#suburban fantasy

[wonderful-prompts]

Prompt #1311

The spellbook was falling apart. Its wobbly spine was reinforced with peeling duct tape, the sigils inked on its covers had been nearly worn away by years of travel. Yet it remained in the witch's care.

[the-wizard-writes]

The Art of Broom Racing: The Culture

Broom Racing for witches is sort of an underground sport like street racing for young witches. The fast pace atmosphere and energy is what really makes the race itself feel alive with magic. But, racing is not all there is, these broom racing events are not just racing. It’s coming together as well. Young folks come together to not just race but to hang out as well. It’s a way for the younger generation of magic users to find a community that they feel like they belong in by being around people with similar age brackets. At these hangouts you’ll usually find what would be considered similar to block parties or collage pop-up parties with up and coming bands playing, games, food, and dancing. It’s a way to get rid of the status quo in communities and to have fun. The fun mixture of different cultural backgrounds has cultivated a healthy compentive yet friendly enviorment to not only witches but, other species as well. Species that don't compete in these races can also have fun with the festivities even if they aren't racing. But, the race is where it’s really important that's where the action happens!

[fate-magical-girls]

Fantasy story idea: The Glaistig, the goat-legged, green-robed water fairies, are the true owners of the land. For generations they've allowed humans to live and build there. The Glaistig make sure all the roads are in proper repair, the playgrounds and swimming pools and other communal areas are cleaned, and that well-watered and trimmed plants appear in areas around the community. In exchange, the humans pay a yearly tithe. They must also build their houses in Glaistig-approved models, paint their houses in Glaistig-approved standards, plant their yards with Glaistig-approved plants in Glaistig-approved patterns, maitain their yards to Glaistig approved standards, raise only Glaistig-approved animals, and get the express approval of the Glaistig for any permanent "major" alterations to the exterior of their homes.

And now one family wants to convert their porch stairs into a ramp, and the Glaistig aren't pleased about the aesthetics...

[starlonga]

[borealisbarbie]

idle town: i hate it here

chapter 1: in the quiet of the night chapter tags: referenced child abuse, fantasy elements, 90s setting, implied polyamory, meeting the family chapter warnings: child abuse, death, mild language word count: 3347 A/N: very much a departure from borealis lol, but i love this little family so much and i hope you will too!

Another night of disrupted sleep. 2:00am shines red from the alarm clock and from across the hall Cass can hear the sounds of muffled cries, the creak of aged bedsprings. Another nightmare, or exhaustion from the insomnia. Her heart aches as she lies in silence— her previous attempts to go in and offer comfort had not been accepted well. He’s a teenager after all, a mess of hormones and confusion, and she is little more than a stranger to him. 

When he’s not making himself small and haunting the house with his barely traceable presence, he dons a mask of blank indifference. When she brings up the nightmares in the morning he lies— blames the sounds she hears on the wind, or her own imagination. They had decided against therapy at first, wanting to see if Keiren could bounce back with their help. Or, that’s what they tell the doctors and social services.

  In reality, they simply cannot afford that kind of expense; taking in her estranged brother’s newly orphaned thirteen year old hadn’t been in the budget as it is, and they’d only just closed on the cafe a couple months ago. Keiren’d seemed fine— distant, grieving, prone to random flares… But fine. Or so showed the act he put on for them, which fell away each night. The sun set and the caricature of a moody, disinterested teenager dissolved to reveal a child who couldn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time, and cried out for comfort he didn’t believe he deserved.

Now, Cass makes plans to use the local library’s computer to look for some sort of support group in their new neighborhood for the kid. The circles under his dark eyes border on black these days, and he’s having trouble staying awake throughout the day, if his tutor is to be believed. If something doesn’t change soon, he’s going to end up in the hospital, the last thing he needed. 

Another cry, this one much louder, quickly followed by a thud! Has her jumping out of bed and tiptoeing across the hall, pushing open her new housemate’s bedroom door. The bed is empty of both teenager and bedding, and when she looks down to find the aforementioned teen tangled within the blankets on the floor, she heaves a sigh. Orange light like that of a dying fire glows within the thin quilt, but there’s no heat. Moving slowly, because she hasn’t been sensed yet by the normally vigilant boy, Cass takes one edge of the blanket, pulling it away to reveal a flushed, teary face and a senseless fluff of dark curls. 

