both. Does she age, or does she not? Can she live forever, or does she have the lifespan of a human?

Now, onto Hope.

Hope Andrea Mikaelson is the daughter of Klaus Mikaelson and Hayley Marshall-Kenner. She's a werewolf, vampire, witch tribrid. In the pilot episode of The Originals, it was explained that since Klaus was born a werewolf and became a vampire because of magic and not by drinking the blood of another vampire and dying with that vampire's blood in his system, he was able to conceive. Vampires in The Vampire Diaries are infertile and can not have children, and while Klaus is the world's first werewolf-vampire hybrid, he's still part vampire. He shouldn't have been able to have a child, which was confirmed in Legacies. The only reason Hope exists is because Malivore. So, if Malivore never existed, Hope would have never existed. She wasn't born because her father was created differently from traditional vampires, but because it is her destiny to defeat a mud monster.

Both characters are great (more so Hope because she was given her own show, and I grew to like her over Legacies' 4 season run. Renesmee was kinda there. Her CGI in the movies creeped me out, and she absolutely did nothing in the book), but their existence goes against the canons of their respective movies/books and show.

It's funny because both are created as plot devices to Bella and Klaus and they're meant to be the magical powerful baby of their universe, but their existence alone just makes it look ridiculous by breaking every single canon law.

As you said, Renaissance came out of nowhere. She was soo incredibly intelligent from the very first moment her parents made her, but apparently not smart enough to control her own strength seeing she broke several Bella's bones (like honestly, what the hell) and this demon spawn craved human blood for absolutely no logical reason other than Edward being a vampire. Ratatouille also could not be seen in the ultrasound or any other thing: she had a impenetrable amniotic sac because yes, exactly, her daddy is a vampire!

Honestly, I kinda feel bad for Ravioli. I've never finished reading Breaking Dawn (and I won't), it was such a corny book and I could only bring myself to the third part, where Bella spends time with baby Rasputin but I've heard interesting things to how the Cullen rise this sim. Apparently, Bella and Edward couldn't care less about their daughter, because as always they were more obssesed with each other and Rosalie did all the parenting, because the love birds couldn't be distracted with their CGI spawn. If I'm correct, Edward even called Bella more beautiful than Rim Job right in her face and instead of being mad, because their kid was right there, Isabella was just like "gosh edward, ily sm 😘😜😍"

Parents of the year.

Stephenie Meyer didn't care about Bella and Edward being parents: she just wanted the aesthetic that came with it, and she pulled the reasons of the human-vampire pregnancy out of her ass.

Actually, when I was in my twilight phase, I read a fanfic where Bella got pregnant, and the reason was a little more "coherent" than what Meyer gave: Having died so young, Edward's body "froze" his sperm and because he had remained a virgin for over a hundred years (lmao), he was able to get Bella, the first and only woman he slept with, pregnant. It's still shitty, and bad, but if they wanted them so badly to have a kid this was a better reason.

I just can't take Twilight books seriously. Apparently, there are no black vampires for a barely explained reason that is clearly racist (if I remember, the venom that vampires inject you during death just... removes your skin color), the mistreatment to the werewolves is just terrible, and there's Ratatunga too.

Now, moving to Hope Andrea Mikaelson, the white witch that is hated and loved in equal measures by the fandom. Oh my, this is gonna be interesting.

I have my moments with Hope, to be honest. Sometimes I completely adore her, and sometimes I just can't stand her. Her existence was completely pulled out of Pl*c's ass, who wanted to have her own version of Renameme so badly. Klaus shouldn't have even been able to procreate in the first place, because he was killed before Esther binded his werewolf side. Though vampires in tvd are more alive than dead, but that's a whole different thing. But clearly my point still remains.

I like Hope Mikaelson a lot more than Ragnarok Cullen, Summer Fontana/Danielle Russell and Mackenzie Foy are all really amazing and beautiful actresses who did great with the role they were given, but their characters completely broke canon. I like the tribrid more though because at least, she wasn't a fucking sim that aged five years in a week unlike Nestlé. The only way I could ever like Radioactive is by having her completely loathe her parents and family, especially because she was born in 2006 aka she's part of Gen Z.

Both characters shouldn't even exist in the first place, and Hope's existences is as much of a plothole as Riptide's. Renesmee gets more hate simply because of how she was in the womb and also because of how fast she grew, but they're both plotholes and shouldn't have been created no matter their popularity.

[werebutch]

WSBH chara q’s: (you don’t have to answer all the numbers, just whatever you want to 𖢘)

16/35/51 for Scotch

1/6/55 for Atlas

I LOVE YOU

16. What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

okay i truly think scotch argues with seraph in his head all the time. ALL the time. scotch largely ignores them, and vice versa, because he dislikes them and they know it. seraph is very conflict avoidant lol, and as long as hes not a "threat" they dont care to talk to him about their problems. he probably argues with atlas and jacob (his older brother) too, atlas about more stupid small stuff, and jacob about childhood and life stuff :p

im trying to think of more general groups he would argue with but i cant come up with anything BAHAH. hes not exactly conflict avoidant in the annoying libra way that seraph is, he more just ignores conflict for his friends’ (mostly atlas’) sake. idk if that makes sense LOL

35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

hmmm.. smallest? i mean scotch strings eloise along for most of the time pre timeskip. its not a main focus but its definitely important in order to understand scotch as a whole. she and scotch go out for a while, and mid way through that he realizes hes GAY gay. lol. and obviously lying to her about that is pretty questionable after a while. especially since he and atlas have been 👉👌 like the whole time. but she kind of knows. well

something a little bigger would be him encouraging or otherwise turning a blind eye to all the weird stuff atlas is up to. he doesn't know what it's like to be a werewolf, he can't say anything, right? lol.... murder is okay if its a talking dog doing it. scotch enabler supreme. actually when seraph is introduced, he and atlas have a 'joke' (kind of starts being real) about luring seraph somewhere to kill them. obviously doesnt happen and gets abandoned. but i think its important to know about their dynamic LOL

51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?

this guy is kind of goofy. i cant think of phrases rn but he has a specific way of speaking.. you could watch pretty much any old pop punk band interview and kind of get the idea. HAHAH

1. What’s the lie your character says most often?

atlas is a big fan of saying 'its fine' for all situations ever. family in mortal danger? its fine. completely splitting? its fine. arthritis excruciating? its fine. hes one of those people that dont like to deal with the fawning of others unless hes feeling real special. Ends up putting people in more danger a lot of the time. i think eloise is the only fan of communication in this friend group to be honest. i should have made her the main character

he tends to make promises he cant keep as well, but thats more general..

