#the fucking vampire symbolism nearly killed me

[snail-shell2335]

in the middle of the night it feeds

[nightcolorz]

Hello, could you elaborate on your thoughts about how sex was treated in the show? If you are comfortable with it, obviously! I love your blog and your answers btw

Of course! I love answering these asks. For me this is more of a nitpick then a criticism, bcus I don’t think there’s anything technically worse about how the show handles sex over the books, but it just doesn’t appeal as much to my preferences.

In the books sex is very interesting bcus of how encoded it is into the narrative. Sexual desire is thematically extremely important in tvc, it informs basically every character dynamic. Sex isn’t something the vampires literally can do, but they are very sexual in nature, or “sensual”as Anne Rice loves to say, and their actions and dynamics r very psycho-sexually motivated. I think this makes for a very unique dynamic that the narrative has with sex. Tvc vampires can’t have sex but almost every form of pleasure they experience from killing to looking at art is felt as strongly as sexual pleasure, they have intimate relationships with each other that transcend human romance, almost every two characters have sexual impulses over each other. It’s weird and fucked up and interesting and there’s a lot going on there. Sex is symbolically the same as blood drinking and killing and hunting r sexual, and I love that bcus it gives the vampires this element of other that’s really compelling. I love the concept that their ways of feeling and experiencing human pleasures and emotions and relationships we’re familiar with r fundamentally changed in a way that r almost beyond our understanding bcus of vampirism. They r very alien but also very human, bcus at their core they just experience things the way we do but heightened to a freakish extreme. I like to think that tvc vampires experience a reality were the type of frenzied daze we experience when horny is what they experience nearly all the time. It’s so weird! And yeah, cool. The way romance works bcus of this is so interesting too, bcus an element of romance and sex comes with pretty much every vampire dynamic, and it creates these crazy fucked up dynamics that u wouldn’t get in any other book series.

and then well, there’s the show. Not much to say there is the problem. I don’t really have an issue with the vampires being able to have literal sex, but it’s the way sex and sexual subtext in general r handled that bothers me. Bcus..I mean it’s boring. Like, Louis and Lestat have crazy hate sex, but it’s not anything we haven’t seen before in television, minus how they’re an interracial couple and two men I suppose. Sex has the same implications as it does for humans, like the whole Antoinette cheating story line is just ur average cheating storyline but with blood and violence, you’d never get something that mundane and clean cut in the books. And like, I love some weird gay vampire sex scenes as much as the next guy, but how does floating vampire sex compare to the weirdness I rambled about above? There’s not that layer of complexity and strangeness I find so interesting. Like, it’s fantastical and vampire specific, they drink each others blood and float and stuff, but not in the dense way it is in the books. I believe that this has the potential to change, I think the tense scenes with Rashid, like the honey and pineapple scene, felt weird and bizarre in a way that reminded me of the books. But, I’ve been disappointed before. So for now I’m dissatisfied.

thanks for sending me the ask and thank you sm!!! You r so sweet <3 I love that u love my blog. As always feel free to send me asks guys I love them !

[kitkatnerds3]

BSD CHAPTER 109

Warning spoilers ahead

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED :D

Ok, so first off we've got Fyodor and Sigma.

Fyodor has transferred his 'truth' to Sigma, and seeing as Sigma nearly immediately fainted it's safe to say that Fyo's got a lot of stuff going on, I have a picture of the page that I thought looked cool.

This looks cool, right? This looks cool, there could be symbolism. I'm not fully sure.

So, Sigma faints and that's the last we see of him in this chapter. Next thing I wish to talk about is the skk reunion!

Hahahahahaha- FUCK

So, as it turns out Chuuya has not entirely broken out of the vampireism, I think he has slightly broken free seeing as he did respond to Dazai's taunts, but he still had the blur eyes and fangs so the vampireism definitely still has some hold over him. One of the main reasons why I think that he still has at least some control over his actions is because I refuse to believe that he actually

Shot Dazai

THROUGH THE

FUCKING FOREHEAD

YEP THATS RIGHT FOLKS! DAZAI WAS SHOT THROUGH THE HEAD! WE SAW THE BULLET WOUND!

But you know what we didn't see? A bullet hole in the wall behind him!

For more information, Dazai was shot a grand total of three times this chapter, once in the shoulder by Chuuya which, more evidence that Chuuya is slightly in control of himself, he didn't have to do that, once in the forehead, as i already mentioned, and one last time in the other shoulder right after he shot him in the head. Both of the shoulder bullet shots left an impact on the wall behind him, but the forehead shot had no such impact. This leads me to believe that Chuuya did not actually shoot Dazai, maybe he removed one of the bullets as he was walking to Dazai? I also don't think that he killed him because, Dazai? Dying? Pfft, bullshit. He ain't dyin yet, if died now it would be narratively unsatisfying, plus, Asagiri loves him too much to just let him die.

Oh, also, on the Shipping side of things. Right before Chuuya 'killed' him Dazai went on a little talk about how he can't kill him cause they're 'destined' to do some shit. look I saved the page

Homosexual

Anyways, last thing I wish to talk about is Aya and Bram! Aya is being an absolute girlboss, she has tied a table to the sword and is planning on pulling it out of Bram by shoving the table of the building. The chapter ends just as the table falls off the building and also as Fukuchi actiVATES THE FUCKING ONE ORDER! THERE ARE TANKS AND MISSILES EVERYWHERE!

THE WORLD IS GONNA FUCKING DIE

When I say that I'm not entirely sure how this is gonna turn out I am being totally honest. I mean, it's fair to assume that Fukuchi isn't actually gonna win. Aya pushing the table off the roof will probably work, Chuuya is probably semi-conscious and only pretended to kill Dazai, Akutagawa probably won't actually rip Atsushi clean in half, cause we also saw the happening for a bit. But I honestly am not entirely sure how we're gonna get to that point. What is the sword coming out of Bram actually gonna do? How is Dazai gonna reveal that he's not dead and fix stuff? When are we gonna see what Sigma learned about Fyodor??

Anyways, I am very excited for the next chapter! I have my theories as to what will happen and I can't to see what will actually happen!

[2n2n]

miss 2n2n... ! ! can you list your absolute favorite outfits for Tsukasa? Across canon, AUs, or even one-time illustrations? (Maybe... Amane also? If you wouldn't mind! 🙏)

YOSH! HERE WE GO! I'll do my best ... to remember them all!!

I'll put it under a cut because it will be so damn long

TSUKASA!!! first!

Honestly, #1 best most favorite outfit is... his stock-standard kimono+hakama+western shirt set-up. You know in many series, you really are chomping at the bit for an outfit change, not SO for Jibaku Shounen!!!!