His eyes are still clenched shut, but he stiffens when she brushes against him, flaring to feverish temps and pulling away to sit more fully against the side of the bed. Her heart constricts in response, because this— this is the most unexpected part of taking in her nephew. 

They had foreseen the nightmares, the moodiness, the grief, the shaky grasp of control he held over his still developing abilities. 

They hadn’t foreseen the flinching, the fear of raised voices, the rejection of physical contact. Her brother hadn’t been a kind man or a good man when she knew him, and apparently he hadn’t changed that for his child. The bruises the doctors found hadn’t been caused by the fire, and they hadn’t been the result of rough treatment by the rescue team, but remnants of the loveless man laying in the morgue. 

Retracting her hands, Cass sits across from him and lets him wake fully. Red rimmed eyes blink open and meet her soft gaze fleetingly, before falling to examine the faded bedspread covering his lap. 

The orange glow fades; slow, almost tentative.

“S-sorry…” he croaks, a word she’s heard more in the last 3 weeks than she has in her entire life, she’s sure. He apologizes for everything— a knee jerk reaction the moment he seems to think he’s upset her. “I just fell but I’m fine, you can go back to bed.” That had been his explanation for the bruises, too. With that, he tries to stand, attempting to unwind the bedspread with minimal success and nearly tumbling to the ground a second time.

“Oh, baby…” She can’t help but murmur, climbing to her feet so she can help him free his tangled limbs, laying the blanket back on the bed. 

Standing face to face in the smallish room, with none of the distance they usually maintain during the day, she looks over the boy she’s taken in— all gangly limbs and awkward posture. Thirteen years old and he’s taller than her already, and yet again she is struck by the fact that she has missed her nephew’s entire childhood. A month ago she hadn’t even been aware of his existence. 

“You know the doctor said nightmares were normal, and we have those pills for the insomnia. You don’t have to hide these things from me.” But he’s already shaking his head, panic blooming in his eyes. “No please, I don’t want the pills, I can’t control it when I'm taking them.” 

And there was the elephant in the room. Not her nephew’s abilities, but his belief that his abilities had killed his parents. He refused to even acknowledge them point blank, and she’d only seen him really use his powers once; at the hospital when he’d been informed of his parents’ deaths. The flames had burned intensely but hadn’t struck out once; instead swirling together to form a cocoon around him. No one had been able to get through them and they’d had to resort to calling in a hydra working in the cafeteria to douse the flames so they could sedate him. 

Now, Keiren avoids heat like the plague; windows flung open despite the still chilly spring temps, electric fan going full speed. All he had salvaged from his old house was armfuls of eclectic sweaters, and yet he lived in the plain tank tops and t-shirts the temporary foster family provided him. He doesn’t even seem to like being in the kitchen when the stove is on. 

He cautiously climbs back into bed when she gestures for him to do so, going along without complaint when she drapes the blanket back over him— he could do it himself of course, and he’ll likely kick it off as soon as she leaves, but he’s just so heartbreaking with his shaking hands and nervous glances, and if he’s not going to sleep Cass at least wants him comfortable.

“Are you sure? We have a long day tomorrow, if you don’t get at least a little sleep…” She hesitates to give in— she’s a mother now, shouldn’t she put her foot down here? He truly does need the sleep— meeting the others is going to be rough enough for him without the added stress of a sleepless night. Her own parents would never have entertained giving her a choice to take medication or not, but her parents hadn’t been in a situation like this. 

“I’ll sleep, I promise; you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t ruin tomorrow for you.” He says it so earnestly, and paired with such big wet eyes that any thought of standing her ground vanishes. He’s had enough of people poking and prodding at him to do as they bid and she wouldn’t become one of them. 

She can’t let that last comment go though, and her hand makes an aborted motion to run through his hair before she reconsiders and settles it instead on her hip. 

“You could never ruin anything, baby.” she exhales, nodding. “You promise you’ll sleep? No books, no music?” More than once she had noticed him curled up with a flashlight  and a novel, headphones firmly in place and blasting whatever the kids were listening to these days deep into the night. Keiren shakes his head again, and the exhaustion in his eyes makes her believe that he will at least try. 