6. What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

i have NO idea. i feel like atlas would be a music snob, so maybe his favorite 'super underground' bands. otherwise he'd probably never recommend raw human meat to another human (no matter how much scotch asks -__-).. (he would chicken out anyway)

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

um. so atlas hates working out. he especially hates running, you know, the thing that wolves are known for doing a lot of? unfortunately the lycanthropy came with a side effect of pretty bad arthritis, so that doesnt exactly encourage him. he DOES exercise, a lot since hes pretty much required for his ermm "side job", but he hates it 😸 besides the arthritis it’s mostly because I think it’s silly that he hates it. yay

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb: This standalone adventure set in the world of the New York Times bestselling Jackaby series brims with humor, heart, and—of course—a hefty dose of supernatural mayhem. Abigail Rook never intended to be the mortal bridge between the human and supernatural world. But now, the power of the Sight--and all the chaos that comes with seeing the essential truth of everything, every human, fairy, werewolf, enchanted slip of paper, and municipal building, at all times--is hers alone. With this overwhelming new gift, she should be able to solve crimes and help New Fiddleham, New England find calm in its supernatural chaos. 

The only problem? She has no idea what she’s doing. And New Fiddleham isn't waiting for Abigail to be ready. Local witches and other magical beings are going missing, as tensions between human and supernatural residents curdle into a hatred that could tear the city apart. Abigail's fiance, Charlie, works alongside her to unravel the magical disappearances, but as a shapeshifter, he's under threat as well. Then Abigail's parents appear, ready to take her back to England and marry her off to someone she's never met. Abigail has no choice but to follow her Sight, her instincts, and any clues she can find to track a culprit who is trying destroy everything she holds dear.

Review:

Return to the wonderful world of the Jackaby series but with this new standalone adventure featuring Abigail Rook as she gets accustomed to her new abilities as a seer while also juggling her parents coming to town, trying to solve cases, and figuring out how to control her new powers. The book picks up where the original series ends with Jackaby without his seer powers and Abigail with them instead. They're both still working as consultants to the police department and trying to solve paranormal cases, but this time its Jackaby helping Abigail getting use to her new powers. Abigail is also dealing with the new case she is given that include local witches and other paranormal individuals disappearing and the tensions between the humans and the supernaturals rising... it could lead the city to tear itself apart. It doesn't help that her parents decide to drop in on her without no word of warning and now she also has to find a way to break the news to them about her fiance Charlie and the fact that she is working as a private investigator with powers now. Abigail will have to find a way to trust her instincts, her wits, and find as many clues to solve the case before it's too late! I had fun diving back into this world and seeing where the characters are now. i loved the original books and this was a really fun standalone and I honestly wouldn't mind returning for another book. Abigail and Jackaby are as chaotic as ever, Charlie is a sweet fiance, and the magic of this world was really fun! Definitely pick this one up if you enjoy paranormal investigative books!

*Thanks Netgalley and Algonquin Young Readers for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[girlpog-productions]

Heyo! I wrote down some headcannons for the gang a while ago and decided I should post them! This post is long as balls so it’s all under the cut lol

June

* Currently studying to get her PHD in chemistry.

* Captain of her university’s softball team, but despite her Star-power they have not won a game.

* Knows how skateboard but can’t do tricks (Carrie’s trying to teach her though).

Angie

* Works as a counselor at a high school.

* She can switch out of her werewolf-vampire form at will because it’s effectively a magical girl transformation. This makes her immune to sunlight in both forms, but she can never eat garlic or chocolate again. She is very upset about this.

Molly

* She runs with a whole gang of sea monster environmental terrorists! They are all very cool.

* ^^ including her partner Corrie. Might include them as a playable character at some point but I gotta draw them normally first.

Mimi

*No one really knows anything about Mimi. They know she’s a real nurse, and a really good one at that, and that she’s divorced and that’s about it.

Edith

* June and Andrew’s grandma!

* Turns out being a magical girl runs in the family and just skipped a generation lol.

* Used to have rocket/missile powers in her prime but it takes a lot of out her so now she elects to beat the shit out of people with her walker.

Andrew

* Has 2 older sisters that are like 10-15 years older than him, so he and June were always super close cus they were the same age.

* Ratatouille is his favorite movie which is why he adopted Feta.

* His magical girl powers actually gave Feta and basil human level sentience so they help him in the kitchen! Well, Feta does. Basil mostly just tried to eat stuff. They are both very good at washing their hands :) they also can’t talk lol

* June is a very good baker thanks in part to her knowledge of chemistry. Her skills are actually on par with Andrew’s to the point that they have family baking competitions on a regular basis. Andrew is currently beating her in overall wins 15-13.

* Himbo

Kanaaq

* Ok I actually have a very funny backstory for Kanaaq:

* Kanaaq was offered her powers after saving a kid from getting crushed under falling debris in an earthquake, but her pogo stick broke in the process. So when foxolotl presented her with the “I’ll grant you a wish or give you a cool power if you promise to be a magical girl” she asked for her pogo stick to get fixed and IMMEDIATELY regretted it cus she’s trans and she very quickly realized she could’ve used her wish for free top-surgery lmao 😂

* She is sick nasty on her pogo stick like she can do backflips and stuff it’s crazy. Carrie refuses to take her to her usual skate park cus she doesn’t want to get shown up by someone on a pogo stick. Because Kanaaq would absolutely EAT her in a trick competition lmao 😂

* I also have ideas for 2 playable characters that’ll eventually be Kanaaq’s girlfriends but I gotta focus on the main cast first lol.

Iris

* Foxolotl brought her to life cus her fungal colony was solely responsible for saving a dying tree from decay and deforesters. She’s like 2 years old.

* Her magical girl transformation turns her into the guy, she’s normally just a mushroom. When she isn’t in her person form she lives on a tree outside of Rumblebella’s house :)

Bea

* Very successful manager for a restaurant franchise based on her parents restaurant.

* Despite both of her parents being chefs she can’t cook for shit!! She had tried to learn so many times and it just does not work. Only thing she can really make is cereal and she’s on thin fucking ice with that.

