#this is why i stick to vampires it’s the only reliable way to get weird murderous obsessive love stories nowadays

[mars-ipan]

ngl yandere as a genre has so much potential but i have literally never seen it executed in a way that didn’t immediately squander that potential

[therealvinelle]

Hi! I was reading through your meta (which is reeeeally interesting) and noticed you said you don't like Eleazar? I was wondering why that was?

Tumblr ate this ask when I had almost finished it and I hate everything. Also, thanks for the compliment, I’m really glad you like my things.

Now to try and remember what I wrote about Eleazar…

I think Eleazar is a disagreeable person whose gift wasn’t useful enough to warrant a place in the Volturi guard, and Aro jumped on the Carmen-shaped excuse to give him an honorable discharge.

To start with the gift, we see him use it twice and neither time is particularly impressive.

Siobhan Siobhan has the power of reality manipulation. Her gift is noticeable enough that Carlisle is certain she has it, so when he gets Eleazar and Siobhan in a room together he pulls Eleazar over to see if he was right. Eleazar squints at Siobhan. And he squints. Finally he says, «I’ve got nothing.» Now, gifts are an iffy, complicated matter everyone has their own theories about, but I think that at the end of the day we can all agree it’s a binary, you’re gifted or you’re not. Some gifts may be weak, but those are still gifts. And maybe someone will touch the gray zone of «is it a gift or is Johnny the vampire just really good at juggling?», but Siobhan has the power to manipulate reality, and she must do it a lot for Carlisle to have come to suspect it in the first place. She has a definitive and powerful gift. And even if I’m wrong about gifts being binary, if Eleazar wants to be useful to Aro he should still be able to say: Yes, this person has a gift, or no, this person does not have a gift. Sadly, he is not. When brought before Siobhan he says «She could have a gift, she could also not have a gift.» This means he hasn’t detected her gift, which is bad enough by itself. Being able to tell if someone has a gift or not should be a dealbreaker. The way he answers, though, that she could very well have a gift he doesn’t know about, makes it clear that people having gifts he couldn’t detect has happened enough for him to be open to the possibility that the gift there, and he can’t see it. In other words, Eleazar isn’t reliable for detecting gifts and will give Aro false negatives.

Bella This is an aside but as it’ll inevitably come up later in my blog I’ll just drop here that I think Bella’s gift is something more complex than a shield. She has prophetic dreams, hallucination!Edward, and there’s a weird inconsistency as to who is blocked by her and who isn’t. I think her gift is self-preservation, and the shield is one of its manifestations. Anyway, onto discrediting Eleazar. (I’ll be pretty closely paraphrasing what happens in chapter 31 of Breaking Dawn, but since the interaction goes on for several pages I’m not going to clutter this post by pasting all of it.) To his credit, he does notice Bella right away, and he identifies her as a shield based on the fact that he gets this sense of nothingness from her. This is all he can do, however, and I can’t stress that enough. He assumes that she can block Edward, but he’s shocked to learn that she can block Aro. He’s just as surprised that she can block Jane and Alec. He has to interview her to deduce exactly what her gift does, which again has nothing to do with his gift. Anyone could ask questions, in fact Aro found all this out two books ago, without the help of Eleazar. Eleazar then starts musing aloud about who-would-win in a Renata vs. Bella showdown (more on that later), which is as tactless as it is revealing. The guy genuinely doesn’t know, and it’s because he doesn’t understand their gifts well enough. Eleazar’s power means he can tell Bella that she has a gift, and he knows roughly what it is. He muses that usually he can’t even tell that much, which again is quite damning. He can’t tell her exactly what she does without a game of 20 questions first. She gives him more information than he gives her, which he then regurgitates back to her with slightly different wording, and everybody claps. «My god, Eleazar, you’ve done it again!» (No, really, this is pretty much what happens. Eleazar brought no new information to the table, yet he blew Bella and Edward’s minds.) It’s all fun and games to do this for Bella and Edward, as they for various reasons genuinely didn’t realize she had a gift. For Aro, who figured this one out on his own, one begins to wonder what Eleazar was bringing to the table.

Carlisle Bonus bullet point! I’ll make this one brief. I believe Carlisle in canon has a gift he’s unaware of (Yes, I have a post planned, but it will get ugly long so god knows when it’ll come), which makes him another one of Eleazar’s gift detection fails. In short, I think he’s extremely charismatic, able to win over anybody. To list a few examples - he has an extremely diverse set of friends who in Breaking Dawn are willing to lay down their lives for him, Jacob muses how his instinctive hostility around vampires doesn’t apply to Carlisle, and vampires are terrifying to humans (don’t be fooled by the movies, people) yet Carlisle is able to work as a successful doctor, meaning his patients don’t mind being exposed to a killing machine even when they’re at their most vulnerable. He’s able to keep his family of sociopaths in line. There’s not a single person in the Twilight ‘verse that dislikes him. (Billy and Caius excepted, but Billy has no direct exposure to him until late Eclipse, and Caius is responding to a coven that’s potentially threatening the Volturi) People are free to disagree with me on this one, but if I’m right (and I have a lot of book quotes as well as a theory on what gifts even are to back me up on this one. I’m right, damnit!) then Carlisle is another gifted vampire Eleazar failed to detect.

So. We’ve established that Eleazar’s gift will yield false negatives, and that he can’t tell you much about the gifts he does detect.

I think his power is to point out the obvious.

Which means that Aro’s eyelid was twitching slightly, but alright, Eleazar could still be useful.

Unfortunately, there is the matter of weighing up your pros with your cons.

The Volturi are, at the end of the day, a group of people who live in a commune together. Coven, guard, evil minions, call them what we like but they’re exposed to each other and some sense of agreeability is required. And Chelsea is not omnipotent.

More, I imagine that in a coven as large and old as the Volturi, they’ve developed a culture of their own. This means that newcomers will need social awareness and a willingness to fit in.

Eleazar, from what we see of him in Breaking Dawn, appears to lack both.

It’s in the way he speaks of the people he used to work with. It’s utterly impersonal. He tells us how their gifts work, no more and no less. When he speaks of Aro, he speaks only of actions Aro took and orders he gave, nothing about the man’s personality. Now, considering the context, he was speaking in a context where Jane’s thoughts and feelings were far from relevant, but it’s still notable.

Also notable is the fact that he has no issue contemplating a Renata vs. Bella scenario, even though this would mean the deaths of two people he worked with for years. Perhaps it’s a thought exercise, but it’s not a thought exercise I would have gotten into when it was days away from becoming reality. If Renata can’t deflect Bella’s power, she and Aro die.

I’ll put it this way - I don’t think he’d do a «who would win» like this involving Carmen.

At no point in the book does Eleazar show any concern for the eventuality that members of a guard he used to be a part of may get killed.

It seems he didn’t form personal relationships with the rest of the guard. I suspect he considered himself... if not quite above them, then still someone who could evaluate them. Their gifts is what he looked at in them. I also think it’s likely he asked Aro not to use Chelsea on him, which in turn would have made him stick out even more as there’s nothing making him and Volturi Guard Member X just click in the way I imagine Chelsea can be very helpful with. Which in turn means that the other guard members will feel close to one another in a way they’re not close to Eleazar.

Also… he’s just a douche. I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules and the whole guy radiates douche. I can’t even point to a specific quote in the book, it’s just is.

I don’t think this guy never really fit into the Volturi guard, and his gift wasn’t useful enough to keep him. Aro was thrilled to have him at first, but as time went on and Eleazar proved to just not be all that, he eventually realized he had to get rid of him.

Because as others have pointed out before me, the Carmen excuse makes no sense. There would be no problem in one more vampire in the castle, yet Aro wouldn’t let her in and Eleazar had to choose.

It was a solution that sent Eleazar on his way with his ego intact, and no hard feelings towards the Volturi. More, Aro is on record doing this with it’s-not-you thing with at least one other vampire. Laurent wanted to join the Volturi, had nothing to bring to the table, and Aro used past association with the Romanians as an excuse for why Laurent couldn’t join rather than tell him to his face that he was useless. With Marcus, Aro, and Chelsea around, the Romanian connection isn’t a problem, meaning Aro was bullshitting.