“Okay then. Sleep tight.” she offers as he’s rolling over to face the wall; a dismissal. She studies his tense form a moment longer, rubbing absently at her chilled arms before leaving. 

It’s the best a night like this has gone, Cass muses as she climbs back into bed. He’s the most talkative at night, when the need for sleep has lowered his walls some, but he’s still nearly nonverbal. The conversation tonight is the most he’s said in one sitting since being discharged from the hospital. She lies still, waiting for a sign that the teenager is being assuaged by nightmares once again. 

The night stays still and silent. 

Hoping it is a sign of better things to come, she turns out the light and succumbs to sleep.

They arrive at the house first; the movers’ trucks pull away just as they crunch over the gravel driveway. 

Keiren silently refuses her offer to help take his few belongings out of the car and hefts the battered book bag over his shoulder before dragging the garbage bag that contains his clothes out of the passenger side door to land by his feet. Cass grabs her own bag of last minute essentials and heads for the front door left partially ajar, hissing when her elbow catches on the knob. She sets her bag on the white kitchen counter before taking in her surroundings.

  The house is… bright. Late morning sunlight pours through windows accented with cheery yellow curtains, illuminating the tiny dust particles in the air— no doubt kicked up by the movers unloading. Outside the window a flock of sprites flitter around, chasing a squirrel. Towers of meticulously labeled boxes fill each room, with newly assembled furniture standing out like islands in the sea. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating. 

Rubbing her hands on her jeans, Cass walks back to the front door, where Keiren stands. He looks painfully out of place; trash bag slumped by his feet, oversized t-shirt pulled off one shoulder from the weight of his bookbag, gaze focused on the yellowed smoke detector above the door. She makes a note to have them all checked and replace any faulty ones. 

She’s about to show him to his room when another car crunches over the gravel; Peter. 

Keiren’s reaction is expected, given the little she knows of him— he freezes, panicked, eyes finding hers before he looks away, and then he just… vanishes. His shoulders pull inward, he steps away and turns so his back is to the wall, and drops his gaze to the ground. His hands clutch tightly at the strap of his bag, and the temperature of the room raises a bit. 

She’s torn between telling him to go upstairs in order to give him a reprieve and just getting the initial first meeting out of the way, when heavy footsteps take the choice from her and the door flies open. 

A large hand grappling for the handle stops it from making contact with the wall, and an equally large man passes through.

“Shit, sorry! What kind of hinges did they put on this thing?” She can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“You’re late.” Cass scolds, hands on hips. 

“Ah, come on babe! Not that late, and I hardly think the kid cares that much about punctuality. What teenager does?” he mutters good naturedly as he toes off his boots and drops them by the door. She clears her throat, gaining his attention and nodding towards Keiren. 

“Oh. OH! Fuck, sorry kid, I didn’t even see you there. Kieren, right?” He steps forward to shake his hand, apparently deciding not to heed any of the warnings she had given him beforehand. To his credit, he doesn’t just grab the kid’s hand like he usually would, instead leaves it extended for the teenager to either take or reject. 

She’s prepared to intervene before any feelings can be hurt (he’s a sensitive sort of man, no matter the trucker hat and stature) but to her pleased surprise, a smaller hand slowly reaches out and takes his, shaking it once before making a hasty retreat to twist and worry the hem of his shirt. 

Keiren doesn’t speak, not that she had expected him to, but he does nod, eyes flicking up to meet Peter’s for a split second before edging carefully away and to the doorway, making his escape. Peter turns towards her with a confused yet proud expression, pointing up the stairs.

“Did you see that? I think he likes me!” And this is why, despite his gruff personality and rough appearance, he was the one she wanted Keiren to meet first. “Kid was shaking like a leaf though, hope I didn’t startle ‘im too bad.” 

“That’s the warmest greeting anyone’s gotten out of him yet,” She admits, reaching up to tug the brim of his ‘entirely ironic’ Madonna ballcap affectionately. “Come on, let’s go see if we can get the coffee machine unpacked. I’m not touching these boxes without caffeine.” 

They do finally find the coffee machine, but the mugs are nowhere to be found. They sit on the back porch, sipping out of a ceramic measuring cup and a short vase, respectively. Keiren doesn’t make another appearance but she can hear him in his room, his music —something guitar heavy and angry— filtering through the screen of his open window. He’s avoiding them, Cass knows. One backpack and a few clothes simply did not take an hour to unpack. 