* Her wish was to have fans as weapons, like Katana from mortal kombat. Foxolotl gravely misinterpreted this!! And that is why she has a box fan. Bea is still mad at him for this.

* Huuuuuge fuckin dork. Reads a lot of comics, loves super hero movies, plays a lot of fighting games. Mains Anji in guilty gear.

Gwen

* Works for the coast guard (I imagine they all live in a coastal town in California) and got her wish (and most of her scars) from saving her crewmate from a shark when he fell overboard during a storm.

* She actually wore an eyepatch for a long time before the pirate look because she has strabismus in her left eye and has always been self conscious about it.

Montero

* He is an actual, rootin tootin cowboy. Small town sherif with his own ranch and everything 😂

* Killed his former best friend in a standoff after a series of events led her to becoming corrupted and evil. He still feels terrible about it.

Rumblebella

* Rumblebella was originally a toy owned by a young girl who experienced physical abuse at the hands of her father. Foxolotl brought Rumblebella to life to BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT GUY and it worked and he’s gone. Toy story brought to its logical conclusion.

* In lieu of legs, she can float!

* Can eat food and it scares everyone. Where does it go 👁👁

Lucy

* Got her wish after saving a guy from getting crushed under a huge weight while working out without a spot at the gym. Afterwards her wish was to “be able to fall asleep instantly and always wake up feeling rested.” She was ripped before the wish lmao these things are unrelated.

Kasomar

* Personally asked Foxolotl to make them a magical girl so they could experience what it was like to be human. This was kinda a stretch for Foxolotl’s abilities so best he could do was compress them into a weird-stretched human body. Kasomar experiences all time at once’s like Dr. Manhattan, but despite this is still able to make meaningful friendships.

* CAN ALSO EAT FOOD DESPITE NOT HAVING A MOUTH FOXOLOTL DOESNT EVEN KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED

Dahlia

* Dahlia died in the mid 1800’s around the time of the civil war. Her family owned slaves and her moral opposition to this eventually led to her helping the family on her estate escape and then got her killed by her family’s guardsmen. Foxolotl was impressed with her bravery and decided to revive her as a magical girl but fucked up SO SEVERELY that her spirit and body were separated in the process.

* Dahlia is actually the first zombie like ever??? Ghosts exist in this world but zombies don’t. Not too many necromancers out there lol

* To differentiate who they’re talking about the gang has taking to calling the two of them Zahlia (zombie Dahlia) and Ghalia (ghost Dahlia). Ghalia does not like this

* Oops! Catholic guilt!

Carrie

* Takes up a bunch of minimum wage and odd jobs to support herself so she can spend more time pursuing her hobbies. She doesn’t have any great career aspirations. June is slightly disappointed in this but doesn’t say anything about it.

* Was raised by a single mother and thinks that Tony Hawk is her biological father. She does not know that Tony Hawk is a human.

Foxolotl

* He has a mom! I drew my mom a Mother’s Day card with Foxolotl and his mom on it so I’m deciding Mamalotl is canon lol.

* Where did he come from?? What’s his purpose?? We may never know!! He is very bad at it though, whatever it is.

* He’s kind of a god? But like a low level god. Kasomar held more power than him pre-transformation. Like god and Zeus and whatever are legendary Pokémon and Foxolotl is a mythical Pokémon lmao 😂

[crownofconvergencerp]

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘

safely tucked away in a chest under the bed, carel saeger’s sword was not meant to ever see the light of day again. And yet, from the age of 3, he had been taught how to kill every creature there was in withermore, sentient or not. the investigation on the murder of his wife by vampires has taken him to destarin where he is prepared to spill blood no matter the consequences.

TW: Death, Murder.

Maybe it had been illness. Maybe her heart was not made for this kind of world. Whatever it had been, it took Carel’s mother before he could remember her face or the sound of her voice. His father had been out of the picture before that, and he was raised by his grandparents from the age of three. The Saeger household would be his schoolhouse, his church and his home, which wouldn’t have been so bad had the Saeger family name not been a synonym of death to any creature that could threaten mankind, but more specifically to those who should have stayed dead: draugrs and vampires, zombies and revenants.

By the time he was 10, Carel had become familiar with all the sorts of monsters that went bump in the night. He knew what required arrows, bolts, stakes or blades, when to resort to wood or metal. More importantly, he had become himself a weapon.

Carel started working contracts by the time he was 12. In doing so, he provided for his family, and solidified the Saeger’s reputation in Withermore. Many were those who asked the hunters for help when their crops or their cattle were ravaged by beasts too, but most of the money came from bounties.

Though hunting brutalized the body and the soul, though he nearly lost his life a dozen times before he had even reached the age of eighteen, Carel kept going because it was his duty to protect less fortunate humans from the horrors out there. Hunting eventually hurried both his grand parents’ meeting with death, still he would go out, hunt, receive his paycheck, and go home.

And then came along Hilde.

He met her while she attempted to rescue a Tatzelwurm he had finally managed to trap. Half cat – half snake with a thing for cow milk. The creature had by itself deprived a whole town of its milk supply. Hilde would not let him kill the beast, and she proposed a deal: if she managed to tame the animal, he would have to let it be. He gave her a week; she insisted it be a fortnight. It became a fortnight. And every day, he’d come check on her, to see if she was still alive. And every day, he stayed a while longer with the young woman. The fortnight passed, and he would keep visiting her. They were wed the very same year; once again with a concession: no more hunting.

It was a promise he had made to his wife, who wished her husband to live to see their future children grow up, and the woman he loved grow old. The perspective of starting a family brought him comfort. But, one winter evening as he fed the chicken and brought back some logs for the fireplace, a group of vampires attacked the house. By the time he managed to reach for the nearest weapon, Hilde had left the world of the living.

As he drove a stake through her heart, the heartbroken young man swore he would find those who had done such a thing to his beloved. He travelled through Withermore searching for the monsters that had taken her away, interrogating any vampire that crossed his path, Carel’s investigation has led him to Destarin.