TL;DR: Aro is the kind of person who’d lie and say his grandma died if he doesn’t want to go to your party, and Eleazar is the kind of person who’d say «My condolences».

[bangtancentricsblog]

》 Unbeknownst to Jungkook, there is a rise in popularity for a particular human holiday, one of which leaves him blindsided and scrambling to find the absolute perfect gift for his one and only. They say food is the quickest way to a man’s heart but no one ever said it didn't work on women.

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, established relationship, a dash of angst, and a pinch of smut

❒ alternative universe: fantasy, college/university, werewolf, witch,

❒ rating: 18+

❒ word count: 12.4 k+

warnings/disclosures: werewolf Jungkook, witch MC, kinda tsundere mc, cat shifters Yoongi and Yoonji, Fairy Jimin, Siren Taehyung, MC is on the bigger side!, Merman Seokjin, Elf Hoseok, Vampire Namjoon, friendly fondling from yoonji, heteroflexible/bicurious yoonji, boob talk, mc is not good at cooking, misunderstanding on jungkook’s part, baking mishaps, frazzled jungkook, not so helpful/helpful yoongi, half-hearted frenemies Jungkook and Yoonji, Jungkook cries a little, yoonji jumping to conclusion, sense8 references, harry potter references, killing eve reference, way too many allusions to sex, jungkook isn't a good at baking, always reliable Seokjinnie, chubby POC Bunny shifter OC, whiney JK and MC, ‘rich’ jungkook, not edited i tried to i really did, taste testers Jimin and Taehyung, SMUT is at the end, bad smut at the end, food play (mostly them getting turned on by feeding each other), fingering (ew why do we call it that? Finger blast sounds better lmao), cock warming-ish, tiny hints of a size kink, grinding, soft fuck, soft spanking, sappy endings

❀ this is part of the bangtan pastries valentine collab hosted by the lovely @suhdays, who also made my lovely banner 💖 make sure to check out the other fics as well, they’re amazing as are the other authors and please excuse any incoherent inconsistencies or misspelling as this fic was written over a many days and long hours ❀

main ml • AO3

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

*

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

*

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

*

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

*

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

*

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

*

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

*

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

*

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

*

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

*

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

*

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

*

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

*

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his. 

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips. 

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long. 

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you. 

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug. 

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat. 

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers. 

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders. 

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening. 

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer. 

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight. 

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom. 

*

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly. 

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence. 

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug. 

“So should we move on?” he asks, watching you nod excitedly, he’s equally excited to see what the future holds. It may have taken some time and more than ten ounces of semi sweet chocolate but eventually Jungkook learned that you would be the sweetest thing in his life.

[specterchasing-a]

I'll Stick With Being Human || Milo & Eddie

TIMING: 2015

LOCATION: White Crest High School

PARTIES: @wickedmilo​ & @specterchasing​

SUMMARY: Milo and Eddie wind up together in detention... again. Eddie talks about believing in vampires, but Milo’s not buying it.

Realistically, Milo knew smoking during the detention he was being given for smoking wasn’t a very smart idea. But he wasn’t good at making smart decisions, and where was the fun in following the rules? If he was in trouble for smoking on school grounds, then what did he really have to lose by smoking on school grounds? A genuine question, one he was confident he knew the answer to. Besides, he had a lookout this time. A friend he had met on multiple occasions during his after school adventures. It seemed they both had a habit of getting caught out, but clearly their punishments were doing nothing to deter them. Every now and then another student would join them, people would come and go. But Eddie seemed to be a constant, and he was grateful for that fact. Pushing the window open as far as he possibly could, he knew from experience they probably had ten minutes before a member of staff returned to check on them, so he sparked up, glancing back towards Eddie who was peering through the glass in the doorway. 

“You can’t be fucking serious.” He muttered, in response to his company's previous statement. They had shared many conversations about ghosts and ghouls, Eddie being a very avid believer in the supernatural. He was more than willing to humour him, especially given how well it managed to pass the time. But vampires? Vampires might be pushing it. He exhaled a breath of smoke, laughing easily as he pulled a nearby desk towards where he was standing. Clambering to sit on it, the height didn’t give him much of an advantage, but it allowed him to better direct the smoke outside. “What, you think they sparkle?” He teased. He couldn’t say he knew very much about ‘vampiric’ lore, beyond what he saw in modern mainstream media. No doubt he was about to learn an awful lot, but he was never going to walk away with the same level of conviction. How could he? “Don’t you think if vampires existed, people would have figured that shit out by now? Hey- keep watching the hall, dude! If I get another detention because of you, I’m taking you down with me. You know that, right?” 

Eddie never learned how to keep his mouth shut. Teachers issued warnings, but he couldn’t resist the urge to give voice to whatever thoughts he deemed important enough. More often than not, his chatty nature landed him in hot water, not that he minded. With Milo around, detention wasn’t all that bad. With most of his fellow students, Eddie understood the importance of keeping his cards to his chest. If he mentioned ghosts or other such creatures to them, it was more than likely that he’d wind up ridiculed—or worse. That wasn’t the case with Milo. Sure, he liked to tease Eddie about his theories but mostly he just listened. Eddie appreciated that about him.

As soon as Milo offered his rebuttal, Eddie rolled his eyes. The scent of smoke stung his nostrils, inspiring a grimace to form. “Ease up, Summers. If you get caught, it’ll be thanks to that stench, not me,” he warned, but quickly directed his gaze toward the hallway to be safe. As far as he could tell, the coast was clear. Eddie’s arms folded over his chest as he leaned against an unoccupied desk. “The whole point is that people already know about vampires—just not, y’know, everyone. And, no, they don’t sparkle… probably.” Admittedly, Eddie didn’t know enough about vampires to relay any facts with unshakable conviction, but that didn’t dissuade him from his belief. 

“But, if you look at an obscene number of deaths in White Crest dating all the way back to the 1700s, you’ll notice a pretty obvious pattern of neck punctures and exsanguination. You can’t tell me that doesn’t seem pretty fuckin’ weird to you.” Eddie eyed him pointedly as if daring him to argue. “I’m right about this, I know I am. I just… have to figure out how to prove it conclusively, is all.”

Milo pointedly exhaled a breath of smoke, blowing it towards the open window before turning to watch as it was pulled outside by a barely existent breeze. “A smell doesn’t prove anything.” He countered. “So long as they don’t see me smoking, it isn’t like they can do shit.” That probably wasn’t true, but he would much rather believe it was. “The whole point is sooo not that people already know about vampires,” he laughed, allowing himself to be drawn back into the conversation. He often liked to tease Eddie about his beliefs, though it was all in good nature. There was no harm in the way he saw the world, and if he was being entirely honest, more often than not, he was genuinely interested to hear more. He wasn’t the type of person to admit that, so he continued their discussions with playful jabs, and questions intended to catch out his friend. As far as he could tell, Eddie didn’t mind. 

“Probably?” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes shining as he took another hasty drag from his cigarette. “Look, every small town has weird deaths. Come on, I mean small towns are already fucking weird. No matter where you go there’s some urban legend, or cryptid living in the woods. It’s just shit people made up to entertain themselves before tv became a thing.” Pausing to think for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to explain the puncture wounds. Then again, he had never seen proof or done any research. For all he knew, Eddie’s information was biased. “What about the vampires in Victorian London? You know those creepy stories of people climbing out of their graves? I read an article about that once, the vampire even made the papers, but everything had a logical explanation. Stuff wasn’t exactly reliable back then. People were confirmed dead all the time when they were just… I don’t know, taking a nap or something. And you think animals don’t go for the neck sometimes? Or people don’t get carried away with their kinks?” He grinned, watching to see if Eddie became flustered, or took the comment in his stride.

At the mention of kink-related deaths, Eddie let out a huff of laughter. “What a way to go,” he mused with a smirk, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks suddenly felt. With how sex-obsessed boys his age were, Eddie quickly learned the importance of seeming comfortable discussing the subject. Still, he much preferred talking about vampires; he understood them better.

