#spooky snippet

[neon-kazoo]

Boo!

The lights flickered, and Hero froze.

A subtle chill crept into the alley. A stray breeze…perhaps.

Perhaps not.

As subtly as they could, Hero shifted one foot behind the other, turning back in the direction from which they had come.

In October? No way they were sticking around when electricity starts going haywire and the hairs on the back of their neck stand up.

Before they could advance halfway down the backstreet, a ghastly moan sounded from what seemed like around the corner.

Hell no.

Hero fought villains, not the paranormal.

They took off on light feet, skittering to a stop only when they saw a shadow looming at the end of the alley.

That was no normal shadow. It was slowly growing larger.

Afraid of turning their back to the approaching…whatever was lurking there, Hero slowly shuffled backwards. They took one step, then another, their heart barely contained by the rib cage it was beating fiercely against.

On the third step, they backed right into a solid chest.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” Hero screamed. They fell backwards in their attempt to scramble away faster than they had ever moved before.

The figure they soon recognized as the villain simply peered down at them with a lazy and amused smile.

Upon realizing that the person in front of them was, in fact, not a soul-sucking specter, Hero scoffed in annoyance.

“You.”

Villain chucked, then asked innocently, “What’s wrong Hero? Scared of ghosts?”

The hero picked themselves up and brushed themselves off as casually as they could, which wasn’t very casual at all.

“Scared of the undead’s restless spirits with potentially vengeful intentions?” Hero questioned, tilting their head. “Why yes, yes I am.”

“Seems childish to me.” The villain crossed their arms, knowing eyes still managing to look down on the Hero that was now standing tall in front of them.

“The veil is thin, Villain. There is no harm in watching out,” They stated ominously.

The villain blinked, their smirk faltering for only a second before returning to its full force with their next comment.

“Nice scream, by the way.”

The pride was written clear enough on their face that the hero had no doubt they had indeed orchestrated this whole ordeal.

“I’ll get you back for this,” Hero warned confidently, producing a small smirk of their own.

It was ok to give the villain a warning, they’d still never see it coming.

“Good luck,” their nemesis taunted.

Villain must have unfortunately forgotten about a certain eight-legged phobia of theirs. Hero sure hadn’t, and they knew as certain as they believed they could sense otherworldly presences that the villain would be getting a visit real soon.

[stevebabey]

She moves her gaze back towards Eddie and then says, in a voice far softer than expected, “He’s why the gates don’t close.”

Eddie blinks. What?

“What?” Steve voices his thoughts exactly, leaning forward an inch. “Wait, how can you know that?”

El finally turns his face an inch towards Steve, though her calm eyes swipe back to Eddie every couple of seconds assessingly. She nods, as if she’s explaining something Steve should already understand.

“He’s not from here.” She says. “He’s why the gates don’t close. The—” She holds up a hand and rubs two fingers together. “—material between here and there is already thin.”

He’s not from here. Eddie’s mouth dries up and his heart rate hikes up a couple beats, a sliver of anxiety carving through his tiredness. He feels wide awake now.

Her words carry a sense of deja vu and it takes Eddie only another moment to figure out why — a nightmare he wants so desperately to forget.

Is she…? No, that voice had been different. But either way, Eddie knows intrinsically that the voice from his dream and the girl before him are very much alike. Eddie swallows.

At least she’s on their side.

excerpt from the final chapter of you're not from around here, are you? coming 31/10 for the @steddiebang2024

[fellandcrow]

I've been struggling with writer's block for weeks now, as you can probably tell (I can't believe 'Poetry Carved in Flesh' last update was nearly two months ago 😭).

BUT I'm glad to say I'm finally writing again! Working on PCIF chapter 10 as we speak, and it's all thank to the help and support of my amazing friend @friedratart 🤍✨

It's not done yet, and I still have to draw some illustrations for it, but, in the meantime, and to thank you all for your support and patience, here's a little snippet under the cut (feel free to ignore if you'd rather wait for the whole chapter to be out of course 🤍).

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous,” Crowley suddenly said, effectively pulling Aziraphale from his reverie.

Aziraphale felt himself blushing at the praise, not expecting it at all. But, when he turned his head to look at the other man, his chest full of hope even though he felt a bit disconcerted by the sudden compliment, he felt himself deflate, and rolled his eyes. Of course Crowley would be talking to the Gutenberg press he’d tattooed on his arm a few months ago, and not about Aziraphale himself. Of course. The idiot was now cooing and poking at it with a huge grin plastered on his face, completely oblivious of the heart-attack he had very nearly just caused. 

Aziraphale was not impressed.  

“Did you miss me?” Crowley went on, poking the tattoo again and staring at it with stars in his eyes.

What an insufferable man.

“I’m sure it did,” Aziraphale replied in an acerbic tone, vexed despite himself. “Can we get a wiggle on, now?”

“What?” Crowley asked, finally looking at him, all cheer gone from his voice and face.

“Tattoo appointment. Now, if you please.”

“I got that. It was the wiggle-on”, Crowley scoffed.