But the clock is creeping towards noon, and they haven’t eaten. He’s slight enough as it is— teetering just on the edge of malnutrition, according to the doctor, and he can’t afford to be missing meals. Finishing her last swig of black coffee (and making a note to add creamer to the shopping list), Cass stands and nudges the screen door open enough to slip through, pausing to give Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, snorting when he can’t be bothered to pull his nose from his book.

Cooking meals Keiren would eat was another one of those unexpected challenges. 

She’d cooked a huge meal to celebrate the adoption going through— roast chicken, green beans, baked potatoes, rolls. Admittedly, a meal more suited to her partners, but a good meal nonetheless. The teen had balked at the sight of the food laden table though, sitting stiffly the entire time and fiddling with a roll, nervously picking it to shreds.  She’d heard him later that night in the kitchen, digging through the cupboard like a little mouse and scarfing down handfuls of cornflakes. 

He held such an aversion towards casserole that he’d not even come down to eat, the one time she’d tried. He didn’t like chicken or beef. She’d ended up creating a mental list of the teenager’s ‘safe foods’: soup but not stew, plain turkey sandwiches with mustard, not mayo and never miracle whip, any and every kind of dry cereal… and little else. Even typical teen fare held no appeal. Pizza had gotten a few disinterested nibbles, and fast food had gotten a deluge of rejections and apologies before she’d even pulled into the drive-thru. 

The pantry was still empty, but luckily she found the nonperishable food box, and dug out a couple cans of chili and a bag of corn chips for herself and Peter, and a can of vegetable soup for Keiren. She quickly gets the two meals heating up on the stove, fully immersed in the task of lunch. 

So fully immersed that she doesn’t notice a second person in the kitchen until she turns to grab bowls and sees Keiren standing by the sink, filling a glass with water. He’s changed his clothes, succumbing to the chilly temperatures and donning a faded sweater with an uncharacteristic image of a smiling sun plastered across the front. She notes his bare feet curled a little against the cold hardwood, and adds socks to that ever growing list. 

“Lunch is going to be ready in a couple minutes, sweetheart. I hope soup is okay? It’s veggie.” A short nod, and a flash of relief that confirms her instinct that chili would be a no-go with him. He turns, presumably to go back upstairs, but seems to hesitate before turning back around. 

“Need help?” he asks so quickly that it takes a second for it to register. She nods belatedly, eyes wide and trying to stifle a smile, lest her excitement scare him off.

“Yeah. Yeah! Here, you can set the table. Bowls are above the sink, silverware is… to the right —no, the left— of the fridge. And can you also grab a soda from the fridge for Peter?” She almost asks him to grab a beer on instinct, but he’ll have to make do with pop until Keiren is settled. 

He sets his water on the counter and goes about setting the table while she turns off the stove and gives the counter a cursory wipedown, tossing the empty cans as she does. It’s ridiculously mundane; they don’t even talk, and it's awkward maneuvering the new kitchen while also avoiding getting in each other’s way— and yet it’s the happiest she’d felt in months. 

Between the funeral arrangements, the doctors’ visits, the nightmares, the social services appointments, the moving… It’d been impossible to find a second to breathe, and happiness has taken a backseat to surviving. 

She hadn’t even set foot in the cafe since they’d closed; her partners had taken care of all of that down to hiring the staff and preparing for opening day. Hopefully by then Keiren would be settled enough to want to go with them. He hadn’t mentioned missing any friends, and he didn’t look particularly bothered to have spent so much of these months either alone or with adults, but a little social interaction would be good for him. Their neighbors had a daughter who looked around his age— her partners said to leave it alone, but she thought they would get along well. A housewarming party, just a casual backyard barbeque kind of thing, maybe… 

A soft throat clear brings her out of her musing, and she takes in Keiren’s work. He’s sat her and Peter together at one end of the picnic style table and placed himself a fair distance away, just close enough to not look blatantly avoidant. 

“You did great, Keiren,” She decides to test this new bravery of his. “Can you go and let Peter know that it’s time to eat? I just have to dish this all up,” she adds, turning a little to indicate the food. 

He nods slowly but not hesitantly, from what she can tell, and slips away, silently as he came. 