WHAT ARE YOU...?

species: hunter. weaknesses: as a hunter, he burns more energy and will need to sleep for 9 to 10 hours every day, mortality, susceptible to vampire bite and werewolf bite. strengths: night vision and enhanced agility, physically stronger than a regular human, his injuries heal faster than the norm unless caused by magic. physical description: the hunter is often regarded as an anomaly wherever he goes due to standing so tall, however, aside from his physique shaped by hunter training and woodworking, carel thinks of himself as a rather plain man. additional info: as it is the tradition in his parts of withermore, carel will often be seen wearing a kilt, though he sometimes adopts the ways of destarin. generally speaking, you won’t catch him without his sword and at least a handful of knives on his person.

carel saeger is played by ivy and their fc is jacob elordi.

[deadcityhq]

**CHARACTER NAME:** dream, oneiros, kai’ckul… most have different names for him. most commonly dream in this current age, or morpheus. 

**CHARACTER FACECLAIM:** 

**CHARACTER AGE/DOB (if relevant/they’re not old af):** so very old i feel like i should keep this blank lmao. when the first creature capable of dreaming was born, he winked into existence.

**CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC:** he/him but tbfh he’d answer to just about any of em | agender | yes. the answer is yes.

**CHARACTER FANDOM (if relevant):** the sandman - dc comics

**OC OR CANON:** canon

**CHARACTER TYPE (for example: werewolf, shadowhunter, warlock, demon etc):** one of the endless.

**HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN NEW YORK/WHY ARE THEY THERE ETC:** freed from burgess’ prison, the concepts of ‘distance’ and ‘space’ mean much less to him. he’s in new york as often as he requires. perhaps he’s been there. more often than not in these recent days. who could say. certainly not dream. 

**IMPORTANT CHARACTER INFORMATION TO NOTE AND SHARE (this could be important headcanons for initial plotting, mini bios etc, supporting docs):**

this mostly-immortal personified concept of a being is getting the bullet point treatment because otherwise we’d be here all fucking day and no one wants that. 

dream and the rest of his siblings were begotten into existence the moment that the first being capable of dreaming, well. dreamed. 

his realm, the dreaming, has grown over the millennia and changed shape just as much as he has. creatures created by the minds of humankind, as well as himself, populate the dreaming, plus other beings who became part of his dominion through other means. like eve (she mostly just minds her business it’s fine) or cain and abel (they do *not* mind their business cain re-kills his brother on the daily but it’s fine, dream gave them shit to do). 

dream is a being of many faces and facets; depending on your culture, community or even planet you might see a different face when you look upon him, or know him as a different name. 

things aren’t always set in stone for the endless in spite of their long non-lives. some of the endless siblings have died traumatically and become a new aspect of themselves, or have simply disappeared and removed themselves from the family equation. it’s been a while since either of those things have happened, but they continue to cast a long shadow when the siblings gather together. 

dream had historically been farther removed from mortal lives than some of his siblings, due to some… tragically ending experiences when his sibling desire got involved in his affairs, and it inadvertently caused the downfall of his mortal love’s kingdom. he… knows he was a shithead about how it all went down, but does he still act like a shithead about it? yes

of course, until his sister inadvertently challenged him to know humanity a little better. this was when he first met hob gadling, made immortal by his sister’s blessing. dream became… well *he* would let the furies eat him before admitting it but he became *fascinated* by the unrelenting zeal hob had for the simple act of continuing to be alive. dream was fascinated by his particular bright humanity. and maybe, he’d never really had a friend before. it all brought him closer to the creatures whose dreaming hours he stewarded. 

WELL and then roderick burgess happened. dream became imprisoned in this aleister crowley wannabe’s basement for decades upon decades, while the world stuttered in minute but *bad* ways in his absence. people never waking up, people never being able to fall asleep… as well as nightmares escaping from the dreaming. 

EVENTUALLY dream got the hell outta there and went on his little mission to get his accessories back, all of that domino’d into hunting down the rogue nightmares, finding the vortex that his incredibly vexing sibling desire made, etcetera… with the corinthian shrunken down to a skull in his pocket, dream decided he needed to let that little nightmare and himself ruminate for a while before remaking that particular creature, and let the dreaming breathe after the unrest. 

sure hob and himself only meet once every century, but that doesn’t mean dream doesn’t keep up. especially now, with having missed their last appointment. of course, dream found him anyway and they managed a belated meeting, but it feels… pertinent somehow, to keep an eye or three on him. after all, who wouldn’t be a little alarmed to peek in on your human and find them on a different continent entirely? humans had to pack all of their belongings and find a means of transportation to complete a move like that! 

dream checks in a little more frequently now; even if he’s not always in the shape of ‘looks mostly human’. not to mention it’s been a few hundred years since he came to this city himself, there’s more than a few pockets of his dominion here it would behoove him to monitor as well. 

**THREE AESTHETICS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR CHARACTER:** the just-barely-there smell of ozone after a lightning strike, the sudden realization that you’re having a nightmare, a deep pool of dark water reflecting a starry night sky. 

OOC INFORMATION: 

**MUN NAME/ALIAS:** jesse

**MUN AGE:** 30

**MUN TRIGGERS:**  n/a 

[sexyvampkitty]

RP Solo Number Seven: 'Blood and Snowflakes'