“Look, I’m not saying that mundane reasons for puncture wounds don’t exist, y’know, they do, but what if that’s not always the case?” Eddie’s shoulders raised along with his eyebrows. “Not to sound completely unhinged, but maybe—just maybe—Vampires don’t want people to know about them and, over the years, they’ve been covering up the truth with logical explanations. They’re immortal, they’ve got plenty of free time to do so.” 

Eddie glanced back at the hallway to make sure Milo remained unspotted, quickly returning his attention to him when all was clear. “And who’s to say that logical explanations and the supernatural can’t coexist? The same result can occur even with vastly different triggers. If we hold on too tightly to what we understand, we’ll never find out how massive and diverse the world really is.” 

Milo laughed, smoke unfurling on his breath. “I’m sure there are worse ways.” He pointed out, tapping ash onto the window ledge before sweeping it away with his hand. He could see the faint blush on Eddie’s face, but did nothing to draw attention to it. He was more than satisfied by his answer, and making him feel self conscious would be far more malicious than a few playful comments about sex. “I mean, even if the puncture wounds aren’t coming from something mundane, I’m just saying it’s a bit of a stretch to assume mythological creature, you know?” Laughing again, he took one final drag of his cigarette before killing it and throwing it outside. It would only land on the grassy bank two floors below, nobody was ever going to notice. “It’s too late,” he teased. “You sound unhinged, but that’s why I like you.” 

Sliding off of the desk, he made a point of dragging it back to where it previously had been, deciding to wait before closing the window so that the smell of smoke had longer to dissipate. “You know, I get it. If I was a vampire I wouldn’t exactly want people to know.” He admitted, thinking about it very briefly before continuing. “But don’t you think like, with technology and shit like Twilight, people might start to notice if vampires were actually out there?” Grinning easily as his friend began to talk in his usual way, passion lacing his tone as he fought to sound reasonable and profound, he took a seat back at his allocated desk. He couldn’t hide the affection he felt, and couldn’t deny the fact that Eddie did sound reasonable, and profound. But he wasn’t about to give in so easily. “What’s the scientific explanation for Edward sparkling? That’s the real fucking question here.” 

At the mention of his theory being a stretch, Eddie responded with an indifferent shrug. “To reach the truth, sometimes a little stretching is necessary.” He thought about his ability to see and hear ghosts, how no reasonable explanation for that existed. It seemed a little far fetched to think of himself as an anomaly. Others had to be out there. 

“You sound unhinged, but that’s why I like you.” Eddie blinked in surprise at Milo’s comment, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Careful, or I’ll take that as a greenlight to unload my even weirder theories.” He liked Milo, too. On a few occasions in the past, he thought about asking if they could hang-out outside of detention, but could never muster up the courage to go through with it. Regardless, he had no trouble considering him a friend.

“I mean, people have,” Eddie replied enthusiastically. “If you look online, there’s plenty of people discussing the existence of vampires and there’s no way they’re all bullshitting.” As soon as Milo sat down, Eddie took a trip to the desk next to his and seated himself. His knees tucked under the metal bar connecting the chair to the flat surface of the desk so that his attention was solely on his fellow delinquent. “There’s even talk of slayers; people born to hunt vampires. Just because the media refuses to cover something, doesn’t mean it’s not out there.”

When the conversation circled back to Edward Cullen, Eddie laughed. “Who’s to say? Maybe vampires just have a thing for glitter. But, in reality, they probably don’t get a chance to sparkle for too long before they burst into flames.” He went quiet for a moment, deep thought furrowing his brow. “Y’know, I read a lot about supernatural beings and, with some, I can’t help but think how cool it would be to be like them, but vampires? Mostly, I feel bad for them.”

“I don’t know if scientists would agree with that logic.” Milo teased. “But every YA author out there is screaming. You should write a book.” Laughing easily at the mention of wilder, and weirder theories, he wasn’t surprised Eddie had them. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t secretly interested in hearing more. But instead, he matched his friends grin, tilting lazily back in his chair. “We can save those for double detention, they sound like they might take more than an hour to get through.” 

Raising his eyebrows, at his friend’s following comment, he shot him a pointedly skeptical look. “You have been on the internet, right? Are you sure these aren’t just people trying to will their fantasies into existence? Do you know how many girls cry themselves to sleep because they aren’t about to marry a vampire who sparkles in the sun?” Turning slightly as Eddie took the seat beside him, he picked up the pen he had abandoned to smoke, tapping it absentmindedly against his desk. “Wait, so Van Helsing is also out there?” He was feigning disbelief again, making out he didn’t genuinely want to know, but he had a feeling Eddie recognised that. They had spent far too much time together now for him to buy into the disinterested act. “I’ve never actually heard anyone talk about slayers before.” He admitted. “Not in the context of like, conspiracy theories.” 

His eyes shining as the conversation inevitably circled back to Edward, it felt good to make Eddie smile. Regardless of why they were both in detention, it wasn’t exactly a great way to spend an hour of your time afterschool. Eddie made it bearable for him, and he liked to think he did the same in return. “Burst into flames like an explosion? Or is it not that dramatic? I like the idea of being incredibly extra. If you’re gonna go, why not do it in a burst of fucking flames.” His smile faltering as the joking began to ease up, there weren’t many things he considered during their conversations about the supernatural. He listened, he laughed, he encouraged. But this was interesting, why would anybody take sympathy for a creature that was historically supposed to be bloodthirsty, and out of control? What lore did Eddie know? “You do?” He asked curiously. “Why? They get to live forever, and have cool powers, right? Doesn’t sound so awful to me.” 

Eddie had very little interest in fiction, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of one day knowing enough about the supernatural to write books. Most people would disregard them, but he hoped that some would take him seriously. “I’ll make sure to get into even more trouble than usual,” Eddie promised, not that it took much effort from him.

“Yeah, I know it’s not always smart to believe what you read on forums, but some of these people really sound like they know a thing or two.” Eddie needed some of the claims to be genuine. If they weren’t, it meant everything he knew was built on lies. 

When Milo feigned disbelief, Eddie responded with raised brows and pursed lips, still unable to completely erase his grin. “Yeah, they’re like, total badasses who do everything they can to keep vampires off the streets. They’re basically superheroes.” But, no matter how much Eddie wanted to root for slayers, he couldn’t find it in himself to want all vampires to die. Most of them didn’t ask to be creatures of the night, it seemed wrong to paint them all as villains.

“Your guess is as good as mine but, now that you mention it, I hope there’s some flair.” Eddie should have hated detention, but Milo actually gave him a reason to look forward to it. They didn’t have a lot in common, but they kept each other entertained. Eddie didn’t know many people who made him laugh like Milo did, it was nice. 

“I dunno,” Eddie said when the laughter died down. “If you ask me, the whole immortality thing sounds like a raw deal. They’re destined to outlive everything they love. And then there’s the whole needing to drink blood to survive—what if they don’t wanna hurt anybody? But, y’know, they have to or they die slowly and painfully. No more sunlight, no more normal life, just shadows and blood. I don’t think there’s a superpower out there that would make a life like that worth it, do you?”

“I feel like you don’t need any help with getting into trouble,” Milo pointed out. “But then neither do I so I guess I’ll see you same time next week?” Humming quietly in response, he smirked at Eddie, unable to help himself. “You said that, not me.” There was no harm in checking out forums, of course. And it seemed to make his friend incredibly happy, but he wasn’t about to ruin their dynamic by being supportive. “Anyone can sound like they know a thing or two, I could probably convince you I’m a doctor with all the useless knowledge my parents have forced on me over the years. But please don’t let me anywhere near medical equipment, you know? I’m a liability.” Laughing at the idea of slayers being superheroes, he had only ever seen one trashy Van Helsing movie, but his mind decided to conjure the image of its serious, angsty protagonist proudly wearing a bright red cape. “Maybe don’t tell the slayers that, they probably have better fashion sense...” 

Clicking his pen so that he could doodle on the desk as he listened, he found himself drawing a stick figure with fangs. He was tempted to surround the figure in flames, but the thought made him feel a little guilty. Maybe he had been spending too much time with Eddie. “I feel like if there was flair, the viral videos would be endless.” He pointed out. “If we’re really going with vampires being legit it’s probably quiet, and highkey depressing.” A frown creasing his brow as he added a cape to his miniature vampire, he began to colour it black, needing to make it clear it wasn’t a tacky superhero rendition. “If they stick with other vampires then maybe the immortality isn’t so bad.” He murmured thoughtfully. “But yeah, I guess maybe the other stuff doesn’t sound so great. I think I’ll stick with being Human. Can’t come to detention if I have to avoid the sunlight, and then who’s going to keep you company?”