She doesn’t try to eavesdrop, because that would be silly. She just stands by the already open window, diligently drying a tiny wet spot on the counter. If she leans herself out the window a little to really take in the scenery and happens to also give herself a passable view of the porch, that’s no one’s business but her own. 

Keiren doesn’t get the jump on Peter like he had Cass; the creaky screen door prevents it. Peter looks up from his book, turning in his rocker to see the teenager, who seems to stiffen a little bit, but again, doesn’t flee like she’s seen him do with other men. 

Keiren talks with his hands, just like his father. 

She can't make out their words from this distance, but even so, she can tell they’re not just talking about lunch. Peter holds up his book, apparently in answer to a question Keiren must have asked. The teen smiles. Cass nearly tumbles out the window in shock, barely righting herself and finishing filling their bowls just as the two walk in, joining her at the table. Lunch is a silent affair but for the clanking of spoons and the fizz of Peter’s soda can. 

Keiren eats the entire bowl of vegetable soup.

Outside the sprites flutter and a distant dog barks.

Maybe now, they can ease out of survival mode. 

[cmarguel]

Outside a new day is dawning

Outside suburbia's sprawling everywhere

Would have liked to do a bit more polish on this, but you know what, I want to come home from vacation with a clean slate and no unfinished pieces! And so, I declare this one complete!

[worldofthechateau]

Regarding the post you made about the mythological creatures, I can offer this wiki page which contains a hefty amount of mythological creatures and has helped me a lot.

Personally, I'm very fond of kelpies and the Bulgarian variation of the zmey, also known as Slavic dragon (actually, I'm fond of most Bulgarian myths and legends).

I don't recommend using the Wikipedia article on the zmey though. Most of the facts there aren't correct for the Bulgarian zmey, and there's barely any information there to begin with.

I could translate some information from the books I have, if you'd like? I was originally going to add it here, but I wasn't sure if you'd be interested, plus it's a lot.

Thank you! If you really want to send me the information, go ahead, but I won't mind if you'd rather not.

[lawofnamesmedia]

Monday, July 6, 2009

The speech that the plucky hero gives right before the training montage starts.

Conversations with Camren.

Holly knows what she's doing.

Like mother, like son.

#Arcadia_CA

Episode 62: Walk-On

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 1: Portal Fantasy

A maybe excerpt, maybe AU from a YA novel I swear I'll finish someday.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in a cocoon of towels and blankets, and I can’t believe this is really happening. Everything is so ordinary. The flowers and the white picket fence behind the window. The soft electric light from the lamp on Claudia’s desk. The cat sleeping on the hamburger-shaped beanbag in the corner. The closed laptop, the bookshelves, the Lego clown grinning at me from the nightstand. The pale beige wallpaper in the gaps between indie band posters. Everything here is fabric and wood, messy and cozy. A forgotten dream of a place. I barely recognize it.

The door hinges groan softly, and my attention immediately snaps to the source of the sound. Claudia tiptoes in, carrying a large steaming mug, her lips pursed tightly in concentration. She’s wearing an oversized blue shirt and those bunny slippers I bought for her as a joke. It’s weird to see them still so new. So fuzzy. Just like her sleep-tousled hair.

Everything about Claudia is exactly as I remember her. That can only mean that I’m hallucinating, or dreaming, or under the influence of yet another toxic brew. Because it makes no sense, does it? Something must have changed. Her hairstyle. Her weight. Anything.

The mattress dips as she perches carefully on the edge of the bed. She offers me the mug. “Here. I even found a pack of marshmallows.”

It takes me a moment to figure out how to react. “Thank you.” My voice is hoarse, barely recognizable to my own ears. I clear my throat. Take the mug. Stare into it. Melting blobs of marshmallow float over the chocolate foam, like wave crests on a muddy brown sea. The heat from the mug seeps into my palms. The drink smells like home.

Claudia clears her throat. “So,” she says, “do you want to tell me what happened?”

And I do, so much, but I don’t know what I can tell her. All I know is I’m so grateful she wants to know. That she has let me in. Recognized me.

How is she still the same?

“I…” I draw a breath, and the marshmallow waves shift when I let it out. “Maybe it would be easier if you, um, asked specific questions?”