I'm sitting here...on a bench...just outside the Mystic Falls town square...at night...all alone...watching the snow slowly drift down through a perfect, cloudless sky. It's weird...this is my first winter experiencing something like this. I was raised in Florida...and I lived in California for a few years, during my human blood donor days...so I've never actually seen 'real' snow before...obviously. I pull the coat that I'm wearing tighter around me, just in case anyone happens to walk by, giving off the impression that I'm completely normal...like any other mortal in this town. I don't want to give myself away...until exactly the right moment...and that moment isn't now. The gesture is useless...it's not like the cold bothers me anyway. I shake my head in amusement and a slight chuckle escapes my lips to pierce the quiet air. I'm 'pretty' sure that there's a 'Frozen' joke in there somewhere...but it quickly escapes me. My short burst of laughter stops just as fast as it started, and my grin transforms into a frown, turning down the corners of my mouth, as I reflect on my current situation. It will be my very first Christmas in this town...and it looks like I will be spending it...all by myself. My boyfriend...my 'Boo'...is nowhere to be found...again. He seems to disappear on me a lot lately, without a word as to why, or to where he's going. I figured he'd be home before the holiday, but, at this point, I'm done keeping my hopes up, not that they were very high to begin with, seeing as Christmas is about a week away. I swear, I have no idea what's going on with him lately. He hasn't been the same, ever since he came back from...wherever...magically cured from his werewolf bite. He never told me how he managed that, or where he had to go to find a cure, he was just sort of...distant...though I never asked him if there was anything wrong. Shortly after returning home, he left soon after, only to return again about a month later. This last time, I thought he was back for good...but I guess I was wrong. We had mind-blowing shower sex that night, but he was gone the morning after. I'm sure the fact that I bit him...and almost drained him of all of his blood...again...during the act...had something to do with it...because he left without so much as a 'Good Bye' note. Of course, he never left me any notes...or voice mail messages...the other times he just up and vanished on me, so I can't say that I was really surprised. I miss him...but there's nothing beyond that. I should feel anger, disappointment, guilt, sadness...something...anything...but...with my emotions still turned off...I feel...nothing...except coldness, emptiness, hollowness. I suppose I'm better off. If my humanity switch was flipped to the on position, I'd be a quivering mess right now...and I don't want to be the kind of girl who loses it, just because some guy up and left her. He'll come back...he always has before...and if not...screw it. I love him like crazy, (it's strange that I can still experience that particular feeling...maybe my switch is starting to malfunction...and has been for awhile) but I'm not going to wait around much longer. I'll give him until after Christmas...and possibly New Year's Day. If he's not back by then...I guess it will finally be time to move on. Maybe I can find someone else, though I know that I'll probably never find anyone else like him as long as I continue to exist. Or I'll just pack up and go back to California...or somewhere else. The Salvatore house is too damn big...and quiet...and lonely...for just one person to live in. Snowflakes land on my eyelashes and I blink them away, grateful that they aren't tears. I wipe more falling snow from the side of my face with the back of a gloved hand....the gloves also added for appearance...realizing that this is totally pointless. Why in the Hell am I sitting here...all alone? I could be doing that at home. I'm about to stand up and start back to the house...planning to drink large amounts of alcohol by a roaring fire, until I pass out...when I hear faint voices, followed by footsteps, coming from somewhere up ahead. Perfect. It just so happens that I'm hungry...bored...pissed...and in the mood to tear someone's throat out. Besides, what better way is there to end the night than with a little blood shed? My frown fades away, getting replaced by a half-smirk as I stand up and vamp speed behind the nearest tree, crouching down low to the ground, waiting for whoever it is that I'm hearing to get close enough so that they're within striking distance. I remove my gloves and reach around to place them in the back pocket of my jeans...they were only part of my 'ruse' anyway...then hold my position, keeping perfectly still, trying not to make a single sound...other than my soft breaths. I wait...the footsteps are getting closer now...I can hear them hitting the snow-covered ground...I'm picking up two distinct voices...a man's and a woman's...probably a couple...even better. My smirk turns into another full-fledged grin, every muscle in my body coiling as I prepare to pounce. I wait a little bit longer...until they pass right by the tree...not even realizing that there's someone hiding right behind it. I push off from the ground and spring out from my hiding place, hitting them both from behind. I quickly move around to face them, blocking their path, wrapping a hand around both of their necks. I lift the woman up in the air and slam her back against the trunk of the tree, cutting off her terrified scream, while still keeping a tight grip on her boyfriend's...husband's...lover's...whoever's...throat. His scream is also cut off, being replaced by choking sounds as his hands fly up to try to pry mine away. He struggles uselessly in my grasp while kicking out with his feet, which hit empty air. Awww...he thinks he can get away. It's kind of cute actually, and another harsh and clipped laugh moves past my slightly parted lips. Keeping my full attention on him, I bring my face right up to his, starting deeply into his eyes as I use my powers of compulsion. I tell him to stop moving...and that I'm going to kill him...but not yet. I'm going to kill his woman first...I'm going to make him watch while I do it...and he won't make a sound. I release my grip and set his feet back down on the ground, turning my head around to focus on the woman, my hand still wrapped tightly around her throat, her eyes wide, looking like they're fixing to pop right out of her head. Without bothering to compel her first, my face changes, eyes turning dark and blood-shot, black veins branching out beneath them in every direction. She tries to scream, which turns into a choked gash around my tightly squeezing fingers. Opening my mouth wide to reveal razor-sharp fangs, I lean in closer, going for the kill, plunging them deep into the flesh of her neck. Even though human blood isn't what I've been craving lately, ever since I got injected with the damn ripper virus, it will still keep me alive. Plus, I can't always find any vampires to feed on, like now for instance, so, human blood will have to do. As soon as her warm blood hits my tongue, I instantly want more. I can never seem to get enough. I move my head from side to side, tearing the skin, allowing the blood to flow faster. Soon I can hear her heart beats slowing down, but I can't stop until I drain her, tearing her head off in the process. The woman's lifeless body falls to the ground, the head quickly following as I drop it, eyes locked in a stare of sheer terror. I run my tongue over my fangs and lips, catching some of the blood that runs down my face...dripping off of my chin to splatter onto my coat. I glance down at the ground, admiring the blood still gushing from the severed head, turning the snow a bright pink color. I bring my gaze back up and spin around on my heels to face the man once again, who is standing there, staring wide-eyed at what used to be his girlfriend slash wife slash lover, bleeding out all over the soft, not-so-white-anymore- ground. I grin evilly at him, still wearing my vampire 'ripper' face, fangs fully exposed. I think about just snapping his neck and being done with it, but then I decide to go for something a little more...poetic...not to mention extremely messy. Reaching out to grip his throat again, I take my other hand and plunge it deep into his chest, gripping his heart. Delighting in his loud scream of fear and pain, I keep my eyes trained on his as I pull my hand back out, taking his heart with it. His mouth forms a silent look of surprise and I remove my hand from around his neck as his body crumples to the ground. I stare at his still-beating heart in my palm before also letting it drop to the ground. Frowning at the blood all over my hands, I kneel down next to the man, wiping them off on his coat. Then, I stand up, give one last look at the carnage around me and turn in the other direction, starting on the walk back toward home. I guess I should've tried to get rid of the bodies in some way...but...screw it. I'll let someone else worry about that. I doubt anyone will ever suspect me. After all, I'm sure I can't be the only vampire in this damn town. I keep walking, blinking away more snow as it hits my eyelids...it seems to be falling faster now...not that I give a crap. I don't care about anything anymore...except for what's happening in the present...which is getting back to the house...drinking lots of Bourbon...and crashing in my empty boyfriend's bed...or possibly on the couch...or even on the floor in front of the fireplace. It wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened. It still sucks that I'll probably be spending Christmas solo. Oh. That's right. I don't care. In that case...Merry Freaking Christmas to me. (End)

[bisexualvampires]

Like Something Holy (3k)

For @justcastiel‘s 2k celebration <3

Prompt: Knees

Rating: Explicit

Read on ao3

Excerpt: Still struggling with the fallout of his Godstiel days, Cas breaks down after a hunt. Hearing Dean's longing behind the comfort of his words, they finally find some much needed closure.