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

Regulus stops, points the spatula at James again. “You make a great point, which actually fits in with the other point.” “Oh?” “My parents were awful and honest, so I ran away. Nebraska seemed like the worst possible place I could come to, so here I am.” “Nice on behalf of your Nebraskans neighbors.” “I don’t have any neighbors.” “The cows might beg to differ,” James points out while munching on his apple.

ok I'm actually having THE MOST FUN writing this silly silly silly halloween/my lady jane/jegulus fic

[anticidic]

Dear writing muse, Here is a writing prompt to help get you into the spooky mood: "Don’t you want to be consumed by what loves you?" Share with me the things you dread so I may know what to lay upon your stone, a story of SKK brain rot would definitely take a high seat on your throne. (Did i intentionally make it rhyme... possible so.)

(cw: blood/injury mentions)

Drip, drip, driiiip…

A twig snapped underfoot. Something splashed. The bubbling current of the brook he thought so close now sounded impossibly far away and six feet submerged.

All around him, the wind picked up—leaves rustled, branches groaned, and the end of his scarf came loose in the breeze, whipping the side of his face. Chuuya touched his neck with his dirty fingers, scratching the phantom itch so terrible he wanted to jump out of his skin because it burned the more he dug mud-caked fingers in. He felt the force of a thousand tiny ant soldiers marching up and down the column of his neck, circling all around and up and down the nape into his hair and down his spine.

Shuddering, he shook away the sensation and sucked in a deep breath. Calm. He needed to remain calm. Yet how could he do that when the trees closed in on him and the starry sky above disappeared into a sea of nothingness? Not even the moon shone. He pressed on through, underbrush scratching his skin and thorns pricking his ankles, catching in his socks and tearing needlepoint holes when he tugged himself free.

“This goddamn place, I swear…” Chuuya muttered, heaving a sigh as he stopped to catch his breath. Sweat beaded at his forehead that he flicked away with a few fingers, smearing wet warmth across his hairline. When the stench of copper reached his nose, he grimaced.

“…looking for you.”

Chuuya’s attention snapped to the nearby trees.

Nothing.

Right above him, the sound of a tree branch bending and snapping under a heavy weight. Too loud to be the wind. Too heavy to be that same owl mourning from afar. A cold streak ran through his heart and a bottomless pit of dread opened up in his stomach.

Don’t look. Don’t. Look.

No, he had to. He felt the presence of something and knew he was not alone. He looked up and saw a pair of eyes, beady and yellow in the darkness, staring back, unblinking, but couldn’t make out the shape of what he saw. Chuuya clutched his phone a little tighter.

Right. He had his phone’s light. He could use it to expose whatever thing was staring back, except making any sense of his racing thoughts proved impossible with the roar of blood rushing through his ears and his heart hammering in his chest.

It laughed. A laugh that soundly oddly human. A human laugh that did not belong to his missing friend. It was a man’s.

“Who’s there?” Chuuya demanded, though his voice cracked under the pressure of the unknown. He stepped backward and stumbled over a thick, gnarled root.

The thing laughed harder, and Chuuya swore he saw those eyes finally move, almost disappearing as if it had the face of a man and he imagined someone amused.

But people did not have yellow eyes.

“Looks like you found yourself in quite the predicament, haven’t you?” it spoke in a smooth voice—a voice that did not fit with the hooting of owls and cawing of crows. Too out of place for this fragmented and cursed place that existed solely by nightfall as the forest swallowed whole the light of day.

Gritting his teeth, Chuuya aimed his phone up at the source of the voice and flashed the light through the trees.

A man stared back, smiling for the camera pointed at him, flashing fanged teeth.

No. Not quite right. He had the appearance of a man, but Chuuya did not miss the claws peeling chipped bark and the eight—no, nine—tails that fanned out behind him in dashes of white and blue color against the black forest canvas. Something about this man made his blood run cold and he took off in the opposite direction, ignoring the burn in his lungs that screamed for him to stop or else as he pushed past overgrown bushes and cut himself on the unruly thorns of roses that bloomed high and tickled his skin. Against the sound of his own panting heard the laughter border on hysterical, footsteps hitting the ground behind him swift, almost light.

Leaves crunched underfoot. Earth squished.

Plop, plop, plop…

Shadows darted past him and something soft touched raw skin. A warm caress in the autumn twilight if not for the body he ran into and the hands that snaked around him, wrapped tight and refusing to let go. Claws pressed into his back and breath tickled his ear.

"Gotcha."

A scream tore itself from his throat, with no one to hear.

In the silence that followed, a soft weeping knowing the end was near even as the body refused to give up and he dug his heels into the ground. The slow dragging of his body against his will by the hand around his wrist persisted, past the bubbling brook and the meadow his friend disappeared in. Past bare trees until his feet hit stone and they walked, together, up a path leading to a shambled hut peeking through the low, purple glow of overarching trees. Next to the hut, the tiniest candle with a flickering, almost-dead flame.

He flinched when he felt a claw drag down his cheek. Harsh, but not as harsh as the unforgiving sting of the wind lashing his face.

"Don’t you want to be consumed by what loves you?"

[lavender-laney]

carnations

The carnations are still red. 

I never realized, before, just how quickly flowers wilt and wither and die. It’s like buying a bag of oranges. On the first day, I tear open an orange with fingers curled into claws, gnawing at the rind as juice bursts between my teeth. Days later, I nudge the almost-full bag of oranges as I search for something other than an orange only to discover, underneath the facade of sunny smooth surfaces, the fruits have rotted and molded and liquefied, fusing with one another in their decay, no longer clear where one orange ends and another begins. After the first day spent admiring a flower bouquet’s vibrant petals, they similarly fade into the background. So, when the carnations were still red days after I’d first plucked them from their place in the neighbor’s flowerbed, not an eye was bat.