“Specific questions,” she repeats slowly. “Well, I don’t know, Sarah, let’s see. My girlfriend disappears without a trace for the entire weekend, then shows up in my back garden in the middle of the night, soaking wet and completely out of it. Gee. I don’t even know. I think my most specific question at this point is, What the fuck?”

I open my mouth to answer, and then her words register with me. One word, to be exact. Weekend. My hands go numb. The mug tilts. A few brown drops land on the pastel tartan comforter.

To think I was seriously worried if she still lived in her parents' house and had the same room there. The entire way from the lake, there had been one thought in my mind: Claud may have left for college by now.

One weekend. Jeez. How?

"Sarah." Claudia leans forward and places a hand on the side of my knee. I can barely feel the touch through all the blankets, but I still soak in the warmth of her presence. "Seriously. What happened? I was worried sick. I thought—" She swallows. "I thought you were abducted. Like Sammy."

"Sammy was never abducted," I say automatically.

But I was. Abducted, or kidnapped, or stolen away in the night—whatever words I choose, they won't change the ugly truth of what happened.

"Did you talk to Sammy?" I blurt, before she can ask anything else. For half of my unwanted adventure, Sammy had been the one person I thought of most. Surely my twin will come looking for me. She's the only one who can. And besides, it's her fault. And she is my twin. 

"I tried," Claudia says with a grimace. "I went to your house on Saturday, to see if you've been home. She... wasn't exactly forthcoming."

I swallow. Sammy doesn't like Claud, I know, but. But. There's something about this that makes the tangle of anxiety and fear in my gut tighten up further.

"Could you... elaborate?"

She frowns, and I hate that I'm putting so many sad, hurt expressions on her face. I want to be the reason she smiles. The person who makes her eyes light up and sparkle like the pond waters in the twilight, when all the stars are out already reflecting in them. All this time—all this weekend, apparently—I've been thinking about her smiles. The happy and open ones when she's having fun. The small smug ones when she wins a prize, or gets a compliment for a job well done, or gets singled out in a group for her accomplishments. The soft, hazy, sleep-painted ones in the mornings that she reserves just for me.

"To be honest," Claudia says slowly, and I push myself to focus, "I would much prefer it if you answered my questions first. But, okay, whatever. She was acting super weird. She tried to convince me you came straight home with her after Pete's party, like she was taking me for a fool. Then she said you were asleep. Then she just kept repeating I was unwelcome and overstepping and you would hate me for poking my nose into your business—"

"I would never!"

She squeezes my knee through the blankets, and finally, there's a hint of a smile. "Anyway. Eventually, your Grandma showed up and took over, and then I somehow ended up eating pancakes with Sammy and her on your back porch. That was... not even the weirdest part, to be honest."

Pancakes. My throat tightens. I can't help but remember the last time Grandma sat me down for some oddly shaped pancakes. Right after I first realized Sammy was lying to me about where she'd been all summer. Right when I got close to the truth about the Veil and the Other Places for the first time, only to be shoved in the opposite direction.

"What... what was the really weird part?"

Claud's dark green eyes harden. "The one, I guess, where I left your house utterly convinced that I saw you leave the party with Sammy. That you may or may not be going away to visit some non-existent relatives, but that's none of my business. That you and I have in fact broken up because you did something so terrible I'd better not even try to recall it. And I just walked around believing all this bullshit until I cracked my journal open in the evening, so please, Sarah, will you explain to me what the fuck is going on?"

Her journal. Can it really be so simple? Would any record of pre-enchantment events suffice, or is it all about the power of the written word? I file the thought away for later. I inhale, exhale, exhale again. The steam from the mug curls lower against its rim. I take a few sips and set the rest on the nightstand, then scoot closer to Claudia.

"This is going to be really hard to believe," I warn, my chin on her shoulder. "But I swear I'll only be telling the truth. I should have told you the truth a long time ago."

And then I explain it all: about the Veil, and where Sammy went, and where they took me. If I make it a little too long-winded, it's just because I'm afraid to stop talking too soon.

If she does think I'm crazy, I'd rather not know for as long as possible.

[i8i8t]

[the-likeable-wizard-mack]

Demon: *Patting a humans head* Ah yes this is my emotional support human. You may not touch them they are working right now. They give me good food and comfort by showing me hilarious things on their glowing tiny light book.