It was a ruin, this old church. Its structural integrity lost to time and the elements as much to decades of vandals. The cruel irony of nature’s beauty never ceased to amuse the angel. He stared around the dilapidated building: the insides lost to creeping vines and crumbling stone. If Castiel concentrated, he imagined he could see through the bends of time to when this place stood tall and beautiful. Built for worship.

“I’m your new God. A better one. So, you will bow down and profess your love onto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”

The roof had long ago collapsed; the shattered glass of the windows turned to dust and scattered to the winds. Where wooden pews once filled the open space, now there was only trash. Cans of spray paint and empty liquor bottles. Not a drop of holy water left.

Castiel tipped back his head to the open sky above. Moonlight bathed his skin; a pale halo on his dark crown. It was a brilliant night; the youthful stars above watching over him more faithfully than he ever had over his human charge.

He’d failed Dean. Failed humanity on the whim of playing god. He was no master of the grand plan. He was not righteous or just. What he was, was fateless.

Faithless.

Dean’s footsteps were a distant thing. They might as well have been far away in another world as tears fell from the angel’s eyes. He’d been so sure – so certain that he was doing the right thing. That he was on the right path. Once again, he’d failed.

It’d been an average hunt today; a werewolf case he and Dean had taken care of only hours after arriving in this town. Castiel had the distinct impression that Dean was coddling him, for whatever reason he could not personally comprehend. Dean should have washed his hands of him. Left him to rot for the trouble caused.

It was strange, he supposed, how he and Dean had betrayed each other on almost inconceivable levels and yet there was no one the angel trusted more. And besides his brother, Cas knew that Dean felt the same of him.

What he didn’t understand was why.

He’d been loyal once. Feared and respected. Had completed what was perhaps the most important task in heaven’s history in rescuing Dean from hell. But every star goes dark eventually, and Castiel suspected his latest failure was as akin to a supernova as he could possibly manage.

Starlight glistened in his tears as they fell in earnest. His shoulders shook, the guilt of his trueform too large for his mortal form to bear.

“Cas?”

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[five-rivers]

Ancestral 9

“So.  Aconite?” asked Danny during a lull in the stream of treatments and tests.  “Isn’t that wolfsbane?”

"Yes," said the doctor, looking rather nervously at Matthew.  

At least, Danny thought she was looking at Matthew.  His vision was still kind of blurry, a reasonable side-effect of having poison splashed into them.  She could have been looking at the family in general, all of whom were squeezed into the room.  Apparently, as long as they stayed out of the way of the doctors, it was best for security purposes to have them all together.

“Both the tests on what was recovered from you and what was recovered from the cup indicate that the wine was dosed with massive amounts of aconite, and your symptoms match.  It’s a very, hm, traditional poison, so treatment is well known.  We’re monitoring both your blood pressure and your heart rate, and you’ve been given an activated charcoal treatment and atropine.”  She paused.  “You seem to be recovering, although your heart rate is still much lower than we’d like.  I’m actually surprised you’re still conscious…”

“That’s normal for Danny, now,” said Jack.  “Well, maybe not this low, but his heartbeat is pretty slow all the time, now.”

“It isn’t in his medical records,” said the doctor.

“Had him checked back in the US.  I guess it never made it here.”

“We had other concerns at the time, Jack,” said Maddie from where she was sitting in a chair next to Danny’s bed.

Oh, yeah, Danny had the impression he was missing a metric ton of significant looks.  

“Well,” said Danny, “I feel… not great, but okay?  Like, my skin is still pretty numb, kind of like when you get an anesthetic from the dentist.”

There were, however, significant looks that Danny wasn’t missing.  Apparently, he wasn’t seeing the ghosts with his physical eyes, but with something else, because they stood out sharply from their blurry surroundings.  Right now, they were looking at him like Jazz did, when he said he wasn’t hurt after a fight.  

Really, he was fine.  Spooked, but fine.  

(In some ways, it was sort of a relief to know that he was human enough to be affected by poison.  Being half dead had a tendency to make you hyper aware of your own mortality and dubious of it at the same time.)

“But, back to it being wolfsbane.  Why wolfsbane?  You’d have found that if that was why everyone else…  I mean, they don’t think you’re a werewolf or something, do they?  Is that a thing?”

Matthew sighed.  “No, I’m not a werewolf.”  Another sigh.  “Unfortunately.  I’d love to only have to worry about wolfsbane and silver”

“No, that’s not what’s going on,” said Maddie.

“So what is going on?  I think I deserve to know, having been almost killed and all.  Are you going to try again with the coronation?  And- And has anyone found Vivian yet?”  He tried to send an apologetic expression Vivian’s way, for using her as a conversation pivot.

“Doctor Hys,” said Matthew.  “This discussion is about to touch on both family matters and those of state, so if you can continue your monitoring else where…?”

“Of course, your highness.  May God and the ancestors bless you.”  Danny saw the door, briefly, as a rectangle of slightly dimmer light, and then the doctor closed it behind herself, and the family was alone.  

“The Assembly is discussing regency,” said Joanna.  

“Which they really should have since the beginning,” added Eugene.

Danny wasn’t so sure of that.  He wasn’t clear on all the details, but regents had fewer powers than a sitting monarch.  They couldn’t change throne policies - like the one about approval of foreign businesses, Danny realized - or appoint new Secretaries - which would leave the Speaker hearing spy reports.  Great-Grandma Rose had been Alfred’s King’s Secretary.

Other countries would probably have a conniption about the conflict of interest.

“It makes more sense than declaring one of us king or queen without the trials,” agreed Joanna.  “They were set on it, but now they think the poisoning is a… bad omen.”  There was a guilty sort of satisfaction in her tone.  

Maddie scoffed.  “Can you not?” she asked.  “Here, with my son seriously injured, can we discuss this like rational human beings who live in this century?”