every detail is so entrancing. and so fitting for Tsukasa. The dark black silk with a shimmering texture, very oversized and slouched over his shoulders, nearly falling off, carelessly slack. It conveys his demeanor perfectly ... a kind of sloppiness that actually is naturally graceful and feminine? The kimono bowing outwards creates an amazing 'frame' for his chest, and the slit at the center, creating some sort of, truly intoxicating Zone. The shirt lacks prominent visible buttons, more sleek than Hanako.....

~~~~ zone of pure luxury~~~~~~~

The hakama meanwhile with its front-bow, just continues the party, attention drawn there for shots when Aida wants you to be forced to gaze at his crotch uncontrollably. The many straps also pulling everything in about the waist, pinching, remind you that he's really tiny under there, under all the extra kimono fabric. I really like how utterly microscopic he feels beneath it all. The hakama really billows and floats and lifts up with twirls and air like a pleated skirt, so scenes of him showing off are breathtaking. But the shoes+socks that match Hanako ALMOST lend this, bizarre, crossdressing vibe to the whole feminine allure, I have no idea how to put it. But I love that the red finally comes into play there, and his top and bottom mirror his brother to call back to their twinhood.

I love that the inner fabric is often colored a blood red, it's just again so lurid and entrancing.

so hard to really order the rest! it'll get looser.

TANABATA MATCHING YUKATA BOYS!!!! ACK ACK ACK

The reveal of these yukata hit me like a truck at the time I saw them. Amane in the dark, moon-themed yukata, while Tsukasa wears the light, sun-themed attire; for both boys, this is one of the top outfits for them. GORGEOUS, HEARTBREAKING, MAKES ME EMOTIONAL. I LOVE that they are TRADING their usual symbolic imagery, adorned in one another's imagery .. some lovely symbol of, connection, adoration? I LOVE THE BIG BOW OBI!!!! I love that Amane's is a rich, vibrant color to contrast his, while Tsukasa's is dark! MATCHING DINOSAUR MASKS!!! This-- image is everything, it's like, eviscerating me every time. I wish they could figure out kissing at this day,,, like this. Beautiful utterly agonizing outfits.

I really love Ghost Hotel boy!!!

the night-time blouse is just so cute and... thematic? Scary, haha? It implies so much so quickly, so narratively effective, it's a perfect pairing for the overtly sinister vampire Amane. I love, love the pillow and blanket, further alluding that he was killed in BED, and, the little frills and flounces on it. He feels so simple and humble, and yet, the long trailing tail also makes it feel like a dress or night-gown, right? White is always nice on an innocent Tsukasa!

now we get into more ah, random boys?

fucking dinosaur kigu boys top tier amazing

incredible. I dunno I love that Tsukasa's is red and purple. Amane's is this green and red (green feels so basic in a way...). I love that Tsukasa has the really cool and exotic toys of mosasaur (?) and plesiosaur (?) while Amane has more basic triceratops and trex. He really is 'normal'. I love that they have, on their, white tops under the kigu??? Why lol? Their respective different collars are seen. Why did this image happen? I don't know, but, it's fantastic, and, I love to see it.... please have fun boys....

a boy of jimmy jams....

from a random Picture Perfect era image. Little dinosaur in his pocket... holding his halo in his hand... long looong shirt, like dress, cute bow on chest.... his top looks longer and more dress-ish than Amane's, which has a trim more similar to his gakuran. Tsukasa looks nice in white as always! I wish he was always this comfy looking.

overall, I love Tsukasa in more frilly, fanciful, ornate clothing. these petal-like sleeves... evoking flowers or feathers... he is Amane's protected treasure, isn't he?

a delicate flower, your otouto you killed. Wonderful! I guess in this kind of garb, it feels like taking what the hakama+kimono provides, and, just increases the volume, this, graceful and pretty quality of Tsukasa's, something Amane lacks.

overall, I love traditional clothing for Tsukasa, so I loved this boy, too.

in particular I REALLY like the striped bow cinching it, and the placement of the bow more askew, all irregularly off to the side and slack, it's very 'Tsukasa'! It has so much going on with its patterns.... and with this emerald butterfly fan, again that, wonderful feminine grace is happening, right? Love it.

the. grim reaper

the Tsukasa from the 'Ace King' or whatever cardset AU. This Tsukasa's Amane is implied to have taken his fucking eyes out? And now he appears to live beneath Amane's DERANGED EVIL CORPSE ARMY KINGDOM OF ASH AND BONE castle. Amane is so overtly VILLAINOUS in that AU, and the Tsukasa to match him is this-- CLOWNISH, SILLY, FUNNY LITTLE GRIM REAPER THING???? WHAT ARE WE DOING IN THIS AU??? Will we EVER know more???? But like the look is wonderful, I love the jester collar drooping around his neck, I love the striped pants, I love the scythe, gloves. I think about him. Would love to know you.

this guy....

now this 'sort of' outfit isn't typically my thing but it has a lot of details that make me go, "hi?" like, seemingly Tsukasa wearing the world's shortest shorts under his ...... skirt? hakama? I cannot tell where the shirt/top ends and the 'hakama' begins so it has a weird dress vibe, but a dress with the big hakama slits in the side, making it some sortof slutty outfit. I could stare at this for a long time and still not UNDERSTAND what his clothes are doing. He really feels like he forgot to wear pants.

AND NOW.... AMANE TIME!!!!

well, honestly, it's all the same as before: his standard outfit is, phenomenal. Change nothing about it. I LOVE the gakuran, and I LOVE the mods AidaIro have made to the standard gakuran to customize it to Amane.

He feels like a labor of love, as he didn't ALWAYS have the red trim along the edges of his jacket .. it was added in after the pilot. It really creates this lewd picture frame, and like Tsukasa's hakama bow, it makes you zero in on his crotch in some images. All this... shocking red, right at his waist, in a perfect ^. Ugh... what deranged madman came up with that trim? As a result of it, his red motif carried from hat, to trim, to socks-- HIS SOCKS, WHICH ALSO, DID NOT USED TO SHOW ALL THE TIME!!! In early volumes, Amane's pants are long enough to basically always cover his ankles, save for certain poses! BUT AIDA BECOMES.. OBSESSED WITH EXPOSING HIS RED KNITTED SOCKS! And... I don't blame her!! They are the PERFECT little flirtation of color, but at this point, his school slacks are like capris, lol. It's so unique, then.

The material of his jacket is so... vividly thick, but tight, it always wraps around his ribcage tightly. I love how viscerally it 'shelfs' on top of his thick, leather belt; you can always make out the shape of his belt beneath the jacket. It 'rests' on top of the belt. The belt, which almost always peeks its buckle just through the ^ of the gakuran's petals, which so resemble the roof of the red house in their shapes-- ALSO A DETAIL AIDA DID NOT START THIS MANGA DOING, but gradually became addicted to depicting..... perfected.... the belt.....

His ever-deeply-tucked-in shirt often baaaaarely teased as the jacket rides up, ugh, this flash of white, I live for it, it feels tantalizing.

Meanwhile, the high collar feels tight, enclosed, so the moment even 1 button of the gakuran is wrestled open by shenanigans, it feels like a great loosening of Amane's strictures. The softer, wrinklier fabric of his undershirt feels delicate beneath, but is so clustered. His neck is such an incredibly busy zone, shots that detail it are very captivating to me. The double-collar is decadent.

His buttons are so cartoonishly big they make him look like a gingerbread man, he has 1 fewer than the typical gakuran, for some reason, so there are too few of them to be spaced sanely at a normal size, so they have to increase in size to spread over the area it seems. They are like huge gumdrops. I want to eat them off. Homf. The sakura detail beveled on the buttons is pretty normal for a gakuran of certain era, very ornate and beautiful detail though on an otherwise sleek boy. A touch of something delicate for flower-boy....

The gakuran has shoulder pads, which make these pointed tips out of Amane's slim weedy shoulders, giving him a more traditionally masculine appearance. It's imposing and impressive and boyish, I dunno...

Amane feels like a sleek sports car, he's so tastefully tricked out in key zones, but mostly a smooth silhouette ... and then his tsueshiro adds that little flavor of, what at first comes across as heroic and mystical, but carries a kinda, Villain In A Cape vibe as the manga goes on.

He feels.. incredibly 'held in place'-- everything is TIGHT, MULTILAYERED, KEPT IN LINE. When merely his HAT comes off or is pulled askew, it feels like Amane is falling apart!! If I think about him just finally taking off the jacket, I'll faint.... its the perfect outfit, it makes you want to peel him apart, beg him to let go of, something, let loose, untie-- perfect contrast to Tsukasa's loose, draping, pleating, billowing, floating fabrics, falling off his shoulders, pulling from his chest....

DELUXE VERSION DINOSAUR ACCESSORIES SPECIAL BOY!!!

THE DRIP!!!!! HE HAS IT ALL.... HANDSOMENESS OF GHOST, CHARM OF NORMAL BOY WHO LOVE DINOSAUR, IT'S THE POWER OF AMANE--!!!!

as for other Amane......... I love TURTLENECK BOY. who is FREQUENT

in random images, in AUs, whenever wherever possible, Amane's gakuran is replaced by an equally stylish and captivating black turtleneck.... fucking sexy!!!!! fucking elegant!!!!!!!! hot!!!!!!!! I have nothing else to say, it just looks soooo good!!!! PLEASE, 100 MORE IMAGES OF TURTLENECK AMANE...!!! High collars are just suited to him through and through... in any world!!!

if I had to pick a fav here though it'd be the ice skating boy, I really love the slack jacket over top the turtleneck... and he feels so small, beneath everything, its nice to see him wearing less. All the other boys have multiple layers as Amane typically does, a jacket over top of the turtleneck.... but that one at least has it shrugged down, which makes him feel so small..... ♥

As much as I like Tsukasa in beautiful traditional clothing, I love Amane in it, too! But it's rarer for him to wear it (and often he wears his ENTIRE GAKURAN underneath it, which honestly ruins it, come on!!!)

this gold color is utterly irresistible on him, matching his eyes.... I love when Amane gets put in gold, overall, but its rarely an outfit I really like... I feel so lucky he has gold in this! Rare illustration! the white shirt more exposed is gorgeous.... its so rewarding to see Amane in an outfit like Tsukasa's... he can be beautiful too sometimes maybeee~~ heehee~~

on a similar wavelength, I really like the shroud he dons to save Yashiro from the village people in Sumire's boundary .... despite that he's wearing his whole damn outfit under it,

the veil being a golden-orange is just so beautiful on him, his eyes brought out... the white fabric otherwise, quite rare on the sinful Amane, its very lovely...

next up... I love when Amane looks so Normal.

when he is just a normal boy in normal clothes, extremely... simple... plain... I don't know... he feels so 'Amane'.... this feels like the ... earnest... real.... boy. The boy, Amane... its like. He is my boyfriend suddenly. My normal, normal boyfriend. In his shirt and pants and sneakers. We will ride the bus home. I would love to go on a date with him *touches screen* ah.... so nice to see like this... I want 100 very normal Amane images..... he likes to, read books. He likes rocket ship and dinosaur. Normal normal normal boy

speaking of normal boys,

urrgghhh normal boy ... bandaids on his knees... all over his hands....... it's AMAZING to see AMANE in such, utterly mundane, modern day clothes, this dressed down, this casual, it's like WHAT???? red sweater. He is so cuuuuuute argh. Going to take care of his hamster,, and rat, Nene and Tsukasa. Godbless, what a wonderful caretaker I'm sure he is. I'm sure they have no hope of ever escaping him. And who would want to...? This is a once in a lifetime boy....

Speaking of normal boys,

I like Amane in pajamas too.... ♥ ah so simple and charming and cute and sweet.... its so nice to see him in something comfortable and easygoing, loose. A simpler time, right? Not so preened and conditioned, not held in place.... rolling around with his brother... sigh!!

Those are the ultimate favorites for Amane, but there are more wildcards of 'images I sure do think about a lot or look at a lot'.................................

I think about this Amane a lot. He's dressed like some sort of, 1950s, dad, what the fuck ... the plaid pants, its like, christmas morning and he's come down to sit on his special leather chair with his, wife, Nene. He's wearing like. a smoking jacket or something. The textures on it are absolutely tantalizing though, I'm pretty weak to this era of robes actually ... and Amane in such casual slack flannel pants, urgh. What an inexplicable look. It's somehow still pretty 'Amane' .... why is he in a tie if hes otherwise in such "just chilling around the house" wear? I'll never know ... he's pretty nice with it though. I would like to blow him...... ?

this is one classic boy.

very captivated by his knitted undershirt's thick texture, its tightness, and his legwarmers or thick socks... his red, tights...?? His short jacket is VERY alluring, just covering his shoulders like a tiny cape.... ornate around his wrists, big button in the center, he's simply incredibly handsome ....

ohhh the valentine's boy ....

This sort of outfit is honestly more 'busy' than I typically like (I'm not really the sort of shotacon who likes victorian aesthetics ... I'm no Ciel stan, you know?) ... but I'll be damned if Aida doesn't make me, like it, with the crazy details. I cannot believe Amane is in a CORSET? CORSET? REALLY? Ugh its cinching so appealingly around his waist, accentuating his ribcage JUST like his gakuran does. Feels so small as a result Pinched. The .. METAL COLLAR???? ???? his, married jewelery. His big feathered wings .... this Amane feels like he is, wearing, fetish gear, appalling that he can just look like this. I think the corset combined with the shoulder pads, giving him the same broader shoulders as the gakuran lends, is such a crazy look. I hope some day we get a really nice full-color full-detail illustration of this boy fullbody....

he's. funny

crab boy. from the, era of time where Iro kept going on crab-buffet binges every time the manga got a reprint ordered by the company as it sold out, and went insane only ever sending Aida crab emojis and constantly talking about crab. So you have this Crab Shirt Amane. He looks insane, on the beach in his full fucking black slacks and vintage shoes and knitted socks and an UNDERSHIRT under his CHILL SHIRT because he CANNOT BE IN ANY LESS LAYERS TYPICALLY. He's like, the epitome of Amane's, bizarre, broke ass clothing rules that cannot be broken in canon (unless its as extreme as PP), I don't know, as a result he's quite charming to me .... I look at Crab Boy a lot. I guess as well, Iro used to be so trembling and sobbing and whining and scared of the manga's success, begging it to do well, hoping people liked it, that the Crab Buffet era Iro feels so powerful and like, the energy of this charm is in the beach boy, lovingly so, I would love to go to the beach with him.

here's one very random boy I think of.... stained glass demon lad...

stained glass themeing is so, intriguing, beautiful really. Wonderful colorscheme. He has THIGH HIGH BOOTS and, GREEN, leggings/tights? Very weirdly lewd and eccentric. I like how long his jacket is, I like the colorful shimmering buttons. I like that the stained glass motif is carrying all the way to his hat, unusual. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE his red, red gloves, and sharp nails. Mmm... who is he? We will probably never know a single thing about this aesthetic illustration. Oh yeah, and this Amane has the typical sortof military aesthetic to him.

the white rabbit. pervert . demon haunting me periodically

this is one of those illustrations I typically shrug off as "not exactly 'my thing', I'm not really the Alice in Wonderland AU type, nor am I big on like, almost uh, RPG style crazy weird outfits with like zippers and trenchcoats. BUT. This Amane is like lock-and-key themed. And. it feels. perverse? the. shape of the key ... Nene's decorations being these. red circles. this guy is so . creepy and awful looking and I hate his penis key. I hate his weird GIANT ZIPPER. That he is somehow both lock and key and zipper themed is like, jesus christ, what the hell is going on . I like, hate him, it's such a weird, image, he looks all creepy and gross, HIS WEIRD GLOVED HANDS WITH NAILS ON THEM ........ but it, is also, sortof, sexy, all of this, this, demon of, unzip and unlock. I've just spent so long wrestling with this image, this Amane. But at the end of the day, he can have me. Sigh.

[jayeray-hq]

Deal With a Devil

Hey everyone! Welcome to my part of the new NSFW Anilysium Server Collab! The theme for it this time is Halloween! Please check out some of the other amazing writers and artists in the collab by following the link! I'm a little late this time sorry!!! 🙇🏻‍♀️😖😭

If you like my writing for Kuroo, check out my other stories in his character masterlist!

Summary: You get dragged into a demonic summoning ritual on Halloweeen and somehow end up in a Deal with a Devil.

10.9K+ Words

General Warnings: Swearing, NSFW 18+ minors dni!, Demon Summoning Ritual, mentions of past rape/non-con (but none in story), mentions of death/murder/selling your soul, relationship negotiations, mentions of demon babies

NSFW Warnings: Smut and a bit of fluff, monster fucking, demon!Kuroo, switch!reader and switch!Kuroo, slight somnophilia (Could maybe be classed dubcon but is actually enthusiastically consented to), brief/minor choking, degradation/praise, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, overstimulation, strange dick, slight cock-warming, very mild blood play (vampire type stuff), breeding kink

“Why did I let you talk me into this again?” you asked your friend, keeping your voice low as you eyed your surroundings dubiously.

It was Halloween and still fairly early in the evening, the sun was just about to set, and both you and she were dressed to kill in costumes that made you feel utterly sexy. You’d been looking forward to a night out, to cutting loose and having fun, barhopping or maybe finding a nice club to dance the night away in. Unfortunately your friend had other plans.

She’d always been into the occult, absolutely one of those who believed in things like demons and ghosts without question. She was superstitious as hell, refusing to step on cracks in the sidewalk, zealously avoiding ladders, refusing to kill ladybugs, and practically barricading herself inside her room whenever Friday the 13th rolled around. The one time she’d accidentally broken a mirror she’d been near hysterical and had gone to get herself cleansed.

You weren’t nearly as wary as she was, and were far more skeptical of the supernatural, finding her a bit too needlessly dramatic over things you personally viewed as inconsequential and silly. Still she was a good friend outside of that, and it wasn’t hurting you or her to let her believe as she pleased so you let it go and simply indulged or ignored her little habits.

Which was how you somehow found yourself here, not scouting a nice bar or standing in line for a club, but in the middle of a forest clearing, your nice heels sinking into the dirt as you desperately tried not to roll an ankle.

“You said you were having a dry spell, right?” she sassed, though she kept the words quiet so as to not disturb the other women who were shuffling around the clearing, making preparations, drawing strange lines and symbols on the grass with a black tarry looking substance, “Well this is going to put an end to that!”

It was true you’d broken up with your boyfriend months ago, the two of you parting on amicable terms, the spark of your relationship having simply died out and while you’d had a few dates since, there hadn’t been any sort of chemistry with them, definitely nothing that made you want to bring them home with you even just for a one night stand. Thus you’d been making do with your good friend Mr. Rabbit but it was nowhere near as fulfilling as you knew a partner could be.

“And how is this supposed to do that exactly?” you asked her skeptically as you eyed the candles that were being placed around the circle, “Wouldn’t being at a club and finding a nice man to dance with be more productive?”

“Madame Carver says this ritual will increase your drives and fulfill your desires,” your friend told you excitedly, practically bouncing in place, “Apparently it will help with just about anything you want to do. I personally, am hoping it helps me with finishing my stupid Thesis at long last.”

You don’t get the chance to ask her just who this Madame Carver is as a woman approaches and passes both of you red candles before ushering you into a place around the circle they’ve created. You’re not sure how they’re arranging people, but you end up separated from your friend, standing between two strangers.

A quick glance around the circle shows that everyone present is female, and while some are clearly eager, some nervous, others, the ones you relate to most, look just as skeptical as you feel about this whole thing, which does make you feel better. Honestly, you feel more than a bit ridiculous, but for your friend’s sake you’ll stay and get whatever the hell this is over with so you can go out and actually enjoy yourself without her sulking about missing it. Personally you think heightened desires isn’t exactly what you’re looking for at the moment, you’re pent up enough as it is, but you doubt this silly thing is going to hurt anyone so you see no harm in going through with it.

You were so caught up in your thoughts you almost miss the entrance of a woman dressed all in red, the shade a bright crimson that reminds you of blood. She was a regal looking woman, not traditionally beautiful but striking nonetheless with dark riotous curls and strong features, bronze skin almost glowing in the little light left from the quickly setting sun.

As she stepped into the center of the circle you’d formed with the other women she took a glance around and you had to admire her dedication to her roll. Her eyes had been a shocking crimson color, one that matched her dress, and had what almost looked like a cat’s slut pupil. You wondered if after the ceremony or whatever she’d be offended if you asked where she got her colored contacts from, because they’d looked seriously impressive.

“Welcome, my sisters,” she greeted, her voice a warm, deep, mesmerizing contralto. Just listening to those three brief words you could see how she could con people into believing she was some kind of witch or mystic, she certainly sounded the part and you had no doubt that this was the Madam Carver your friend had mentioned.

“Before we begin our ceremony this Samhain night a final warning,” she told the group, spinning in a slow circle to make eye contact with everyone as if to impress the seriousness of her words, “While this ceremony is meant to ensure you’re granted your deepest of desires, never forget that for everything received there must be something given, a price paid in body, blood, or soul. Demons will always fulfill their end of the bargain, their very being demands it, however they are demons at the end of the day, they will never grant you something for nothing.”

Your friend had definitely not mentioned anything about paying any sort of price for this whacko ritual and if she’d been in your line of sight you would’ve been glaring at her. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for you she was somewhere off to your right and you couldn’t actually see her unless you stepped out of your place, something you weren’t quite willing to do just yet.

However, the minute someone asked you to cut yourself to donate blood, tried to sacrifice someone or started an orgy you were nope-ing the fuck out. Like hell were you going to participate in anything like that. The orgy might’ve been something you could be down for if there were men present, but you simply weren’t all that sexually attracted to women.

“If anyone wants to leave, now is the time to do so,” Madame Carver warned seriously, pulling you from your slightly panicked thoughts, “Once the pact is made there is no turning back.”

Several of the women around the circle shifted anxiously, but none of them actually made a move to go, the power of peer pressure and either fervent belief or blatant skepticism keeping everyone in place.

You tried to reassure yourself that your friend would never be involved in blood or human sacrifice of any kind, which was reassuring, though the reminder that she was apparently willing to deal with so called demons wasn’t exactly comforting. You didn’t particularly believe in them, but you knew she did, so either she was more desperate to finish her Thesis than you’d thought or she thought the ritual was harmless, either way it probably wouldn’t be too bad right?

“Very well, if everyone is ready, let’s begin,” Madame Carver announced solemnly after a few seconds when no one moved, “Don’t forget that during the ritual you must think of that which you desire most, hold it tightly in your mind lest you accidentally leave your contract open ended.”

With that final warning she stepped forward to the woman who was standing at what looked like some kind of nexus point in the circle, hand reaching out. You were sure how she hid the lighter but a small flame sprang forth and lit the candle the woman was holding in an impressive bit of sleight of hand. The woman lit the candle of the woman to her left, who did the same with the woman to her left, each woman continuing on as they passed the flame carefully around the circle.

You’d been a bit anxious about your turn afraid you’d embarrass yourself by dropping your candle or somehow setting something on fire, but you managed to accept the flame from the woman next to you, a pretty blonde with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, who also seemed to be wearing some kind of colored contact lenses that gave her a slit pupil, and passed the flame on to the woman next to you.

Once everyone was holding a lit candle Madam Carver went back to the center of the circle and began to chant. You had no idea what she was saying or what language it was, if it was any sort of language at all or just speaking tongues, but it sounded impressive at least. Skeptical though you were you couldn’t deny there was definitely something in the air, though you put that down to anticipation from the true believers among the women you couldn’t help but be a little drawn into it yourself.

As she chanted a strange sort of wind began to blow, a scent filling the clearing that was strangely alluring, spicy, and masculine, the kind of scent that would’ve caught your attention no matter the man wearing it, it was that tempting. The sound of faint whispers, interspersed with low grumbles, like the vibration of a man’s voice when you had your ear pressed to their chest swirled through the air around you, humming deep in your bones as Madame Carver continued to chant, her voice slowly but surely rising in volume, her body appearing to be under an almost physical strain as the scent grew stronger and the voices grew louder.

You didn’t even realized how utterly enraptured you were by it, drawn in by sight, smell and sound the faint wind almost like the caress of fingers against your skin. Something in the air made you feel hypnotized, almost hazy, everything feeling a bit not quite right, something flickering in and out of the corner of your vision as if daring you to turn your head to look, only it felt far too heavy to move.

It felt like there were eyes on you, looking, judging, inspecting, appraising your worthiness, and yet instead of feeling intimidated you instead felt oddly aroused your skin tingling with eager anticipation. A strange feeling, almost like hand caressed the back of your neck, not quite grasping it, but hovering close enough you could feel the heat of it on your skin.

The strange whispering had become more coherent almost forming words you could understand now as what felt like warm slow breaths puffed against your cheek, each one bringing a new wave of that dizzying scent that sent little sparks of arousal trembling down your limbs.

“Be mine, kitten,” a warm voice cooed in your ear, the sound sultry, low and tempting, the kind that had your thighs clamping together your panties dampening in want, a voice practically made for the bedroom, “Be mine, enter covenant with me, be mine.”

The voice kept whispering, coaxing, cajoling, as Madame Carver continued to chant, combined with the sweet scent, the warmth you could now feel traveling up your spine as if a strong body as bare millimeters from being plastered to your back, and that terrible, tempting voice that made all of you quake with need was too much. Even if you hadn’t been going through a dry spell you already knew your answer would’ve been the same.

“Yes,” you agreed, unsure whether you were saying the word aloud or just thinking it to yourself but hoping to convey acceptance, your want, your need, to whatever being was whispering away in your ear.

“Then, it’s a deal my pretty kitten,” the voice agreed with a pleased sounding chuckle, something that felt like lips pressed themselves to the space just behind your ear, sending a strange scorching heat through you, making you feel weak with desire.

Madame Carver’s voice was almost at a fever pitch, rising higher and higher before giving a final shout. It was like being dunked in a bucket of ice water, the word catching your attention, making your whole body stiffen, the warmth against your back disappearing so quickly it left you question whether it had ever been there at all, as suddenly every candle in the circle went out at the same time, leaving only the ones at the center of the circle surrounding Madame Carver still alight.

Goosebumps rippled across your skin as you tried to make head or tails of what had just happened. It felt as if you’d been deep below the surface of a lake or ocean and suddenly broke through taking a deep rasping breath that returned you to a dizzying sort of clarity as you tried desperately to catch your bearings.

“Congratulations,” Madame Carver’s voice was like a lifesaver an anchor that managed to help ground you back into reality. A distant part of you was surprised at how smooth it still sounded given she’d been chanting and shouting nearly nonstop for who knows how long, “Your deals are now set, and you are free to go about your evening as you will.”

“However,” she warned, “Don’t forget the deal you’ve struck, for they surely will not and to renege upon it would be disastrous. For your own sake be careful.”

You shivered slightly at her ominous words, not quite sure what to make of them. You’d gotten so caught up in that strange ritual, in the atmosphere, in everything that all your skepticism had disappeared. However, now that it had finished you found clarity returning, your logical mind slowly coming up with explanations for what had happened.

The voices? Cleverly hidden speakers, surround sound no doubt with a queued soundtrack. The scent? The candles obviously, if a woman wasn’t coming around to collect them you’d be tempted to take yours home, but in the end surrendered it graciously. The warmth at your back? The feeling of it all? Obviously your admittedly vivid imagination and your desperate need to get laid playing tricks on you.

“That was intense!” your friend told you as she practically bounded up to you, eyes a little wild and smile almost manic in its intensity.

“You could say that again,” you agreed wholeheartedly, gladly linking your arm with hers as the two of you made your way back to where you’d left your car, surrounded by the other women who all looked as swept away or dazed as you felt.

“I can’t wait to work on my Thesis, I’m going to be so inspired I’m sure of it,” your friend babbled eagerly as the two of you climbed in the car.

“I’m sure,” you assured her, indulgent, mostly because while you doubted the ritual actually worked the placebo effect wasn’t to be underestimated and even this was the most inspired you’d seen her to work on it in a long time.

The two of you both drove back into town as she babbled on, clearly energized and excited, high on the adrenaline of it all and ready to fulfill her goal. Personally you were more than ready to fulfill yours too, now more than ever you were determined to find someone tonight and finally get laid, especially since your libido was apparently causing you to hallucinate.

Except, unfortunately it didn’t seem to work out that way. Several men approached as you and your friend clubbed and bar hopped into the early hours of the morning, and while you’d had a good time dancing with a few, none of them really caught your interest, even if they were clearly more than interested in you.

The most action you’d gotten were a few sloppy kisses before deciding you weren’t into it and promptly bailing. Even stranger, all night you’d felt like there were eyes on you, as if someone was constantly watching. It shouldn’t have been so strange, you’d dressed to attract male eyes on purpose, you’d wanted people to look at you. However, there was something almost dangerous about his particular gaze, even though you couldn’t tell where it was coming from no matter how hard you looked.

It felt predatory in a way that sent shivers down your spine, though strangely not fearful ones. It almost felt like you were playing a game with someone, pleasurable and mutual and doubtless going to end in pleasure on both ends, especially since your gut insisted it was the same person every time.

Which should’ve been utterly ridiculous, especially as you’d kept very aware of your surroundings, not even touching the freely flowing alcohol since you were designated driver for the night. Not once did you see anyone following you when you migrated from bar to club to bar and back again, meeting up with mutual friends and just generally having a good time. It should’ve been impossible for someone to follow you all night long and yet…

In the end your friend had stayed with a group of mutual friends you knew and trusted and you went home feeling a combination of exhausted and wired, frustrated and yet strangely anticipatory as if something else was going to happen. That was completely and utterly ridiculous of course, as the only thing that could happen was finally getting out of your heels, washing your face, and stripping off your costume which stank of sweat and alcohol not surprising considering the night you’d had. You took a quick shower to wash the night off you, not bothering with more clothing than a pair of underwear before trundling over to your bed.

Unsure what exactly to do with yourself, feeling pent up and wired despite it being almost four in the morning you’d pulled out your laptop to watch some Netflix but only got ten minutes into the episode of the show you were watching before exhaustion hit like a freight train. You only just managed to put the laptop away before collapsing into your pillows.

You felt strange, oddly weightless, in a place between dreaming and waking. There was sensation, warm hands running slowly up and down your bare sides as warm lips traced a path down the center of your throat, your body arching into the sensation, pressing closer as a face nuzzled between your bare breasts.

There was a warm heavy weight between your legs pressing you into the mattress, and your hands came up automatically one hand tangling into thick silky hair and the other finding a strongly muscled back as a quiet moan left your lips.

To your displeasure the mouth lifted away from your body, and you slowly blinked your eyes open, a pout on your lips as you stared up at the shape hovering above you.

“Awake are you kitten?” his voice was a deep, rumbling purr, seductive and teasing sending shivers of arousal through you as you tried to focus your eyes even as your entire body felt heavy and languid.

The man above you was probably the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on and a distant part of you quietly congratulated your imagination and your subconscious for dreaming him up for you. His eyes were glowing golden with a vertically slit pupil that vaguely reminded you of the contacts Madame Carver had been wearing at the ritual.

His hair was thick and dark, with bangs that were swept to the side nearly covering one of his eyes and the rest of it stuck out at odd angles despite how soft it felt against your fingers. There was a devious looking smirk curling his lips that revealed canines that looked slightly too sharp, set beneath a thin bladed nose and high cheekbones.

However, what really drew your eyes were the two black horns growing from his scalp just behind his hair line, and the strange glittering patches of color on his skin that looked almost like scales, trailing over his cheekbones, down the sides of his face and down his neck. It was utterly inhuman, and curiously you untangled your fingers from his hair, tracing them down the side of his face towards his neck feeling the odd ridges beneath your fingers.

Despite the strangeness of it, you found yourself unbothered, as even with the strange looking adornments that clearly marked him as something not human he was still one of the most attractive men you’d ever laid eyes on. Looking at him you didn’t think you’d ever wanted anyone more in your life.

You figured your subconscious was still focused on Halloween and the strange ritual you’d agreed to participate in earlier, after all why else would he have the same voice as the one you’d heard before? Still you weren’t about to protest.

A content hum slipped past your lips as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and tugged him forward. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he came along willingly enough, his lips meeting your own in a kiss that left you utterly breathless. The hand that had lingered at his back traced up his spine, relishing the strange feel of scales beneath your palm as you tasted him.

He was a fantastic kisser, teasing your mouth open with kitten licks and sharp little nips, his clever tongue tangling with your own, the heat of it making you moan into his mouth, which had his lips curling up beneath yours in clear amusement and masculine satisfaction.

You shifted your hips slightly, thighs spreading wider to accommodate his weight between them aware of the needy ache in your core, and the wetness that pooled in your panties with every movement of his mouth against yours.

Tracing your hand further down his spine you were surprised to feel something strange beneath your fingers, jutting out from his tailbone. Distracted for a brief moment from his kiss you realized that he had a tail of all things, and as your fingers probed curiously around the base he let out a low, pleased groan into your mouth, his hips grinding into yours, letting you feel a very prominent bulge that felt like nothing you’d ever had between your legs before.

“Careful now kitten,” he urged, his voice practically a growl in your ear, “I’m going nice and easy on you now, since you’re being so nice and compliant, but if you tease me like that I might have to get rough.”

“Mm and what if I like that?” you teased, utterly breathless but still able to find your tongue.

He jolted, clearly a bit surprised as he pulled away so he could peer into your eyes, before a slow smirk spread across his face, clear delight in his glowing eyes as he crooned at you, “Oh kitten, you and I are going to have such fun together. I knew there was a reason I was so drawn to you.”

“You think so do you?” you challenged, something about him making you feel wild, daring and somehow utterly sexy, no doubt the sheer desire clear on his face, “Why don’t you show me then pretty boy?”

He let out a wild cackle of laughter, the sound at complete odds with his dangerous appearance, and sexy demeanor in a way that was surprisingly endearing for something you were almost sure was a demon, amusement and enthralled wonder on his face as he informed you, “I’m no boy, kitten and I’m going to spend the rest of the day proving it to you if you keep taunting me like that.”

“Do it,” you agreed, with the complete and utter confidence that only those who are fully aware they’re dreaming and therefore invincible could have, “Give me everything you’ve got demon.”

“Oh kitten, let’s pray you don’t regret that,” he cooed, eyes alight with triumph and blazing desire, before leaning down to recapture your lips with his.

If your previous kisses had been steamy if languid this was on a whole other level. It felt as if he was trying to consume you, every brush of his lips and flick of his tongue shooting sparks of desire down your spine where they pooled in your belly as he began to trace a warm wet path down the side of your neck with open mouthed kisses until he found a sweet spot at the junction of your shoulder that had you moaning, and arching into his steady hold, kept in place by the firm hand that was cupping your jaw and part of your throat.

You hissed at the sharp nip of his teeth at the tender skin, almost but not quite enough to break it, the little zing of pain heightening your pleasure as he laved and soothed the area with his tongue before slowly moving downwards.

One of his large hands found your bare breast, cupping and gently massaging the pliant flesh, rolling your pebbled nipple between skilled fingers, and gently tweaking the sensitive little bud in a way that had you writhing, little gasps and sighs leaving your mouth as he worked diligently to leave several marks on the sensitive skin of your upper chest and collarbones.

“Like that do you kitten?” he crooned at you, his words a dark promise against your skin, “Your body is so responsive to me, so sensitive.”

You gasped as his hot wet mouth closed around the other nipple, sucking lightly at it, and flicking it with his tongue. Your hips were desperately seeking friction, grinding up against him as your legs wrapped around his waist, hoping to bring him closer to your aching center.