Today, though, as the setting sun’s glow bathes the blossoms in its golden light, this simple fact becomes ever-clearer: the carnations are still red. Not just red. Red and perky and facing the sun like they still have roots to nourish and more blossoms to bloom and life left to live instead of harsh, jagged tears where stems end, where my bitten, soft fingernails pinched and twisted, like a war medic performing a field amputation, all desperate movements not meant to save but meant to prolong suffering as to die surrounded not by gore and death but by dried gore and almost-death.

Anyway.

The carnations are still red.

I move on with my day.

The office is gray and white and blue. Blue. It’s the color of not our brand, never “brand,” that’s too corporate too lifeless too inhuman, not our brand but our style. Our style’s color is blue. On my first day at the office, I read all of the ways the color blue evokes feelings of tranquility and trust and inspiration and stability and imagination and what feelings does gray evoke? White? Red? What feelings does red evoke? What do I feel when I look at the color red? What do I feel when I look at ruffles of red, at veins of red and the deep dark almost black almost nothing space between shades of red, at red all clustered together, bleeding together, in harsh, seeping shapes? What do I feel when I look at the carnation which are still, still, still red?

Deep breath. I move on with my day.

The bus ride home is a quiet affair. A little girl sits next to me, and her feet dangle above the floor. Her sneakers light up when she mindlessly kicks them against the seat in front of us. They flicker pink, purple, pink, purple, pink, purple. The gems along the toes of the shoes glitter in the sun streaming through the window at my shoulder, leaving the absence of a glimmer where other gems have flaked off, only gaping, dark shadows in their absence. Pink, purple, pink, purple. Thud, thud, thud against the faded blue pleather seat. It takes me a moment to realize her shoes have stopped swinging, to notice the loss of pink and purple and glitter and shadows. I look up. The little girl is sitting stiffly, now, instead of hunched over and casual. Her eager grip on the seat’s edge has shifted to hands clasped tense in her lap. She is watching me out of the corners of her eyes.

I quickly avert my gaze to the window, blinking against the sun and the ensuing shadows that dance across my vision like absences of something, absences of what?

I wonder if the carnations are still red.

[thepenultimateword]

Old Bones Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

CW: Blood, cannibalism, abduction and being trapped, starving, death, undead description

Vampire smelt blood. Not the sweet or savory scents they were accustomed to, but a bland, metallic flavor that simply...existed.

Ah.

Their own.

As soon as they registered that truth, the lacerations on their ankles began to burn, sliced by the sharp edges of the snow as each step shattered the icy top layer.

Didn't matter. Run!

Footsteps crashed behind them.

But where next? They didn't know the way. They had not left Lav's cabin in weeks. And it was earlier in the morning than they'd originally thought. No later than 4 as the sun still hadn't come up. And it had begun to snow again.

"Vampire!"

Didn't matter. Run!

Anywhere. Anytime. Any place safe and lavender-scented and before all this happened.

Something heavy crashed into them from behind. The ice cut their cheek as they fell; a half-second later, their nose was filled with cold, stale powder. The weight lifted slightly as rough hands rolled them onto their back. Vampire blinked against the snow, making out a blur of red, and the weight plopped back on their chest.

“Vampire!"

"No, no, no!" Vampire warded them away with clawing hands, but the villager's beefy fists clasped them tight, drawing them in against their warm breast.

" It’s me! It’s me!" They kissed Vampire's knuckles. "It's Lav."

Vampire's eyes welled. "You don't-- You don't look like Lav. You don't... Your eyes...but not... What are you?"

The villager--Lav-- drew back as if slapped. Their yellow eyes drifted away from Vampire's face, fixing instead just past their shoulder. "Let me explain."

Vampire swallowed. Lav's grip had grown tight, almost painful. Worse because they couldn't seem to stop trembling, though, from the fear or the snow, they didn't know. "W-when you're done...can I go?"

Another slap. This time enough to make them drop Vampire's hands. "Yes. In fact...I've been quite expecting it. Should we go back to the house?"

Vampire shook their head rapidly. It felt like a trap. Walls they could be cornered against and kept behind. They couldn't imagine sitting down in the living room with that face across from them. They couldn't even make sense of what was going on. Was Lav even really their friend?

"Ok..." Lav said, shifting a little in the snow. Their new ruddy face was turning a bright shade of red in the cold, but they didn't even shudder. "You know I'm undead. Not like you though. You're beautiful. I'm... desecrated. You didn't have a choice in your transformation. And mine...well, it's only possible with some degree of choice."

"What are you?" Vampire said firmly, frankly tired of all this beating around the bush.

"I call myself an abomination. You'd call me a ghoul."

"A...ghoul?" Vampire blinked.

Lav thumbed away the cold dribble of blood rolling down their cheek. "You're smart. All those books. You've heard of ghouls."

Not a question, a certainty. And a correct one. Vampire had read about ghouls. They simply couldn't correlate the hideous illustrations from their books with the seeming human in front of them. The face they wore now may appear monstrous after last night, but If it weren't for those predatory eyes and the bone-chilling wrongness of their air, Vampire wouldn't have guessed anything supernatural about them.