“If we were dealing with rational human beings,” said Irene, “we would.  But a person willing to commit so many murders isn’t rational.  Nor are… humans in general.”

“Mom,” said George.  

“I want to know about Vivian as well,” said Jazz.  “There has to be something about where she went.”

“The investigation there is ongoing,” said Matthew.  “For the rest of Danny’s questions… To start at the beginning, you wouldn’t know this, but in the very distant past, there was a legend that members of the royal family with the favor of the spirits and the ancestors were immune to wolfsbane poisoning.  So, of course, any member of the royal family who was successfully poisoned didn’t have their favor.”  His blurry form made a shrugging motion.  “It’s been discredited nearly that long - there were herbalists back then who were occasionally able to use belladona to counter some of the effects of aconite poisoning - but that particular method of assassination has become traditional for signaling certain grievances.”

“Did Lord Kyppe have those grievances?” asked Iris, darkly.  

“He’s maintaining that he had no idea.  Which, considering his position, is very nearly as bad,” said Matthew.  “Even if he turns out to be innocent, the traditionalist faction will be out for his blood.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Jack.  “Forget them!  Maddie and I are out for his blood!”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Matthew, dryly.  “And, then… You are right that we’d be able to tell if- if everyone else died of aconite poisoning.  It decays quickly, but not that quickly.”  He shook his head.  “We–”

He was interrupted by a phone ringtone, a high-pitched electronic version of the Avlynyse national anthem.  

“Hello?” answered Sophia tremulously.  There was some shifting as she moved through the room.  “Alright,” she said, voice already cracked and tearful.  “I’m sitting down.”  There was a beat, and then Sophia made a high, keening sound.  

“Mom?  What-  What’s wrong?”

Another phone started to ring (still with the national anthem, but a slightly more traditional version), and Matthew swore.  “What?” he snapped.  “Oh, God.  Are you sure it’s her?  Yes.  Yes.  We’ll make the announcement… shortly.”  Matthew took a deep breath and closed his phone with a snap.  “They found Vivian’s body.”  

There was quiet.  Danny was sure everyone had already at least suspected that Vivian was dead.  Having it confirmed was something different.  

“Oh,” said Leo, weakly.  “Oh.  Do they… do they know how…?”

“You don’t want to–” started Matthew.  

“She’s my sister.”

Matthew exhaled slowly.  “She was beaten to death.  They stole her Key and the Lesser Seal.”  He inhaled again, loud enough to be heard.  “We’re going to need to make a public statement.  And–”  His phone tweedled.  “And the Assembly wants to have a special session to hash out a regency decision, and–” another tweedle, “and, ancestors.”  More tweedles.  “It’s going to be never ending.  My family is dying, and–”  He fell silent.  

“Matthew?” asked Irene from the same general area Sophia was in.  Were they hugging?  Maybe?  “What’s wrong?”

“Investigation just found that someone replaced the contents of Grandma’s capsule pills with nitroglycerin,” said Matthew, tersely.  “Matches with her symptoms… heart stopped, but not the other signs of anaphylaxis, darn it.”

“That’s… three different causes of death, isn’t it?” asked Jazz, thinly.  “Four different methods, if you count the wolfsbane.  That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Matthew.  “It could be six, for all I–  Nevermind that.  We need to get back to Kyr Argyn, for the special session, and ‘figure out what the future will look like.’”

“We who?” asked George.  

“Adults,” said Matthew.  “Anyone eligible for regency.”

“Not me, then,” said Eugene.  

“You, too,” said Matthew.  “Just because some idiots in the newspapers called you a bastard a few times doesn’t mean you aren’t perfectly legitimate, legally speaking.”  

“Wait, what do you mean I’m legitimate?  I thought–”

“You can’t expect me to leave Danny,” interrupted Maddie.  “He was just poisoned.”

“Legally, everyone currently in the country–”

“I can stay, Mads,” said Jack.  “Me’n Jazz’ll hold down the fort with Danny here.”

“We really do need you to come,” said Matthew.

“Fine,” said Maddie.  “Danny, I–”

“It’s okay, Mom.  I’ll be fine.  I am fine.”  

Maddie patted his hand.  “We’ll have to disagree on that.  Jazz, if you notice anything unusual, let your father and the doctors know right away.  And– Who from security will be staying with them?”

Matthew rattled off a list of names that Danny instantly forgot.  

“Right,” said Maddie.  “Let them know, too.  Danny, just… try to be safe.”

Well.  Ouch.  Danny would have everyone know that he always tried to be safe.  And careful.  And a lot of other things.

It took a few most of a half an hour for everyone to move out.  Apparently they had to coordinate with the security team, get everything lined up beforehand, etcetera.  

“I think,” said Danny, “that I’m in shock.  Emotionally speaking.”

“That makes all of us,” said Jazz.

.

Jazz couldn't give him the kit until they were alone and Jack had dozed off.  

"Security took me back to the house to get some of your clothes and things.  You're going to have to help me, though.  I don't know what's best for poisoning."

Neither did Danny, really.  Surprisingly, poison, contact or otherwise, wasn't something he had to deal with all that often.  Except for blood blossoms… and whatever was in Vlad’s stupid knockout gas, and those spiders that one time… did Spectra’s weird ghost mosquitoes count as poison?

Next chance they got, Team Phantom would have to look into poison remedies.  

“Energy tablet for now,” said Danny.  “Then, um.  The little jar of eyewash.”  The eyewash was a dilute solution of ectoplasm and salt, usually used for eye injuries, or the irritation that he sometimes got from his eyes deciding to be flashlights, but it could help. It’d be nice to be able to focus his eyes again.

Jazz passed over the tablets almost immediately.  The eyewash, however…

Danny sniffed at the jar.  “This isn’t the eyewash.”  It was, in fact, the blood blossom cream.  After a few additional natural portal related journeys, Danny had found that while just being near blood blossoms in ghost form was agony, touching them in human form gave him a nasty, itching rash.  And hives.  And… And there was a thought there, but it wouldn’t come loose.  

“It’s the only jar you have,” said Jazz.  

Danny frowned.  “Oh,” he said.  “I might have…  Not brought the eyewash, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It’s liquid.  You’re not supposed to bring liquids on planes.”

“We had a private charter flight.”

“I didn’t know that when I packed.”  He handed the cream back to her and chewed on the energy tablet.  Ecto-dejecto and weird dehydrated orange juice powder.  Yum.  