[the-wizard-writes]

Werewolf X Vampire Imagines: Urban Fantasy edition

🧛 : Vampires who often use their werewolf partner as a space heater since their own body is so cold. They snuggle up to them and just use them as a big bed whenever they feel like it.

🐺: Werewolves who like to play with their vampire S/O whenever they transform into a vampiric animal. Not just bats either! Imagine if they could also turn into a wolf and they surprised their werewolf partner that they can also transform into a big wolf. Wolf dates in the woods! 🧛: The werewolf s/o buying packs of blood for their vampire partner when they are low on their blood supply. (They also impulsively buy those silly bendy straws as well.) Werewolf: "I got your blood babe!" Vampire: "Thank you dear. I- ...What are these?" Werewolf: "Bendy straws!" Vampire: "...Why?" Werewolf: "So you can drink out of the blood packs!" Vampire:" With silly straws?" Werewolf: "With silly straws." 🐺: Werewolves who want to cuddle with their vampire s/o in their coffin but the coffin is way to small for the both of them. Also the werewolf so maybe sleeping on top of the coffin of the vampire trapping them inside as a way to mess with them a bit. 🧛:Vampires being an "honorary" member of the werewolf's pack. Even though they are a rowdy bunch it's nice to have a bit of fun with some werewolves rather than sit and have some boring conversations with elder vampires. 🐺: A werewolf shielding their vampire s/o from the sun using their bodies or even using their pack as human shields to help their vampire s/o to get to their destination. 🧛: Both of them making cute nicknames for each other. 🐺: Werewolf s/o protecting their vampire s/o even though they know they really don't "need" to be protecting. The vampire basically has a guard dog next to them 24/7. 🧛: Both of them making fun of shitty vampire/werewolf movies as a home in date night.

[dabantam]

Urban Fantasy World Building: Elves

In modern times, elves are among the most widespread of sentient species, out competed only by humans and goblins. Long lived and having a vast history, there are a variety of elves throughout modern society.

City Elves: Also known as high elves, city elves are (as their names suggest) elves that live predominantly in urban areas. Experts at all sorts of magic and arcane inscriptions, they are the founders (and often leaders) of numerous magic unions and universities.

Wood Elves: The most traditional of the elves, wood elves are the elves who have remained in touch with nature. While some live in cabins in the woods, others live in suburban areas (though these are a bit more overgrown than most suburbs). They excel at nature magic, and are famous for their skills in gardening and potion brewing.

[the-wizard-writes]

The audience of demons stood quiet after the arch demons statement. No one even dared to breath a second because on the surface they knew that the powerful demon would go through with that threat. The archdemon cleared his throat with the upmost tenderness that no demon ever known he adjusted the small shall wrapped around his chest. Within the shall was a small human child who was sleeping against his tufted fur. The young kid shuffled a bit in the shall mumbling something tossing over in their slumber, the archdemon gently shushed the human brushing their hair with one claw, in a tone that was barely a whisper the high demon comforted the child in his care. “It is alright young one, Uncle Mephisto told those mean demons to be quiet.” He hummed. This seemed to comfort the child in his care and the child shifted back to a comfortable position back to slumberland.

“Thank you for taking care of Renee for the day Mephisto. I’m sorry that this was so last minute.” The older woman apologized to the demon holding the young girl in her arms. Mephistopheles waved a clawed hand with a small smile. “Oh no, it is no trouble at all. The child had a fun day today, I made sure of it. She got to see most of her uncles and aunts today so, she should be all tuckered out.” He explained. The woman smiled this was the most tuckered out that she’s seen her daughter the babysitters were usually the one’s to fall asleep with how energetic she was. “Well, thanks again. Really appreciate it.” She waved to the demon. The demon bowed sinking into the floor in a glowing red pentagram. When the demon left (thankfully without any ash residue on her new carpet) she walked over to her daughters room placing her in her bed. If this is what happens when she has her husbands friends be babysitters for her daughter for a day she might have to ask Satan if his friends could babysit more often when both of them have to work.

“Silence,” the archdemon hissed to its surprised audience as it cradled an exhausted figure against its chest. “If you disturb my human’s rest, I will fashion them a quilt from your hides.”

[xiaonyc]

Burned my hair in fire,

Its alright tho.

The smell was strange

But interesting...