Eddie grinned broadly at the mention of seeing Milo again the following week. It felt nice to have a schedule involving arranged meet-ups, even if they were obligated to be there. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he mused. Milo launched into a short speech about the importance of credible sources and, as much as Eddie hated to admit it, he made a fair point. “Okay, yeah, you’re not wrong, but I’m not giving them permission to remove my appendix. I’m just reading what they have to say about Vampires, so I’m probably safe unless a creature of the night decides to give me a graded pop quiz on their species,” he explained with laughter bubbling beneath his words. “Maybe, but I kinda hope they don’t. They already have superpowers, why would they need to top things off by being fashionable? That’d just be unfair.”

Eddie’s gaze landed on Milo’s doodle, the sight prolonging his grin. If it had been drawn on paper rather than a desk, he would’ve liked to have kept it. “Yeah, I think humanity’s the way to go,” he agreed as he finally looked back to his friend. “I look forward to wasting my mortality with you by spending it in detention.” Maybe next time he’d see about making plans beyond school property. 

[purplesurveys]

981

Name 10 Of Your Friends

1. Laurice 2. Angela 3. Luisa 4. Andrew 5. Kate 6. Gabie 7. Tina 8. Jo 9. Liana 10. Jane

Are you related to number 1?: I’m pretty sure we are not, not even distantly.

Do you love number 2?: Like a sister. She means everything to me.

Is number 3 older or younger than you?: She’s older by literally a few days. We were born in the same month, same year; but she arrived around a week earlier.

Are you romantically involved with number 4?: No. I’ve never been interested in them in that way.

Do you wish you could see number 5 more?: Absolutely. She was one of the best friends I made in college and I wish we had/have more opportunities to see each other. I don’t think I’ve hung out with her since the Christmas season last year :(

How did you meet number 6?: Mutual friends introduced us to each other and it was best friend-hood from there.

Would you ever kiss number 7?: Eh, she’s more like a sister to me so pass.

Does 8 share the same taste in music as you do?: We share some favorites as far as I know, but ultimately we have different tastes. Her favorite is the Vampire Weekend, a band I’ve never listened to.

Would you tell a secret to number 9?: I’ve met her irl only once, but sure. I find her reliable.

Would you ever live with number 10?: I think we can be roommates, but I also think we’d drive each other crazy. Also I’m a little intimidated by her so that might ruin my experience living wherever we’re staying in.

Have you ever dated any of the 10 people listed?: Yep.

Would 3 and 7 make a good couple?: Ooh I doubt it. They have very different personalities; I’m pretty sure they’d clash all the time and that they would be simply incompatible. It doesn’t help that Luisa’s gay and Tina’s straight, so.

Do 2 and 5 get along?: As far as I know they’ve never met. They could probably get along; they’re both super friendly and can fit in any crowd.

Are you secretly in love with number 6?: Well, it hasn’t been a secret for a very long time now.

When did you last see number 8?: :( :( :( Don’t do me like thissss. Oh man. I genuinely have no clue. Last year? January of this year? It’s been ages.

Does number 2 know number 6?: Very well. They’re my two best friends so we’ve been in the same room, same car, same bar, same house, etc. plenty of times.

Have you slept in the same bed as number 4?: I don’t recall ever doing so. We’ve lied on the same bed, but neither of us fell asleep that time.

Is number 7 single?: Yes. She’s had her fair share of crushes through the years that I’ve known her but she’s never had a boyfriend.

What do you like to do with number 5?: Drink, smoke, catch up, laugh.

Has your mom met number 6?: Like a million times.

Are number 4 and 8 friends?: I wouldn’t call them friends. I dunno if Jo’s opinion of them has changed in the last few months, but the last thing I’ve been aware of is that Jo does not like them too much. I vividly remember how Jo’s crowd and Andrew’s crowd had to sit at completely opposite tables during our Christmas party last year. Because I was friends with both groups, I spent the evening moving from one table to another before settling at Jo’s because I was closer to that group haha.

What does number 9 look like?: To be honest with you I barely know her. Covid kept us from hanging out but I’m so ridiculously sure that we could’ve ended up becoming great friends, so I’ll always feel crappy about that could’ve-been. From what I remember, she has curly hair and braces, but that’s pretty much all I was able to note down about her appearance in the one time we met in person.

When did you last talk to number 10?: The other day. I needed the contact number of someone who works where she works, so I asked her if it was possible to retrieve the contact details from her.

What was the last thing you said to number 2?: I showed her this meme, hahaha.

Have you ever hugged number 1?: SO MANY TIMES. She is such a hugger. Absolutely no complaints about it.

Is number 2 in a relationship?: Yes, with Hans.

Would 3 and 5 ever get in a fight over you?: I have no idea why two people would ever fight over me. I’m not desirable at all...so no.

How old is number 4?: They are 22, same age as me.

When will you next see number 6?: I don’t know. We have completely opposite work shifts and it’ll be that way for a while, so it’s really hard to tell.

Have you ever hooked up with number 9?: Oh wow, no. That feels wrong.

Do 7 and 8 live in the same place?: No, they’re a few cities apart.

Do you want to talk to number 10 right now?: Not really. I’m not annoyed with her or anything; there’s just nothing to say to each other at the moment.

Is number 3 in your phone contacts?: Yes.

You caught 7 and 9 kissing, your reaction is?: bruh what

Does number 2 smoke?: Socially.

You throw a party and invite 2, 3, and 4, would there be any problems?: For the most part not really, except Andrew tends to get really rowdy and raucous when they’re drunk and that might not go over well with Angela in particular. But who knows? They could also end up being a fun trio; they all have great personalities so I can definitely see that happening as well hahaha.

You're on a roadtrip with 1 and 7. Is it awkward at all?: Not at all. Those two have a great dynamic and are the bubbliest and friendliest people I know. It would be such an entertaining car ride and I wouldn’t complain about driving at all if they were my two passengers.

8 just kissed you. What do you say?: Ask her what it was for. But idk, I feel weird thinking about it actually.

3 and 9 just got into a fight. What might it be about?: They probably just disagreed on something ideology-wise. Luisa is a hardcore red and is very radical; Liana shares the same ideals but is several notches lower. It wouldn’t be a full-blown fight and they’ll most likely end up having an intelligent debate.

Does 7 hate 9?: No. That would be such a tricky spot to be in considering they’re part of the executive board for the org. They should make it a point NOT to end up hating each other lol.

How is 4 today?: I think they’ve been doing alright for the most part! They recently launched their new passion project, a podcast, and so they’ve been super excited and giddy over the last few days. As they should. The podcast looks so promising and I can’t wait for the first episode.

Where does 8 live?: In a city in Metro Manila.

Have you ever liked 6 more than a friend?: Yes.

Would 2 and 4 look cute together?: Not a fan. I’d rather they stick to their current significant others.

Would you ever borrow any of 2's clothes?: Sure! She has a lot of cute pieces. They’d be a size or two larger for my frame, but I’m willing to experiment if she’s willing to lend her clothes to me.

Is 3 taller than 10?: Yes. I think everyone is taller than Jane. HAHAHA

Are you taller than 7?: She’s taller by a few centimeters.

Would it surprise you if 9 got arrested?: I don’t know, actually. Like I said, I’ve barely gotten the chance to know her. At this point in our relationship I can’t really tell if she’s the feisty type.

Could you live with 3 and 4 for a year?: Sure. I thnk it would be the two of them who’ll end up having a blast living together as they’re obsessed with everything sports and sports will definitely dominate the TV and dining table discussions. I can be like their mom, I guess hehe

Do you like number 6's hair?: Yes.

Does number 1 know something about you that most people don't?: I’ve probably shared a secret with her here and there, yes.

8, 6, and 1 are hanging out together. Likely or no?: 8 and 1, for sure. They’re pretty much best friends. With Gabie, not so much. The only time Gabie will be in the picture is if I hang out with them as well.