He let out a rasping chuckle against your skin, but let you pull him close, and you were suddenly reminded that he wasn’t quite the same down there as normal human men. You couldn’t see him, not pinned and prone as you were, but you could certainly feel him, the alien ridges that reminded you of some of the more exotic dildos you’d seen that claimed to be ‘ribbed for her pleasure’ clear even through the fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” you swore, in both surprise and pleasure and he slowly ground himself against you, letting you feel every ridge and bump against the soaked cloth and proving that he wasn’t just shaped differently he was also considerably gifted. You weren’t sure what exactly he was packing, but the thought of taking it inside you made you feel as if you were dripping, sheer want making you feel more than a bit dizzy.

“Like that do you kitten?” he purred at you, “Like the feel of demon cock?”

“Fuck I want you so bad,” you admitted grinding your hips into his again, wishing you’d been even lazier and not bothered with the panties after your shower either and just slept fully nude so you wouldn’t have to deal with the cloth barrier and could feel him against your slick folds.

“Mm, so damn responsive,” he purred approvingly, “Such a good girl for me kitten.”

“Nngh… feels so good,” you told him, something between a moan and a gasp leaving your lips as his warm hands swept downwards, finding your hips as he sank his teeth into the top of your right breast, no doubt leaving a bruise that would be livid my tomorrow.

You whined unhappily as he pulled away from you, moving so that he was sat back on his heels, and you might’ve verbally protested, if not for the utterly fantastic view his positioning afforded you.

His body was just as desirable as his face, with broad shoulders covered in those same shimmering red scales, that crawled over the sides of his well-muscled chest before following the V of his hips, everything below that line nothing but scales instead of skin even if you could see the strong muscle underneath them. A long thin tail was lashing about behind him, reminding you a bit of a cat about to pounce, covered in bright red scales that faded into a black forked tip, it’s movement caught your attention though not for long as your eyes were drawn downwards to what you’d really wanted to see.

His cock was jutting up proudly between his hips, a darker maroon at the base, but flushed bright red at the weeping tip. The mushroomed head was the same as any normal human males, but the shaft was composed of layered ridges with two sets of bumps running along the underside that reminded you of a Jacob’s ladder piercing and that you knew would rub deliciously inside of you.

You could practically feel your mouth watering, desire making you dizzy with want as he watched you, that same sinful smirk on his lips, masculine pride written all over his face as he teased, “Like what you see kitten?”

“Mm like a walking wet dream,” you affirmed, utterly shameless even as a distant part of you began to wonder if this wasn’t actually a dream after all.

He let out another surprised cackle of laughter, his whole face lighting up in a way that was almost boyish despite his clearly demonic appearance before assuring you, “Don’t worry kitten, I’m better than any dream could hope to be.”

He made good on his words a second later as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs as you noted with some surprise that his nails were pitch black and surprisingly sharp looking, the backs of his veiny hands completely covered in scales, though the insides, fingertips and palms were human skin.

You’d always liked hands and his were surprisingly fascinating, an alien contrast against your own clearly human skin, and the feel of them as they caressed your thighs, nails dragging teasingly over the soft flesh sending a shiver of want down your spine.

A surprised yip left your mouth as he took hold of your hips and lifted, forcing your shoulders and head into the mattress as your back arched in surprise. It seemed utterly effortless as he hooked your knees over his broad shoulders, leaving his face planted squarely between the junction of your thighs, his hands digging into the flesh of your ass.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he cooed, staring shamelessly at the open flower between your legs as he breathed in, clearly taking in your scent, “Fuck, you’re already dripping wet kitten, and here I was thinking I might actually have to work to prep you to take me.”

You flushed a bit, but the blatant appreciation in his eyes and voice kept any embarrassment at bay as he leaned in to feast between your legs. His tongue was hot against your slick folds, the heat of it actually a bit shocking as he swiped it teasingly over your sensitive clit, making you jerk and whimper in his hold.

“That’s right kitten,” he encouraged, golden eyes never leaving yours as he laved his tongue against your folds, gathering up your wetness and adding his own slick saliva to the mess between your legs, the slurping sounds he made between words utterly obscene as he commanded, “Mewl for me.”

You were helpless to do anything but what he’d asked, his skilled mouth making an utter mess of you as he sucked and laved at your folds, swirling his tongue teasingly around your clit before thrusting it as deep as it could reach inside your hole, which you knew on instinct was much further than a normal human tongue should allow. His firm grip on your ass kept your locked in place even as you writhed unsure whether to press closer to him or pull away as he danced on the edge of perfect sensation and just over the edge of too much.

You were practically putty in his hands and that was before he laid the slick appendage that you weren’t even sure could be properly called a tongue across your clit and hissed, the sound making the thing vibrate against the sensitive swollen nub making you practically levitate off the bed, a mewling cry escaping your lips as you came harder than you’d done in your entire life.

He barely gave you any time to recover, just enough to shift your weight so he was holding the small of your back with one hand to free up the other, and bite off three of his nails in quick succession before slicking one up and plunging it into your still quivering core.

It was a testament to his inhuman strength that he managed to keep you from jerking away, the pebbled rasp from the scales on the back of his finger, combined with the unerring crook of his finger right into the soft spot at the front of your walls that had you seeing stars enough to make you arch and writhe.

It was too much at sensation too soon after such an intense orgasm, the pleasure bordering on painful as he snuck another finger in, you could barely comprehend what he was saying past your own mindless pleasure as he cooed praise about how wet and tight you were.

With the addition of a third finger, stretching you open wide came another orgasm, not quite as powerful as the first, but perhaps even more pleasurable bordering on painful as you practically sobbed at the feel of it.

Luckily it seemed the demon was willing to have some mercy, because all he did was watch as you came down from your high, thighs quivering next to his ears, though the site of him as he slowly licked his fingers clean of your juices, eyes never once leaving yours was enough to keep your desire and your attention at a high.

You’d never in your life felt this needy, and two orgasms that had been that good felt like they should’ve been more than enough, and yet you found yourself wanting more, a part of you firmly resolved that whatever this was, dream, vision, or reality you weren’t going to let it end until you got to feel him move inside you.

“You taste so sweet kitten,” your demon lover praised a wicked grin on his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you and was savoring every single second of it, “And you look so good like this, spread and helpless for me, but we’re nowhere near done yet. You told me to give you everything I had after all, which means we’ve barely gotten started.”

“Give it to me,” you intended it to come out more like a command, but the breathless exhilaration in your voice made it sound more like a plea instead, “I want you.”

“So eager for demon cock, kitten,” he tutted, though from the way his eyes were burning into you, you knew he was loving every second, as he carefully lowered your still weak legs from his shoulders and gently tugging you so your hips were closer to his, palming his cock and dragging the blunt head through your soaked folds as he taunted, “This what you want pretty kitten? You want this cock inside you?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, desperate to know what he’d feel like as he moved inside you, “I want it. I want you.”

The hungry look in his eyes sent shivers down your spine, your own need flaring up with just that look as he began to ease himself inside you. Even with how soaked you were and how he’d prepped you beforehand it was still a stretch as he slid inside inch by slow inch.

You let out a shuddering gasp as he bottomed out inside you, the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix in a way that made you shudder at the strange sensation of pain/pleasure deep inside you.

“Fuck, look at you kitten, taking me so well,” he praised, his voice low and guttural as he eyed the place where you were joined with something almost like awe on his face, “So tight and wet for me, like your pussy was made to take demon cock.”

Your walls clenched automatically at the words, something about them sending a deep sense of pleasure through you and he let out a low almost pained groan in response, as he slowly shifted, giving one careful, shallow thrust that pulled a pleasured mewl from your lips.

“So fucking tight,” he gasped, as his hips slowly thrust in and out of you the ribbed sensation of his cock enough to make you dizzy with pleasure, the sensation of it almost too much especially with the feel of those Jacob’s Ladder bumps rubbing up against your walls. A part of you wondered what it might feel like if you were up on your hands and knees so those bumps could rub up against your g-spot but you were quickly distracted from it as he reached for you, one hand holding your hips in place and the other pressing into your belly below your belly button, his thumb dipping between your outer lips to flick teasingly across your clit.

“Pay attention, kitten,” he ordered, eyes locked on yours and his tail swishing behind him, “Or I’ll be forced to make you.”

A part of you wanted to challenge him on it, but you couldn’t muster up the energy, not when every stroke of his cock had you seeing stars, your hands twisting into the sheets in order to find something to ground yourself with.

“That’s right kitten,” he growled at you as his hips slowly began to pick up the pace, “Focus on me, and only on me, on my dick in your perfect little pussy, your sweet little pussy that I’m going to fill up and taint with demon seed. Better learn to love the sensation pretty kitten because I’m going to fuck you over and over and over until you overflow with my cum. I’m going to completely ruin you, turn you into a slut for this demon cock.”

You’d been right. His voice was utterly perfect for the bedroom, hypnotic, enticing and enough to make you spasm around him with every word, doing something to you that you didn’t completely understand but enjoyed every moment of.

Overwhelming pleasure was building in your gut, higher and higher with each thrust of his hips, and before you’d really had any time to really process it you were falling apart, your orgasm making your inner walls ripple and squeeze around his cock letting you feel every bump and ridge of it.

A choked moan left his lips as he continued to drive into you, pace frantic, clearly chasing his own end and prolonging your orgasm as each twitch of his hips made your walls flutter. His hands dug into your thighs holding you steady, not letting you move an inch that he didn’t allow his grip tight enough you were sure you were going to have nice hand shaped bruises.

You felt it deep inside you as he sheathed himself to the hilt, the blunt head of his cock right up against your cervix. Your whole body spasmed as you felt hot jets of cum right up against the entrance to your womb, the sensation wringing a final small but intense orgasm from your limp body as you watched him, his beautiful face twisted in ecstasy, a low deep, rumbling growl of a moan leaving his lips as he finished.

For several long seconds, neither of you moved the only sound in the room that of your harsh breathing, before his eyes slowly found yours. Feeling lazy and utterly sated you held out your hand toward him, limply gesturing for him to come forward.

The bemused expression on his face told you the gesture was entirely unexpected, but he came anyway, laying his weight on you in a way you felt inexplicably comforting, his elbows braced on either side of your head.

You hummed in utter contentment your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, the other stroking along his spine again in the same position you’d been in when you’d first woken in earlier. Your lips found his in an easy, lazy sensual kiss as you gently scratched your nails over his scalp.

He returned your kiss easily, lips turning upwards in clear pleasure as the two of you spent a pleasant couple minutes simply basking in the other’s presence. When you pulled back he carefully rolled the two of you to the side, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure through you as you were still connected to him, his cock still hard and buried deep inside you.

Your hand found his face, utterly fascinated by the feel of his scales beneath your fingers. He let you touch him, an amused smile on his face that only dipped slightly when you reached into his hair to run along one of his horns, though judging from the way his cock twitched inside you and the lustful half-lidded look he was giving you, it was because the protrusions were sensitive rather than out of any sort of displeasure.

“So, I’m not dreaming am I,” you stated idly as you ran your hand over his scaled side, “That whole demon summoning ritual or whatever that I let my friend talk me into, it was real after all huh?”

“That’s right,” he agreed slowly, his face slowly settling into an oddly blank expression, “Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I’ve never been a big believer in the occult or the supernatural,” you confessed easily, “But it’s hard to argue with the truth when it’s right in front of your face, and even my most vivid dreams aren’t as real as you are.”

“Does it bother you?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow so that he was peering down at you, “You’re taking this awfully well for a human who didn’t believe, usually there’s a lot more screaming, or crying, or denial.”

“Mm, well it helps when the demon in your bed looks as tempting as you do, so what are you exactly, some kind of incubus?” you asked, still idly tracing your fingers over his scales, drawing unthinking patterns on his strange almost too warm skin.

“Something like that,” he agreed with a slight smirk.

“So what happens now?” you asked him curiously, “Madame Carver said something about payment?”

“That depends on what exactly it is you want kitten,” he teased, clearly recovered from whatever he was thinking earlier, “Normally with humans like you we have to ask for blood price because that’s what they’re willing to offer, but you paid in body just fine. We only take souls for really big requests though that’s fallen somewhat out of favor these days.”

“So that’s what she meant by body?” you asked incredulously, “Sex? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he agreed amused, “Though you’d be surprised how very few people want sex with a demon.”

“Why not?” you questioned utterly baffled, “That was the most orgasms I’ve had in a single session ever in my life, and was a hell of a lot better than the ritualistic sacrifice I thought she meant.”

The demon gave a surprised cackle of laughter, shooting you a slow prideful grin that was all masculine satisfaction as he told you, “While I wouldn’t necessarily say no to a sacrifice of some kind, sex will do just fine for whatever you’re asking for kitten, unless it’s something really big, like bringing someone back from the dead or making someone fall in love with you, or making you the richest woman in the world kind of thing. Then we might have to renegotiate a bit.”

“But I already got what I wanted,” you told him with a puzzled frown.

“You did?” he asked you, looking nonplussed, “What exactly were you thinking you were going to ask for?”

“Really good sex,” you told him bluntly, earning a snort of laughter from the demon.

“No, but really,” he urged, “You left your contract very open ended, you didn’t ask for anything, which means now that you’ve begun payment we need to negotiate.”

“I did?” you asked, puzzled, but then you thought back to Madame Carver’s words, how she’d told you to keep your desire at the forefront of your mind for the ritual, but you’d been too distracted by your skepticism at first and then your enthrallment with the sensual being now lying beside you to really think of what you’d originally wanted, or what your friend had brought you there to ask for.

“Huh,” you acknowledged aloud, “So how exactly do these negotiations work?”

“It’s pretty simple kitten,” he told you, clearly amused, “You name what you want, I name my price. You can attempt to change my mind, but let me assure you we demon’s don’t like to bargain and we always get the best end of the deal.”

“But I told you I already got what I wanted,” you informed him, tilting your head to the side and studying his face, turning an idea over in your head for a moment before nodding decisively and adding on, “But I wouldn’t say no to a regular booty call if you’re up for it.”

“You’re joking,” he countered skeptically, a slight frown on his face, “You, a human, want to have sex regularly with me, a demon?”

“Thought you were the one who said you were going to turn me into a slut for demon cock huh?” you teased, reaching out to tug lightly at the hair covering his eye and running your fingers through the soft strands, “Didn’t you hear me when I said you were the best I’ve ever had? I wasn’t kidding.”

“You can’t just take my payment and turn it into what you want, that’s not the way this works,” he informed you, looking surprisingly sulky for a creature who was purportedly from hell.

“But you’re what I want,” you told him puzzled, “You’re fascinating, and sexy and physically we have great chemistry so why not?”

“Because even though we demons always get the better end of the deal, even we’re not allowed to accept everything for nothing,” he informed you, studying you as if you were the strangest creature he’d ever met.

Maybe you were being too casual about this whole thing, but you’d always been the laidback roll with the punches type and frankly this deal with him sounded just about perfect to you. You’d get sex when you wanted it without having to spend all that time dating and trying to find some kind of connection, one that you already somewhat felt for this strange demon male, more than you’d felt with any human, including your ex despite only knowing him for a few hours at most. There was just something there, something you couldn’t quite put your finger one, but he’d claimed earlier that he’d been drawn to you, and you couldn’t deny you were drawn to him to. You wanted to keep seeing him, you just needed to figure out how.

“Your name,” you decided at last, “I want to know your name, so I can stop calling you sexy demon man in my head.”

“You don’t know what you ask for,” he warned her seriously, his hand sliding up from where it had been resting on your hip to cup your face.

“I thought the names had power thing was a Fae myth not a demon one,” you told him thoughtfully.

“Humans have called us many strange things over the years,” he told you with a casual shrug as if he hadn’t accidentally tilted your whole world view sideways.

“And what other myths are true?” you asked, more thinking aloud rather than actually asking, “Can you lie? What about iron? Holy water? Salt?”

“We can’t lie,” he admitted, “We can imply, dance around and omit, but it’s impossible for a demon to lie or to break the boundaries of a contract once set. The rest is just wishful human thinking and religious myth, made up by the corrupt priests of the middle ages in order to steal more from the uneducated human masses.”

“And saying thank you to a demon?” you prompted, utterly fascinated.

“Is probably one of the greatest pranks demons have ever played on humankind, but don’t tell anyone it isn’t true,” he told you freely, a little too freely as you realized that while his words implied one thing it could potentially mean something else entirely.

“I will promise not to tell anyone, if you tell me flat out yes or no, is it true you can’t thank a demon without proclaiming a debt between the two of you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ho? What a clever little human you are,” he praised, something almost predatory in his gaze that sent pleasant tingles down your spine. You probably should’ve been afraid considering what he was, but all you really felt was intrigue and the slightest bit of arousal.

“Deal,” he agreed with a toothy smile, the word seeming to settle over your skin in a way that felt a bit like a net, sinking into your core in a way that you knew instinctively would cause you excruciating pain if you attempted to renege on your deal.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone that demons are pranking humans by spreading potentially false rumors about their abilities,” you promised immediately, and felt that strange net fade away almost instantaneously.

“No, it doesn’t create a debt,” he assured you, “And because I’m so kind I’ll even tell you that thanking a demon does nothing it wouldn’t do if you thanked a human.”

“Then since you’re so generous I also promise I won’t tell people that the Fae are pranking humans by spreading potentially false rumors about their abilities,” you countered, unable to help the slightly smug tilt to your lips, not that you’d actually been intending to exploit that particular loophole, though you found it amusing that he’d let you leave one nonetheless.”

“Oya, oya, my cunning little kitten,” he half scolded, half praised you, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he eyed you hungrily, “Careful now, keep being so intriguing and I might just try to trap you by my side for eternity.”

“A thought for later,” you told him absently, the words coming without you giving any real thought to them, “What do you mean when you say names have power?”

“If a demon gives their name to a human it will allow the human to call upon them at any time, to ask for almost anything within the demon’s power, and to command them to some extent,” he told you honestly, looking a bit nonplussed.

“Then, how about you give me your name, and I’ll promise you can refuse if I call, and say no to any command I give though I would like you to promise to at least consider any request I make,” you proposed idly.

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal of yours?” he asked, raising a brow at you in clear amusement, though you thought you could also detect some interest in his tone.

“Hmm, what happens if a human gives a demon their full name?” you asked curiously, well aware that it was something the stories cautioned against doing.

“Then, little kitten you would have no choice but to do anything I say,” he purred at you, a clear taunt in his voice, making it obvious he was sure you’d back away from it.

“Could be interesting,” you told him, your walls clenching, reminding you or the still hard cock buried between your thighs, judging by the shocked hiss and the sudden heat of his gaze he clearly knew exactly where your thoughts had gone, “Never outside when we’re having sex, and only if I give you the go ahead for it. No piss, scat or mutilation, nothing that would cause me permanent harm and a safe word if I need it.”

“That sounds entirely too restrictive,” he told you casually, though you could tell he was actually interested, very interested if the sudden agitation of his tail was any indication.

“I could be talked into blood if you’re good to me,” you teased lightly, reaching for his face and running your finger over his lower lip. He parted them for you obligingly and you deliberately swiped the pad hard over the too sharp canine, teasing your now bloody finger over his lips like a strange lipstick as he watched you with heavy lidded calculating eyes, “Something tells me Demons might’ve been called vampires here and there given how hard you bit me earlier, tell me demon do you want to suck my blood?”

You gasped slightly as his hand lashed out, snagging your wrist, and tugging it forward, drawing your bleeding finger to his mouth again as his tongue flicked out, cleaning the blood off his lips before sucking the tip of your finger into his mouth. The wet, hot, tight sensation and the slight pull of blood as it left the cut in your finger was intoxicating, and you could feel yourself starting to become wet again, juices oozing out around his cock, your core fluttering on the thick appendage as a dazed part of you wondered what it would feel like to have him do that as he fucked you, something you didn’t doubt would appeal to him given the way he was twitching inside you.

The sight of him as he sucked was utterly mesmerized, his eyes locked on yours as his mouth worked along the appendage, his tongue flicking over it, soothing the small cut, the look on his face one of pure ecstasy before he released your finger with an almost obscene pop though he didn’t release your hand, instead pressing his mouth to your open palm and then to your wrist, scraping those sharp teeth teasingly along the sensitive flesh there, his eyes searching your face for something.

You weren’t sure if he found it or not as he pulled away, though not before leaving one more, almost tender kiss on your fingertip, which was surprisingly fully healed, not even a scab to show you’d cut it before.

“You really are too tempting kitten,” he told you, voice rough with desire, “If I didn’t know how fully human you are I’d think you were a succubae.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you assured him with an amused smile, “Though now I’m curious, succubae exist? Earlier you said you were something like an incubus does that mean Merlin existed and really was a cambion?”

“Ah, succubae is just another name for female demon, though they tend to be more on the magical and ritualistic side of things than us male demons,” Kuroo told you with an amused quirk of his lips, “But of course they exist you met one not all that long ago after all a couple of them even.”

You blinked at him startled, your mind running through possibilities before your mouth dropped open as you remembered the colored contacts or what you’d thought were colored contacts and slight of hand at the ritual earlier, “That woman next to me! And Madame Carver?”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, lips curling in a smirk, seemingly uncaring that he’d managed to tilt your world sideways again as he continued, “And as for Merlin, a fine example of a demon, but no, Cambion���s don’t exist.”

“So you can’t breed with humans?” you probed, interested.

“Oh we can, it’s actually our fellow demons we can’t breed with, but all beings born from demon seed or womb are full demon, there are no halves,” he told you amused.

“Do I have something to worry about then?” you asked, trying not to panic, you might want children someday, but not at the moment and you’d have no idea what to do with a demon child anyway.

“Relax kitten,” he assured you, cupping the back of your neck in one of his large hands and running his thumb soothingly over your jaw, “Demon children aren’t conceived unless they’re negotiated for beforehand.”

If you hadn’t been paying close attention you might’ve missed the hint of wistfulness in his voice, but fortunately for you and perhaps unfortunately for him you couldn’t help but pay him the utmost attention at all times.

You took a moment to think it over, giving yourself time to roll it over in your mind, knowing once the words were out you couldn’t exactly unsay them once they were out in the ether. However, the more you thought about it, the more it appealed, you’d always had a bit of a breeding kink and you didn’t think he’d say no, though you’d have to learn more about what it would mean first it wasn’t something you were automatically opposed to.

“Does that mean that, that’s on the table?” you asked him, trying to keep your voice casual even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. This more than anything would tell you how your relationship might pan out in the future, especially with how inexplicably fond you found yourself of the demon in your bed.

Are you…?” he trailed off eyebrows raised as he swallowed hard, clearly trying to find his voice before he demanded, “Are you seriously offering to let me breed you kitten, to put my baby inside you?”

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, his hips involuntarily giving slight thrusts that made you temporarily lose focus, the sensation heady, your libido thoroughly recovered after your earlier romp and apparently more than ready to go again. However, you forced yourself to focus back on the present and keep your head in the game. This negotiation was far more important than temporary satisfaction after all.

“There’s something viscerally appealing about letting you fuck your baby into me,” you admitted honestly, though you cautioned, “I’d need to learn more first, and I’d want to know you better, but so long as it’s not significantly more dangerous to my health than carrying a human baby I have no objections if you want to try in a year or two.”

“Fuck, kitten,” he moaned, his hips inadvertently giving a strong thrust and making you shudder and gasp in his hold, “Are you trying to drive me to the brink of insanity? What kind of male would I be if I said no to an offer like that?”

Does that mean you accept my terms?” you asked, taking him by surprise as you pushed at his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back. You rolled with him to keep him from slipping out of you, and found yourself straddling his hips your hands on his chest.

“Lay them out for me then, kitten,” he ordered seriously, pulling you out of your newfound bliss at the way he felt in this new position. You nodded, took a deep breath to center yourself and began to state your terms.

“You will give me your full name, and when I call you’ll answer unless you can’t or have no desire to see me, when I give commands you don’t have to obey if you don’t want to, but you will give all my requests thought and fair consideration,” you listed out carefully, making sure to keep your wording as firm as possible leaving as few loopholes as you could.

“In return I’ll give you my full name, with the caveat that you aren’t allowed to use it outside of times where I give you explicit, verbal permission to use it to command me. You will not share my full name with anyone or even speak it aloud outside my presence and I will not share yours or speak it unless I’m with you or calling for you,” you continued.

“I will also give you my blood and my body with the caveat that if I say stop you will, and only with permission to take it granted beforehand, and will attempt to be generous about it so long as my physical, emotional and mental health allow,” you listed off.

“My home is open to you at any time for any reason, so long as you behave with courtesy, paying for or replacing anything you use without my explicit permission within reason,” it wasn’t something you’d mentioned to him before, and you’d clearly caught him a bit off guard with it, judging by the raising of his eyebrows, but you did want him to feel welcome.

“In a year’s time on All Hallows Eve next year, so long as we are still on good terms and both agree I will negotiate having a child with you, so long as I am thoroughly educated in demon pregnancy beforehand, and it doesn’t pose extraordinary risk to my wellbeing,” you told him, trying hard not to think about it too much lest you become unfocused by your lust and let something slip.

“This contract can between us can be terminated or renegotiated at any time by my will or by yours,” you finished up with a firm nod, “Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal, my precious, clever, kitten,” he assured you, his eyes glittering with triumph and something you thought might actually be affection.

This time when you felt the weight of your deal it was far heavier. It was if the first net had been composed of thread and this one of tight steel cable. It might’ve been uncomfortable except unlike with the other deal, this one was accompanied by a feeling of warmth unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, zinging through you like electricity and making you feel oddly powerful and alive, a bit like you’d felt after the ritual Madame Carver had completed earlier that had brought the sexy demon laying beneath you to you in the first place.

Hoping to lessen some of the weight you turned to him, leaning down to press a warm kiss to his willing mouth before quietly giving him your full name. As you’d suspected a large amount of the weight lifted leaving behind only the humming buzz or warmth under your skin.

“My name Kuroo, Kuroo Tetsurou, kitten at your service,” he told you with a slow enticing smile, one that was just teasing enough that you wanted to see if you could lean down and kiss it away, make him lose some of that smug arrogance he seemed to wear like a cloak.

“Tetsurou,” you repeated, rolling it around in your mouth, tasting the word on your tongue as you purred it back at him, something he evidently enjoyed if the way his cock twitched inside you meant anything, “It’s nice to officially meet you, Tetsurou.”

You leaned down, one hand pressed over where a human heart would be and the other sliding into his hair and grasping one of his horns your thumb rubbing against the base for a moment before stroking it between your fingers like you would a cock, something he evidently enjoyed if the way he shuddered under you was any indication, his eyes dark with lust even as he stared a bit wide-eyed, clearly taken aback by your daring.

“Now tell me Tetsurou do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” you asked even as you continued to run your thumb teasingly over the base of his horn, “Because you see someone promised to make me a slut for his demon cock and that he’d prove to me just how much of a man he is, but he has yet to fulfill that particular promise.”

He let out a low moan of pleasure as his hands found your hips and you deliberately tightened your walls around him, milking his cock, still hard and clearly ready inside you. After all he was here and with the contract out of the way you were more than ready to start round two, you doubted it could be better than round one, but you were more than willing to try.

“Oh kitten,” he purred at you, voice low and dangerous even as delight swam in his unnatural glowing red eyes, “You and I are going to have such fun together.”

You let out a pleasured gasp as he used his firm grip to lift you up before slamming you back down on his cock as if you weighed nothing, like you were a doll to be made for his pleasure alone.

“I look forward to it,” you teased breathlessly, though you meant every word, after all unconventional though it may be and despite what the stories might say you didn’t think you’d ever regret making a deal with a devil, especially one as sinfully seductive as Kuroo Tetsurou.

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[beevean]

Part two! Continues from here. Finally, we can talk about the real stars of this season, Hector and Isaac! Who

...

fuck I can’t do this.

After some discussions with @woodchipp​, I’ve decided to call them Caesar and Abraham respectively, because my brain cannot accept that I’m actually watching the same characters that starred in hit game Curse of Darkness, and my thoughts quickly devolve into gibberish. I choose Abraham to, well, keep the connection with Isaac, to emphasize how Isaac as a character was named after his own cruelly symbolic death (because he’s more than “that weird fetishy guy”, he’s a genuinely tragic villain and this is where I will perish i stg), and because in the Bible Abraham nearly killed Isaac and what am I if not a spiteful bitch? :^) Woodchipp chose Caesar because it means “thick head of hair” lmao - and it fits, because while Hector is both pretty and a badass, Caesar’s cute, soft looks are pretty much the one worthy thing about him.

*sigh* I’ll get there. I so will get there.

(this, btw, was decided before we discovered that Caesar’s little zombie pug was named, in fact, Cezar. The coincidence was too funny to drop. Caesar is also pretty much a shell of a dog, after all :^) )

Is this childish? Maybe! But you’ll understand. I’ll just slap the salt mine video on myself and go on.

Anyway, Caesar and Abraham. I have Words, as promised. As a final warning before proceeding, this post is somewhat image heavy.

I start with the mother of all nitpicks lol: Caesar and Abraham are not Devil Forgemasters, just Forgemasters! And I never realized how silly this sounds until I found a clip in Italian, because in my head, I kept adding “Devil” before it. Admittedly this is more of a translation trivia than criticism, but I wanted to get this out of my chest. In the Italian version of CoD, the term was Forgiatore Diabolico, which is a nearly perfect translation, although it could also sounds like the forgemasters themselves are devilish. Still, close enough, I can tell that this profession 1) deals with creating, and 2) is demonic in nature. But Forgemaster in the show is just Fabbro Mastro, which is the perfect translation of the word, and it’s just unfitting! It means Master Blacksmith, and how am I supposed to get from it, and from simply Forgemaster, that these two are glorified necromancers?

And yeah, that’s what they are. And I don’t have much of a problem about it, tbf. In the game, Hector and Isaac can... well, I have no idea, Hector can deadass nullify Dracula’s curse with his powers which is straight up OP and nothing like what was established before. Isaac also says in the first cutscene that they can create devils from “a wisp of conjured matter” (English)/”a bundle of magical power” (Japanese), whatever that means. As a game mechanic, Hector infuses life into stone statues embedded with gems, which is what makes the most sense to me. In the show, Caesar and Abraham use special tools to put a demonic soul into a corpse: the former uses a warhammer to really drive home the forging part, the latter uses a knife because it’s quick and efficient. I appreciate that they gave us a more definite visual image of their powers, and it still works the same purpose of building Dracula’s army, so okay.

(it does cause a small plot hole later on - how did Caesar learn as a boy that he can resurrect corpses by using a tool, by accident? We see him using two coins in a flashback. What kind of incident could have lead to that? In the manga, Hector doesn’t seem to have control over the animals he attracts, so it makes more sense that he accidentally discovered his talent)

Speaking of things that make sense, Caesar and Abraham’s introduction also gives an explanation as to why they’re still human, while defending them from Godbrand who doesn’t want to defer to two humans: were they vampires, they’d be “driven by thirst”, and probably act selfishly. Since they’re humans, it proves that they’re there because they’re 100% loyal to Dracula, so loyal that they’re willing to harm their own kind. Vampires see humans as livestock and don’t really understand them: Caesar and Abraham’s hatred is far more personal, and drives them better, just as much as Dracula’s own hatred. Well, in canon leaving Hector human was a big fuck up on Dracula’s part (in fact, has Dracula ever vampirized anyone in canon? I only know Annette if you don’t save her in Dracula X), but the logic is sound for now.

Aaand this is ruined by Caesar’s very first line being “Godbrand, you’ve never met anything that you didn’t immediately kill, fuck, or make a boat of”, because writing.mp4. And this is going to be the peak of his character :^)

Deep breaths. I think I need to talk about Abraham first, since he has far less issues. And he’s fine. When I forget who he’s supposed to be, he’s a decent character so far. He’s soft spoken, melancholic, so convinced that love doesn’t exist in this world, to the point that he basically thinks that love and humanity are inversely proportional. His mentality is a little hard to understand, but that’s okay, I will probably get to know him better in the future. I like how he hides a cold heart under his gentle personality, but it doesn’t come off as a façade. He’s also shown to be a force to be reckoned with, as he can kill Godbrand with fair ease (I’m not going to guess how strong Godbrand is, I hate powerscaling). I would say that he’s smart, but after his justification for going with Carmilla’s plan, no, not really.

He lacks charisma, though: he’s way too subdued, serious and quirkless, and most of his dialogue is “muh loyalty, muh love, muh purity” without much that makes him entertaining - I’m not asking for him to approach Isaac’s level of fun, that’s too tall of an order :P just something to make him stand out. Considering how popular he is, though, and what little I spoiled myself with, I have the faintest of hopes for Season 3 and 4.

I think one of the reasons he lacks charisma is the utter lack of any relationship with Caesar. The two are strictly coworkers. Abraham looks down on Caesar, and Caesar barely acknowledges his existence until he’s asked to manipulate him. Abraham even acknowledges that he thinks that becoming friends with Caesar, a human, would be counterproductive in a war against humanity, which... why? I am with Caesar, the two are Devil Forgemasters before being humans, and being allies would actually make them stronger and, y’know, less prone to manipulation, wink wink nudge nudge? I can guess that the two will become friends by Season 4, but it feels like missed potential.