Lav must have seen the recognition in their face and the wheels turning behind their eyes because they said, "What do you know?"

"Y-you live in graveyards," Vampire said. "You eat the dead."

"I eat the dead, true. As for the graveyard, it's more a hunting ground than a home. I much prefer my cabin. But I've never acquainted myself with another of my kind, so what do I know of others' habits. Anything else?"

Vampire shook their head. Since ghouls were apparently one of the less common creatures one could run into, the book hadn't dedicated much page space to them. And they weren't about to tell Lav the unflattering details of the entry's description. Especially when it had also offered no defenses.

"Ah." Lav's smile looked more like a grimace. "Then, unfortunately, I must be the one to give you the disturbing history of ghoulish birth."

Vampire grimaced. They weren't sure they wanted to know. There had to be a reason why Lav had kept it veiled for so long.

"I once told you my kind are not quite so simple as a bite. There are several parts to it. One, the moon: the process must last a full cycle, beginning and ending on a new moon. Two, the subject must willingly cannibalize. Three, the subject must die and with that death, make a choice: pass on permanently or return to life."

Vampire shuddered. Their death had been no picnic. Bloody. Nightmarish. Agonizing. But at least it had been quick. "So, y-you wanted to become a ghoul?"

Lav's eyes flashed. Vampire immediately shrank away, but Lav snatched them close again. It seemed meant as a comfort, but their digging grip and cold voice set Vampire's heart pounding.

"When I was 23 years old," Lav hissed in their ear. "I was abducted from my home and locked inside a tomb for thirty days. A sacrifice for a death god rumored to be plaguing our town. They were the cause of all their misfortunes, and my death would surely save them all in time for the next harvest. For four days, I starved in the dark, surrounded by the quiet dead. But, enough time passes, and anything begins looking like food. I survived on corpses' bones and spoiled flesh until the cold and the stomach sick killed me all on their own. But when the death god came for my soul, he gave me a choice. Most people don't know there's a choice. And that there's a reason almost no one chooses to stay.

"I didn't want to die. I had barely lived. I chose life. At first, it seemed like the right choice. I had escaped certain demise without consequences. Yes, something was wrong; anyone could tell that. Any extended amount of time with other people ended with their discomfort and avoidance. But I still looked like me. Sounded like me. Lived like me. And that was enough."

Lav's nails dug unconciously vicious into Vampire's shoulders. Vampire bit back a yelp. They leaned paralyzed on the again-stranger's chest, half frozen in horror, half captivated. Though Lav spoke rapidly, the words obviously came out with some difficulty. Any movement, any sound, seemed likely to send them back into silence.

Lav swallowed hard, throat bobbing against Vampire's resting head. "But I was dead. I couldn't stop the decay. Or the hunger. The craving for the things I had only eaten out of desperation before. My being twisted into something other, something monstrous. And soon enough...I was gone."

Vampire slowly pulled back, and Lav's hands slipped off them, settling in their own lap. They smiled vaguely at their snow-crusted knees, a sort of pasted-on, empty thing without any real feeling behind it. At least, not any of the good ones.

"So you...the real you..." Vampire trailed off, not exactly sure how to finish the question. It seemed insensitive to pry after such a confession. And yet so many questions churned in their head. Did Lav have a body? Were they a spirit that took others' bodies? What did Lav really look like?

Luckily, Lav seemed to understand where the thought was going.

"There's nothing left of me but old bones."

"Ah."

They couldn’t think of another response. This was all happening so fast. A few hours ago they were almost killed. A few hours ago Lav saved their life in a horrifying display. And now all this… Did they care that Lav had changed?

"I can shift my shape into the last human I consumed," Lav continued. "A facade for myself as much as others. I've done it enough times for it to have become commonplace, but each one still takes some getting used to. However, this body...was a less-than-savory choice."

Vampire cocked their head. Did a difference in appearance even count as a real change? They were still the same person. Even with this bulkier body, their mannerisms hadn't changed. The delicate way they folded their hands. The elegant tone of speech, so different from the villager’s harsh voice at the door last night.

Lav mistook their thoughtful look for further inquiry and rushed on. "I mostly survive on animal flesh, but every few months I must eat something human or I fall ill...as you witnessed yourself. I grew too weak on the way to the cemetery, and I needed to return to you...so I did what I must. It made you terribly uncomfortable. For that, I'm sorry."

Yesterday's conversation drifted back to them.

'Should you be getting fevers?'

'Sometimes. I’ve put something off too long, that’s all.'

So that's what they had been referring to. A few months, huh? Vampire had been with them for a few weeks, so they must have had their other form for a while. Had they been refraining for Vampire's sake? But why? They'd never hidden the fact that they ate things outside of Vampire's own comfort zone.

"So the way you looked before...when we met..."

"A traveling noble."

Vampire grimaced involuntarily.

"You don't need to look at me that way; I wasn't the one who killed them. I don't kill any of them if I can help it. From the looks of the carriage and the body, it was bandits. But who was I to waste a fresh body?"

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let yourself fall ill?"

Lav's shoulder sank, and they folded their arms tight against their chest. For truly the first time since they'd met, they seemed small. "Because I've been alone so long. And you were the first person who ever chose to stay. Even if it was out of convenience. With you around, I could pretend I was normal, like a real host with a real guest who both really enjoyed each other's company. I knew once the truth was out, you would want to leave, and I... I just wanted to pretend a little longer."