Not.  

“I brought something else as well,” said Jazz, pulling something small and square from her purse and unfolding it.  

Danny squinted.  “Jazz,” he said, his whisper dripping with as much disappointment as he could squeeze in, “is that a ouija board?”

“I thought it could help with, you know.”  She leaned in, and if the only witness wasn’t dead asleep, she would have definitely given them away.  “With communicating with your invisible friends.”

“Can we not say things that make me sound crazy?��� asked Danny.  “And I know you can’t be serious.  Ouija boards are trademarked by Hasbro.  Nothing trademarked by Hasbro can possibly be spiritual.”

“I don’t mean like that,” said Jazz.  “I mean, regardless of what it’s supposed to be used for, it’s still got the alphabet on it.  If the ghosts here can’t write anything out, they can at least point and you can read what they’re saying.”

Good idea, except… “I can barely see, Jazz.  Everything is little blobs of color.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, “but you can still see well enough to point where they’re pointing, right?”

“Well… yeah.  I can see them pretty well, actually.”

“Great,” said Jazz.  “Then, I’ll read off what you’re pointing at, okay?”

Danny looked up at Gwensyvyr, who shrugged, then nodded.  “Okay, yeah.”

“Then let’s start with Vivian–”

“She’s not here.”

“What?”  

“She went with Aunt Sophia and Lewis and Leo.”

“Oh.  Well.  That makes sense.  Who’s here, then?”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “A whole bunch of people.  And Gwensyvyr.”

Silence.  

“As in, the founder–” started Jazz.

“Of Avlynys Gwensyvyr?” they finished together.  

“Yeah, that Gwensyvyr,” said Danny.  

“Okay.  Um.  Nice to meet you…?”  Jazz paused for a long moment.  “This is really weird.  Did you see who tried to poison Matthew?”

Danny followed Gwensyvyr’s finger.  

“Hm,” said Jazz.  “That’s a yes.  Do you know their name?”

Gwensyvyr shifted.  

“No.  So.  That’s too bad.  Anyone else here know their name?”.

.

Matthew’s would-be poisoner, as it turned out, was a young, red-headed man with a press badge that said his name was Wallace Hadryn.  Right before the ceremony, he’d had a quick interview with the Cupbearer, and dropped two pills into the cup while distracting the Cupbearer ‘masterfully’ in the words of one of the ghosts.  

The pills had been red.  All but invisible against the dark wine.  They’d dissolved slowly, and the Cupbearer’s high-tech tests and traditional sip hadn’t affected him.  

“At least,” said Jazz, “not at the time.  I wonder if he might start feeling some symptoms anyway.”

Before that, none of the ghosts had been particularly paying attention to the young man, so they didn’t know who he’d talked to before, if anyone.  

As for who had killed the others…  The ghosts had no real idea.  They’d been repelled from the area, and had only seen ‘suspicious figures’ at a distance.  If that.  

That was bad.  It was very bad that whoever did this knew the ghosts were there and could get rid of them.  Or that whoever had killed them had coincidentally stumbled on something that could banish ghosts.  Even if they were weak ghosts.  

Gwensyvyr had suspicions, though.

There have always been those who seek to tear power from this land and all kinds of people leave ghosts, Gwensyvyr had picked out, letter by letter.  I fear this is a plan long brewed.  We have been growing weaker for some time, even before your grandfather’s death.  Cut off from allies.  Many of my kin have only woken for this latest tragedy, and will sleep again, perhaps forever, and some sleep still.  No hope for the future.  

At least, that's what Danny and Jazz had eventually puzzled out.  Wonderful their ancestor might be, it was clear she'd never practiced the art of spelling.  In any language.  

“You think the ones doing this are ghosts?” asked Danny.  

Perhaps.  Or they are guided by ghosts.  Look to the death of your grandfather, of your grandmother.  Look at those who preach progress and stability, but only think of paper gold.  She bared her teeth.  Look at their corporations and businesses.  These worms in the Assembly.  I call especially for you to look on Julius Skippa.  His father brought in that vile construction business.

“But why would they do it?” asked Jazz.  “Apart from the usual mundane reasons, I mean.  It seems like all they’d have to do is wait.”

There are sacred things our family has long been charged with, older than this kingdom.  Things that have been desecrated and not restored.  Things that I may not speak of.  Your grandfather was the last to attempt the trials.  Vyvyan was preparing for them.  

“They would have noticed something,” said Danny.  “Or the trials would have fixed some of it.”

Gwensyvyr nodded and pointed at yes.  I think, too, that the monsters wish to return.  To take more than what they have taken already.  Thus the seal.  Thus the key.  Would that I were stronger!  I would tear them to shreds if they tried.  

“But Matthew wasn’t going to do the trials,” said Jazz.  “Not right away, at least, and with everything else, it would have been easy to distract him from ever taking them.”

But Mathyw denied them.  On the phone, and later, in the halls of Kyr Argyn.  And I am not certain sure that we face only one enemy.

A ghost phased through the wall and made gestures at Gwensyvyr, who nodded.  

Keep safe, little syvyrys.  The title - applied to both him and Jazz - made Danny blink, then flush.  His numbness must be getting better, for him to feel that.  With you here, there is hope for the future after all.  Then Gwensyvyr took a step back from the board and made a closing motion with her hand.  

Jazz hastily closed and put away the ouija board.  Just in time.  Matthew had returned.  

“Jazz, Danny, how are you?”

“Fine,” said Danny.  

“As well as can be expected,” said Jazz.

Matthew smiled tightly.  “Jack,” he said.  “Maddie wants to talk to you.  Jack!”  He nudged Jack’s shoulder.  

“Whazzat?”

“Maddie wants to talk to you.”

“Alright, then,” said Jack.  “Will you–”

“I’ll watch the kids, yes.”

“Okay!  Stay safe, kids!”

“That was fast,” commented Jazz.  

“It didn’t seem that way,” said Matthew.  “You two didn’t realize there were monitored security cameras in here, did you?”

Danny’s heart leapt into his throat.  From the way Jazz froze, he suspected hers had done the same.  

It made sense that there would be, of course.  In retrospect, security wouldn’t have left them alone like this otherwise, but that meant…

“How long,” asked Matthew, voice trembling with some emotion Danny couldn’t place, “have you been a syvyr?”