Of all the things I expected him to have in common with Isaac, a connection to pain was low on my list. Abraham self-flagellates as a result of the abuse he suffered as a child and to “discipline” himself, which I took as a mild connection to Isaac’s masochistic outfit (we only see Isaac harm himself once in Prelude to Revenge and probably as a result of his growing insanity, but him being tattooed from head to toe and the random piercings on his abs and bicep suggest that he might like pain a little too much - the subtext became text in the show, basically). Considering his concept art with the vaguely BDSM outfit, I wonder how similar he was supposed to be, and what lead his character to be changed to this point.

Like Isaac, Abraham’s main trait is his unquestioning loyalty to Dracula, but completely opposite to game canon, instead of being seen as the “spare” one, Dracula actually seems to care more about Abraham than Caesar! They’re best buds, they talk as equals, Dracula is 100% honest with him! Dracula saved his life and that’s why Abraham is so attached to him! ... soooo he’s basically human Death. Well, now we know where he ended up!

(don’t know where to put it, but I don’t know how to feel about Dracula seeking Caesar and Abraham out. There is technically little wrong with it, and I see how they tried to make Dracula more sympathetic and Abraham’s devotion more reasonable, but I have two issues. One, we don’t see how Dracula actually met them, and dialogue implies that he already knew about Caesar’s powers somehow, which is odd. Two, one of my favorite parts of Hector and Isaac’s backstories is how they fled on their own and sought refuge in Castlevania as children. Don’t you think it also somewhat humanizes Dracula as well, that he took those poor boys under his wing, even if at the end it was mainly for their powers? Plus, no wonder the two have no relationship if they knew each other as adults, instead of growing up together. Ahhh the missed potential :( )

His backstory... apparently generated some controversies? I’m not sure, and I’m genuinely asking anyone who’s reading this to inform me lol, because the controversies I see, much like with Caesar in Season 3, are not the controversies I’ve seen breaking the fandom. So, he was a slave of a priest (muh church bad), which sure is a way to justify a black Muslim person in 15th century Wallachia, and he went through a lot of abuse. His convinction that love doesn’t exist in this world comes from the brutal way his master rejected his confession. And yes, it was romantic love, in Japanese it was translated to aishiteru. But now I have to be petty: if Isaac is (... ehhh understandably) considered “bad gay representation” because he kisses Trevor while he’s impaling him, why isn’t Abraham being in love with his torturer as a young boy just as bad? Did he really need to love his master romantically? Aren’t you equating homosexual love with abuse and power imbalance? C’mon, be consistent.

(the weird Benedictine monks kiss joke that apparently wasn’t a joke also doesn’t count, I’d almost say that it’s OOC for Abraham)

The ending of the season sets his character arc up. He decides that he will become a more independent villain, although still loyal to the deceased Dracula. Admittedly, I more or less already know where he’s going to end, and it’s a good direction for a character previously defined by nothing but unthinking loyalty... although I could only laugh at the band of over the top assholes who are supposed to make me think “see, isn’t Abraham right to hate all humans?”. writing.mp4 :V

And finally, I very much do not like his design. He’s literally just a guy who stumbled on set and donned himself a Devil Forgemaster outfit - a drab one too, it should have been red, fight me. He looks like Pucci without anything that makes Pucci visually distinct (and from what little I know about him, they’re also similar personality wise). Are the dots on his skin supposed to give him character? Not enough. I don’t know how to feel about the red eyes: at least he still has some red in him, but if they’re meant to represent his magical nature, I prefer Isaac’s vaguely yellowish eyes for being a (I can’t believe I’m saying this) subtler clue that there’s something wrong with him. In short, I’m not going to remember Abraham any time soon. I wish they kept his glorious red dreadlocks :’)

And now, it’s time for Caesar.

Where do I begin with him?

How about the fact that he’s a dog in human form. I thought Guts’ canid motif was obvious, but Caesar beats him by a mile. His personality can be summed up as “puppy”, as Carmilla lovingly does it for us. While he does have a bit of a strategic mind, even disagreeing with Abraham on the best course of action, he’s mainly placid, submissive, loyal, and childish, described by Abraham himself as “a little boy” and a “simple creature”, and by Dracula as a “child in a man’s body” (what do you mean that they didn’t need to tell us? This show loves its pointless exposition! peak writing :V). He’s such an animal lover that he rationalizes Dracula’s plan as the equivalent of culling and controlling an animal species, not senselessly hurting them but not allowing them to harming others - the concept of an animal-loving misanthrope is nothing new, but I actually appreciate how soft Caesar is in this regard. In fact, his worldview is so warped that at one point he seriously compares vampires to cats... to explain how in his mind they’re just as pure as animals. It’s so out of this world that even I wanted to pity him at that point.

He’s even has his own zombie pug, which is funny to me because Hector apparently loved cats in his childhood. They really did everything to make them one the opposite of the other.

By the way, Caesar’s childhood is taken straight from the manga! Alchemist father who only cares about money and power, mother who resents his very birth, him being abused for bringing “cursed” pets at home, a burned down house that forced him to flee (I do like, however, how it was Caesar who killed his own parents, it shows how desperate he was and how there’s some real dark side in him). So I can’t even say “read the manga”. Ellis just made his own OCs and thought they were so much better than canon. Fuck you too <3

The way his backstory is presented in the first episode is so rushed, too, unlike Abraham’s who got a full flashback. We hear his parents’ voices saying the usual cruel stuff, and we hear them burning to death, all while we see adult Caesar in front of the fire with little to no animation. This is all to explain to us very quickly why Caesar is a huge misanthrope, and weirdly enough, we do get a fuller flashback in episode 3 of him resurrecting a dog. But hadn’t I read the manga, where we see in much more detail how hated he was by everyone in his village and his soured views on God, I would have felt nothing for him. This show is praised for its writing.

Caesar’s design is... almost perfect! Nearly 1:1 to Hector’s, obviously simplified for animation purposes (rip holes in his pants lmao). The one thing that bothers me, and I know that it’s going to sound weird, is his hair - I don’t like how neatly cut his curls are, and I get that it’s probably for animation purposes again, but they don’t frame his head well and make him look even more childish.

and what the hell have you done to my baby boy. what is that haircut.

As for the color of his skin, I approve! It contrasts with his hair and it makes him look Mediterranean :) I like to headcanon that Hector is Greek in origin, and what do you know, Caesar apparently hid in Greece! I feel validated :D

(of course, his being nearly identical to Hector means that it’s much harder to pretend he’s a different person. But I won’t give up. For Hector’s sake.)

(also, something that bothers me is that Abraham and Caesar have different symbols on their vest: Caesar has a wind rose which is a simplified version of the Devil Forgemaster crest, Abraham has... a mask? Some kind of rune? This doesn’t make sense. It’s a Devil Forgemaster uniform. They should have the same symbol, that’s how uniforms work! The connection between the two, man!)

Now, he is seen to have some reservations about Dracula’s plans unlike Abraham, which is shockingly canon. While Caesar has no qualms in killing people, he doesn’t want to cause mindless bloodshed, or “gleefully paddling in the blood of children”. As I mentioned, he sees Dracula’s genocide through the lens of an animal lover, and he doesn’t approve of senseless suffering. I would be happy about this, as this could have genuinely been the beginning of Hector’s rebellion in the game/manga that could then spiral into “I don’t want to be a pawn” and “not all humans deserve to die” and “I am human too whether they want it or not”...

(this moment goes to all the geniuses who reduce Hector to a flat “badass”. Will you look at that, he can have more vulnerable moments while still keeping his personality! :D)

Also, unpopular opinion: it’s not impossible that Hector used to be similarly naive back then. Living half of your life in Castlevania cannot be healthy for your development, and he did faithfully serve Dracula until Lisa’s death, so he had been conditioned to obey somewhat. I can imagine a younger, more submissive Hector, especially if he had to live with Isaac and his much stronger personality ovewhelming him lmao.

It was there! The setup is all there! Look at that, how easily you could have flowed from “Hector the innocent animal lover” to “Hector the self-affirming traitor”. Maybe not in Season 2, but as a series-spanning general arc. Man, I so would have loved to see more of General Hector and what exactly turned into the anti-hero we know.

But.

The conflict presented in Season 2 is not about Caesar growing a spine. This is about him becoming Carmilla’s puppet.

Yep. We’re here, folks.

Let’s talk about the ukeification, and I do not use this term lightly, of what is supposed to be Hector.

Caesar falls for the most basic of manipulations, to the point that even Silver in ‘06 would tell him that he should activate his braincells. On one hand, sometimes Carmilla makes sense: searching for the Belmont household to prevent any of their weapons to harm Dracula is a good idea. Or, if Dracula wants to kill all humans, what’s to say that he wouldn’t turn against Caesar and Abraham eventually? This would have been even more poignant had Caesar known that he was lied to by Dracula himself. But other times, the manipulation doesn’t amount to anything more than “oh you’re so smart and talented :) you will do as I say because I say so :)”. Also the way she torments Caesar by following him as he’s walking away clearly uncomfortable... sweetie, that is the worst possible way to make yourself look trustworthy.

But of course, Caesar totally believes a vampire lord who in one breath calls Lisa a pet on virtue of being a human, and in the other acts so concerned about Caesar’s safety as a human. Dracula must be truly desperate, to enlist this fucking idiot as a strategist.

“The castle must land at Braila!”

“And why is that?”

“Because I wish it!”

what a superb chessmaster, no wonder one of Dracula’s best generals had no chance against her :V

I didn’t know beforehand that even Dracula manipulated Caesar to enlist him! With Abraham he’s honest and respectful, but with Caesar, he has to play along with his more benign point of view, “uhhh sure it’s a... it’s a culling, sure why not, whatever makes you happy”. Later on, Dracula says that Caesar’s “a child in a man’s body, and that makes it easy for him to be lied to”. Goddamnit, forget “puppy”, Caesar’s personality is basically “pawn”.

“There's betrayal abroad in the court, but Hector is a simpler creature than that.”

I want to bite someone to shreds.

*sigh* They really took everything Hector stood for and flipped on its head, didn’t they.

Now that’s the stuff <3 hector really said “lol you like being a pawn? rip to you but i’m built different uwu” get his ass you utter savage <3 look at that condescending smirk too <3

isaac here being #relatable. for later.

Okay, back to Caesar. He’s a sweet lil boy who is pushed to betray Dracula, so much for being a general and a strategist. By episode 5, Carmilla can say stuff like “I am in control”, call him “puppy” and #girlboss all over him, she gets to yank and push him around and berate him, and Caesar can’t do shit about it, because he’s “implicated”. Because Carmilla is such a badass, and she’s a badass by shitting on Caesar :^) love how he even admits at the end that he wasn’t even thinking of stabbing her, like he holds no grudge over being tricked, insulted and literally pushed around. So fun.

(oh, and nice rapey vibes from her. “You’re mine now, you have nothing left but me”. In case you didn’t find her heinous enough. I love how this ended up being a red herring in hindsight lmao)

Look, the thing is. Even if I accept that I’m not dealing with Hector, protagonist of hit game Curse of Darkness, the same dude who trekked through half of Wallachia to tear Isaac, Death and Dracula to shreds, first person in history who kicked Dracula’s ass without assistance (which is why I’m calling his Caesar, see I’m not just being a brat)... I really don’t like the treatment of his character. I’m fine with a character being naive to an uncomfortable degree, but not only I keep questioning how in the hell he managed to get such an important position in Dracula’s army, it’s not fun to watch other people shit on him and look down on him. First of all, I get it, stop beating me over the head. Second, character bashing is just not pleasant. I’m supposed to care for him because he gets no respect in canon, and that’s not good writing.

And what comes next sure isn’t pleasant.

There it is. Ellis’ weird fetish for torturing Caesar.

Well, there was the rapey line I mentioned earlier, but now it’s time to unleash my ire against this:

Very rarely does bad writing make me feel almost physically nauseous. I documented on my blog how much I loathed the scene in Other M where Adam shoots at Samus in the back, because it was stupid, humiliating, and way too happy to show a beloved character in severe pain, in all its gruesome voyeuistic detail. Guess what happens to Caesar here?

Look at Isaac’s face that I posted above. That was roughly my expression during this sequence.

I will give this scene one point - we’re not meant to ever sympathize with Carmilla, thank god. But this scene comes out of nowhere, and it’s nothing more than a long Kick the Dog moment for Carmilla, with too much attention on how scared and little and weak poor Caesar is. Look at the focus on him trembling on the floor, curled in a fetal position, like an abused dog (and fuck you so much for making me think that, you even put him on a leash because GET IT HE IS A DOG IN HUMAN FORM I FUCKING GET IT). Look at how Caesar doesn’t try to do anything, not to run away, not to defend himself, even his anger towards the woman who manipulated him to cause Dracula’s death comes off as underwhelming - “go to hell”, that’s your best? Look at the lovingly detailed cruelty. And I know I’m supposed to be horrified and feel sorry for little Caesar, but I’m not. I’m fucking pissed, and not at Carmilla herself.

I know this is a post dedicated to the Forgemasters, but I need to talk about Carmilla now.

Why is she doing this? As a character. What is the purpose of this scene? Shock value, of course; making you hate Carmilla even more, I hope (I hope because she has her fans, apparently, and I really don’t understand y’all). And then? She felt like beating Caesar up, because she could. What does it tell about her? That’s she’s evil? No fucking shit, I’ve been watching her strut around like an evil #girlboss turning everyone into a dumbass since episode 2.

I watched plenty of clips about her. The most common comments (when they aren’t joking about Hector - who is the sick fuck who called the scene of him being brutally beaten “animal abuse”) are all about how ironic it is that Carmilla became what she despised the most. She always rants about “crazy old men”, and she herself is a crazy old woman. So, the appeal is that Carmilla is a huge hypocrite, which I suppose it’s meant to flesh her out. Look at her, pretending to be chessmaster, when she’s not above beating the shit of a weak human like a brute. Ohh, so evil, so twisted.

I didn’t quite understand why I didn’t care for it, until I compared it to a scene in the CoD manga. Yup, you guessed it, it’s time for yet another episode of “Beevean won’t shut the fuck up about Isaac Laforeze”! :D because fuck you i deserve my comfort.

(I could have waited until Season 3, or even 4, where I’m sure we’ll get even more of Carmilla’s oh so unique “hypocrisy”. But screw it. It’s not like her character will get any more interesting from now on. Carmilla is fucking boring and flat as a board, and I know that her character development will simply be “goes insane”. Besides, I’ll have other matters to discuss then. I’m coming for you, Ms. Mommy Fetish, just you wait.)

Isaac’s most prominent character trait after being a horny slut is, of course, his devotion to Dracula. He’s a huge Dracula simp, perhaps the biggest simp after Death. He’s more than proud to serve him, it’s his whole identity, hell he wears a collar to show it! The biggest contrast with Hector is how loyal he is to the point of sealing his fate because of it, while Hector grew a spine and defected.

In the manga, Dracula orders Isaac to find out what happened to Hector and, if alive, to bring him back, so that Dracula can punish him as he sees fit. Very clear cut: Isaac is to find Hector, and that’s it. It’s Dracula who will torture and/or kill him. Hell, Isaac even dared to have one legitimate question, and he got glared into submission:

You do not fuck with Lord Dracula.

(btw, compare this with Dracula in the show who can’t even make himself be respected by his own council. Yeah.)

So of course, when he gets confirmation that Hector is alive and well, Isaac will be a good boy (hehe) and do as told, right?

Yeah. Isaac is a callous, remorseless, sadistic, petty, hypocritical piece of shit, but he has flaws too 💖

Seriously, though, think about it. His hatred for Hector is so strong at this point, that he’d rather slaughter his own underlings using Abel (who apparently can shoot lasers from his eyes here, geez, poor dude got exploded), so that he can kill Hector unopposed, and then go lie to Lord Dracula’s face about it.

You know. The dude who reduced Isaac to a shivering wreck after one question, and who vowed to make Hector drink sewage for the rest of his life? Isaac got into his head that he'd rather lie to him than obey his command to the letter.

His petty desire to take revenge on Hector with his own hands (for having betrayed Dracula? For daring to be better than him? Who knows) is more important than respecting his master.

And he still has the gall to think of himself as loyal!

This is hypocrisy done right. This shows that Isaac is not as pure as he thinks, he’s also willing to do as he wants if Dracula’s wishes no longer align with his own, just as much as the same Hector he so despises. He has the same tiny spark of rebellion as Hector, but he’s deep in denial about it, and while Hector eventually grew to be more and more noble, Isaac’s desires are extremely selfish and childish (huh, almost as if Isaac ran away from his village as a child and therefore his growth was somewhat stunted 🤔 but nahh no depth at all in this character). These are not the hidden depths that make you think “oh they’re not so bad after all”, no this paints Isaac as a wholly awful person, but there is something intriguing in this contraddiction that makes him, well, more human. As much as he might be disgusted by the idea :P

(this whole rant, btw, is entirely dedicated to the very funny people who think that the best way to praise Abraham is to shit on Isaac and call him “fan disservice” and “problematic”, am I right TvTropes guys? :^) )

... well, as much as I would love to keep talking about my darling BDSM disaster, I sadly went on a tangent because I needed to finish my thoughts about the residential #girlboss here. Yay 🙄

So my question is: what does Carmilla’s hypocrisy accomplish? How does it flesh her out? Because what I see is nothing more than sadism for the sake of sadism. And she’s just as stupid as the Stupid Old Man she keeps making fun of. Beating Caesar up was stupid, she already had him, Caesar wasn’t even mad at her anymore. He has no fighting spirit whatsoever, he proved it to her by admitting that he didn’t even think of killing her! She didn’t need to do that at all, there was no logical reason for her to do that, not even an emotional one other than “yay I get to beat up a man!”. Is that it? It’s that her motivation, that she’s a radfem - scratch that, a parody of a radfem? It was a senseless scene. Carmilla is not deeper because of it. Fuck this stupid villain. The whole purpose of that scene is beating us over the head how pretty Caesar is when he’s in pain and scared.

Same energy as Adam shooting at Samus for no reason other than to have a long sequence of our protagonist humiliated, except that here, it genuinely comes off as a fetish.

Now you understand why it makes me sick? This is on the same level of the lowest rape fanfics on FF.net!

And this is still nothing. Oh, I’m so not done with Caesar being turned into a fetish, ma porca di quella puttana schifosa

... Season 3 is going to break me.

I hate everything.

[crystalirises]

Phil is a famous and powerful Vampire Hunter with three sons, Wilbur, Tommy and Techno. One night Wilbur gets kidnapped by a vampire, he gets turned into a vampire but for years he has hope his father or twin would come to save him. His family never comes, he eventually gives up on hope and around this time he falls in love with another Vampire named George. They want to have a kid but they can't make one themself, so they surprise adopt Fundy. One of the vampire hunters SBI comes to help and everything goes downhill from here.

also thanks for the great writing

Y O U

I don't know who you are, but I love this prompt so much. Like, I want to confess right now that I actually have like... four (???) vampire AUs that all concern Georgebur + Sondy. I just haven't written them cause well, I just talked about them with a friend and 'm lazy to write XD.

But this prompt. YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

It literally just has everything. Wilbur's daddy issues and abandonment issues. Georgebur. Fundy. Surprise Adoption (Kidnapping). Vampires.

Love it.

Anyway, warnings: Blood, Violence, General Vampire Warnings, Possible Kidnapping, Mentions of Death, Abandonment Issues, Grief, and Suicidal Themes

Hope you like this!

“Eret? W-wha…? It’s the middle of the fucking night, man!”

Wilbur rubbed at his eyes, his friend’s hunched silhouette illuminated by the window.

They didn’t respond, and Wilbur could hear alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

He climbed out of bed, taking quick notice of the empty bed on the other side of the room. Techno and Phil must be out. Wilbur tried not to let it hurt him as much, his attention focused on his best friend who hadn’t made a single twitch or move ever since they’d climbed through his bedroom window. Worry settled in his gut, a heavy weight settling over his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stepped closer, the faint scent of metal piercing through the air. Wilbur nearly gagged, pressing a hand to his mouth and nose. Blood. He glanced down at the carpeted floor, goosebumps running down his skin as he gazed at the dark pool that was forming beneath Eret.

“ERET!” Wilbur gripped his friend by the shoulders, “What happened?!”

“Wil…?” Eret practically collapsed against him, hands clinging to the back of his shirt like their life depended on it. Underneath the darkness of the room, Wilbur could hardly look Eret in the eyes. Eret shook within his hold, almost like they were struggling against some force. “N-n-no!”

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?! Who did this?!” Wilbur pulled Eret away, but their head was leaned against his shoulder, their breath cold against his neck. It was difficult to see, but after a moment, he found the source of Eret’s pain. There was a dagger lodged against their back, just a few inches off Eret’s heart. He felt a panic course through him. Should he fucking pull it out?! He wasn’t a fucking healer, what the fuck was he supposed to do?! “Shit, shit, shit, fuck, um… I…”

His fingers grasped at the leather hilt, his mind screaming at him to do something, anything! Wilbur took a moment to listen to Eret’s breathing, their shallow breaths were mere puffs against his skin. He could feel Eret’s blood between his fingers, somehow, the blade hadn’t stopped the bleeding. Wilbur made a choice. He wouldn’t let his best friend bleed out. “I’m so sorry, Eret.”

Wilbur pulled the blade, wincing at the squelch of flesh and blood that resonated through the room. It was easy to ignore, since Eret let out the most unholy screech that Wilbur had ever heard in his life. He shuddered at the scream, the pain within its shriek. He swore that it sounded like— Eret collapsed against him, unconscious, but their breath had regained normalcy. Wilbur hesitantly held onto them, attention turning to the blade that he’d pulled from his best friend. Their village wasn’t the safest place, but one could usually walk around without being stabbed.

He held the dagger, blood still sticky against the skin of his palm. Wilbur brought the blade closer, eyes narrowing. It was a blade made of pure silver, the hilt dyed pink with a pink ribbon tied to one end. A chill ran down his spine. He adjusted the dagger, looking at the bottom of the hilt. A silver crow stared back at him. It was his dad’s symbol, but it was Techno’s blade.

He dropped the blade just as a searing pain tore through his throat.

He screamed, sharp teeth biting deeper into his skin.

Jagged claws gripped at the back of his shirt, an inhumane growl tearing through the air as Eret suddenly pushed him to the ground, holding him still as they continued to feed on his blood.

His mind turned to fog, but he could hear the slam of a door in the distance… 

“WILBUR!” Someone screamed. But he was dragged away. And then there was nothing.

---

“I’m sorry…”

It was the first thing Eret had told him once he’d woken up, and they’d been saying it ever since.

“Sorry doesn’t change me back, Eret. Sorry doesn’t make me any less of a monster than you!”

“I didn’t mean to, Wilbur!” Eret wrapped their arms around themself, “I was tired and injured.”

“Of course you were fucking injured!” He hissed out, “You deserved to be!”

“I know.” Eret hung their head, “I know, Wilbur. I’ve known that all my life.”

“Then you should have given yourself the mercy of death the moment you first turned!”

“You don’t think I tried?!” They both took a breath. They stood in one of the many great halls of Eret’s home, a castle hidden deep within the forest, far from the prying gaze of any mortal. Eret gestured to the portraits of vampires before them, vampires that were absent from the castle. Wilbur and Eret were the only ones in the castle, and in the past few months, Wilbur wondered where Eret’s servants were. Where were the butlers? The maids? The human bloodbanks? “I’m not ancient, but I might as well be. I come from a long ancestry of vampires, but it wasn’t by choice, Wilbur. My… sire�� he was cruel, but he cared for me too much to let me go and die.”

“Where’s your sire now?”

“I don’t know.” Shame danced across Eret’s face, “But I know that I fear death to try again.”

“So you’d rather drink the blood of the innocent? You’d rather be a monster?!”

“It’s been so long, Wilbur. I don’t recall what it is even like to be human.” It was an odd confession, one filled with so much heart that if Wilbur didn’t know that vampires didn’t have beating hearts, he might have fallen for the trick. He scowled instead, disgust ripping throughout his whole being. To think they’d been his closest friend. Instead, they’d turned and betrayed him by turning him into a parasite like them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I get so hungry—”

“Then fucking control it!” It was unreasonable, and they both knew that. Wilbur should know, in the first few days since he’s turning, he kept attacking Eret since his new stomach needed his sire’s blood. He’d gotten better control… but sometimes the hunger would take over him again. Eret never complained. Not like they had any right to, after all, this mess was their fucking fault.

“My dad will come for me.” Wilbur spoke softly, “And when he does, I hope he kills us both.”

“I hope not.” Eret shuddered, “In truth, Wilbur. I don’t want to die.” Wilbur didn’t care.

---

“You’re new. Intriguing, but a bit too humanlike for my taste.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Eret had apologized, but for the evening they were meant to host a gathering for the renowned vampire families within the continent. Wilbur had been forced to wear a yellow suit that had a collar that scratched and irritated his neck. After an hour of being gazed and prodded at, he’d had enough of the gathering and had snuck away to a secluded balcony. Fuck Eret’s reputation. Unfortunately, a nuisance had followed after him.

“What, and humans are as good as livestock for you?”

“What of you? Do you understand that not all vampires kill those that they feed upon?”

“Doesn’t change that you’re all bloodsucking leeches.” He huffed, turning away to gaze into the distance. In the forest, one could see the stars of the night, but the only lights Wilbur wanted to see were of a village far, far away. It’s been years. Phil wasn’t coming for him. Neither was Techno. He rubbed at his wrists, the silence felt nice… but he knew the other vampire hadn’t left.

“That’s your issue. You still act human when you’re no longer one. Haven’t you understood that you’re trapped just like the rest of us… well, the rest of them?” The stranger moved to stand next to him, placing their arms against the cold stone banister. Wilbur took a moment to glance over, his breath catching in his throat. A pair of warm chocolate eyes stared up at him curiously. The stranger wore a light blue suit, and despite Wilbur’s assumption that all vampires were tall, this stranger was short… shorter than Wilbur. He was dressed finely, carrying himself with a strong elegance that only years of nobility could give. The only oddity was the goggles around his neck.

“...what do you mean?”

“I’ve been alive for centuries.” The stranger sighed, “I’m one of the ancients.”

“So you’ve turned many innocents into monsters.” The stranger let out a low laugh, mirthless and tired. It sounded like they’ve been told the same accusation before. Wilbur squirmed right where he stood. In truth, the stranger was far from what he expected an Ancient Vampire to be. Phil had told them that Ancient Vampires were powerful, and that they barely even looked human at all. His dad had never been wrong… and he would never lie. “But you look… normal.”

“Humans and exaggerations.” The stranger rolled his eyes, arching a brow at Wilbur. “Why do you cling to human beliefs? In the end they are inferior… and some are monsters themselves.”

“That’s not true.”

“What? Do you believe that all human misery stems from the existence of vampires?”

The stranger sighed, casting his gaze to the heavens. “Think. Aren’t we all monsters in our own ways?” He paused, catching Wilbur’s eye. “Vampires, humans… we all are monsters. A vampire who kills for the sake of killing and a father who abandons his son to die… both monsters, hm?”

He stayed silent for a long while, letting his heart finally crack under the truth. “I’m Wilbur.”

The stranger scoffed, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m George Lore. A pleasure to meet you.”

---

“He’s an actual angel.”

Wilbur watched his husband cradle the human boy that they had taken from a nearby village, the poor baby looked pale, his breath coming out in short huffs. George had wrapped an orange ribbon around their son’s neck, concealing the bite marks that would begin their son’s transformation. He had wanted to turn the boy himself, but George had intervened. Wilbur had only been a vampire for ten years, he wouldn’t have the self-control to simply bite and not feed.

“He bumped into me.” Wilbur chuckled, “I just knew he was perfect.”

‘It had been odd. His father had stated once before that vampires couldn’t walk underneath the sunlight, but that had been a terrible misconception, one that Eret and George had both laughed at. The idea had stemmed from - actually, they were an ancestor of Eret - a vampire who had had a very dramatic reaction to the sun after decades of being chained inside an underground vault.

Wilbur laughed mirthlessly. Another lie. Maybe vampire hunters were just full of shit.

He walked through the bustling streets of the city, his pace slow and relaxed. He’d gone with Eret to procure a few fruits from the village market, but while Eret’s back was turned, Wilbur snuck away to have a morning stroll around the wooden buildings and through the small alleyways.

Wilbur had slipped into an alleyway when a bright orange blur bumped right onto him. If he had been human, he would have continued on, slightly irritated but unaware of the crime that had just been committed. But he hadn’t been human for so long, and the world to him was a swirl of motion and color. Slow, the present quickly melting into the past. He gripped the hand that had snuck into his pocket, his vice-like grip nearly bruising as he pulled the orange blur to face him. A pained whine escaped the thief, small and so childlike that Wilbur had nearly let them go then and there. He kept his mercy at bay, eyes narrowed dangerously at the cretin who had dared to—

Wide brown eyes flecked with gold stared up at him in fear. The child had collapsed completely in Wilbur’s hold, practically hanging against the hand that was curled around his wrist. Wilbur adjusted his grasp, easing up so as not to hurt the poor child. But he’d been a bit too late. A river of tears cascaded down the child’s cheeks, small whimpers piercing through the quiet air.

“I’m sorry!” The child continued to cry, “Please don’t hurt me! I just… I was so hungry…”

“You were hungry?” The question only made them cry even louder. “Oh no, it’s alright. Shhhh.”

He kneeled so that he was at face-level with the child. “What’s your name, champ?”

“F-Fundy…” The boy sniffed, wiping his nose on the tattered sleeve of his black jacket. Wilbur took in the child’s clothes, the dirt that clung to pale skin… Wilbur didn’t need to ask to know. He gently let go of the child, careful to keep a hand on the child’s back so that he wouldn’t immediately try to run away. Fundy didn’t move, his bottom lip trembling. Wilbur continued to shush him, moving the child so that he was closer to him, enough for Wilbur to catch him in case he tried to run away. Fundy was hungry. Wilbur knew a thing or two about hunger. The boy was still staring at him. He made a quick decision. Wilbur smiled. He and George did want a kid…’

“He was hungry. I couldn’t just leave him, love.”

Wilbur approached George, his husband had placed Fundy back on the huge bed that seemed to swallow him. He was so small. He ran a hand through their son’s curly hair, catching George’s eye as his husband bit into his wrist. Newly made vampires needed their sire’s blood to survive.

“Well,” George placed his wrist above Fundy’s lips. “He won’t go hungry now that we’re here.”

---

Techno sharpened his dagger.

The glow of the fire illuminated the monster’s face, the dark blood that pooled against their pale skin a constant reminder that the person before him was nothing more than a bloodsucking leech upon humanity. He sheathed his dagger, a part of him eager to pierce through the vampire’s skin and tear out their heart. He couldn’t, not yet. They were bait for the Ancient. His actual target.

“He won’t come,” the vampire muttered. “Not for me. We aren’t kin… o-or are you—?”

“I’m here for Lore.” Techno huffed, “Not Brine.”

The beast raised their gaze, the warm fire somehow weaker against the light of their pure white eyes. It was the mark of the Brine Vampire Clan, powerful ancient vampires that once brought chaos upon the world. But to Techno, this particular vampire was more damning than any other vampire in existence. He knew their face, he knew their name. Wilbur had trusted them once, and look where that had gotten him. Mutilated somewhere, a decomposing corpse that would never find its way back home. “You haven’t killed me yet. I would have thought that you…”

“I wish I’d killed you those years ago.” He had been so close. A few inches off the heart. If only his aim hadn’t been so shaky back then, then maybe Wilbur would still be… “I wish I did.”

Tommy had hated him for being late. Their relationship had never recovered after that fateful night. If Techno hadn’t hesitated. If Techno hadn’t froze the moment he realized where the vampire had run off to. If Techno had run just a bit faster. By the time he reached their house, Tommy had collapsed by his and Wilbur’s bedroom door, skin so pale that Techno worried that the vampire had gotten him too. He’d taken one look at the empty bedroom, the white curtains billowing as the night air came from the open window, dark blood left to dry on the carpet. He’d known. He’d known back then. His twin was gone. Devoured by a beast that he’d failed to kill.

“Techno, I am sorry. I can’t help what I am. You injured me, I was injured, bleeding, and scared. My instincts took over. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to hurt Wil.” His hand clenched against the hilt of his blade. He would not listen to such lies. Twenty years. Twenty years since the monster before him took away his twin brother. Twenty years of blaming himself for failing. Phil never blamed him, of course his dad would never blame him. But on bad days, Phil would confuse him for Wilbur finally come back to them. That’s why he’d dyed his hair.

“Senseless apologies do not bring the dead back to life. It does not mend the frayed relationships of a broken family. It does not erase the years of guilt and sorrow. It does not erase the hurt that you caused. You took away a life, and I should take away yours. Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted me to. He was our family’s poet, the one who could see the beauty of the world despite the monsters that lurked within it. I should kill you for the pain you’ve caused my family.” Techno’s hand trembled. The beast stared at him through the orange flame, a perplexed look crossing their face. Of course, they wouldn’t understand human grief. “I’ll have your head after I have Lore’s.”

He took a deep breath. If there had been any other vampire that could bait the Ancient, then Techno would have gladly used them instead. Being around this particular vampire brought forth emotions that he’d buried years ago. There was still a question that was poised at the tip of his tongue, an urge to ask what Eret had done to his twin’s corpse. Had they buried him? Or had they left Wilbur to rot until nature consumed every piece of his body? He wanted to know, but he feared that the vampire would mock him. So, he kept his question unasked. Ignorance was bliss.

---

“Techno.” He froze, hands poised over the silver-lined ropes that kept Eret’s hands tied behind their back. Wilbur had snuck closer into the empty camp, ears desperately trying to catch every little noise, but the fire had rendered his efforts useless. Techno had used the crackle of wood to disguise his footsteps, using it to sneak behind Wilbur, a familiar blade pressed to the side of his neck. The dagger wavered, but it stayed where it was. He took a chance to look behind him.

It was like looking at a mirror, except he didn’t have pink hair. “Wilbur…?”

A flicker of disbelief danced in those emotionless eyes, it surprised him. A part of him looked at his twin, and he could almost feel his old human heart beat inside his chest. He wanted to reach out, pull his brother into a tight embrace. Techno had grown up… and Wilbur knew he was the same age he was when he’d been turned. He was happy to see Techno again, but… the blade lowered from his neck. Yet Techno hesitated. Suddenly, all the bitterness and pain came surging back. Techno didn’t care for him. To his twin brother, he was nothing but another beast to slay.

He gripped the hilt of the dagger, twisting it away from his brother’s grasp before Techno could even fight back. His family had left him for dead. And now Techno was here to kill Eret and George, maybe he’d end up harming Fundy too. Wilbur can’t have that. He won’t lose his family.

Wilbur bared his fangs, “I’ll kill you. Take a single step, Technoblade, and I will tear you open.”

=============================================================

I didn’t mean to... but like, midway while I was writing this I suddenly decided “nah, don’t make the vampires so one-dimensional.” So yeah, a lot of misconceptions on the side of vampire hunters regarding vampires but some vampires still do kill people and most still see themselves as superior to humans. 

Also, yes. Eret is the vampire who took Wilbur because I wanted a bit of angst and I was like: “Hey, make Eret’s betrayal here be the fact that he and Wil are best friends but turns out Eret is a vampire.” Eret never meant to turn Wilbur, but it ended up happening anyway.

Now... about Fundy’s turning... I will leave that ambiguous. While he is in fact an orphan and lives in the streets, it was never mentioned here whether or not he agreed to being turned into a vampire.

Also also, I wasn’t gonna add Techno’s pov but like... “I Didn’t Say Goodbye” from The Mad Ones started playing and I was just: okay, Techno angst time.

I apologize for not adding Tommy but I didn’t know where to put him XD

So yeah, hope you guys liked this!

[riotwritesthings]

I'll cave in (whenever you see fit)

A BIG BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! to @warmachinesocks​

thanks for being you that’s big sexie of you. Here’s a thing.

Winteriron, M, 5k - Vampire!Bucky, human!Tony, an abduction, a rescue, and some dry humping

Bucky knows better than to get involved with a mortal, and he pays the price when Hydra kidnaps his boyfriend. Tony is human, he's questionably in distress, and he is Handling It. (minor violence, surprisingly soft all things considered.)