Vampire paused. The immediate denial of Lav's words dying on their tongue. They had run. And they had wanted to leave. And part of that had been because of Lav's choice of body, but the rest... They couldn't deny that a part of them had recognized Lav immediately. And they'd still run. Maybe had even been looking for excuses to do so. Lav was easy to love when they were making tea or dozing on the sofa. It was a whole different story when they were ripping people apart. Or when they looked like something Vampire had decided they shouldn't. It was the wrongness that made them run. The predator part of their friend that their instincts had always told them to flee from.

They could keep ignoring it or...

"Lav...can I see you?"

The ghoul's yellow eyes flicked unblinkingly to their own. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't care. I...I want to see you. The real you. I think I have to."

If they didn't, it would keep eating at them. They'd always know they were only pretending to accept what they refused to even see. And the distrust would curdle any remains of their relationship.

Lav wet their lips. For a long while, they were quiet, the only sounds the ghostly whistle of the wind through the naked trees and the creaking of the branches as they became overladen with snow. Vampire expected them to refuse again when they said, "Can I ask one thing?"

Vampire nodded.

"Don't run. I want to say goodbye properly."

Vampire's heart skipped an uncertain beat, but they nodded again. "I won't run."

Lav rose brusquely to their feet, thoroughly patting themselves off and taking a long, deep breath.

Vampire's chest tightened. They only knew they were breathing from the faint cloud puffing in front of their face. They gripped the snow on either side of them in handfuls the icy bite grounding them just enough to keep them still.

Lav gave Vampire one last mournful glance and squeezed their eyes shut. Then their face began to melt.

Freckles and hair and ruddy skin, it all dripped away like candle wax. There was no blood or terrible cracking of bone Vampire had imagined in shapeshifting; it was liquid illusion, wet watercolor running off the page, exposing the pale paper beneath.

Vampire bit back their gasp, but a strangled whimper still escaped through their teeth.

The creature was ghastly. A skeletal thing with only dried sinews holding them together. Their tunic, once pulled taught against a broad chest, now hung like drapes off their bony frame. Exposed teeth trapped their expression in an eerie eternal grin, while their yellow eyes, bigger without lids, seemed to roll in their sockets as they looked to Vampire for a reaction.

Run.

The thought wasn't so much verbal as it was a visceral reaction.

Vampire slowly rose, legs shaking.

The creature shielded their face with a grayed hand, nails discomfortingly long and claw-like

Run.

Their instincts had always been wary around Lav, but now they were screaming.

Run!

Vampire stepped forward.

The snow had deepened since the start of their conversation, and with their legs already unsteady, the drift immediately tripped them. Lav lurched forward, catching them in cadaverous arms. In turn, Vampire slid up their hands to hold their desiccated face.

It was much colder and stiffer than while tending their fever, but Vampire stroked the raw cheekbones and haggard brow. So terrible. So familiar. They knew these bones.

"Vampire--"

"I'll stay with you."

Lav's breath hitched. Immediately, they were fleshy and warm again, buried in Vampire's neck in a fit of stifled sobs. Vampire could have gone longer; they didn't think they'd made any hint for them return to a living guise. Maybe Lav was the one uncomfortable in their own skin.

Vampire ran their fingers through the stolen red hair. "But we can't stay here."

Lav spoke muffled into their shoulder. "I'll keep you safe. If we stay in the cabin--"

Vampire forced Lav's face toward them. "Three villagers gone missing after visiting your house? They'll come investigating. And they'll find the bodies soon enough." They squirmed a little. "...Whatever you've done with them. We can't fight them all. And I don't want to. I don't think you do either."

Lav opened their mouth, eyes roiling with a surge of emotions, but the protest died on their lips.

"You can't travel in the day," they said instead.

"They'll be back before nightfall. I'll...I'll wrap up tight."

Lav frowned.

"Besides, it's winter," Vampire rushed. "The sun doesn't rise for a few more hours. Maybe we can at least get the other edge of the wood before they come looking. Find a tavern or inn to hide out in until nightfall."

"And then?" Lav said.

Vampire's brain stuttered to a stop. What was next? They'd barely survived here, and what they had managed had been mostly from hiding. Not much chance of that on the open road. But there would be more information available. More rumors. More people, maybe the inhuman variety.

"Find a clan," they said more firmly than they felt. "For the both of us.

Lav mouth pulled into a skeptical line, but they simply pulled the collar of Vampire's tunic closer around their throat. "We can talk more inside. You're not going anywhere until you've warmed up."

Vampire was suddenly aware of their aching toes, bare and several feet deep in snow. The wind whipped their cheeks and snuck up their shirt sleeves, prompting a violent shiver.

Lav hoisted them into their arms. "You really are the strangest vampire I've ever met."

"H-hey!"

"Darling, I chased you all the way out here; I'm not chasing you home."

Vampire stuttered incoherently but eventually settled tiredly against their brawny chest. They’d been through too many traumatic things in the last 24 hours, and having Lav so close was steadying, even if their outer packaging still unsettled them. They closed their eyes and concentrated on what they could feel beneath the skin, ribs, sternum, collarbones, shoulders…

They could get used to old bones.