When did you last hear from number 10?: Again, the other day when I asked for help about something work-related.

Could 3 and 8 be friends?: They already are; we’re in the same college friend group, the daydrinkers ha.

Who do you have more in common with, 4 or 9?: We’re both similar in different ways though...Andrew and I enjoy wrestling and Liana and I share a few interests like The Crown. Just because I know Liana a lot less, I’ll go with Andrew.

What do you usually talk to number 6 about?: Everything under the sun. She’s my best friend. There’s nothing she doesn’t know about me.

Is number 1 a good dancer?: I haven’t really seen her dance, so I wouldn’t make for a good judge.

Have you ever gone swimming with number 5?: Yes.

Would you ever have a sleepover with number 2 and 3?: It might be awkward at first as they’ve never met, but sure! We can give it a try. I don’t necessarily think they’re incompatible; they just haven’t met ever so it might just take some time for them to warm up to one another.

Could you see yourself having kids with number 7?: No. That is kinda weird to think about; I’ve never thought of her in that way.

Do you find number 1 attractive?: She’s pretty and has a nice, big smile, so yes.

You're in trouble. Who do you call first?: Gabie.

Is number 2 a good shoulder to cry on?: Absolutely. If I needed someone to run to and cry it’d be her or Gab.

Will you talk to 9 tonight?: Nope. I don’t really talk to her, but I’d love to be closer with her.

Does 10 have any irrational fears?: She probably does, but it’s never been raised in any of our conversations so there’s no way for me to know of them.

Do you know something personal about number 4?: A lot. They trust me with a few of their secrets and I’m honored that they do.

Do you text number 5?: Not really. We communicate mainly on Messenger and we talk at least once a month.

Does 8 have a nice body?: For sure. Jo is 5′7″ – which is gargantuan in this country – and I’ve always thought she was such a badass for being so tall. We all deadass look like ants next to her.

Do you approve of the people number 9 dates?: I’m not aware of her love life history, if there is one.

Would number 6 look good with facial hair?: I mean if she wanted to grow facial hair, I wouldn’t mind. I’d find her attractive all the same.

Would you ever date one of number 7's siblings?: Noooooo, her brothers are a little old and as far as I know one of them is already married lmao.

Would you go to number 10's wedding?: I would love to.

How would you react if you found out number 8 had a drug problem?: Try to reach out. And ask the other people in the EB if she’s been getting the help and support that she needs.

Did you go to school with number 1?: Just university, though she’s a year level lower. We went to different schools in grade school and high school.

How did you meet number 2?: I was class number 9 and she was class number 10 in Grade 1. And then I stabbed her palm with a pencil; the rest was history.

Would it surprise you if you found out number 4 was stalking you? It would surprise and anger me, yes.

Does 3 make you smile?: All my friends make me smile. That being said, yes Luisa sure does.

[missbellaswan]

Twice Bitten Half Turned - Chapter 3

Full Fic on AO3

When I woke up, Edward was gone. I found a note on my desk in his delicate cursive. I’ve gone to help Carlisle with the research, see you soon. I love you.

I didn’t mind that he was gone, I knew that he and Carlisle were doing their best to help me, but now I was unsure of what I was going to do with myself for the day. I didn’t want to get in their way or be a distraction, and I definitely didn’t want to sit around and listen to them talk about all their theories for what could possibly be happening to me.

Charlie had already left for work by the time I made my way downstairs for breakfast. I made myself a cup of tea and pushed my cereal around in the bowl until it was soggy. I got ready slowly, opting to wear a long sleeve shirt, even though judging by the sun streaming through my window it was going to be warm again today. I sighed as I eyed my small, and now almost entirely obsolete, wardrobe I had brought from Arizona.

Since it was summer and there was no school for me to distract myself with, I ran out of things to do sooner than I had hoped. I didn’t want to stay home and mope all day, so I grabbed my keys and started the truck before deciding where I was going.

Once I was on the road, I found myself heading out of town. I didn’t really want to wander around in the gloomy woods by myself today, so I turned off the main highway and headed toward the coast. A few miles later I hit the reservation and headed towards the Black’s house.

I wasn’t sure how welcome I would be there. Jacob and I hadn’t spoken much since his dad forced him to crash my prom. I wasn’t upset because I knew Billy was just trying to protect me. And I knew Jacob didn’t mean any harm, but my association with the vampires made our friendship a lot more complicated that I had anticipated. And now things were only going to become even more complicated than before.

I pulled up the dirt lane that lead to their small red house. I saw Jacob on the porch before I had even parked the truck. The engine of the truck must have given me away as soon as I hit the reservation.

“Bella!” Jake called as he jogged up the driveway to meet me.

“Hey Jake.” I said as I climbed out.

“What brings you to the res?”

Oh, nothing. I’m just avoiding the fact that I’m turning into some weird half vampire hybrid. “Just wanted to see you. Thought maybe we could do something now that I’m out of the boot.” I lifted my foot up to show off my newly freed lower leg. I wobbled a little as I tried to balance on one leg.

Jake laughed and tried to grab my arm to steady me. I pulled away instinctively, trying to keep my newly vampire-like appendage away from anyone it might hurt, but the movement caused me to tip backwards. I landed firmly on my ass and Jake busted up laughing again as he leaned down and pulled me back to my feet. I dusted myself off and frowned at him.

“Oh yeah, back at the top of your game I see.” He joked.

“You know it,” I said. I felt dumb for recoiling from him, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or didn’t seem to mind. He led me over to the garage around the other side of the house.

“Did you have something in mind for today?” Jake asked.

“Well what were you going to do before I crashed in on your plans?” I asked. I hadn’t spent any time here since I was a kid, so I really had no idea what I was doing here.

“I’ve been spending most of my time this summer putting the finishing touches on the Rabbit, but I know you’re not big on cars, so we could do something else,” he said, “we could go to the beach—”

“No.” I interrupted. I didn’t want any more contact with the sun than necessary. “Don’t change your plans for me. Let’s get this car finished.” He pushed the doors of the garage open and led me inside. I picked up a wrench and started waving around, threatening to start fiddling with things.

“Okay, but only if you put down the tools until you know how to use them.” He laughed and held his hand out for the wrench. I handed it over and found myself smiling wildly. His laugh seemed to have that affect on me.

“I don’t know anything about cars.” I admitted as I sat down on one of the rickety stools in the shop. Jake was already grabbing the tools he needed and heading over to open the hood of the car.

“That’s okay, I know lots.” He winked at me and bent over the engine. We sat in comfortable silence for a few while, and I found myself more relaxed than I had felt since the revelation in the meadow yesterday. I felt human here. I sat and listened to Jake hum to himself and bang around under the car for a while.

“Bella?” Jake called.

“Yeah?” I wandered over and found a seat next to where his feet were sticking out from underneath the car.

“Can I ask you something?” He slid out from under the car and looked up at me with big brown eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I had no reason to suspect Jake was going to start asking questions I couldn’t answer.

“What happened in Phoenix?”

“Oh.”

“It’s just that I’ve only really heard from what Charlie told Billy, and while they can gossip with the best of them, they’re not the most reliable of sources.”

“There’s just not much to tell.” I said. Jake seemed to sense that he should drop it, and I knew he would it I asked, but I found myself wanting to tell this very human lie. “I fell out a window. You know how clumsy I can be.”

“Yeah, I know that, but why did you go?” Jake paused. “Don’t you like it here?”

I wasn’t prepared for that question. “No, I do. I was just missing my mom, and the sun,” I winced, “and I think I just went a little crazy. But I do like it here.” I assured him.

“Good, I like that you’re here,” he said shyly.

“Thanks.”

He went back to inspecting the car. He seemed happy enough with that response, and I was glad that that was all he was looking for.

“I have all the parts I need now. I got the master cylinder, thanks to you, so I just have to put it all together and I should be able to get this thing driving again.”

“That’s awesome, Jake.” I said. I had gone back to sitting and he was about to roll himself back under the car, but he stopped and looked up at me.

“Thanks, again, by the way.” He said. “For letting me crash your prom. My dad means well, he just takes all those stories really seriously. About the Cullens and all that.”