~~~

Bucky should have known this would happen. Fuck, he should have known.

An immortal should never get involved with a human, that’s rule fucking one because it never ends well for anyone.

Especially not for the human.

But he’s selfish, so fucking selfish, and the first time Tony smiled up at him, open and happy, Bucky knew he was doomed.

He knows something is wrong the second pushes the door open to find the basement apartment completely dark. The only light is the weak streetlight pouring in through the one tiny window, near the ceiling in the kitchen.

Even in the dark, Bucky can easily tell that the place has been trashed, though it is only a subtle difference from the organized chaos Tony usually keeps his workspace in.

The apartment is too quiet, too still, and he knows instantly.

Bucky fucked up. Badly.

Because it had been entirely too easy to get used to the warmth of Tony’s smile, of his skin, the way he so easily made a space for Bucky in his life.

It had been so easy to let himself get comfortable in Tony’s weird basement apartment that’s half home and half machine shop, perfectly Tony. The way the apartment is brightly lit with industrial lights at all hours of the day and night so Tony can see whatever brilliant new invention he’s working on next.

Bucky never had a chance at not getting attached, because in all his years he’s never met anyone like Tony.

Tony is perfect, and brilliant, left with nothing after his father's company was stolen out from under him and Tony just built himself a new life, tries to help wherever he can. He keeps erratic hours and never minds that Bucky comes and goes at all hours of the night, that Bucky can't go out in the daylight.

Bucky hasn’t been in the sun in nearly a thousand years, but with Tony in his arms, so warm and bright and alive, he could almost remember what it felt like.

And now Tony has been taken.

Bucky knew who was responsible even before he found the symbol burned into the wall. It’s Hydra. Of course it is, and those bastards won’t care that he’s human, that he never should have been involved in any of this, all they’ll care about is hurting Bucky as much as they can.

And they picked exactly the right target.

Hydra has been after him for nearly as long as Bucky has been not-alive, determined to wipe out all vampires at any cost. Even once the war was over, even after all the other hunter’s guilds signed the peace treaty, Hydra refused to give up their mission and for some reason they’ve taken a personal vendetta against Bucky. Probably because he’s evaded them so many times.

And now they have Tony.

The thing is that Bucky hasn't really known Tony that long, not even by human standards, but he is completely, irretrievably in love. He’s ready to burn the whole world down to get Tony back, even if Tony never forgives him for it.

But he’s not going to be able to find where Tony is being held, not on his own. Not in time.

The downside to immortal friends though, is that Bucky hasn’t actually seen any of them in years, because what’s a couple decades between centuries old beings? Steve is back in Europe for a while, working on his painting, and Bucky hasn’t seen Natalia in nearly fifty years now, which means she probably won’t turn back up for another fifty.

There is one more option, Bucky is just less than thrilled about it.

It’s no secret that the other hunter’s guilds don’t approve of Hydra’s methods, the amount of collateral damage they leave in their wake. The lengths they’re willing to go to.

Like kidnapping innocent humans.

It’s definitely still a stretch to hope they’ll be willing to help someone like Bucky find Hydra, but he has to try.

And he does have one idea of where to start.

Bucky and Sam don’t like each other very much, and that’s been the standing opinion for the last decade. Which for a hunter and vampire, is basically a lifelong friendship.

It’s at least enough that Bucky can show up at Sam’s door without immediately getting himself staked.

The door flies open and Bucky blinks, because it never fails to surprise him how old Sam has gotten. Every time, Bucky is a little bit expecting Sam-as-he-met-him, still a kid, on his first hunt and clearly terrified but so determined to save the world, so idealistic. And now he’s so jaded, older and tired and it’s just one more reminder of just how badly Bucky has fucked up.

Tony is going to go cold and tired and it will be all Bucky’s fault.

“You’re here about Hydra,” Sam says flatly, no preamble, and at least that answers Bucky’s question about whether or not Sam even knows that Hydra is setting up camp in his territory.

"Tell me where they are," Bucky demands, resisting the urge to flash his fangs just yet because he's not here to threaten answers out of anyone. Not unless he has to.

Although he doesn't find it encouraging that Sam doesn't answer, just clenches his jaw and swings the door open a little wider, letting Bucky see that the extra heartbeat he hears belongs to Clint. Standing in the hallway with a crossbow in hand.

Bucky lets his lip curl up a little, because apparently this is going to be that kind of conversation.

“What do they have against you, anyways?" Clint asks conversationally, like he's not holding a loaded weapon with an expression that says he'd really like to use it. "Seems very personal at this point."

“What, you want the entire list?” Bucky snaps and finds that he is more than willing to give the whole sordid story if that's what it takes.

But he doesn't have the time for that, Tony doesn't have the time.

Instead he grits his teeth and demands “Tell me where they would take a human hostage."

It has the desired effect, both of the hunters tense and Clint’s eyes go wide, and maybe now they’ll realize that this isn’t about him.

The only thing that matters is Tony, and Bucky doesn’t even care that he’s not just admitting to that weakness, he’s basically screaming it from the rooftops by telling them. Doesn’t care that Sam’s eyes narrow in painful understanding.

“We can’t tell you that,” Sam says and he really does sound regretful, but Bucky snarls because that is not what he wants to hear. “Even if we don’t agree with what they’ve done, they’re still—“

“If you don’t tell me, I will kill you,” Bucky interrupts, his voice low and harsh and it’s gratifying to hear the spike in heart rates, it means he still has a chance of convincing them, whether by threat or force.

“Barnes—“ Sam tries to interrupt, but Bucky doesn’t have time for this.

“And then I’ll find out where he is anyways,” Bucky promises, “the only thing you’ll accomplish is slowing me down.”

“You wouldn’t,” Clint says, but he doesn’t sound sure and his grip on the crossbow is white-knuckled, “you’ll start a war you can never come back from.”

“Try me,” Bucky hisses, flashes his teeth and lets his eyes flare. He wants them to know how deadly serious he is.

Clint raises his crossbow, but Sam sighs.

“In the old warehouse district,” Sam says, shoulders tight with anger and fear, “on the far west edge of the city.”

“You’ll regret this,” Clint calls after him as he stalks away, but Bucky knows that he won’t.

Not if he can just get to Tony in time. Nothing matters beyond making sure his selfishness doesn’t get Tony killed. He doesn’t care what it costs, Bucky is more than willing to leave everything and go on the run again, all he cares about is making sure Tony is alive to hate him.

Sam’s information is good, so at least Bucky won’t have to go back when he’s done here.

He’s been dealing with Hydra for centuries now, and Bucky can easily identify the abandoned factory as a Hydra base. It’s the new bars over the windows, the reinforced doors, the impression of movement just below the surface of the dilapidated building.

He only has a couple hours before the sun comes up, and then he’ll be trapped in the building with who knows how many Hydra hunters. He has to find Tony and get out as quickly as possible.

He has to make sure that at least gets Tony out.

Hydra are still setting up their bases more or less the same way they always have, the same holes in security, and getting into the building is easy. Finding the makeshift holding cells is even easier, on the south-most side of the building, but the problem is that all of the cells are empty.

The entire wing of the factory seems to be empty and there’s fresh blood splattered across the walls and the floor, still wet and shining in the fluorescent lights.

The building is too filled with the smell of mold and decay for him to tell whose blood it is, for him to have a hope of picking out the familiar sweet tang that means Tony.

He can hear the sounds of commotion in the distance, what sounds like screams and gunshots further into the factory. It’s the same direction the trail of spilled blood is leading, and Bucky grits his teeth as he follows it.

The base is nearly deserted. Bucky only sees a couple hunters as he follows the sounds of the fight. Everyone he runs into is scrambling for weapons or the exits, and they don’t seem to be expecting him at all. They seem like they’re afraid of something else entirely, like they’re trying to escape.

Bucky doesn’t let them.

They took Tony, and he doesn’t even want to let himself imagine what they’ve done to him. On the slim chance he manages to get Tony out of here, Bucky can’t have any of them going after him again.

He has to make sure they never even think about going after Tony again.

The sounds of screams get louder as he moves into the heart of the warehouse, up the stairs to the offices. The blood is thicker here, splattered across the walls and the floors with evidence of a struggle. Smeared like someone has been dragged down the long hallway kicking and fighting.

With every empty room and bloody handprint he passes his rage grows, and by the time Bucky reaches the last door all he can see is red.

He slams in the door so hard that it splinters apart, chunks of cheap plywood flying everywhere. There’s a smell in the air like acrid smoke, like melting electronics and fire and blood, nearly overwhelming.

Bodies litter the room, dead and dying, but all he sees is Tony.

Bucky has spent the last four hours trying not to let himself imagine all sorts of horrible things. Tony hurt, Tony dead, bleeding, tortured, screaming. Rightfully cursing Bucky for getting him into this mess, rightfully wishing they'd never met.

He’s not prepared for what he actually finds.

Tony is alive, bloodied and bruised but so vibrantly alive, a knife in his hand and a vicious smile on his face as he plunges it into the chest of a Hydra hunter.

Bucky freezes uselessly in the doorway, watching in awe as Tony rips the knife free again, paying no mind to the spray of blood as he spins on his heel. Buries his blade in the gut of someone trying to creep up behind him.

And all at once it’s over.

The room goes still as the last hunter falls with Tony’s knife in his neck, Tony’s knees against his chest baring him down to the ground.

Bucky doesn’t even need to breathe, but still he finds himself choking on air as he watches Tony slowly right himself again, looking over all the destruction he’s caused.

Then Tony looks up, catches sight of him, and the expression on his face shifts from cold and vicious to warm and happy in an instant. Bucky’s cold dead heart lurches in his chest.

“Hey sweetheart, about time you got here,” Tony says, tossing him a jaunty wave with the knife still in hand.

Bucky crosses the room almost in a daze, headless of the blood that slicks the floor and the bodies he has to step over. All he can see is Tony and as soon as he’s close enough he traces his fingers reverently along the line of Tony’s jaw, ghosting over the dark bruise starting to form.

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, nonsensically, leaning into Bucky’s hands on him like Bucky isn’t the most dangerous thing in the room.

And hell maybe he’s not, Bucky certainly doesn’t feel dangerous. Not faced with Tony’s bright eyes and warm skin.

He feels weak, feels completely undone.

Bucky laughs, soft and strangled, and he hasn’t been cold in centuries but his hands are shaking as he cups Tony’s face in his palms.

“No,” he chokes out around another laugh, because he’s not okay, not anywhere close. “I thought- I didn’t know if you were- Tony--”

“Hey, hey,” Tony cuts him off, pulling him in closer and tucking Bucky’s face down into the curve of his neck. Where Bucky can hear the rapid thump of his heart, smell the adrenaline and the sweat that clings to his skin beneath all the blood.

And oh god there’s so much blood, covering Tony’s skin and his clothes and the room around them. Bucky can barely smell Tony through it and he tucks his face a little harder into the hollow of Tony’s throat.

“I’m okay,” Tony promises, fingers of one hand pressing into Bucky’s hair, his other hand resting on Bucky’s side and still wrapped tightly around the knife. Still prepared, and Bucky has never loved him more.

He drags his tongue up the line of Tony’s neck, through smears and splatters of blood. It’s almost a disappointment, definitely a thrill, that none of it is Tony’s.

“What did you- how did you even-“ Bucky keeps interrupting himself, can’t get a full thought out. He’s too concerned with lifting his head and pressing his lips to every inch of Tony’s perfect, unharmed face.

“I keep telling you, I’m a bad bitch,” Tony says, that beautiful smug grin on his face and Bucky just has to taste it.

Tony melts into it so easily when Bucky kisses him, his hands demanding but so gentle, like the room around them isn’t full of carnage. Like Tony isn’t the one who put it there, like he doesn’t have a care in the world except letting Bucky lick into his mouth, taste the adrenaline and determination and life straight from his lips.

Bucky has never tasted anything like it, has never met anyone like Tony, and he could have lost this.

He has to get closer, closer. He doesn’t even realize he’s backing Tony across the room until the back of Tony’s thighs hit a metal table, and Bucky just keeps pushing. Until the table clangs against the wall, until Tony is bent backwards over the surface.

Bucky follows him down, breathing him in, pressing between Tony’s thighs and still trying to get closer.

The table clatters, covered in knives and crossbows and stakes and Bucky doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. It doesn’t matter how much noise he makes now, Tony is the only living person in the warehouse, the only heartbeat on this rundown block. The only thing Bucky needs to worry about.

He certainly doesn’t give a fuck about the bodies that still litter the floor except that none of them are Tony, thatTony put them there.

Bucky doesn’t care about the bridges he’s burned, has never cared less about the impending sunrise. All that matters is Tony.

And Tony isn’t pushing him away, isn’t complaining. He just hooks one leg over Bucky’s hip and arches up against him, finally dropping his knife to drag both palms up Bucky’s back, pulling him in closer.

Tony is so warm beneath him, wrapped around him, always pulling Bucky in when he should be pushing him away.

“Fuck,” Tony sighs against his lips, one hand in Bucky’s hair again. Tony’s legs tighten around his waist, entire body rolling against Bucky’s, his voice shaking slightly as he says “I was so worried about you.”

Bucky wants to laugh again, because that’s soTony, worrying about Bucky while abducted and fighting for his life. Caring about Bucky in the first place when he should have run, should still be running, should leave Bucky far behind and never think about him again.

Nevermind that the idea has pain lancing through Bucky’s chest like he didn’t even think was possible anymore. He’d take the pain of losing Tony happily if he knew it meant Tony would be safe.

He will walk away, once they get out of here, that’s what Bucky tells himself. He just has to breathe Tony in this one last time and then he’ll walk away.

If Tony will let him. Which doesn’t seem likely, so far Tony has seemed determined to stay by Bucky’s side no matter what, and Bucky can never deny him anything.

The warehouse might be empty now but there’s no telling how long it’ll be before more hunters show up, and they should be getting out of here, Bucky knows that. But he can’t tear himself away from Tony’s warmth, from Tony’s hands moving over him.

Bucky can’t stop thinking that he could have lost this. That if he hadn’t found Tony alive and well Bucky would have made an even bigger mess. There would be no end to the carnage.

When he pulls away from the kiss Tony is panting raggedly and if Bucky had the spare brain power he’d feel bad about that but oh, he really doesn’t right now. Doesn’t care about anything but pressing his lips to Tony’s blood-splattered cheek swearing “I never would have stopped looking for you, never.”

“I know,” Tony promises, still trying to pull Bucky back into another kiss despite the way his words come out weak and breathy, his chest heaving against Bucky’s and his heart thundering.

So alive, alive, alive.

“I’d have done anything to get you back,” Bucky growls, dragging one hand down Tony’s side to his hip, digging his fingers in and shifting them until he can feel the hot brand of Tony’s cock against his hip.

“Fuck!” Tony gasps and the scent of his adrenaline spikes higher, turns sweet and warm as his fingers tighten in Bucky’s hair. “I know, I know, c’mon honey--”

And Bucky can’t say no to that, can never deny Tony anything.

Still, even as he lets Tony haul his face up again Bucky can’t stop the words from spilling out, his voice an awful snarl as he says “and if they’d hurt you--”

It’s probably for the best that Tony slams their lips together again and cuts him off, he doesn’t need to know all the monstrous things Bucky would do in his name. Much better to just let Tony kiss him, let Tony flick his warm tongue over Bucky’s blood smeared lips and the tips of his fangs, like he doesn’t have a fear in the world.

Tony’s heart rate kicks up harder, his next inhale weak and ragged against Bucky’s lips and Bucky forces himself to pull away. He lets Tony catch his breath and moves on to biting his way along Tony’s jaw, not enough to break the skin, just enough to get the taste of his skin on Bucky’s lips.

He tastes like sweat and arousal and need, so much love pouring off of him that Bucky can practically taste it. He’ll never get enough of it, doesn’t ever think he’ll stop being caught off guard by it.

“I told you,” Tony pants out when he finally gets his breath back and for a second Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, too distracted with the wet drag of Tony’s lips over his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Tony says, one of his hands landing on Bucky’s ass to pull him in closer, harder, arching up into the demanding roll of Bucky’s hips as he moans out “‘m not gonna let anything happen to you either.”

Bucky laughs raggedly, grits his teeth, presses his face into the curve of Tony’s throat and the craziest part is that Bucky believes him. As crazy as it is he has no problem believing that Tony is equally ready to burn the world down. That the bloodbath around them is only the start of what Tony would have done.

The heat building between them is so intense that even Bucky feels warm, feels like he’s burning. Like he’s absorbing all that wonderful warmth and still Tony has so much to give, never runs out of it, never pushes him away.

Bucky growls, lifts his head to make it easier to resist the urge to sink his teeth in and instead rolls his hips against Tony’s, swallows Tony’s shaking moan with another fierce kiss. “You’re so- fuck, gorgeous, the way you looked tearing thorugh them--” Bucky can’t even find the words to describe it but Tony’s scent spikes, proud and smug and fond.

So damn addictive.

He can feel the needy throb of Tony’s cock against his hip, against his own when Bucky shifts a little more, and he grinds himself down against Tony. Chasing the shocks of heat and pleasure that shoot through his system everytime Tony jerks beneath him, everytime Tony cires out and drags in a ragged breath and then clings to Bucky harder, pulling him in and rocking up against him, so alive. Tony’s heels digging into the back of his thighs, hands moving restlessly over Bucky’s skin, sliding up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and leaving burning trails in his wake.

Tony feels so amazing wrapped around him, so alive, warm and demanding as his fingers dig into Bucky’s skin, his breath escaping in gasps and moans. The impossible heat between them continues to grow, until Bucky is sure it’s going to burn him away entirely, he can’t possibly survive something like this.

He can’t possibly keep it, not something like him.

“Bucky,” Tony whines and he’s shaking now, blood roaring through his veins. So close to Bucky’s fangs as he drags his lips up Tony’s throat.

“C’mon baby,” Bucky growls, clenching his teeth against the urge to bite, “lemme feel you sweet thing, wanna hear you.”

“I’m-” Tony gasps and then cuts off with a keening moan as Bucky pins him down more firmly, grinds against him harder. Tony tries to wiggle a hand between their bodies but Bucky grabs his wrist, presses Tony’s hand to the table beside his head.

“Just like this,” Bucky pleads, his own cock throbbing as he slows the rock of his hips, dragging his cock firmly along Tony’s until he shakes. “Just like this baby, wanna watch you make an even bigger mess of yourself, wanna fuckin’ lick you clean when we get home.”

It’s a nice thought, even if Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll actually get a chance, has no idea what’s going to happen next. At least the idea of it has Tony moaning louder, arching up against Bucky’s grip on his hip and on his wrist, always trying to get closer.

“Bucky, Bucky-” Tony wails beneath him, nails digging into Bucky’s skin, thighs tightening around Bucky’s hips, and Bucky can feel the way Tony’s breath catches in his chest. The way his heart pounds as he drags in one more breath and then breaks.

And this, this is Bucky’s favorite sound, the way Tony’s voice cracks on a loud moan as he falls apart, the stuttering jump-skip of his heartbeat. Hundreds of years wandering the earth and he’s never heard anything like it, could happily listen to all the sounds Tony makes for the rest of his endless life.

“Bucky,” Tony sighs, dazed and slurred, fingers still tight in Bucky’s hair even as his entire body shakes. “Fuck, c’mon honey, I’m right here, let me have it, let me feel you.”

He can hear Tony’s thundering heartbeat like it’s his own, can practically taste it on his tongue, and a feral sound rumbles out of Bucky’s chest as he tips over the edge, snarling against the all too delicate skin of Tony’s throat and clutching at him tighter, tighter.

“I love you,” Bucky confesses in a voice that’s so broken it’s practically a whisper, like his greatest secret. The worst thing he’s ever done.

They need to leave, need to get the hell out of here. Bucky should probably leave the city entirely, go back on the move, leave Tony far behind where he won’t get hurt.

That’s the plan.

He knows all that, but Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to let go, can’t stop kissing Tony over and over and over, feeling the warmth of Tony’s skin beneath his hands. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“Come on,” Tony breathes against his lips, “we gotta get out of here before the sun comes up.”

Bucky groans, but he knows Tony is right. He can feel the approaching dawn in his bones and the last thing he wants is to be trapped in a Hydra base full of corpses all day. Or to still be here when more hunters show up, to have to leave through the sewers.

So he reluctantly pushes himself upright, mourning the way Tony’s lingering warmth starts to fade as soon as they’re not pressed together anymore. Tony’s hand is so much steadier than his own as Bucky helps him to his feet, so warm and alive and unafraid.

Bucky wants to pull him into another kiss. Wants to drop to his knees and press his face to the wet patch slowly spreading across the front of Tony’s jeans, taste him, lick him clean just like Bucky had promised. Doesn’t want to face the real world just yet because that means facing the fact that he has to leave.

That he doesn’t get to keep this.

Tony’s hand is still steady in his, his smile small and fond and he leads Bucky out of the warehouse, through the room of bodies and the bloodsplattered halls. Bucky pulls them to a stop just outside the heavy door he’d ripped his way through, paying no mind to the lightening color of the sky.

Burning to dust would hurt less than this.

“I need to leave,” Bucky says, the words tearing their way out of his throat, “I may have... made some threats. In order to find you. And Hydra isn’t going to stop as long as I’m here.”

He hasn’t even told Tony why Hydra is so determined to ruin his afterlife, not entirely, and now he doesn’t have time. Tony has been dragged into Bucky’s mess and he’ll never know why, and the only upside is Hydra will blame the bloody mess inside on Bucky. They’ll hunt for him more furiously than ever, and the best thing Bucky can do is lead them far, far away.

This is why not getting involved with humans is rule fucking one but Bucky doesn’t regret it, knows he never will. And as much as it kills him he can’t ask Tony to come with him.

Tony nods, like he expected it, and then asks “where are we going, and how long do I have to pack whatever’s left of my apartment?”

Bucky gapes at him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t need to ask, and Bucky knows he should be relieved but all he feels is guilt. He loves Tony, but at what cost? He would do anything for Tony, and Bucky is ruining his life.

“You- your home,” Bucky tries to protest, his entire body going cold, colder than anything he’s ever felt before. “Your workshop--”

“You saying I can’t rebuild?” Tony interrupts, “I’m insulted, honestly. How dare you doubt me.” His smile is wide, and cajoling, like he’s trying to cheer Bucky up. Like he’s trying to convince Bucky.

“You’ll have to leave everything,” Bucky insists and maybe he does need convincing. It feels a little like he’s lost his mind, like he’s dreaming. He had a plan. “Your entire life, to hide with me, I can’t- I can’t promise the next time you’ll even see the sun.”

Bucky doesn’t need to breathe but he’s wheezing for breath now, his empty chest aching it’s so full of confusion and guilt and hope. He can’t let Tony do this, he can’t ask for this, he can’t--

Tony grabs Bucky’s face in his warm hands, palms calloused and still tacky with blood, as steady as they are when he’s building the future. As steady as they were around the knife, as when he was leading Bucky out of the bloodbath.

“Bucky,” Tony says simply, dark eyes so impossibly bright even in the sickly fluorescent light that spills out of the warehouse. “Bucky,” he repeats, low and sweet and amused, his voice wavering slightly as says “You are my sunshine.”

Bucky laughs again, can’t believe how much he’s laughed on a night that started out with his absolute worst nightmare. Even if it is a little hysterical.

He had a plan, but he also knew better than to get involved with a human, knew better than to stay in one place this long in the first place. Tony has been wrecking all of his plans without even knowing it for months now anyways.

What’s one more.

“You’re stealin’ all my lines,” Bucky accuses but he doesn’t mind, oh he doesn’t mind at all. He gets to keep this, keep Tony, the brightest thing he’s ever seen.

“I love you,” Tony says, so matter-of-fact, and it almost knocks Bucky’s legs out from under him. Every single time.

“That’s my line,” Bucky says, and he smiles, and his hand is steady as he wraps it around Tony’s wrist. “I love you,” he says anyways and tangles their fingers together, doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. “Let’s go.”

[staringatthesky11]

Some (not really spoilery or in depth) thoughts on Midnight Sun...

Edward. So pompous and dramatic and emo and angst-ridden and all just so gloriously Edward! He’s utterly ridiculous, and for a mind reader he is mind bogglingly imperceptive. I will never see him the way I think SM wants me to. 

LOVED the Alice and Jasper content. So much more clarity on her visions and what she sees and how they work and how they fail! Same for Jasper’s gift and how he is seen by others - whole new insight into him for me and I’m intrigued. Already wanting to be inspired with plots because I’d love to explore this in my writing at some point. Totally did not expect to love those two in this book the way I did.

Esme...ugh. We all know Edward’s her favourite, but seriously? She seemed to revere him to level that was disturbingly creepy in this book. He is not the second coming.