Part Seven

Me after finishing this section:

I know it’s not the typical attractive love interest love story, but I think it’s important for Vampire to love Lav for who and what they truly are even if it’s ugly. And it not like they’re suddenly completely ok with it all either, more they’re comfortable enough with it at the moment to move forward. They’re still going to have to accustom to the idea that the physical attraction they’ve had up to this point has all been fake. And they’re going to have to be ok with an ever changing appearance and be confident in their love for what’s on the inside. Anyway, as I finished up this section I was thinking, “this might come off kinda weird for some people” but I enjoyed writing it so that’s what matters haha

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn

[space-writes]

find the word

tagged by @aalinaaaaaa, thank you! my words are great, gesture, get, and gemstone. these are all from the first Valloroth book

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

great

Someone was shouting at him. Whoever it was, they were a great distance away, perhaps down some sort of well, their words indistinct and echoey. Lucian hoped they wouldn’t mind if he ignored them and just went to sleep right here on the ground.

gesture

“The only pretty purple boy I’ve seen is you,” Mehen said. “If he is here he hasn’t caused any disturbance for me and mine. The Empire is vast and unending,” here he touched his heart and then his forehead in a worshipful gesture, “but I’ll see what I can dig up for you. How long are you in the city for?”

get

“Johar.” The man let out a shriek and span around, falling from his chair and knocking his ink to the floor where it soaked into the floorboard, red turned black in the gloom. He blinked, wide-eyed, at the shadows of his room. “Wh-who’s there? I warn you, this is not a house you should—” Vren stepped into the light. Johar’s eyes went wider. “You!” “Me. Get up. I have questions.” Johar scrambled to his feet and collapsed into his chair. “Why are you asking them of me in the middle of the night? There are plenty of others who—” “Because you’re the one who has the answers I want. Indira. Where is she?” Johar’s fingers twisted in his kaftan, knuckles paling. “Zahin Zhira will slaughter me, you know I can’t—” “He’ll do worse if he learns how much you’ve been skimming.”

gemstone

Leshanna lifted a handful of coins, frowning. “Some of these are ancient. Oraladhel doesn’t even mint this demonination any more—how long was that thing hiding up here?” In the legends—at least the ones that had turned into the songs Zander sung incessantly—Cidra had been gold crazy. Gem hungry. Aliyne kicked at a pile of silver, and as it scattered across the cave floor, it revealed beneath it a very dead dwarf. The pieces of them that were left had turned back to the gemstone their parents had carved them from, a deep and rosy quartz. Feeling sick, she turned away.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @talesfromaurea @morganwriteblr @rhikasa and @chauceryfairytales with the words relief, disbelief, grief, and achieve

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads @the-inkwell-variable (ask to be +/-)

[mundanemoongirl]

IT'S SPOOKY MONTH!! HERE'S A SPOOKY SNIPPET FROM SPIRITWALKER

The icy tiles warmed beneath my skin. No more waiting.

I pushed at the wall and the entire section behind the mosaic shuttered. My strange suspicion was correct—there was a hidden passageway in the tunnel—but I needed more force to open the door all the way.

I pressed my other hand to the wall and pushed harder, straining the muscles in my back and shoulders. The wall moved inwards this time, rotating like a cog, until it was just a sliver between two gaps. There was enough room for a witch to comfortably walk on either side.

I gestured to Maya. “Are you coming?”

The younger witch, ever loyal, followed me into the pitch black that awaited us. The smell of mold slapped me in the face, and I had to resist the urge to cover my nose in order to keep my grip on the wall. I stretched my foot as far as it would go, trying to gauge how far the passage went, but only felt emptiness. This vast, dark, unknown space should have frightened me, but instead I was struck with a strange familiarity. I had been here before—in my dreams.

Once we were both fully inside, I let go of the wall. Considering its weight, I assumed that it would gradually slide back into place. Instead it slammed shut, sealing me and Maya in the mysterious hole. I could hear her hands frantically scraping against the bricks, searching for a way out.

“What do we do, Lady Daron?” 

“I am sure that Ann Marie will open the door if we stay here for too long. As for the dark, you can leave it to me.”

I slipped my spirit dagger out from its hidden holster with one hand and used the other to locate a wall. When I could feel the solid surface, I stuck the tip of my dagger into the stone. It cut through easily as the brick was so old it chipped and crumbled upon force. Muscle memory took over, carving out the rune spell for light for me.

All of the walls illuminated brilliantly, as if a star was hidden inside of them. Keeping my dagger in my hand, I surveyed my surroundings. The room was smaller than I suspected, only large enough to fit about ten people. Moss and mold grew on the walls and weeds sprouted from cracks in the stone floor. How long had this place been forgotten?

Maya’s gasp echoed across the walls and I turned to see what startled her. In the corner was what appeared to be a girl, but she had no skin, no color. Her body was solely light, occasionally sparkling with the intensity of her energy. I tightened my grip on my spirit dagger.

“Hello,” the spirit said. “I would introduce myself, but I do not know who I am.”

Spiritwalker taglist (ask to be added or removed) @the-golden-comet @pixies-love-envy

[selfloathingpoet]

Prompt #1

The monster stalked towards them, their sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight as the human scurried back, metal bat gripped tight in their hands and in position to swing.

“You know, you’re very entertaining to me. Seeing you run around, putting up quite a fight! You’re like a rabid little animal.”