“I know, it’s okay. He’s just trying to look out for me.” I said. I tried to sound casual so I wouldn’t give away how my new skin was crawling as we discussed Billy and his hatred of the Cullen’s particular brand of supernatural, which I may or may not be a part of now.

“Yeah.” Jake seemed to sense I was done talking about that too and slid back under the car.

He tinkered around for the rest of the morning. Occasionally he would ask me to hand him a tool or hold something while he worked on it. I spent most of the time sitting on a stool by the car fumbling through different static filled stations on an old radio I found on the work bench. Every once and a while I would get the signal of a song that Jake knew and he would make me turn it up loud so he could sing along.

The sun was high in the sky when Jake appeared from beneath the car and wiped his hands off on an old rag.

“I need to get some food, do you want to come inside and have lunch?” He asked.

“I think I should probably head back home actually,” I said. As much as I was enjoying my new safe haven away from vampire drama, I had a feeling eating lunch with Billy wouldn’t be the relaxing escape I was looking for. And I couldn’t avoid my new condition forever, as much as I wanted to.

The decision to return to reality and head home reminded me of my promise to Carlisle I had made the day before to meet with him today.

“Shit,” I said under my breath as we headed back towards my car.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just remembered I was supposed to do something today.”

“Well I guess you really better get home then.”

“Yeah, I should,” I said, “thanks for hanging with me today.”

“You’re welcome here anytime Bella, so you should come back soon. Or when this is done, I can come to you.”

“Yeah, definitely. I want to see this thing run.” He opened my truck door for me and gave me one last bright smile. I hopped in my truck and waved as I pulled back down the drive.

He waved back and then I saw Billy appear in the doorway and call him inside. I waved at Billy, but he just turned and went back inside.

I drove a few miles over the speed limit on the way back. I decided to head straight to the Cullen’s house. I felt guilty for forgetting about my meeting with Carlisle that I agreed to yesterday, but I found myself enjoying the humanness of my forgetful brain. I hummed a song that Jacob had got stuck in my head and squinted down the dim highway trying to find the turn off to the Cullen’s drive.

Once I found the turn, the drive was easy. The dirt road was always damp enough that it stayed smoothly packed down, and with the partial reprieve from the rain that the summer granted us, it wasn’t muddy and my truck had no trouble.

Edward was standing on the porch when I pulled up to the house. Just like Jacob, he could hear me coming from miles away.  He opened the door of my truck and pulled me into his arms once I had parked and turned off the rumbling engine.

“Where have you been?” Edward asked as he pressed a kiss into my hair.

“I went to the reservation to see Jacob.” I said, looking up at him. His eyes were darkening slightly and he seemed tired, if that was a thing that a vampire could be.

“Oh, I went by the house and you weren’t there. I was worried.” He said.

“I just needed a break from everything.” He took my still human hand and led me inside. I looked around, but if anyone else was home they were giving us the appearance of privacy.

“I understand, but I wish you would have told me where you were going.” Edward said. I wanted to be annoyed by his demands, but with everything that had happened since yesterday I understood the anxiety he must be feeling.

“I’m sorry, but I needed some space to process all this.” I held my hands up, indicating to both my own arm and the vampiric nature of our surroundings. He just smiled and nodded.

“Did it help?” He asked. I could tell he was still bothered by my disappearance, but I appreciated that he was listening to me.

“Yeah, it did. Did you and Carlisle find anything that might help?” I asked.

“We’re not entirely sure yet. Carlisle is in his study waiting for us, why don’t we go discuss this with him.” He said.

We walked up the stairs hand in hand and made our way to the doorway of Carlisle’s study just like we had yesterday.

“Hello, Isabella.” Carlisle greeted me.

“Hi, I hope you weren’t expecting me earlier, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” I sat down in one of the high backed chairs and Edward stood beside me with a hand on my shoulder.

“No, of course not,” Carlisle said, “I lose track of time quite often myself.”

“Have you and Edward learned anything about my… condition?” I asked.

“Not as much as I had hoped. We have been unable to find any reliable accounts of anyone else attempted what Edward tried to do in Phoenix. Rosalie and Emmett are leaving in a few days to spend the year travelling, and I have asked them to reach out to a few of my old friends. I hope that they will be able to provide some insight. For now, would you allow me to run a few tests of my own to see if we can determine the extent of the spread?” Carlisle stood up from behind his desk and indicated that he wanted me to join him by the exam table.

“What kinds of tests?” I stood up and walked over to the table, Edward followed closely behind me.

“Just some basic diagnostics to determine to what extent your biology remains human, and what has been altered.” He started turning on machines and laying out instruments on the table beside me. “Nothing too invasive, I assure you.”

“We just want to try to understand this,” Edward said. He helped Carlisle finish setting up and then sat next to me on the table.

I nodded and sat still as Carlisle began his exam. He mostly just examined my arm. He took my temperature in various places, checked my reflexes, my heart rate, blood pressure, he ran as many tests as he could think of all while making idle small talk with Edward and I. When he had done as much as he could, he looked up at Edward and Edward nodded in return.

“Bella, would you be okay with giving a blood sample?” Edward asked. Carlisle had clearly run it by him first, silently, and he had agreed to ask me.

“Sure.” I said. I held out my arm again and Carlisle prepped the needle. When he was ready he inserted the needle into my arm near the crook of my elbow. My skin seemed to resist the needle at first, but it gave way and Carlisle was able to draw a few vials.

“Your skin is clearly still vulnerable, though not as fragile as most human skin.” Carlisle said. “Most of the differences I have recorded would not be noticeable if one were not looking for them with a trained eye, but I must admit there are several definitive differences.

“Such as?” I asked. Edward already knew everything that Carlisle knew, but I was still out of the loop.

“The pale translucent appearance and your reaction to sunlight are the most noticeable, but the temperature of your arm seems to be dropping slightly and your reflexes and strength in the arm have been slightly improved by the venom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you started seeing these differences continue to spread. I do not, however, think the venom is strong enough to fully stop your heart and complete the transition.”

“What do we do?” I asked. No one had been able to give me much of a straight answer to this question so far.

“We keep an eye on the progress and try to find out anything else we can. My examination leads me to believe that you are not in any danger and unless this transition becomes painful, I am of the opinion that the best solution is to let this take its course and deal with the outcome as best we can.”

“Thank you, Carlisle.” I said. It may not be the answer I wanted, but Carlisle seemed confident in his assessment and I trusted him enough that the feeling that I might just die at any moment eased.

“Of course, Bella.” Carlisle said. “You are our family now, and we will do whatever is necessary to protect you.” He cleaned up the exam table and put away all his instruments. Edward helped me down from the table and held me tight to his side.

“Let’s go to my room.” Edward whispered in my ear. I knew Carlisle could hear him, but he pretended not to notice and continued to go about his tidying. I nodded and let him lead me out of the study and down the hall to his room. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes before we made it all the way down the hall.

...

tag list: @jasondeanstwin @wishing-on-angels @yeetbean @loveofmonstersandroses @ripleythedemonfcker @big-idiot-wolf-boys @edwards-sideburns @madame-forget-me-not

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i’m also considering uploading this to ao3, so if y’all would prefer that format lmk and i can start also posting this over there

[themattress]

My Top 11 Danganronpa Characters

I love many characters in the Danganronpa series, but these ones are truly the Ultimate.

11. Monomi

Don’t get me wrong, Usami is a sweetheart and all, but on her own (as seen in DR2′s Island Mode) she’s pretty bland. While her forced conversion into Monomi caused her no end of grief in-universe, it made her a much stronger and more memorable character outside of it. Her interactions with Monokuma and position as his good counterpart / “little sister” are just perfect, as is the voicework done by Rebecca Forstadt. She, like her “big brother”, is iconic.

10. Sakura Oogami    

I may love Nekomaru and Gonta too, but neither of them hold a candle to the original “tall, muscular giant who looks scary as Hell but is actually the nicest, most loyal friend you could ever hope to have” in the franchise: Sakura Oogami. Her lower placement on this list is only because she kind of recedes into the background among the cast until the reveal at the end of Chapter 3 (which is fitting given the nature of that reveal), but once Chapter 4 centers around her she easily steals the show as a powerful, noble and tragic figure who is nonetheless such a beautiful human being that she successfully ends the Killing Game.                             

9. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

A textbook case of a character you hate at the start and love by the end, Fuyuhiko’s development from a perpetually angry wannabe-thug who refused to be friends with his classmates and routinely threatened them with violence as a cover for his insecurities to a humble, honorable, brave, supportive team player was amazing to watch unfold, and Derek Stephen Prince sells it magnificently with his most touching performance since Ken Ichijoji . He may still be rough around the edges, but Baby Gangsta has always got your back.

8. Byakuya Togami

If you merged Sherlock Holmes and Seto Kaiba, and in the process filtered out all of the redeeming qualities, you get Byakuya Togami: an elitist prick of the highest order who has a dangerous intellect to back up his ego. As despicable as Byakuya is, he is also fascinating: I both hate hanging around him due to his constant insults and love it because I’m drawn to watching him work as he displays just how well the Togami family-sponsored education has served him. He’s as useful as an ally as he is formidable as an enemy, and once he learns there are some things beyond his sociopathic grasp and that it’s best to stick with those who know it, he mellows out into a reliable anti-hero. So yeah, awful person, fantastic character.

7. Chiaki Nanami

Hey, hey! Chiaki, as portrayed in DR2 anyway, is such a lovable character, at first seeming like an anti-social girl who would rather play video games and sleep than converse with people, but steadily revealing just how big a heart she really has and what a great friend she is once she connects with someone. As naive and weird as she is, she quickly picks up on things once she learns them, and is consistently one of the most perceptive people to have around in a class trial. And just when it seems like she’s becoming a tad too perfect to be realistic, we find out that she isn’t real and suffer one of the biggest emotional gut-punches in the series as she is cruelly taken away from us...except that even then, the bond she and Hajime forged is strong enough to keep her digital spirit alive within him. And Christine M. Cabanos brings it all home with her vocal performance. Chiaki, we will never forget you.

6. Nagito Komaeda

Who would have thought that a guy who at first seems like a weird, equally bland retread of Makoto from the original would end up being one of the franchise’s most famous characters? But it’s super easy to see why - when he shows his true colors it is bone-chilling, and the creepiness factor that Nagito brings with him only keeps on growing from there, as he shows how far he’s willing to go in order to create despair just so that hope can triumph over it. The story of DR2 would not nearly work as well as it does without Nagito in the role of the arch-antagonist for the other characters, all while he develops as a character too in a deliciously negative way which ends up culminating in what is probably the best class trial in the series.

5. Celestia Ludenburg

In a mystery-solving game like Danganronpa, Celestia honestly stands out as one of the most complex characters because she herself is a mystery. The game doesn’t really spell out her backstory, motivations or character arc given that as the Queen of Lies she has to keep a poker face about all that, but does allow the player to decipher it by themselves. While those unwilling to indulge their minds write her off as “crazy evil gambler lady who just wants money in order to become a vampire queen”, the people who pay attention to everything she says and does across the game (including / especially in her FTEs) can separate the truth from the lies and uncover the sad, pitiful reality of the character, a reality that haunts her all the way to her final moments. Call her Celeste or call her Taeko, that kind of depth deserves respect.

4. Gundham Tanaka

That’s right, my favorite DR2 character isn’t Monomi or Fuyuhiko or Chiaki or even Nagito - it’s GUNDHAM TANAKA! This man is a fucking legend, with Chris Tergliafera’s voice-acting perfectly capturing how endearing he is with his persistent delusions of villainous grandeur. But as funny as Gundham may be, he ends up not being a purely comic relief figure, playing a serious, emotional and noble role at the end of his run that gets me and many other players choked up. He may play at being evil, but in actuality Gundham is too good for this Earth.

3. Junko Enoshima

Do I need to explain myself here? It’s Junko fucking Enoshima! One of the most unique Big Bads in recent video game history! From the fact that the ultimate evil is a teen fashionista to the bizarre way she keeps changing her personality just to keep from getting bored to her ungodly despair fetish that has no rational basis for existing but simply does, Junko is less like a human being and more like a force of nature: gleeful, nihilistic despair incarnate. And though it’s true that she wore out her welcome past DR2, in her prime she is magnificent.

2. Kyoko Kirigiri

As far as I’m concerned, Kyoko Kirigiri is the real main character of the original Danganronpa. Makoto is just the POV character; the Watson to her Holmes. And what a character she is; truly one of the greatest female detectives in all of fiction. What I love best about Kyoko is what a unique take on the Emotionless Girl / Ice Queen trope she is. It’s made clear quite frequently that she isn’t really emotionless and that she’s just really good at masking her feelings as a necessary part of her job, and that this doesn’t stop her from being a kind and compassionate person toward others in her own straight-faced way. The narrative doesn’t condemn her for the way she is and she doesn’t have to change it either; what she has to change is her distrust toward others and reluctance to rely on friends, plus her hypocrisy regarding that and her personal goal vs. everyone else’s. It makes her such a rich, nuanced character and I love her for it (fuck the Danganronpa 3 anime though, it did her so dirty).

1. Monokuma

I think I’ll just conclude this post with a screencap:

[ebficnotes]

Lorebook Notes for The Legend of Vastarie

Some notes on necromancy (and a certain two idiots of course) by way of the only “good” necromancer in the game (that I’m aware of).

Keywords:

oblivion black gems, manni’s motives, artaeum, early guild, psijics, vanus’s issues, vastarie

=

 Necromancy's known to many as a binding of souls to a form prepared—or in some cases, manufactured—by the conjurer.

While technically accurate, the implication is that souls bound in this manner are imprisoned against their will with no hope of release.

Further implied is the idea that souls occupying the construct are always sentient—the souls of men or mer—a fallacy perpetuated by the practice of animating corpses for martial or manual labors.

It is this misunderstanding and a potential for abuse that led to the vilification of necromancy and the expulsion of Mannimarco and his peers from the Isle of Artaeum.

Enter Vastarie, a student of the Psijic Order and contemporary of such notables as Vanus Galerion and Mannimarco.

This sounds weird as hell. Why would the Psijics of all people not understand this? They are supposed to be some of the most learned mages in the world. I’ve been interpreting the claims of Psijic hate from Hannibal Traven as his own propaganda because it makes more sense, but here it confirms the Order really does hate it AND for the wrong reasons too? Wtf. To me, the only good reason the Psijics would have to hate necromancy would be for the same reasons that the dunmer hate it, and anyone with any sense knows that what the dunmer do is religious necromancy. I like to think that the Psijics would be impartial enough to call it what it is, but maybe not? Maybe that's the hypocrisy that Manni refers to in his [worm saga].

So Mannimarco did have friends and peers on the isle - besides Vanus. It would be weird if he was the only one, considering how full of enemies that delve of theirs is. And the fact that he's a politician and those guys are not loners by definition. And his peers got expelled along with him? Until now it was only him who got expelled. Vanny don’t mention that in his [artaeum lost].

Practice of animating corpses for manual labor? Necro-Agri-business? That is such a fun idea! The Psijics have a storm atronach sprinkler system, why not zombie farmers (bone-farmers? worm-farmers? lol) Okay the smell would be murderous, but whatever. Heck, maybe they did before it was banned.

While Mannimarco sought power through the direct application of necromantic energies, Vastarie's purposes were far more esoteric. She sought a way to delay the release of a sentient soul upon death that it might be consulted, its knowledge recorded for the ages.

It is to this end that she worked with Mannimarco after leaving Artaeum, searching for a way to trap souls as one might capture lesser Daedra.

Delay release of a soul upon death? Some other note talks about how souls often stick around on their own for a bit, which is given as a reason for using bones instead. Guess she wants something more reliable?

  Soul trap is described in [Mysticism: Unfathomable Voyage] as making a container for a soul with your own power, which I presume you could release any time you wanted.  I guess the spirit talking aspect is hard on your internal battery so she wants to automate it somehow.

She wants to trap a newly dead guy and chat him up? Ooh, for like last words and stuff! Or maybe crime scenes? Forensic pathology necromancy!. But only if you get to the scene before the victim floats away...