I did appreciate all the flashbacks and Cullen history bits that came into it - I’ve always been here for that. The family, the vampirism, the complex history...it’s always grabbed me more than the romance. 

Rosalie and Emmett....well.

Look, we all know I was never that likely to LIKE it. I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words of fanfic basically saying that when it comes to Rosalie, Edward has it WRONG - I half didn’t even want to read this book because I just wasn’t sure that I wanted 700+ pages of Edward shitting all over my girl. 

And to be fair, there was some good bits. A couple of conversations. She lets go with some good insults. 

But I am definitely left with the same frustrations as always. Rosalie is demonised for the same things that others are praised for. Her focus is Emmett, and whether he is going to be hurt in the whole situation, and Edward is scathing about her selfishness. Never mind that he’s putting everyone else in danger because BELLA’S safety is the only thing HE cares about. Jasper would sacrifice anything to keep Alice safe and that’s honourable, but Rosalie feels that way for Emmett and she’s vilified for it. Rosalie sees so much value in humanity over vampirism that grief over losing it has coloured her whole unlife and she’s viewed as being bitter and a harpy, but Edward values humanity over vampirism so much that he would deny Bella her wish and let her die an old woman before killing himself and he’s the great romantic hero?

I have always been deeply uncomfortable with the anti-sex bent towards Rosalie and Emmett, and that was definitely there in this book. Rosalie and Emmett’s relationship can be obnoxious (and yes, that part I agree with - no one necessarily wants to be around other people’s public displays of affection!) but it is very clear that Edward sees it as somehow lesser, somewhat icky and dirty and distasteful that sex is a big part of the way they are together. (And yet BELLA being physically attracted to him, physically reacting to him, physically WANTING him...that’s different???) Nothing is said about Carlisle/Esme and Alice/Jasper and what they do or don’t get up together physically - we only get told that Rosalie and Emmett do it a lot and Edward finds that repugnant. 

Tangentially related (it’s about sex, but not the good kind) but Edward’s rage and fury about what almost happened to Bella in Port Angeles also plays into this. Bella’s innocence was nearly besmirched and he’s gone berserk, but does he ever actually think that all those things he saw happening to her, all that horror and brutality and violation....Rosalie LIVED it. IT HAPPENED TO HER. No one showed up in a shiny Volvo to rescue her. And she lives with that trauma every single day of her unlife, and Edward gives her no quarter for how that might affect her. 

The relationship of Rosalie with both Emmett and the rest of their family is something else that has always bothered me, and Midnight Sun did not make me feel any better about it. Midnight Sun’s Emmett is a good brother to Edward, but he is also basically presented as a simpleton. All we see of his relationship with Rosalie is him being the long suffering husband putting up with her hysterics and temper. There was even that very telling switch in something Emmett says to Rosalie, where in the leaked version he called her ‘baby’ and in this new version he calls her ‘gorgeous’. It’s a single word, changing it shouldn’t have any real impact, and yet it does. ‘Baby’ in that context is playful, it’s affectionate, it’s personal, it’s loving...and yet we now get ‘gorgeous’, which once again reduces Rosalie to nothing more than her appearance and their relationship back to the superficial.   

And sorry, but you’re not with someone for seventy years because you think they’re hot and good in bed...there HAS to be more to it than that, but Edward doesn’t seem to think so.

Rosalie also goes against the rest of the family a lot in this one, and we see her being the scapegoat. It is repeatedly shown that her feelings, her opinions, her personal agency, all rank FAR below Edward’s in the family hierarchy and everyone supports that disparity. (And yes okay, when her opinion is that murdering a child is a good way forward she probably *should* be the one to give in! But why is Bella watching the family baseball game more important than Rosalie playing in it? Why, when Edward throws the family all into danger and breaks all the rules is ROSALIE the unreasonable one when she points out the potential for harm?) 

It is made abundantly clear by Edward that no one in the family particularly likes Rosalie, that they all just put up with her temper (mostly for Emmett’s sake? Because of Carlisle’s guilt?)...it really seems like they tolerate her being part of the family at best. And for someone whose characterisation has them breathing admiration like air, would that ever be bearable? To spend the vast majority of your time with a family who would be perfectly content without you? I can’t see it. 

Okay, that was more depth than i meant to go into! But what can I say? I have FEELINGS here! 

Oh, and maybe I’m the only one but quite honestly I am digging that pomegranate cover. It is almost nauseating but just the visual of it so perfectly sums up Twilight vampirism for me...this ghastly thread of unavoidably grotesque horror hidden under the veneer of exquisite beauty and civility!

And also because in the medieval Twilight/ New Moon combo rewrite I did, the only time I’ve ever written Edward and Bella, a fucking POMEGRANATE was the central object of my plot! It was the pomegranate that led to the alternate birthday scene (where Jasper tries to kill her) and Edward leaves her and everything unravels in a different way and and and.... 

And when I wrote that I read all this pomegranate symbolism and was like oh yeah, it’s got to be one of those. I didn’t even write any of the symbolism in, it was one of those things that I thought no one except me would ever even think about and yet here I am, and EDWARD FUCKING CULLEN is rambling on about pomegranates and symbolism and how it relates to his life and I feel like a goddess, lmao. 

[masonscig]

attached series | part two: envy

pairing | mason x detective x felix [detective sofía olmos]

word count | 3.8k

tags | @choicesarehard ; @pixelsandkink ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @messofakind ; @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy ; @cellophanesheep ; @senatorraines ; @beccadavenport ; @wayhavenschronicles ; @hudush ; @pumpkinpeng ; @knightava ; @thebobbyfish ; @agentnate ; @admdmrtn ; @losingface (lmk if you want to be removed)

author’s note | omg i can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me that people liked the first part, as bare bones as it was since i didn’t really have an idea then but i definitely do now! i’m obsessed with writing felix AND mason so this has been soooo much fun. thank you if you’ve read this !!!! i hope you enjoy it :)

read on ao3

•─────────────────•

He strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets to give the illusion that he didn’t give a shit, when he was most definitely on edge. His fingers flicked his lighter open and closed against the twill lining of his pockets, trying to focus on the soft clicking noise it made instead of the swarm of thoughts clouding his conscience.

He still couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

So what, she didn’t try to contact him the past week? He didn’t give a shit. He had bigger things to worry about.

Like his job. And the next piece of ass he was going to conquer.

He had an ample selection of people to choose from, inside the Agency and outside of it. All he had to do was pick his target, turn on a bit of his whorish charm, and – nine times out of ten – they were putty in his hands.

It was baffling to him that since meeting her, when he caught someone staring at him, the familiar glimmer of hunger in their eyes, he felt nothing.

Sofía had burrowed her way into his subconscious and wouldn’t get the fuck out no matter how many distractions he created for himself. 

He rounded the corner, picking up speed to push through the large wooden door leading to the meeting area.

Despite everything, his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing her again. Not that he’d admit it, but he was… mildly excited.

––––

He plopped onto the cushiony sofa, swivelling so that he could lay back and prop his legs up on the arm rest, folding his arms behind his head.

“Am I doing the Ferris Bueller pose right?” He grinned, wiggling his ankles.

Nate sighed, pointing to his feet.

“Yeah, aren’t my new sneakers sick? I wanted the Marty McFly shoes but they were so expensive so Sofia helped me pick a knock off instead,” he beamed, extending his leg towards Nate. “Wanna touch ‘em?”

“Please get your feet off the couch, Felix,” he commanded gently, licking the tip of his finger to flip the worn page of his dense book.

“Awe, you’re no fun. If I put my feet on the ground, who’s gonna see ‘em?”

“This isn’t show-and-tell, Felix. This meeting has a purpose,” Adam said from the corner of the room, standing rigid against the wall.

“Every meeting is show-and-tell if you have something new, like my shoes,” he wiggled his brows, leaning forward to untie and retie his shoes for the hundredth time, trying to get the loops just right.

“Seems like you had a good time with Sofía yesterday,” Nate murmured, glancing over the cover of his book, a soft smile on his lips.

Felix’s grin stretched wider at the mention of the detective’s name.

He’d had more than a good time with Sofía at the mall. He’d had the best time.

They’d spent nearly the whole week together, binge watching films to cheer her up. He didn’t really have the attention span to watch movies, but sharing a blanket with her, fingers grazing when they both went for the kettle corn at the same time… it was straight out of a rom-com.

He didn’t really get the hype of kettle corn, but people were supposed to eat it to enjoy movies more… right? He could care less about how shitty it tasted as long as he could spend more time with her.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with me like… this for the past few days, but I really appreciate it,” she smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got to make it up to you somehow.”

“Hmm,” he mused, screwing his lips to the side of his face. “Nope. I’m just happy we’ve gotten to hang out. You’re always so busy!”

“You say that like you’re not a whole ass supernatural being that works for a secret agency,” she raised a brow at him, the smile still tugging at her lips.

“Touche, touche. I’ll give you that, human,” he said, pushing his brows together like he was trying to sound commanding.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that ‘human’ talk. You know you love our pop culture way too much to talk down to me like that,” she laughed, pretending to shove his shoulder.

“Yeah, I really do,” he laughed. “There’s so much I wanna do that I haven’t been able to with all of this ‘lay low’ shit. Sometimes it makes me wish I had a past human life I could remember like Nate or Adam, ya know?” He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, when it clearly was something that passed through his mind often.

She shifted on the couch, looking a little uncomfortable. Oh no, he thought. I should’ve just kept that in. There I go again, oversharing when I don’t even know if she cares –

“Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”

“Huh?” His focus was torn away from overthinking.

“If you’ve got a bucket list, I can try to help you check some things off,” she shrugged, tossing a few pieces of kettle corn into her mouth, crunching softly.

“What’s that?”

“Like, a list of things you wanna do before you die. Things you wanna do before you kick the bucket.”

“Well…” Felix trailed off, shrugging. “I don’t know why I’d kick a bucket, but I’m not dying anytime soon… or ever.”

Sofía snorted, the sound reverberating off of her apartment walls. “That’s an idiom, Felix.”

“Hey, you don’t have to call me names,” he pouted, brows furrowed.

An even louder laugh ripped from Sofía, her chest heaving as she cackled. “Felix – Felix, please –” She wiped the tears from her eyes, barely able to catch her breath.

He was a little upset at that.

He didn’t have a chance to learn all the stuff he wanted about humans. Nate really only taught him what he thought was important for Felix to know – boring things, like literature and etiquette.

She must’ve noticed him frowning, because her laughter tapered off, looking guilty as soon as she realized he didn’t get it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just messing with you. You’re the funniest guy I know, seriously. And you don’t even try.”

A smile bloomed across his features, a warmth blanketing him, so comforting that he didn’t think the crisp fall wind could make him shiver.

She thought he was funny. The one thing he was good at without being taught.

“Thanks,” he murmured, looking away from her. Did he sense a blush coming on? Wow, that’s a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. But maybe not as of recently, since his cheeks burned around her way more than he’d like to admit.

“Well,” he said, after a brief silence. “I don’t really know where to start.”

She pushed her brows together, her glasses sliding down her nose, which she pushed back in place with a finger. “Hmm… is there anything from the movies we watched that excited you?”

He flipped through images in his brain, trying to pin down things he was drawn to from the movies they’d binged. His eyes lit up the moment he settled on an idea.

“I wanna go to the mall, you know, like in Chopping Mall, except we don’t get killed. I’ve never been to one before.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You’ve never been? Like… ever?”

He shrugged. “I kinda had to stay inside until I learned, uh, what are they called?” He snapped his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut while he racked his brain for the phrase he couldn’t recall. “Social cues! Yeah I was terrible at that at the beginning. Couldn’t go two seconds without bringing up home and the fact that I’m… ya know.” He gestured to himself.

“A vampire?”

“I was gonna say devastatingly handsome, but that fits too,” he grinned as she playfully threw a piece of kettle corn at him.

His smile fell a bit. “I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

“You’ve got forever, right?” She asked hopefully.

He sighed. “Yeah, but when you’ve already missed so much of human history you kinda want to learn more. Nate and Adam and even Mason have cool stories that I can’t even compare to. I want that.”

He pretended not to see her flinch slightly at the mention of Mason. God, Felix, your one job was to distract her. Good work.

“Well, we’re just gonna have to make our own history, huh?” She said softly, gently placing her hand on his arm, a sweet smile on her face.

She was beautiful. He’d seen the movies – he knew exactly how he was supposed to feel when he saw the person he wanted. And for him, when he looked at her, the fireworks were firing off in the background.

He barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch her face. Just barely.

When they finally made it to the mall in the city, after pulling a Ferris Beullers’ (they lied to say they were going downtown to patrol when they were ditching), Felix practically skipped up and down the waxed linoleum flooring, in awe, like a child in a candy shop.

With comically large eyes, face pressed up against the window, he spotted the Marty McFly-esque sneakers and dragged Sofía inside.

So, the shoes meant a lot to him. A symbol of his favorite day in Wayhaven – well, technically outside of Wayhaven, but Adam didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah. I had a great time patrolling.”

––––

Mason pushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the rest of the team’s presence as he retreated to his usual corner, next to a one person armchair.

He tried drowning out Felix and Nate’s incessant chattering, the noise nagging at him like a toothache.

His hand reflexively reached for his back pocket, nearly about to grab a cigarette from the pack. Much to his annoyance, he was reminded that he’d left them in his room, since she was going to be there.

He settled for flicking the lighter again, lips curling into a sneer every time Felix laughed a little too loud. 

His senses were suffering. His head was getting cloudier and cloudier with each passing second.

When the fuck was she gonna show?

Before he could leave to retrieve his cigarettes, Sofía shouldered her way through the heavy door, struggling a little beneath the weight, her bangs falling in front of her glasses.

She looked a little disheveled, like she’d just woken up, but not messy. She was well put together all the time, like every single item she wore was meticulously chosen; she made it look effortless, nevertheless.

It always made him proud of how quickly he could turn her into a writhing mess, and that he was the only one that saw that side of her.

He bit back a smirk, shifting his weight so his hip propped up against the arm of the chair, expecting her to plop next to him.

So when her hazel eyes focused on Felix first, he couldn’t help but grimace.

Her face lit up, and she rushed over to the sofa, passing Mason and Nate, while keeping her attention focused solely on Felix.

“You wore the shoes!” She grinned, dropping her bag on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m just breaking them in,” he said, wiggling his feet, still splayed out on the couch.

She plopped onto his legs, making Felix laugh out loud. “Hey! Didn’t you tell me not to crease them?”

“Scoot over and I won’t,” she giggled as he lifted his legs dramatically one by one, grazing them over her ducked head.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her face. She was so… happy. A complete 180 from earlier that week. Not that he expected her to come in a blubbering mess but… something wasn’t right.

Since when did those two get so damn close?

The ache in his head dulled, his senses more manageable from the moment she walked in.

“Hey Nate. Adam. Mason,” she said, waving generally. To any other person who didn’t know Sofía, they’d think she was being friendly. But the millisecond of a pause before she said his name proved she was still upset with him.

Felix leaned in to say something, eyes wide with a grin to match, invading personal space like he normally did. It wouldn’t have bothered Mason, if he hadn’t noticed one thing.

Her heartbeat sped up.

––––

He slid his bookmark into the crease, carefully closing the book. He’d heard Rebecca drive up, so she’d walk in any second now.

Where Nate sat on the love seat in between Felix, Sofía and Mason, he could sense the tension hanging in the air like a shroud smoke. 

Mason was nearly seething in his corner, eyes locked on Felix and Sofía like a cat with its back arched, visibly frustrated. Felix was either willfully or blissfully ignorant of Mason’s energy, while Sofía was wrapped in her own bubble with him, quiet laughs exchanged in the tiny space between them, the occasional word echoing off the brick walls.

Adam could tell, too. A single glance exchanged between them proved they both knew something was wrong.

Rebecca pushed her way through the door, quickly surveying the group before addressing everyone and moving on to explain their assignment.

“We’ve heard rumors of something lurking on the outskirts of Wayhaven, right at the edge of the  town’s limits. Over the next week, you’ll need to split and patrol to confirm if it’s petty gossip, or something more.”

As soon as the last word was out of Rebecca’s mouth, Mason stormed towards the door, opening it with such force that it smacked the wall, cracking the wood, splintering against the brick.

Sofía flinched, eyes wide. Her posture deflated, like she was finally in a good mood that was ruined by Mason’s explosive behavior.

Nate grimaced, sensing the atmosphere shift from tense to dismal. Even Felix’s smile had faltered as he stared at the doorway Mason exited through.

Sofía’s pulse raced as she stared at her lap, absentmindedly twisting her rings around her fingers. 

Rebecca sighed, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. “Sofía will need someone to accompany her, but the rest of you should be prepared to defend yourselves if needed.

“This is a relatively laid back assignment compared to what you’re used to, but I don’t want you to let your guards down. As we’ve seen before, anything can happen. You need to be prepared for the worst. Are there any questions?”

“Who’s going with Sofía?” Felix blurted, glancing back and forth between her and Rebecca.

“I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves,” she gestured at the remaining Unit Bravo members. “However, Sofía has the last word.”

In her own way, Rebecca was extending an olive branch, as miniscule as it was. Sofía hadn’t warmed up to her quite yet, but Nate was anxiously hoping he’d see their relationship blossom in his lifetime. 

Rebecca glanced at Sofía, who was still wringing her hands together, half paying attention.

“Keep me updated,” she nodded curtly, glancing back and forth from Nate and Adam once.

“Of course, Agent Olmos,” Adam said, tipping his chin at her respectfully. As soon as Rebecca was out of the room, Sofía rose from her spot on the sofa.

“I… I have to get back to the station. I’ll get in touch with you after I’m off,” she murmured distractedly, tossing her bag over her shoulder and exiting before they could respond.

“I’ll go with Sofía,” Felix volunteered. “She’ll need someone to cheer her up while she’s out there.” He was clearly upset with how things played out, and Nate knew he needed to physically be there for her to comfort her – that’s the way he’d always been.

“I suppose,” Adam mused, rubbing a thoughtful hand against his chin. “We’ll be close by in case you need anything from us.”

“Watch out for her,” Nate warned gently, nodding towards Felix. “Adam and I will take the West and East borders of Wayhaven. You can take the South, near the entrance.”

“And Mason?” Felix asked, looking like he didn’t want to know the answer.

“He’ll take the North border. Alone,” Nate nodded. “I won’t tell him that you’re with her.”

Adam squinted. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t let it slip if he asks me.”

“Adam,” Nate sighed.

“I refuse to lie. If Mason asks me directly, I will let him know. Otherwise, you’re in the clear.”

Felix grimaced, pinching the strings at the hem of his scarf between his fingers, tugging at them absentmindedly. “Guess I gotta hope I’m lucky.”

Adam snorted. “Luck won’t help us if Mason finds out we kept this from him.”

––––

Sofía jogged down the hallway, shoving out the double doors towards her car.

Mason stood next to it, puffing a cigarette, arms crossed, looking absolutely volatile. Smoke curled around him like a warning sign, like his boiling blood was pushing steam out of his body. Don’t come closer, it said. She did anyway.

“What are you doing out here?” She sighed, shifting her purse on her shoulder, keys in hand. She’d slowed a few feet away from him, his back turned to her.

He didn’t answer her, nor look at her, eyes transfixed on the swaying trees on the edge of the woods.

“I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to the station.” She walked around him, refusing to look at his face, reaching out for the handle.

“You seemed to have a lot of time to waste back there,” he growled, stopping her in her tracks.

“Seriously?” She turned towards him, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not gonna spell it out for you, sweetheart,” he mumbled around the cigarette, pinched between his lips, set in a thin line.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? And back there, too, in front of everybody. What’s your problem?” She asked, craning her neck forward.

“You could’ve at least tried to keep that shit to a bare minimum in a meeting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You’re not dumb, detective,” he enunciated each syllable of her title, like it was an insult.

“Since when do you care about being ���respectful’ in meetings?” She air quoted around the word, keys jangling from where they hung off of her thumb.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you berating me right now, when I don’t even know what you think I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, insufferably, shrugging like he wasn’t making her crazy. God, Sofía normally wasn’t an angry type – but she was stubborn, and Mason knew exactly how to push her buttons. “Then why are you acting like a fucking child?” She asked, voice raised. Guilt set in after she heard her voice echo around her. Maybe it wasn’t the best move to argue with Mason when all of Unit Bravo could hear. He was silent. He took long, deep drags from the cigarette, pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. He let the smoke seep out his nose slowly, clouding his features. He inhaled one last time, flicking the bud onto the ground before he smashed it beneath his boot. He met her eyes, the grey of his iris nearly swirling like the stormy, tornadic clouds.

“Your heartbeat.”

He said it so low that she could barely understand it herself. Maybe he didn’t want the team to hear. Didn’t want Felix to hear.

“I literally can’t control my heartbeat, Mason.”

“It spiked… around him.” His eyes flickered away from her, towards the trees again.

“That’s what you’re mad about?” She huffed in disbelief.

Silence. “Well, can you stop acting like that? I’m not yours. You made that clear last week,” she rolled her eyes, unlocking her car, opening the door.

“Acting like what?” He challenged, nearly growling. He’d completely ignored anything beyond the initial question.

“Like you’re jealous,” she nearly spat, tongue flicking as she enunciated each word.

“I’m not fucking jealous.” His nose scrunched like he was holding back a snarl.

“Yeah, well your tantrum says otherwise. Stop acting like a baby. You’re too old for this.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back, letting her slam her door. He turned and walked in without another glance.

She revved the engine and peeled away from the warehouse, expecting to feel a sense of triumph in having the last word, but nothing came. Just emptiness.

––––

A growl ripped from Mason as he paced around his room towards the door, dragging his laundry basket behind him.

For the millionth time, Felix tried pawning his responsibility off onto Mason by planting his harder to wash items at the bottom of his basket.

He didn’t want to learn how to wash a beanie or a scarf, so he pawned it off on the person down the hall.

Felix never pulled this shit with Nate, so why would he try it with Mason? It was beyond him.

Laundry basket grating on the ground behind him, sending electric shocks up his spine at the volume, Mason gritted his teeth, ready to fling his basket at Felix’s door, fully prepared for the plastic to shatter and rip into their clothes. But it was worth it.

Instead, he found the door ajar, the sickeningly bright tones of Felix’s room instantly giving him a headache.

Ugh. What the fuck was so great about the color yellow?

Adam had warned all of them to passcode lock their doors behind him no matter what, since they clearly only relied on themselves for security, being that their home base was in the center of the woods.

Mason dug through the basket, flinging shit into the room, strewing the bright socks, beanies, t-shirts, and scarves across the floor.

He still had a bone to pick with Felix, but at least he got most of his anger out of his system.

Right as he was about to leave, something next to the entrance of his room caught his attention.

The shoes Sofía bought Felix.

Crisp, clean, and begging to be tampered with.

He didn’t mull over the decision for long, grabbing the shoes by their laces and chunking them into his basket, covering them with a pair of jeans.

He grabbed the basket with the tips of his fingers, hoisting it over his back, strolling back towards his room with a slight pep in his step.

––––

[walker-journal]

Brother on Ice 3 (Adam POTW solo)

Characters: Adam Walker: (Hunter), James Ross (NPC Human?), Terry Klein (NPC Human).

Context: As Adam falls asleep, James wakes up. Continued from Winter Wonderfest writing prompt. 

Content TW: Some blood, slash wounds, Unreliable Narrator

Frost crunched beneath Adam’s bare feet as he ran through the forest, skin slick with sweat and snowflakes melting against his body heat. Muscles ached with a lactic burn that lanced up Adam’s legs. The snow’s pale purity was stained with red where his feet came down on jagged rocks and thorns.

A white dog darted through snow banks up ahead on the trail. It’d occasionally glance back, fixing Adam with familiar green-blue eyes. The bone colored dog would stop and go completely still, outline almost fading into the surrounding ice, before darting off the moment Adam drew close.

Adam sprinted after the dog, running past a pond in a copse of trees whose frozen surface was marred by the shattered hole where James had been dug out a day before. The underbrush started to grow thicker. Branches lashed Adam’s arms and sides as he ran through them, the athlete ignoring the welling slashes and abrasions. Nothing seemed to matter except that fleeting guide through the forest and those eyes that filled him with a guilt that hurt more than any of these cuts.

But when they burst into a clearing...that clearing, Adam stopped, stumbling on the hoary gravel with displaced momentum. The dog trotted over the woodland gap’s largest tree and sat down at the edge of a deep hole at the venerable oak’s base. An expectant canine stare lifted to Adam’s face in the winter hush.

Adam looked to the hole he’d dug beneath the oak nearly a year ago. It’d been shoddy work really. He’d been taught to dispose of remains far more discreetly than that. But Adam had never actually regretted killing anyone before that night. He’d barely been able tell how deep the shovel had gone through the tears and desperate shaking.

Adam turned his back on the waiting dog’s gaze and took off in the other direction, determined to put as much between himself and that open grave as quickly as possible.

The dog’s growl wasn’t a canine sound at all, but rather a friend calling his name, but Adam ignored it as he tore back through the glade.

Adam was hit from behind by a blunt force that knocked the wind out of lungs. He was born down face-first into the frost as the white dog tackled him, now the size of a horse. Adam struggled against that weight. Red spots swam like squirming tadpoles in his vision as something gave way in his ribs. The forest grew darker as the vice between the immense dog and the biting ice didn’t give Adam any room to take a new breath. Adam reached out for something, anything.

--------

Light flooded Adam’s dorm-room as his fingers found the light switch in the grip of nightmare. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. Those red spots of asphyxiation were still swimming everywhere.

Terry stared down at him, blue-green gaze devoid of expression. Blood ran down in rivulets from where a large eye had been cut straight into the skin of his chest.

Adam’s muscle memory had been trained since he was able to walk, and the Hunter had already drawn the hidden stake and knife from the mattress in one smooth motion as he’d bolted upright in bed.

“James!”

But James didn’t react to the weapons or Adam’s following expletive-filled demands for an explanation. His face was utterly blank and even while standing there he still seemed very much a corpse. For some morbid reason Adam could’ve sworn that the bleeding design on Jame’s chest was more expressive than his actual eyes. That oozing wound seemed to regard Adam with malevolence and the longer Adam looked at it the worse that feeling of breathlessness and squirming horror in his gut seemed to grow.

Adam, who’d been fully prepared in that second to face down a hungry vampire in his birthday suit, waited for the lunge that never came. Eventually the Hunter’s taut muscles relaxed as it became clear that James could and would keep up the vacant stare all night.

“The fuck,” Terry mouthed as he came through the open door to behold Adam with a knife and stake threatening their dead friend who’d apparently taken the Blair Witch cosplay way too far.  Terry was genuinely unsure which of them to restrain first and started by shooing off other fraternity brothers who were craning their necks in to see what hell was going on. “Hey Adam,” Terry said very slowly in that too-reasonable tone taken with children and the emotionally unsound, “maybe wanna maybe put that away and help me.”

It was only then that Adam caught sight of his own face in the mirror. He was livid as if from choking, veins standing out on his skin. The Hunter released the knife and white oak stake, realizing that he’d been holding them in a deathgrip.

“Did you…,” Terry asked with clear hesitation, indicating the eye symbol cut into James' chest as he tried to lead the catatonic young man towards the door. James’ skin was still freezing to the touch and he moved with the numbly absent air of a sleepwalker.