“Takes one to know one, beast.”

[inonibird]

More of my Death Cleric Sunshine, backstory edition! Recently my DM and I fleshed out a fair bit about the relationship he had with the necromancer who raised him (uh, not literally). 

Suffice it to say, Tarsus was NOT prepared to deal with a child. :’)

[coolcattime]

AU Snippet December: Day Twenty-Six!

Heartbreak Curse!

As the dark mist stirred around the clearing, slowly gathering into a humanoid form, Sonja's frown became set. She didn't have time for whatever game it was playing.

“I know you're the one that put the curse on her,” She said. She knew its handiwork. Even from just the countdown on her wrist, she knew it had been the one Capsize had made a deal with.

But she hadn't come to it until now, wanting to avoid a confrontation if at all possible. Typically it had puzzles, a way to break its curses without the worst consequence coming to pass, so she had simply focused her efforts on figuring that out.

However, the end of summer was fast approaching. With the same wind came the Autumn Equinox. The date that Capsize had made clear that she would return to Lady Ianite's court to live out the half year she had if the curse remained unbroken.

If she didn't figure out a way to break the curse now, Capsize would return to her goddess to await death. In this moment, nothing scared Sonja more. Not even it and its games.

“You owe me a favour. So you're going to tell me the way to break it without killing her.”

The mist around her laughed. At first it was from a dozen different voices, overlapping and horrible, but slowly they melted into one. One laugh she had come to know, but twisted and wrong.

The mist before her finally took shape, pooling together until it stood across from her as Capsize.

It grinned at her, clearly awaiting her anger for taking on her form when it had placed such a fate on her. Though it was not disheartened from her lack of such a reaction. 

“So you have fallen for the goddess’ messenger? We are surprised, Fox. We thought you were smarter than that.”

[unethicallypleistocene]

I know I keep pestering you for snippets about Blake but I'd LOVE to see how he interacts with Rogue since their powers are somewhat similar! No pressure ofc!!

Pestering?? I just about let out a Victorian-level gasp! Your asks could never be any form of annoyance whatsoever, especially when it comes to snippets! I absolutely adore doing these, and I'm really feeling Blake come to life in my head the more I sit down and try to get some ideas out there. Thank you so much!!

"You arrive at a fork in the darkened road, the cloaked figures still hot on your heels. In your hesitation, one of them calls out, raises his sword- and that's where we'll end our session tonight!" There were groans around the table, along with a few hands thrown up in exasperation. "Ugh, who died and made you DM?" asked Jubilee, starting to collect everybody's dice. "As I recall, nobody else wanted the job," said Hank dryly, removing his glasses to polish them. "You all really give me no choice other than to end on a cliffhanger. It's 11:00 PM, for goodness' sake." "Not like ol' Gambit has anywhere to be," said Remy, propping his feet on the table. Rogue slapped his arm. "I didn't sign up fer one of your sleep-deprived moods tomorrow," she retorted, "especially not after your critical fail streak tonight." "That owlbear came out of nowhere," Remy muttered darkly. Blake stretched and yawned. "Regardless, I really think we should all be going to-" Blake stopped, detecting the tiniest cracking noise coming from outside the window. "Blake?" asked Rogue, eyebrows knitted together. "You guys head upstairs, I'll be up in a bit," said Blake quickly, throwing on his coat as he backed away from the dining room table. "I'm fine, I promise." He turned before he could register the rest of their confused expressions, hurrying out the back door and skittering to the southern treeline. "Hello?" he whispered, feeling stupid and determined and terrified all at once. The ground on which he stood began its telltale vibration, weeds sprouting around his boots. He felt something tug at the bottom of his pant leg. "Come on," Blake muttered, jerkily turning his head as he scanned the edge of the woods in the darkness. His vision caught on a lone antlered buck, eyes glowing gold. The buck flicked its tail and stared at him. "You again," Blake shuddered despite himself, "what do you want?" The buck stood still, eyes growing brighter in the night. "I need to know. Please!" Blake looked down at his hands, which rapidly becoming ensnared in ivy. "Blake! Where'd ya- Blake?!" He heard Rogue's voice, and it sounded too distant to be real. "Why won't you say anything?" Blake pleaded, the buck's gaze burning his skin. The ivy began twisting around his neck.

"For the love of- Can you hear me? Blake!" Rogue called out, speeding to her friend's side. His eyes were rolled back into his head, his feet bound by thick roots to the ground as the greenery started to strangle him. Rogue yanked off her glove and carefully tried to pull at a vine, only to get repelled the instant she touched Blake's skin. She huffed. "I'mma try something new, you just hang on." She sped a good distance away, took a deep breath, and flew at Blake with all her strength. She tackled him, pushing him into the ground, holding him tight. He gasped for air, the ivy rotting away as he gripped Rogue back, suppressing a sob. "I'm sorry," he said, his words coming out garbled between pained inhales. "You're alright," she replied, squeezing him, "you're alright."

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sunday Spooky Action style

thanks for the tag, @fangbangerghoul!

i haven't been writing much this week. finally got over covid, but my lungs hate me, even more than usual. plus, air in colorado has been awful. so, i've been exhausted.

but, i do have something to share today! been working on chapter 2 for Spooky Action, and have enough to share now.

tagging the coemancer crew (sam is my coe-pilot stickers incoming!), and anyone else that wants to share something.

Chapter 1 of Spooky Action at a Distance.

my other stuff lives on ao3.

sneaky peeky

She nodded. “Two hours to kill.”

“Yep,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for several minutes staring out the windows. “We could play some poker,” she suggested.

“I’m not playing poker with you. I know better than that,” he answered

“Coward,” and she smiled mockingly at him.

“Not afraid. Just not stupid.”

Min snorted in response. “Or, we could just sit here with thumbs up our asses.”

“I’ve got better uses for my thumbs, personally, but you do you.”

Min got up from the captain’s chair, shot him an indecipherable look, then headed to the galley. “I’ll give you and your thumbs privacy, then,” she called over her shoulder.

“What?” he asked, flummoxed. “Why does everything lead to sex for you?” he asked as he followed her into the galley.

“Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me that yours doesn’t, either,” she answered as she pulled out a water drink pack out of the fridge and lobbed it to him, then grabbed one for herself. She leaned insouciantly against the stove and peered at him with a penetrating gaze, taking slow slips from the straw.

He caught it out of the air and sat down at the table, not making eye contact. He hated to admit it, but she wasn’t wrong. This was only the third day since he came aboard, and being in close proximity to her for this long was like taking hit after hit of Aurora, and was super-charging both his memories and his libido. Even the first time they met, there was that connection, that instant attraction. And every time after, that connection and attraction grew.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You!” The Emissary gasped, shocked at her entry onto the Scorpius. “How is this possible?” He changed his faceplate to transparent to show her his face.

She scowled at him, her eyes raking along the scar on the side of his face. “Are you always going to be The Emissary for me?” she demanded.

The Hunter chuckled maliciously, “Oh my, this is new,” he said snidely as he crossed his arms. “Star-crossed lovers meeting in the afterlife?”

“Hardly,” they both shot back in unison.

“Hrmph,” The Hunter snorted, but the cruel smirk remained.

The woman glared at The Hunter, but turned to The Emissary. “Don’t bother with the speeches. Just give me the key, and you won’t see me again.”

Sam, shocked, handed her the key without a word.

She spun on her heel and stomped out of the ship.

“If you don’t close your mouth, flies will get in,” The Hunter said amusedly.

Sam shook his head like he was waking up from a dream, “Get me to the Helix!” he shouted.

The Hunter emitted another malicious chuckle, “Following your lost love?” he said caustically. But, he sat down and, as soon as the woman’s ship detached, set course for the Helix. “I’m not doing this for you, you know. I’m intrigued as to where this is going. I haven’t seen anything like this before. And, as you know, novelty is a premium.”

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

Werewolf!Kendall who happily pushes Siren!Ronnie around in her portable bathtub because she deserves to have fun like any other teenager who can walk on land. Kendall's tail wags as he talks about ice hockey because it's his favorite thing, and he gets to share it with someone else.

Ronnie who is afraid to sing because she doesn't want to put Kendall to sleep, but if he needs help sleeping, she won't think twice about it.

Franken!Carlos who has come so close to electrocuting himself and Ronnie on numerous occasions just because he's so hyped about seeing water. And Vampire!James, with the help of Zombie!Logan has tried to hold Kendall back because something in him snaps at the thought of Ronnie getting hurt.

Ronnie, who can shapeshift, and Kendall almost cried the first time because he thought she had disappeared. His friends never let him live it down.

Kendall goes to James for advice because he's overthinking. James suggests he just use his hypnosis powers, but Kendall doesn't have those.

Carlos and Logan chilling with Witch!Mama Knight because they're getting secondhand embarrassment from Kendall.

[theoniprince]

[Teaser]Nightshift 🌃🧛🏻‍♂️

Verdammt. So hätte die Nacht nicht ablaufen sollen. Anstelle in seiner sicheren Wohnung zu sein, stolperte er durch die noch verwaisten Flure des Präsidiums. Es war für ihn ein leichtes unbermerkt in ihr Büro zu kommen. Jan war froh, dass ihn niemand so sehen musste. Auch Rosa oder Faber nicht. Schon gar nicht Rosa. Die würde sich nur wieder Sorgen machen und diese Sorge hinter mahnenden Worten verstecken. Mia klammerte er ganz aus. An seinem Zustand trug er allein die Schuld. Sie hatten sich damit arrangiert und wenn es ging, wollte er die Unannehmlichkeiten so gering wie möglich halten. Jetzt fehlte ihm jegliche Kraft. Der Einsatz war etwas ausgeartet und Jan erinnerte sich nicht, wann er das letzte Mal körperlich so am Ende gewesen war. Vor allem in seinem Zustand war dies eher selten der Fall. Bis zu seiner Wohnung hätte er es vielleicht nicht mehr geschafft, weswegen er den Umweg über das Präsidium nahm. Sein Schreibtisch mit verschlossener Schublade war in Sichtweite. Seine Rettung. Nur ein Schluck. Ein kleiner Schluck seiner Notreserven. Es war nicht das beste Blut, Schweineblut, aber es musste für den Moment reichen. Jan öffnete mit zittrigen Händen die Schublade und obwohl das Blut warm war, entwich ihm ein genüssliches Stöhnen beim ersten Tropfen Blut auf seiner Zunge. Seine Augen fielen zu und an der Konserve saugend sank er in seinen Schreibtischstuhl.