“God no,” Adam assured, causing Terry to let out a sigh of relief. Although the question of who’d done that to James lingered over them. The boys looked at each other and then out the dorm door as disquiet grew between them. “Who would even? Like he didn’t have that when we dug him out?”

“Def not,” Terry confirmed while managing to lead James out of the room. “I’ll get him cleaned up and we can sus it out.” He looked over Adam again in the perfunctory locker room manner before frowning in a different kind of concern. “Dude, did you get fucked up during the hockey game? Shit, might wanna put some ice on that.”

Adam followed Terry’s gaze to put a hand on the blossoming dark bruise along his side, resulting in a sharp intake of breath as a spasm of pain that lanced through it.

When the hell had he dislocated ribs?

[alecmagnuslwb]

My Heart is a Haunted House

Read on AO3

The house before them is one of the more foreboding she’s ever seen. It’s the kind of sprawling crickety old mansions that would send Scooby Doo and Shaggy screaming into the hills. So of course they’re about to go inside of it.

“It should be easy, a quick in and out, grab the book and go,” John says entwining their fingers together and tugging her through the gates.

She’s heard him say that before, many times, and it’s almost always not true.

“Why exactly are we doing this instead of drinking all of Oliver’s free booze at the Justice league Halloween party?” she sighs trailing behind him using her free hand to keep her dress from getting too dirty.

She worked hard on her and John’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer inspired costumes this year. Her red dress and flowing coat are practically exact replicas of the ones Drusilla wore and John’s long black duster is an exact replica of Spike’s that she bought online for an amount of money she’s not too proud to admit to.

If this little outing ruins any piece they’re wearing she’s going to be so mad.

“Because I lost a bet to Richie,” he says when they reach the large door. He lets go of her hand and tugs on the knocker shaped like a lion’s mouth. She doesn’t know why he does it, it’s not like someone’s going to answer, no one’s lived here in years.

“Yeah, you lost a bet,” she says flicking her wrist and opening the door. “So why am I here?”

It’s not that she doesn’t want to help John, it’s just that this is the first Halloween in years where they haven’t caught wind of some death cult trying to sacrifice a bunch of virgins or a vampire gang taking advantage of the spooky evening to massacre a party of college alcoholics. It’s their own personal Halloween for the first time in a long time.

They get a free night to rock their kickass costumes, drink a little too much and dance borderline inappropriately together in a public space; it’s supposed to be a fun Halloween not a work Halloween and she wants to soak up every bit of it.

John chuckles looping his arm through hers and pulling her inside the dark foyer of the house.

“Because you love me and wish to support me in all endeavors,” he says conjuring a ball of light to his hand and sending it into the air to guide them to the library.

Zatanna sighs as he drags her along, “I love you. The second thing is questionable though.”

John doesn’t say anything just chuckles and runs a hand through his slicked back extra bleach blond hair. Convincing him to dye it for their costume had been easy a few kisses in the right spots and he was putty in her hands.

They follow the conjured light down a long dark hallway covered in cobwebs, furniture draped in white cloths. It all gives the house an even more spooky vibe than the outside has achieved. A few creaks and groans of old walls catch her attention, but she brushes them off continuing down the hall until the light stops directly in front of a set of large ornate double doors.

The doors are a deep dark wood, the only thing in the house that isn’t rotted, with gold sigils and ornate figure heads sticking out from them.

She recognizes some of the symbols, signs for magic and protection, a few others look a bit more dastardly and far more John’s area of expertise.

“Some of these don’t look too friendly,” she says watching as John runs his hands along the carvings.

He moves his hand in a sort of motion, “A few, but we should be fine I don’t feel any magic running through them, do you?”

She shakes her head still eyeing the door nervously and he smiles pulling the handles of the door and opening them wide. A gust of cold wind bursts out across them sending Zatanna’s hair flying back and the light that’s supposed to be guiding them sputters out. Not a good sign.

She looks at John about to say that out loud when a booming deep female voice washes over them.

“Who dares to enter my home?” the voice says and with another burst of air John and Zatanna are sent forward into the room barely staying on their feet. The lights begin flickering on and off and books start flying off the shelves.

“Fine, huh?” Zatanna says as a blur in black and white rushes past her knocking her to the ground. John attempts to rush to her side but is hit by the same blur. He’s pushed all the way back into the one bare wall groaning as his back slams into it and he’s lifted up. The boards of the wall creak violently turning and bending around his wrists and ankles keeping him in place. A rope slides loose from the curtains tangling around his face and into his mouth.

The blur zooms at Zatanna again and she rolls just fast enough out of its reach her back colliding with something hard and pointy. She lifts herself up and turns finding a stack of bare bones that are very much human and very much real.

They’re not the first people to come for a book in this library, they will however be the first to leave. First they’ll fight this entity, party their asses off and then they’ll go kill Richie for sending them in here blind.

The blur settles down in front of her and Zatanna can now see the essence of what was once a woman. Her long dark hair nearly touches the ground, her bare feet hover dripping wet and her flowing black dress whips in the air she’s circulating around them.

“You shouldn’t have come here little girl,” she growls her eyes lighting up a bright red before she reaches her long dark nails at Zatanna and sends her flying to the other side of the room. She does to her what she’s done to John securing her to the wall with old pipes and silencing her with a long curtain around her mouth.

She eyes Zatanna for a moment, Zatanna holds her star defiant and annoyed not even bothering with trying to break loose yet. The spirit hisses and averts her attention to John struggling against his bonds. She slowly hovers over to him leaving a trail of dark red water dripping from her feet as she goes.

“Such an attractive man,” the ghost says once she’s near him. She runs her long bony finger down John’s jaw her dark nails looking like they’re moment away from making a cut. “Yet, so disheveled and sad. How unfortunate.”

Zatanna works to free one of her hands. Her strongest magic may rely on the use of her voice, but she isn’t helpless like this. She focuses all her inherent magical energy to one point of her body sending it to her right arm willing it to move the pipes just enough to wiggle free.

She feels the pipes creak and move around her wrist slowly but surely working to give her space and time to get out of this mess.

It takes a moment, Zatanna’s eyes flicking up to see the spirit leaning in a little too close for comfort to John. Just as the spirit is putting one of her cold hands around John’s neck, her mouth open wide and leaning in she finally breaks a hand free from the pipes lifting up just enough to pull the curtain out of her mouth and off of her face.

“Esaeler em ylteiuq,” she whispers and she falls to the ground silently the pipes not so much as creaking as they let her go, landing on her feet like a cat. The spirit is too focused on John, taking a deep whiff of his hair that makes Zatanna cringe, to notice as she pulls an iron poker from the nearby unlit fireplace. She brandishes it like a baseball bat creeping up behind the ghost, she catches John’s eyes for a second and winks.

“He’s my disheveled, sad, attractive man,” Zatanna says earning the ghost’s attention. She turns around her dark stringy hair flipping over her shoulder. “So, hands off,” she says swinging the hot poker directly into her head.

The ghost screams and flicker in and out before disappearing altogether.

“That won’t take for long,” Zatanna says rushing to John pulling the rope from his mouth and releasing his bonds.

“Thanks, luv,” John says as drops to the ground not quite as gracefully as Zatanna had rubbing at his wrists. “Should I be offended you said disheveled and sad before attractive or am I reading into it too much?” he asks with a pout.

Zatanna shoves at his shoulder, “Shut up,” she says rolling her eyes. “We need to get this damn book, banish this spirit and-“

Zatanna freezes when she sees John’s eyes flicker behind her a look on his face that screams, oh fuck and not in a good way.

“She’s back isn’t she?”

John just nods and Zatanna turns quickly hands raising, she’s had enough of this.

“Gard siht ypeerc ssa tirips ot lleh!” she shouts flinging a black shinning burst of magic into the spirits chest. She screams immediately her body contorting and flickering in and out of being until soon enough she bursts into a thousand flickers of dark light. John grabs Zee as soon as she shatters and pulls her behind him to protect her from any gunk or dangerous feedback.

The blast leaves not a bit of proof the ghost was ever even there, just like that no fanfare or mess and she’s gone from this plane of existence.  Zatanna looks down happy to see their costumes still gleam in perfect condition. Zatanna smiles squeezing John’s hip before pulling out from behind him.

“Well now we know why Richie decided this was the favor I owed him, too scared of a ghost,” John says angrily straightening out his jacket. “Let’s find this bloody book and get out before we find out she had an equally space invading murderous sister,” he says walking over to one wall of shelves stepping over the pile of bones as he conjures another ball of light to guide them.

Zatanna heads to the far wall, she scans the spines finding the title Richie gave John and pulls the damn thing from the shelf. She stomps over to John and grabs him by the lapel of his leather jacket. She waves the book in front his eyes so he’s sees that they’re in the clear to get the hell out of there before he can even react.

“We have a party to attend,” she says pointedly dragging him out of the house so fast their guiding light can barely keep up. She seals the doors of both the library and the house with some heavy-duty magic as they go. Maybe this way if the spirit wasn’t the only thing in the house no one else will suffer the fate of those poor bones inside.  

“Next time, Richie can get his own damn book,” John says as they finally find themselves on the sidewalk again. He takes the book from her arms summoning up a quick portal and tossing the book through. Zatanna hopes it lands on Richie’s head, hard.

“Shall we?” John says holding out his arm for her, conjuring up another larger portal for the two of them. His ability, and her own frankly, to shake off attacks and monster encounters without a thought truly never stops astounding her. Zatanna smiles reaching up to fix a piece of his hair that had fallen on his forehead before linking her arm in his and happily stepping through the portal.

The party is already in full swing by the time they arrive, all the supers dressed to the nines in elaborate costumes, except for Bruce who’s wearing a tux, seemingly going as himself tonight. Zatanna eyes around the room admiring the work Ollie and Dinah, who were in charge of the festivities this year, have done. John eyes the room as well, looking for the nearest drink.

“Oh my goddess,” Zatanna says eyes glued across the room where Dinah and Ollie stand. John turns from where he’d been grabbing two large goblets of unknown liquor from a passing tray and follows her eyeline.

“Oh, I’m so glad we made it here tonight,” he says in absolute glee taking a sip from his skull shaped drink. Zatanna is too, because now for the rest of their lives they’re going to have something to hang over the heads of the great Green Arrow and Black Canary.

She grabs the second drink from John and tugs him along to greet the pair.

“Love the costumes,” Zatanna says once they reach them, John tosses his free arm across her shoulders and she leans into him with a smile. She takes a pointed sip of her drink as the pair turn to face them with wide eyes. Up close their costumes are even better.

Dinah is wearing fishnets just like she usually would, but instead of her usual blue and black tones she’s sporting a white corset and coattails and a dark wig over her usually blonde hair; Ollie’s trench coat is so accurate Zatanna is certain he stole it from one of their closets and his usually perfected goatee is gone in favor of an obvious stubble along his jaw. They make a pretty damn good Zatanna and Constantine, not quite original grade good, but good nonetheless.

“In our defense we never thought you’d show,” Dinah says recovering from her shock with a bright smile. She’s clearly nowhere near as embarrassed about this as Ollie is, which means it was definitely Dinah’s idea in the first place. “You never make it to these parties; you’re always stopping some snake demon death cult or zombie rat apocalypse.”

Zatanna and John both chuckle, both of those exact things have happened to them on Halloween before. “Finished off the death cult early this year,” she smiles. “I love the wig; you really should think about going back to your natural color.”

Dinah preens at the compliment tipping her top hat Zatanna’s way in thanks.

“You two look great as well, a perfect couples costume choice,” she smiles wrapping a hand around Oliver’s arm. “Well, second best couple’s costume.”

“Wouldn’t that technically still make us the best since we’re the genuine article?” Zatanna says with a smirk.

Dinah scrunches up her nose. “Touché.”

John snorts and reaches out pulling the cigarette from Oliver’s mouth and sighing.

“Fake smokes, come on now if you’re gonna perfect the look you’ve gotta let the chain smoking be a character guide,” he says with a teasing smile tossing the fake cigarette back at Oliver and patting him on the shoulder. Oliver finally breaks from his wide-eyed surprise and just glares.

“Come on you two, there’s a party to be had and you never get to enjoy them,” Dinah says tilting her head at the dance floor.

John tosses back the rest of his drink and then the rest of Zatanna’s before grabbing her hand.

“Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet,” he says altering his accent just slightly and quoting the character he’s sporting tonight.

Zatanna smiles a wicked smile tilting her head to John’s before pulling him out to the dancefloor, finally getting to really enjoy their Halloween.

[infinite-hearts-333]

Sweet blood, Sharp fangs

Logan is the alpha of the strongest vampire pack in the city. And one night hunting, he comes upon a lone wolf vampire and a .... very cute sweet-blooded mortal. Ah. Feelings.

PAIRINGS: logicality, Prinxiety (Both are crush like things they never really confess-) 

WARNINGS: blood, mentions of going without blood/food

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan stood on the edge of a building, soaking in the beautiful night. It was nearly time. He could feel it, deep within his bones. His pack silently waited for his movement, for it was the alpha that always had the first kill of the night. Roman appeared from the shadows, his bright red eyes flashing as he took his spot next to me. "Can we go now specs?" Whined roman, sulking. "I'm hungryyyyyyyyyy."

Logan sighed, annoyed and simply jumped off the building then answering him. Roman made a noise of protest, which quickly fell silent to the howl of the wind. Logan landed silently on the floor, crouching to take in the impact as he landed. Logan's dark navy eyes skimmed over the area, his pupils shrinking to slits as he inhaled slowly, before darting off in a direction.

Logan had specifically chosen an area for tonight's hunt with lots of 'gangs' that were known to cause harm to innocent people and immortals alike. He had caught on to a sweet smell of blood, which was pretty nice knowing that sweet blood mortals weren't really common. But yet, Logan couldn't help but grow increasingly worried the closer he got to the source. The smell was strong. Too strong.

A swift hand signal sent his pack up onto the roof, were they all stared down at the scene unfolding. Two males were running desperately running through the dark wet alleyways. Logan's eyes locked into the one in purple, and instantly picked up on how his purple eyes glowed in the darkness, how two long fangs could be seen every time the male sharply inhaled through the mouth. He was a vampire.

Logan could feel roman bristle, eye locked onto the one in purple curiously. Logan's eyes then travelled to the other. He was using the vampire to keep up right for he was unsteady, bleeding badly from the head and the leg. His beige jeans were almost dyed red and by the looks of it, the cut was nasty. His grey cat cardigan hung loosely from his neck, his blue polo shirt stained red in some spots. Logan twitched, curious. He was a mortal.....

The vampire was dressed in colours of mostly black, with some shades of purple here and there. Knee high dark grey combat boots, skinny ripped jeans, and a black and purple patchwork hoodie. The vampire had blood smeared over his hands and dripping from his mouth, but by the scent it wasn't the mortals.

"You okay pat?" Asked the vampire, quickly looking behind them.

The mortal panted, faking a smile. "Y-yep!" he said shakily, nearly tripping over his own feet. Logan softly snarled. That was a lie. And for some reason, the state of the mortal bothered him, causing a pit like sensation to form in his chest. Logan opened a link to the rest of the pack, causing lots of eyes to instantly lock onto him. Logan paused, inhaled, catching the scent of the blood on the vampire.

'Find the blood's owner. Bring them to me. If they are in a gang, bring the gang as well. I will be dealing with this, so all of you can go hunting after. Roman, you're with me.'

With that Logan snapped off the link, and jumped down, landing silently in the shadows of the alleyway. Logan felt the wind as Roman landed next to him. The purple vampire had shifted the mortal, sitting them down softly cursing under his breath. Logan didn't even have to look to know the mortal was losing too much blood. The smell was enough.

Logan slowly stepped out of the shadows. "He is losing too much blood." Logan said in a monotone voice, which caused the emo to jump any way. Fear flashed through his eyes, then realisation, then anger. "Stay back!" he hissed, taking a protective stance over the mortal who was slipping from consciousness. Roman instantly hissed back, his eyes flashing red in the darkness the lights catching on his long fangs.

"Respect the alpha, lone wolf!" Roman snapped, and Logan waved his hand in romans direction. "Roman, calm." Roman growled, but stayed quiet sulking in the darkness, staring down the purple vamp, daring him to do anything wrong.

Logan took another step forward, and the vampire's angry expression turned to one of fear and desperation. Logan calmly rose his hands in the air, a surrendering symbol. "Greetings. I am Logan. The overprotective red vampire behind me is roman. We mean no harm. Can I have your name? And the mortals?"

The purple vampire's eyes narrowed, tilting his head a bit, gaze flickering from the mortal to Logan and Roman. He bit his lip, clearly unsure and scared. "That's Patton." He said slowly, inching a little closer, testing his trust. "Can you save him? Without turning him into a vamp?"

Roman growled slowly. "Your name, lone wolf. And the alpha is the one answering the questions here!" The vamp snarled, his eyes glowing a harsh purple. "I DONT GIVE TWO FUCKS FOR THE 'ALPHA'! MY FRIEND IS DYING!!" The vamp snapped back, and then let out a small sob, his shaking becoming more clear.

"Roman!" Logan snapped, before quickly coming over to the scared crying vampire, who hissed and backed up more. Logan straightened his back, eyes glowing navy blue as he called forward the power of the alpha. Logan stared him right in the eyes, his words smothering any will to disobey:

"Listen to me, you need to breathe okay?" Logan spoke carefully, inhaling and exhaling as an example. "We can't help you or your friend if you are panicking."

The vamp took a shaky breath, then another, and another until his breathing was more even. "There we are. Good job. You don't need to give us your name, but is there anything we can call you?" Logan said smoothly, the glow in his eyes dying down.

The vamp twitched, looking back and forth between Logan, Roman and Patton. "Y-you..." He said softly, clearing his throat as he dipped his head in a small sign of respect. "Y-you can c-call me A-anxiety."

Roman scoffed from his spot sulking in the shadows. Logan shot roman a hard look, and then allowed himself to softly smile. "Okay then anxiety. Can I come closer?"

Anxiety nodded. Logan slowly started to move over to Patton and check his wounds and pulse, ensuring Anxiety knew he could stop Logan at any time. "We need to take him back to the coven. We have a couple of blood bags for emergencies, so if he needs blood he'll be alright. Would you like to carry him or shall I?"

Anxiety whimpered, hanging his head. "I-it's my fault h-he got h-hurt, he was p-protecting me. I h-haven't eaten i-in weeks, y-you should I'm t-to much o-of a t-threat." Anxiety said shakily, as he started to tremble again.

"Anxiety, breathe. You need to breathe, okay? We will get you some food soon, and I'm not sure since I wasn't there but it probably wasn't completely your fault. Come on it's okay." Logan said softly, kneeling down to scoop up Patton's now limp form. Anxiety shakily nodded, coming to stand.

"Roman are you going to follow or are you going to go hunt?" Logan carefully shifted Patton, Who lightly groaned. Roman scoffed, marching out of the shadows. "And leave my alpha with a lone wolf! Hell to the no!"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Don't mind roman he's overprotective of those that matter to him." Roman let out his offended princey noise ™ and Anxiety slightly chuckled. Logan jumped, easily landing on the roof. Patton shifted again making a soft whine noise, his eyes fluttering open.

"Greetings Patton, my name is Logan. Do not fret for I am going to help you okay? Your friend is also with me, don't worry." Logan had expected Patton to panic, but instead Patton groggily blinked, and shakily lifted his hand to cup Logan's cheek. A loopy grin took over his face. "Are all vampires this hot?" Asked Patton, his voice lightly slurring.

Logan blinked, his cheeks tinting red. "Ah. You are light headed from lack of blood and shock."

"And I'm A positive I would love to get to know you better." Patton said, giggling in his arms.

Anxiety and Roman jumped landing behind Logan who turned to face the purple vamp. "I'm sorry but did he just say a pun and flirt with me at the same time?" Logan asked Anxiety, wishing he could rub his temple. Anxiety snickered. "That's Patton for you."

"Nawww! Don't b negative! There are just some witty puns!" Patton said leaning against Logan's chest, grinning from ear to ear.

Romans over protective attitude evaporated, and he cooed. "Oh my gosh he is so precious! Can we keep him?" Anxiety smacked him. "That is my friend you are talking about! And don't treat him like a pet!"

Patton giggled, and he cooed right back at roman. "Kiddo! Kiddo look! A prince!" Roman grinned and striked a pose, and Anxiety hid his face in his hands. "No Patton, that's roman." "Don't crush the puffball's dreams hot topic! If he wants a prince than a prince I shall be!"

"Naw you think I'm hot~" teased Anxiety, who had quickened his pace to catch up with Logan who had started walking. "Plus I was clarifying princey." Roman blushed, but said nothing.

Logan shifted his arms, ensuring Patton was comfortable and that he wasn't touching any of Patton's wounds. The mortal had responded by melting into Logan's chest, hiding his face in his neck. Logan could hear Patton heartbeat like a drum, and pursed his lips softly. He hadn't really thought of how the clan would react to taking in a mortal, let alone a sweet blooded mortal, but that was a problem for another day.

Soon, the abandoned hospital Logan's clan had taken over was in view, and Logan jumped from the roof, landing silently on the floor. Anxiety scoffed. "Please tell me you don't live in that." He said, one eyebrow raised. Roman grinned. "We live in that!"

Anxiety groaned. Logan ignored them both, walking up to the doors and entering the building. He could sense the presence of at least a quarter of the pack already back from the hunt, and his eyes darted around quickly before dropping to check on Patton.

Patton was, well regrettably, adorable- half asleep as he leaned against Logan's chest, clearly fighting off the want to sleep as his eyelids tried to flutter shut. Logan felt the same weird warmness creep across his cheeks and he focused back on the path ahead, getting closer to the main sector.

He could faintly hear roman and anxiety chatting about something, and a quick peek at romans link, Logan found that all anger to the lone wolf was gone- instead was curiosity, happiness, excitement and faintly a small ember of love blooming like blossoms in spring. Logan smirked.

"Well, well, well." Purred a voice from behind Logan. Logan sighed. "Janus." He greeted turning to see the scarred vampire. Janus smirked, his eyes flickering down to Patton. "Oh wow, well done my alpha. A mortal, and a sweet blood nonetheless! How marvellous~" Logan shielded Patton away from Janus who had licked his lips and taken a step forward.

"Let me stop you there. This is Patton and he is under my protection. No one in this pack is touching his blood unless I say so. Got it?" Logan's eyes glowed navy blue, just to put things into perspective for Janus. Janus stopped, and frowned but Logan watched as his fangs disappeared back up into his gums. He huffed, but turned heel and vanished.

Logan sighed and kept walking, through the corridors, through the main sector, up a set of stairs and finally, ended up in his private sector. He sighed and cradled Patton closer, a weird need to protect the sweet blooded mortal coming over him. He placed Patton down on his bed, and the mortal whines at the warmth disappearing.

Logan stifled a chuckle. "I'm just going to treat your wounds okay?" He softly said grabbing a first aid kit and then sat next to Patton.

"M'kay... w-where are we...?" Mumbled Patton his eyes flicker around under barely opened eyelids. Logan pulled out a cloth and some antibacterial oil. "Where in my private sector, no one will come in here, so you will be safe here till I set rules that no one can harm you." Logan lightly dabbed the oil onto the injuries and Patton whimpered. "Sorry, it will sting for a bit."

Patton nodded, and whimpered again. Logan wiped away most of the blood, and then bandaged Patton's injuries. Logan softly sighed, and then smiled at his handy work.

"There. All done." Logan said softly. Patton was quietly watching the vampire, lightly tapping the bandage on his head and winced.

"T-thank you..." He said softly. "B-but why did you s-save me?"

Logan inhaled, taking in the question. "I... I don't not truly know Patton. But seeing you in pain..." Logan shook his head. "I couldn't let you be in pain... it seemed wrong to hurt you or leave you."

Patton blushed and smiled. "Well thank you for not.... ya know, not drinking my blood."

Logan softly chuckled and came to a stand. "It is not a problem Patton. Do you wish to come with me to the main sector so I can put you off limits? Or do you wish to stay here?"

Patton replies instantly. "If I come could I see my kiddo?" He asked. "You mean Anxiety?" Logan asked.

Patton paused, confused, and then caught on. "Yep! Anxiety, is he okay?" Patton asked, concerned.

Logan smiled. "A little hungry, nothing we can't fix. He should be in the main sector with Roman."

Patton sighed, relieved, and then went to stand, wincing at the pain in his leg. "Hey, hey, take it easy I just bandaged it, it's still gonna be sore." Logan warned, sitting Patton back down.

Patton huffed. "I don't like it." He sulked, pouting. Logan raised an eyebrow playfully, and snickered. "Will it make you happier if I gave you a piggyback ride?" He asked, joking.

Stars appeared in Patton's eyes. "Can you?!" Logan blinked, but sighed and agreed. "Fine, come on." Logan kneeled in front of Patton and Patton shakily stood and sat on Logan's back.

He yelped as Logan stood, wrapping his legs around Logan's waist and arms around his neck. Logan could feel Patton's breath on his neck. Logan secured Patton with his hands, chuckling more.

"All Good There?" He asked.

"Yep!!" Came Patton's cheerful voice.

Logan smiled, and walked out of his room to the main sector. He nudged the door open with his foot, and wandered into the room.

All the pack was back now, most of them in the main sector, lounging around, laughing, talking and competing in challenges. Patton's grip tightened and he softly whispered to Logan. "Y-you can put me down now, I wanna find vir- anxiety."

Logan didn't question Patton's near slip up, doing as the mortal wished and placing him on the floor. Patton tested his leg, once, twice, then grabbed Logan's hand. Logan felt the warmth on his cheeks come back, and gave Patton a reassuring smile.

Patton smiled back and his eyes scanned the room. Logan spotted what Patton was looking for. Roman and Anxiety lounging on a pitch black couch. Anxiety had a wine glass, but Logan knew it was blood not alcohol. "There." He said, pointing them out.

Patton looked and then gasped, breaking into a sprint. "Virgil!!!" He Yelled. Nearly all of the vampires in the room locked eyes on Patton. Virgil, as Logan could only guess, whipped around in time for Patton to slam into him.

"Pat?!" He said, wrapping his arms around the other as he snapped two fingers, suspending the wine glass in mid air. "Patton, you shouldn't be running, you're still hurt!"

Patton looked up and sniffled. "I thought I lost you again." He said in a shaky scared voice that made Logan's heart stop.

Virgil's sternness vanished and he held the other closer. "Oh Patton... I wouldn't do that to you. You're my popstar, remember? We stick together no matter what." Virgil said softly, smiling.

Patton sniffled more, and nodded.

"Ah~! The puff ball of princes has awakened~!" Roman said, beaming over Virgil's shoulder. Patton giggled. "Hello!"

Logan walked over to them and slowly the pack's attention turned to him, and thankfully, away from Patton.

Roman pulled away, taking his spot next to Logan like normal. Virgil held Patton a little closer. "T-thank you for helping my friend." Virgil said softly, forcing a smile.

"It was not a problem, Virgil was it? I'm glad I could help you both. However, I insist that you stay for the night, it's late and these areas are dangerous. I can assure you no harm shall come to you, or Patton while you are here." Logan said smiling the best he could to show they weren't a threat.

Virgil narrowed his eyes and then mumbled something to Patton. Patton nodded and whispered back.

Virgil frowned more but sighed. "Fine. Only for tonight. Unless I see fit."

"Then it's settled. Everyone!" Logan drew his attention to the waiting eyes of the pack. "This is Patton and Virgil. I am sure that you have all realised that Virgil is a vampire like us, but Patton is a mortal. I am fully aware that he is a sweet blooded mortal, however, he is strictly off limits. They are our guests, and I expect you to treat them as such, and give them the respect that you were given when you first arrived. If any of you harm them in any way, let that be physical or mental, you will be facing worse being outcast."

Logan narrowed his eyes at the end, daring anyone to speak up. No one did. Good.

"Then that is all." Logan said, and the pack went back to what they were doing. Logan smiled, and turned his attention back to the others.

The next thing he knew, Patton had thrown himself at Logan, tackling him into a hug. For someone who had an injured leg, he was fast. Logan yelped, stumbling back at the force.

"Patton!" Scowled Virgil, however there was a playful smile on his lips.

"Thank you!!!!" Patton chirped, beaming up at Logan with a smile that held the sun, moon and all the stars. And it was all his. Logan smiled back, never feeling so attached to someone in his whole life.

"It's not a problem Patton. However, you need to rest your leg." Logan said smoothly, gently leading Patton over to the couch, sitting him down. "Are you hungry at all? I could get you something to eat." He offered.

Patton leaned against Logan, humming. "A little bit." He admitted. "But if you don't have anything, I'll be okay for a day!" He quickly added. Logan shook his head. "No no, I'll get you something."

He stood, smiling. "Roman?" Roman instantly perked, all his attention on Logan. "Yes?"

"Could you stay with Patton while I get something for him?" Logan said, coming to a stand. They should have something in the kitchen, maybe some meat or sweets?

"Sure thing alpha!" Chirped roman, hopping up onto the couch on the opposite side of Patton as Virgil sat on the other, collecting his wine glass that was still floating mid air. A few minutes after Logan had left, a curious scarred vampire wandered over to the group. "Well, well, well~ we meet again, sweet blooded~" Janus purred, gracefully walking around the couch to face the three.

Virgil was on guard instantly, beginning to inch closer to the bubbly mortal to protect him. "Again?" Chirped Patton, who didn't remember the close call he had with the other. "I'm sorry, i don't remember you, have i met you before?" Janus smirked, opening his mouth to speak, only to be caught off by a loud: "OH BROTHER~"

A messy, more chaotic and green colour palleted version of roman bounded over, grinning crazily. "I think i broke someone again~!" He said in a sing-song voice, leaping over the couch, landing in romans lap. "First off, again? Really? Second off, get off trash panda and third off, no yelling." huffed roman, pushing the other off his lap but a small visible smile was one his lips.

"Remussss." hissed Janus, slightly pouting. "I totally love it when you interrupted me."

Remus shrugged. "Sorry double-D~! OH! New people, Hi~~~" Remus grinned at Virgil and Patton. Virgil flinched back and glared at the two new vamps, resting one hand on Patton's arm. "Hiya!!" Chirped Patton being his bubbly self.

"Remus, Janus." Logan greeted as he walked back a small plate with some toast and jam. "I hope you two are behaving." Janus smirked. "Well, of course I am! When haven't I?"

Patton softly chuckled at the group of vampires as Roman started arguing with Janus. He had found a peculiar little family hadn't he?

[everything-laito]

Diabolik Lovers Tag 2!

I was tagged by @vampiretsuki and @akumacaron!!!

Rules: Answer the Questions and Tag whomever you want to tag~ I would love to read your answers so tag me (@vampiretsuki) and I will read them~!

1.- Would you rather wear Carla’s Scarf or Shin’s eyepatch? 

I love scarves!!! So Carla’s scarf :) But eyepatches are metal as fuck, but I’d do that for like a one time only thing. 

2.- Which moments has been the most shocking to you? (Game, Manga, CD Drama, Stage Play, Anime)

Ok the fact that in the anime Laito kills Richter, like I look back at it and lose my SHIT––that’s probably the best thing the anime has to offer. There’s so much symbolism and implications and UGH I might have to do an analysis of it myself, even though aka-anemone made hers on it. I know I talk shit about the anime a lot so it’s surprising that I’d be talking about it in a positive light, but that’s one of the most shocking moments I can think of now. 

3.- Have you had a Diaboy whom you hated (or had very little interest) and now you love him? 

Uhhhhh not really? I’ve always hated Reiji and uh,,,, I hate him a little less now. I appreciate his juxtaposition to the boys and his funny insults and regular comic relief. 

4.- Which moments (Game, Manga, etc) has made you laugh the most? 

EVERY TIME LAITO REFERS TO HIMSELF AS A GENTLEMAN I SWEAR––there was one moment I remember laughing recently too, oh god it was a tokuten CD; whenever I think of it I’ll make an edit to this. 

oh also whenever Reiji’s whip sound effect plays in the games or CD. Idk why but it’s so funny to me.

5.- Which moments has made you cry the most? 

I’ve played Laito’s MB route two times, and whenever that scene of him and Yui having consensual sex I always cry. First it was on the bus when I went to Cuba for a school trip three years ago (which yikes I hate crying in front of other people LMAO), and last year it was in the corner of the study room in my residence hall behind 2 whiteboards on wheels. I was waiting for my laundry to be done (for some reason the laundry room and the study room were connected lmao) 

6.-Which moments has been the scariest for you? 

Legit Kanato’s HDB vampire ending. That shit screwed me up dude, my stomach knotted even more than Laito’s ending. I’ll copy a snippet of a conversation between me and my friend (who loves Kanato) when I just got done with his vampire ending.

me: like Kanato really just took everything Yui loved and had, even her humanity; i just realized the latter, and WOW thats FUCKED UP like Laito did it too but SHIT kanato just,,, went more

my friend: Right?? And it’s so much more eerie with kanato because yui just seems so happy. And yeah laito also took everything away but kanato is just on this whole other level because at least yui remembers her old life and why she loved it with laito but she doesn’t with kanato

me: Yeah its just uhhhhhhhhhh oh god oh fuck

I think creepy stuff juxtaposed by happiness/cuteness just makes it all the worst. Its like that clip of children singing ring around the rosie in horror movies; that specifically doesn’t really get me cuz its so overused now but you get the gist. 

7.- Which moments has made you the angriest?

whenever reiji jk lol its more:

whenever Cordelia

whenever Karlheinz

also yeah still kinda whenever reiji

8.- Would you like to be a student at their nocturnal school? Would you stalk/see what the Diaboys are up to? Who? (Only pick 3 diaboys!) 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA stalking Laito is a TERRIBLE idea. He’ll know right away. But uh,,,, :) I’ll fuckin do it

I’d also see what Yuma and Ayato are up to. I’d love to see what Kou is up to but his fans would easily catch on and probably yeet me into the sun.

disclaimer: don’t stalk irl it’s uhhhhh kinda really bad :)

9.- Have you had any DL Dreams? if so… Tell us your favorite or your most recent~! 

I’ve been in this godforsaken hell for 5 years now???? And I think about Laito literally almost every fucking day???? what do I get??? nO dreams with him. I think I’ve had snippets before but I can’t remember any now. It’s unfortunate. 

BUT. I do remember one dream I had where Reiji was in (the irony, I know). Here’s the text I sent to my friend (that was in the dream too) about it:

Me: BRUHHHH U WERE IN MY DREAM LAST NIGHT AND SO WAS REIJI FROM DIABOLIK LOVERS (the one that looks like a pigeon) AND YOU SAID THAT YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY IN HIGH SCHOOL TO HIM IM LOSING MY MARBLES LMAO

My friend: 😂😂yoooooo nooooo 🤭

Me: We were all in this bougie ass house waiting for someone, and you, me and Reiji are just on the couch and im introducing myself and all and I was like “I know who you are Reiji” and then the conversation continued and eventually there was a subtle hint in a sentence he said that insinuated that you and him had sex, and I was like “HUH???? [friend’s name] WHAT” and you were like .3. “yeah I hooked up in high school” and I was like “goddammit why didnt you at least introduce me to Laito or something if you knew his family” and you were like “lol”

Anyways I lost my shit when I woke up; enjoy my barely coherent half asleep grammar

10.- Is there something/habit a diaboy does that bothers/annoys you? 

AYATO WONT TIE HIS FUCKING TIE RIGHT IM––

Honestly Idc about that nearly as much that I can’t forgive Laito for the toothbrush scene, I can’t, it’s too weird even for me, and thats goddamn saying something.

11.- Is there something/habit a diaboy does that makes your heart flutter/melt? 

Literally almost everything Laito does except the toothbrush scene. But mainly voice drops. and his manic laughter. fuck.

Lmao this was fun!!! Now time for the tagging: 

@hotline-to-hell @nam00n @the-precious-sugar-chan @murasakiplum @the-tomboygamer123 @jardinsdeminuit @zaraenia have fun, go ham!!! Also if you wanna do this do it as well!!!

[ask-the-crimson-king]

Tales from D&D: The Campfire Song Song

[It is I, your friendly neighborhood Hermit back with another tale from D&D. And this one is... Certainly a saga. LONG POST AHOY.

IT IS ONCE AGAIN FROM MY CURSE OF STRAHD CAMPAIGN! The characters, in brief, are:

AETERNUS -- Goliath wild soul barbarian, played more like a golem than a goliath. Stoic, remembers almost nothing of his past. ARAZEL -- Blood angel (aasimar x tiefling hybrid) bard, has a patron because he used to be a Warlock and the player wanted to keep the patron. Very much a Bard. Has tamed a fucking dire wolf who is now named Boris. He is a good boy. LEON -- Human time domain cleric, worships a god of time called Tempus. Old retired soldier sent out into the world because his god has plans for him. CALEB -- Vampire desperado gunslinger, a vampire hunter who wants revenge against the creatures who turned him and killed his family. 

In the last session, the players had made it to the Old Bonegrinder and met the three hags living there. Thanks to a Fifth Nat 1, the hags became hostile because Arazel mentioned how he had a pet dire wolf and the hags thought he was sent by Strahd. 

I told them at the beginning of this one,  “If you can talk your way out of this encounter, I’ll let you level up right now instead of waiting for Friday.”

What the fuck happens right after I say that?

Arazel fucking crits on persuasion and the party is now LEVEL FOUR! HURRAY!

Caleb is dealing with the two sisters upstairs, his gun is mentioned, and then Arazel’s player says, and I quote,

Arazel had also purchased a pastry, and Aeternus ends up charging upstairs and Arazel turns to him and says, "Hey Pebbles, eat this okay?" Aeternus made the con save, so instead of having weird dream visions, he instead felt this weird sense of nostalgia that he cant place his finger on. Seeing the cakes were safe, the rest of the party all pay for a cake themselves and they all. fail. the save.

So they get to fall into a pleasant, dreamlike state, for 1d4+4 hours... and OF COURSE I roll a 4. So eight hours of them being in this trance. Arazel, Leon, and Caleb, all conked the hell out. Which meant Aeternus was alone with this Night Hag who was now cackling. 

And so he asked the witch what was in the cakes, and she simply said “some very rare and exotic ingredients. it is an acquired taste.” aeternus then took many hints, scooped everyone up, and left with Ismark (Kolyana and Ireena were waiting outside in a cart, not trusting that place one bit, but Ismark went in to help guard the party and keep an eye on Caleb.) 

They run back to the cart and Kolyana is asking what happened. Aeternus explains the situation with the cakes, and Kolyana then facepalms. He says,

"You didn't eat any, did you?" "I did, why?" "Those are dream cakes. they're popular in Vallaki -- you'll see why." "I do not dream." "Everyone dreams, my boy. daydreams, plans for the future, or-" "I have nothing to dream about."  The cart goes quiet before Ismark speaks up. "What do you mean?" Aeternus then says, "I remember nothing but war from my past." "A miserable existence, then." "Heh, makes you sound like a barovian," Kolyana says with a snicker. "We're all miserable bastards." 

More silence. 

"You really don't remember anything?" Ismark then asks. "Nothing but war." Aeternus shakes his head. "How old are you?" "... I do not know. I have been wandering for some time, but I know I am quite old." "I don’t remember any wars in our recent history. You don’t seem to be old enough for any of those." "Definitely not," Kolyana agrees. The cart is silent, and Aeternus goes quiet.

Hours pass, and the cart is pulled off to the side of the road. Ireena and Valerie, a Vistana woman they had met, (who owned the cart), go off to build a fire, while the rest stay back in order to wait for the others to come out of their trances. 

When they do awaken, the world is darker. More grim, more miserable. The mists seem to cling to them, and they long to be back in their dreams.

Arazel awakes with a start, drawing out his magic string and wrapping it around Leon's neck while a thin knife hovers at Caleb's throat. Kolyana, Ismark, and Aeternus all stand to try and apprehend him as he asks, "What the HELL happened to me?" "You were dreaming," Aeternus tells him. "We didn’t do anything to you." "Put the weapons away, you're around friends here," Ismark says, his sword half out of its sheath. Slowly, Arazel backs down, checking his wings to see if any feathers are out of place. Boris looks up at him expectantly, and Arazel takes him to the fire as the rest of the party files out of the cart.

They all go and head down to the fireplace, and enjoy a nice thick stew. Some of the vegetables are freshly picked from the lands around them, although they are thick mountain-dwelling plants. They are a bit higher up in elevation, though more surrounded by foothills instead of mountains. 

They enjoy their dinner and Kolyana asks them what they saw in their visions. Leon goes first, recalling his home. recalling the people he loved, the community fostered, everything. It felt warm. It felt safe. But that wasn't here anymore. Kolyana gave him a small reassuring pat on the shoulder before Arazel spoke up.

"I saw my mother." "Your mother?" Aeternus asks. "Okay, well, here's the thing. My mother was this holy angel, and my father was a damned and hated tiefling. And my father kinda dipped on me when i was younger. My mother served a very holy god who didn't want to be sullied with such a sinful abomination," he then gestures to himself, "and so my mum had to leave me." "Wait, wait, your mom left you because her god said so?" Caleb asks. "Well yeah but I mean I get it. if she didn't then she would've lost her powers, and-" "That’s pretty selfish of her." Caleb shrugs. "sorry, man." "Not really. I’m sure any parent would do that." "I can tell you, as a father myself, I would never do that to my children. No matter who the god was. I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kolyana tells him, giving Arazel a meaningful look.

“And what about you, vampire?” the old man asks. “What did you see?”

"I saw my home. I saw the old homestead. I saw my parents, and my siblings. It was nice." Before Kolyana responds, a conspiracy of ravens descends from the sky. one lands on each of Aeternus' shoulders, cawing.  The three Barovians all gasp. 

"What fantastic luck," Kolyana mutters. Arazel is tempted to have Boris pounce on them, but Kolyana quickly says "DO NOT ATTACK THEM! That would bring nothing but doom and misfortune. Ravens are symbols of good luck, not evil. At least not here." 

Arazel shrugs, and tosses a piece of his stew at them. They caw and hop off the giant's shoulders, peck at the food, then flutter off into the night. The party all decides to settle in for the night, and this comes my FAVORITE fucking part of the session;

Dream Chats with Strahd!

(Yes I’m bending the lore a bit but it’s for the rule of cool okay)

I bring each of the players into the Special Corner (Discord call, we have a D&D voice chat and then Special Corner for 1-on-1 with the DM) one by one.

First in was Arazel.

Arazel feels the presence of his patron. He feels a warm, golden glow about him, even if he cannot visualize Sanguinius himself. He soon finds himself within a hall. It seems to be that of a cathedral. Polished stone, nearly gleaming, is under his feet. But everything feels... a bit fuzzed out. Just barely out of focus. He sees a lectern at the end of this great hall, with, what 40k fans would recognize, as the BA symbol, inscribed into it.

And then he hears a very familiar voice, and sees a very familiar figure walk out from behind a pillar.

Familiar dark clothing, familiar face, familiar dark eyes. 

It is Strahd von Zarovich, and he has come for a chat. 

And he doesnt greet arazel with hostility. He says that he is impressed with this place of worship, and that he knows very little about Arazel’s patron. But he would love to learn more about him, and about Arazel himself. Arazel asks “why are you here?”

Strahd takes a sip from his glass before he says, “You and your compatriots all fascinate me. So I want to learn just a little more about you. How you think, what your morality is." He shrugs, and then explains that he does not have too much time to speak. An invitation will be given -- soon, though he does not know when -- and tells him it is within Arazel’s best interests to accept it. He wants to be able to have an open, honest chat with him and his friends.

He also asks that he does not discuss this meeting with anyone. A measure of trust. Arazel agrees, and Strahd disappears.

Next up, Caleb.

Caleb is dreaming of his homestead. He feels grass beneath his feet, but none of his family is here. Everything around him feels fuzzy, blurry. The only crisp image is of the homestead itself. Strahd appears to him as well, coming out of the homestead, and says similar things to what he told Arazel, namely the reason for his arrival and his interest in him and his friends. However, he also remarks on how similar the two of them are, referring to their shared vampiric nature. Caleb says,

"Actually we're probably very different. I think we became who we are through very different ways." 

Strahd agrees, but he offers a solution to Caleb's little bloodthirst-issue, (which luckily has been able to be curbed thanks to Leon being generous), and potentially knowledge about his abilities. Caleb recently gained the ability to be able to shift into bat form, and he thinks he may have other skills locked away.

An invitation is mentioned, along with the same condition. He cannot tell anyone of this meeting.

Caleb, begrudgingly, agrees. Strahd vanishes once more. Interestingly, Strahd does not mention how one of Caleb’s current goals is to go into van Richten’s tower to find the old hunter in order to find a way to kill Strahd. 

But we’ll get to that.

Then we go to Leon.

Leon appears within an old library. The books around him are nothing more than vague shapes, and there is a musty smell from the bookshelves. Ahead of him is a strange device, a piece of machinery made of many different concentric rings, which he realizes must represent the different planes of reality. It slowly moves, casting around shadows as an unknown light source dances around the room. This is a representation of how Tempus views reality and its many potential timelines, he realizes. Just a very, very simple model, but it resembles the one from his own church. 

Enter Strahd, a warm smile on his face.

“I’ve been waiting to speak with you for some time. You and I have much to discuss.”

Leon asks why he is here, and Strahd explains what he had told Caleb and Arazel -- though he also adds he wants to learn a little more about him, here and now. He wants to also extend the offer for Leon to learn more about Strahd himself in a sort of private talk, and expresses interest in learning more about Tempus and Leon's nature and relationship. He asks Leon to tell him a few things, and Leon agrees to tell him a bit about his past -- his life as a soldier, the village he had settled within, how he found Tempus, that sort of stuff. 

Then Leon cuts right to the point, saying, "Why are you really asking me this? I don’t like to associate with bad people."

"Well I wouldn’t call myself bad. I have made my mistakes, and I am no saint, but I’m not a horrible person." Strahd shrugs. "I ask because I’m fascinated by you. By all of you, honestly. You're quite the interesting little crew."

He mentions the invitation, but also gives a different message.

"I know Caleb is going to be going to van Richten's tower. I want you to stay behind in Vallaki when he does. I will send my invitation then. Our conversation will be a little more... private, for lack of a better term, then the one I shall have with all of you."

He gives the same terms -- that Leon cannot tell anyone of this meeting -- which Leon agrees to, and Strahd disappears once more.

Last but not least...

Aeternus.

Aeternus doesn't dream, but his mind does come to a daydreaming-state. He comes to one of the few scenes he remembers. A field, with the rubble of a broken house nearby. Nothing else is clear, or even blurred. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a vast void.

Strahd appears once more, commenting on how grim this place was. Aeternus is on edge at the appearance of the vampire, but simply replies, "this is all I can remember."

"Oh, I know. All you remember is warfare. But even then, of no clear battle. Just fragments of death and misery. A shame, really." Strahd sighs. "I know of a way for you to begin remembering all you had lost. My libraries may hold some of the answers you seek, as do I."

Aeternus is quiet. Before he speaks, strahd smiles. 

"Petting that wolf made you remember something, didn't it? And the cake you ate? You remember something about a raven, too."

Aeternus is caught way off guard. Strahd has, somehow (rule of cool and plot reasons) gotten into his head. He goes on guard, but Strahd puts his hands up. 

"I can offer answers. I will be sending an invitation, soon. I do not know when. But I need to be able to trust you. Tell no one of this encounter." 

"How can i be able to trust you?" Aeternus responds with a grunt. One hand is on his axe. Strahd chuckles. "Caleb wants to go to van Richten's tower. Go with him. There is something waiting for you there." 

And then he disappears, and that is where the session ended.

[vincturi]

If you’re naked I’m looking

1300 words, rated E. smut is not my talent but Aro wouldn’t shut up about this story (smug bastard) so here it is.  

Peter smiled as he heard a knock at the door. That would Charlie he thought. He was coming round for a night of TV and drinking. It would be nice to have a relaxed evening with a mate. Especially with no risk of Aro appearing as Peter had revoked his right to enter a few days before, after they’d had another row.

“Come in," he called, and then he grinned as he remembered an incident at the last show when Charlie had accidentally walked in on him changing. As he walked out of the bathroom heading to his bedroom to get dressed he said, “If you’re naked I’m definitely looking.”

“Oh my, promises, promises.”

Peter nearly tripped over his own feet at the sound of Aro’s voice; nearly face planting, only managing to stay upright by grabbing the back of the chair he was sitting in.

“What the fuck! What are you, how did you get in here?” Peter stopped and sighed. “I invited you in damn it. I thought you were Charlie.”

“You were expecting to see Charles naked.” Aro’s voice was cold and hard.

“No for fuck’s sake. It was a joke, you understand them you vampiric drama king. Now what are you doing here, I revoked your welcome for a reason,” Peter glared at him.

Aro gave him a look under his eyelashes and pouted.

“I did have some news but you’ve made me sad now so maybe I won’t tell you.”

Peter grumbled, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be reacting, should revoke his welcome again. But he really did need to hear the news. Or at least that was his excuse for not sending Aro away. And he could deny it was anything to do with the way Aro was sliding a hand up his bare leg and stroking his inner thigh.

“Ngk,” Peter made a noise which wasn’t really a word.

“Come on,” murmured Aro. “Let’s have some fun. I’ve missed our times together. Then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Now who’s making promises,” Peter sighed as Aro’s hand slid between his legs and began to stroke his growing cock though his boxers.

“Put that naughty mouth of yours to use. Make me feel good, I’ll return the favour, you know you’ll enjoy it.”

“Fuck you,” Peter swore but he dropped to his knees in front of Aro anyway.

“Oh, good boy.”

“Not your boy,” grumbled Peter, but he didn’t stop undoing Aro’s pants and pulling out his rapidly hardening cock to stroke.

“Don’t tease dear,” complained Aro after a few minutes.

“You’re one to talk,” answered Peter, before ducking his head and swallowing Aro down in one go, causing the vampire to sigh in pleasure.

“Ahh, that’s more like it, mmm.”

Peter smiled to himself. He was still more than a little concerned about his relationship with Aro but he couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill at giving him such pleasure, pretending he had some power over him. He hummed and began to bob his head and properly lick and suck at him, adding the gentlest scrape of teeth he knew Aro loved.

Aro began to moan louder, and slid a hand into Peter’s hair, tugging and encouraging him to keep his head down as he heard foot steps outside and a nervous voice saying, “Peter,” in a questioning tone.

Aro smirked as Charlie looked in the door and froze at the scene in front of him.

Aro fixed him with a smug look and raised his hand from Peter’s head to prove he was there willingly. Peter looked up curiously for a moment but before he could notice Charlie, Aro moaned louder and put his hand back into Peter’s hair tugging at it.

“Oh Peter yes, that’s wonderful dear, don’t stop. Your mouth always feels so good for me.”

Charlie didn’t move for a moment, he was staring at Peter’s hands, one rhythmically squeezing Aro’s thigh and the other busy between his own legs.

Aro began to gasp and rock his hips insistently against Peter as he forgot about their visitor and Charlie ducked away, letting the door swing shut behind him confused at Peter’s behaviour but not willing to watch any more. He was at least sure that his friend was there willingly.

Aro was close to coming now; he could feel the pleasure building and moaned, “I’m going to come Peter. I’m going to come in your mouth and you’re going to swallow like a good boy.”

Peter wanted to respond but he was too far gone himself and instead gave a loud moan which made Aro come with a thoroughly pleasured sigh.

He let Peter continue to lick at him for a moment, cleaning him up with his tongue, before using the hand in his hair to pull him off. Putting both hands under Peter’s arms he pulled him into his lap and began to jerk him off in the way he knew Peter loved.

“Oh fuck Aro, don’t stop, oh god don’t stop.”

It only took a few strokes of Aro’s nimble fingers before Peter was coming all over his hand and his own chest. Aro caught Peter’s eye and licked the mess off with his bright red tongue.

Peter shuddered, “fuck, no more sexy things for a minute please. I’m not 20 anymore you know.”

Aro smiled a sly smile. “If you’d let me turn you we could have fun all night.”

“No,” answered Peter, then more firmly. “No. Now tell me what’s going on before I send you packing.”

“So ungrateful,” murmured Aro with a grin and laughed quietly at Peter’s answering grumble. “There is a werewolf conference going on next weekend and they have invited us to send a representative, so I’m going and would like to take you as my plus one.”

“What, why?” asked Peter. “Why not one of the other bloodsuckers?”

“I would like to show off how I’ve tamed a vampire hunter,” answered Aro in an amused voice as Peter huffed a denial. “It would be a matter of prestige for us. And a human would see things I might miss.” He finished more seriously.

Peter thought about it for a moment. “Ok,” he said slowly. “As long as you behave, I don’t want to get into any fights.”

“I would never,” gasped Aro, pretending to be scandalised at the suggestion.

“You nearly killed a guy last week for touching my arm.”

“That was an accident.”

“You accidentally threatened to rip someone’s throat out?”

“Yes, I should have done it.”

“Look, lets,” Peter rubbed his eyes. “Let’s just say no arguing with werewolves over me. Can I, fuck, can I wear something of yours to show I. Oh hell. To show I’m `with you`?”

Aro’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.

“Not teeth marks,” Peter added quickly.

“I was going to send you to my tailor anyway; you are not going in those leather pants of yours. So I could pair a new suit with a necklace like mine to show you are one of my household.”

“Ok, that sounds fine and not too creepy.” Peter hesitated at Aro’s expression. “Wait, it isn’t some creepy vampire shit is it?”

“Of course not,” said Aro with an innocent expression. “It will simply ensure that no one will dare touch you.”

He didn’t add `and choosing the correct symbol will let everyone know we are fucking and that anyone who pesters you will die regardless of consequences`.

Peter knew he wasn’t hearing the full story but for the moment he was too tired to argue. He yawned suddenly and Aro stood, lifting him easily bridal style and, ignoring his yelp of annoyance, carried him to the bedroom where he left him to settle under the covers.

“Sleep well my dear, I can’t stay unfortunately, I have business to attend to but I will see you tomorrow for suit fittings, and a fuller repeat of tonight’s fun.” And with a flash of teeth he was gone.

“Fuck,” Peter swore, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Then he wondered where Charlie was and why he hadn’t turned up. Though he was grateful he hadn’t, he didn’t need the kid seeing that. But he decided that conversation could wait until the morning.