Believing the secret lay with Molag Bal, the two conspired to enter Coldharbour and wrest it from the father of vampires himself. Together, they hatched a plan.

With a brash courage known only to the young, Mannimarco and his followers held open a portal to the Prince's realm. Ever thirsting for adventure, Vastarie entered its depths and returned with a cache of black crystals the likes of which they had never seen.

So black gems as we know them came from Molag Bal. I am imagining that all the soul-interested daedra have their own branded gems, since it cleans up a lot with that soul cairn business in Skyrim. Sheo in the eso mage guild quest appears to have some, and (i think) Hermaeus Mora does too. And of course Azura, even though she only lets animals into hers.

  Mannimarco and his followers open a portal. Portal hacking to oblivion is really iffy, as told in [The doors of oblivion]. Unless the daedra in question voluntarily opens the other side for you, you either need to find a natural opening somewhere in nirn like the dreaming cave - which are very rare, or exploit some empties that some other mage left behind like the guys in that book did. Our "Prophet" could come and go as he pleased, but it seems like that was Akatosh's doing, seeing as he's functionally the god of the liminal barrier itself. And we all know what happened when Vanus tried to brute-force one. Could this be Manni’s original motivation for getting in with Bal?

You know, we never really hear what Manni was doing in the Dreaming Cave that "brisk Frostfall evening". Everyone just assumes it was something bad. Okay, attempting to steal high-end soul capture devices from the most fucked up prince in oblivion isn't the greatest idea, but is it evil? Guess Vanus thought so.

To Mannimarco, they were perfect. Small, capable of containing even the most willful of souls, and apparently indestructible. To Vastarie, they were deeply flawed, for enchantment was the only safe way to free a soul from their depths.

  Small, tough as nails, and capable of securely holding the most willful souls. Black colored gems are the solid-state drives to everyone else’s shitty HDDs All other "white" gems or green ones or whatever are either super delicate, have a high failure rate for the more powerful souls, or are enormous and difficult to carry around. And naturally the best, most compact and stable ones are impossibly expensive and/or super rare (actual solid-state drives when they first came out). That won’t do for Mannimarco's goal of popularizing soul magic (as said by Vanus himself), will it?

This makes Obliviion and Skyrim’s black/white dichotomy make a tiny bit of sense now: Manni-moon’s soul gem altars are a universal upgrade. some kind of necro-magical industrial process for creating high-quality capture devices. It isn’t at all obvious though, because regular soul gems don’t randomly break or fail to work correctly in gameplay. But those poor npcs notice, whether they choose to trap human souls or not, since black gems CAN in fact trap ANY soul, human or animal, powerful daedra, etc.  Bring your crappy flawed gems to your local Necro-guild and they’ll compress those suckers and make them usable. And unlike the Masters, or Bal, or whoever else you might get those high-end gems from who constantly try to fuck you over, his are no BS.

All that black and white stuff is pure mage guild propaganda, and may even be financially motivated? I could def see a greedy Oblivion-era guild trying to corner the market on usable soul gems, kinda like how computer processor companies intentionally gimp high clockspeed processors in order to create artificial price points. Maybe they own the mines?

the only safe way to free a soul. Given how ethical she seems to be here, i highly doubt that her idea of ‘safe release’ includes the Soul Cairn. Could be in favor of my idea that any gem that’s not keyed to some extra-planar entity,  like the ideal masters, doesn’t send the residue anywhere. just lets it into the air where it floats out to wherever it would have gone before being trapped.

Even so, she set about the task of reproducing the stones, breaking them down, testing them with a variety of substances until, by happy accident, she created something new: the first Sigil Geode.

Clear as crystal, this new device was capable of holding sentient souls within its depths, but unlike the gems wrested from the Lord of Domination, it was exceptionally fragile and would only hold its charge for a matter of days.

Once imprisoned, souls could be transferred between geodes, but applying them as one would a soul gem effected a soul's release, instead.

Vastarie had found what she was looking for, but Mannimarco was furious. What use was a soul gem that could not be used to fuel an enchantment? He demanded Vastarie find a way to modify her creation to his purposes.

Realizing her friend would never stop searching, and that further discoveries made with him would only advance his goals, she gathered up her research and left with Telacar, her husband and a powerful necromancer in his own right.

His purposes. That sounds so nefarious given the shit he pulls later, but if my reading above holds, then "his purposes" here aren't completely evil. Whatever his other sins, Mannimarco is clearly trying to engineer a more reliable and convienent soul gem. The fact that they can trap a human just as well as a skeever is irrelevant. All souls are the same. Btw, since the player gems in ESO are all the same size now, does that mean he succeeded? (if so, then good on him goddammit. In Skyrim, i always end up consoling myself a bunch of black/grand gems because its such a bitch to remember what animal/enemy fits into what gem. Screw that, make them one size fits all!)

Hers is made of glass and only holds charge for a few days. You can move souls between them but it’s physically impossible to enchant with them. Those seem both like solid anti-abuse measures and a giant pita. She made a DRM soul gem. I...don’t know how to feel about that.

  It really sucks that Manni is so up his own ass over this. This is a sweet use case and is actually in line with his overall goals of promoting necromancy in general. She might have stuck around and did his bidding if he hadn't scared her off. Guess he has tunnel vision.

So she doesn’t want to further his goals. Why not? Is she against using souls in enchanting similar to Vanus? Or maybe the god thing? Which may or may not be a pure evil thing either, depending on what he wants to do as a god. Despite how most players think of them, NONE of the gods in TES are "good". At best, they are compatible with popular sentiments like love or mercy, etc.

 Together, they fled Mannimarco's grasp, eventually hiding in an Ayleid ruin deep within Valenwood. There, they lived for many years, as quietly as they could while perfecting their art. For decades, they had each other and seemed happy—until the day Vastarie left.

In the years that followed, she wandered the surface of Nirn, exploring places of power. She visited Wayrest, Alik'r, the Crystal Tower, and the libraries of Dune, searching for some answer to a question that gnawed at her very soul.

 In time, she found what she was looking for and returned to Valenwood. There, she built a tower and took on apprentices, teaching them her particular brand of necromancy and furthering her research.

 Using her Sigil Geodes, we bound the souls of lesser Daedra, postponing their return to Oblivion as one might with a soul gem. We then worked on a way to manifest the trapped spirit into the world.

Early attempts had unexpected, even dangerous results. Geodes shattered, sending shards of broken crystal into the flesh of our fellow students—misapplied energies bound the souls of the living into the tiny stones—but as we studied we corrected our mistakes and refined the process.

Eventually, Vastarie had it down to a science. By applying a Sigil Geode at the moment of death, a soul could be suspended within its depths. Through applied conjuration, it could be drawn into an ectoplasmic shell where it could be consulted at leisure.

She wrote the foundling Mages Guild of her discovery. Vanus Galerion himself came to witness her demonstration, which involved consulting an old groundskeeper who had volunteered to demonstrate the process.

He was horrified when she bound the soul into her apparatus, and when the process was completed, with the old groundskeeper was released and allowed to return to Aetherius, he was white as a sheet.

  Reminds me of the controversies around animal experimentation. That shit is nasty and much of it is unnecessary, but when it is necessary, it’s necessary. Unless you have a way to convince a significant number of test-humans to put their lives on the line so some monkeys or bunnies don’t have to.

  Foundling mages guild? The guild was officially founded sometime in 2E 230 when Kinlord Rills charted it in firsthold. This note talks like decades have passed between their foray into Coldharbour after being ousted from Artaeum, and her calling up Vanus to chat. Guess "soon" is relative here. Do we have any leads on when Vanus actually walked off Artaeum for good?

  Volunteered. The dude killed himself to demo the thing? Wow, that’s dedication.

  So she invites Vanny over, he witnesses this guy get soul trapped into a crystal ball, which she then pulls into a ghost-body so it can chat. He shoots the shit for a few, then she breaks the glass, and he goes home to heaven. Sounds ok?

  He was horrified and white as a sheet. Why is he scared? We don’t see him scared AT ALL while confronting Manni and his puppets, or even while he's being strangled. He's just pissed as hell.

  Maybe this note is biased and the process wasn’t as painless as the old dude was lead to believe? Except she has to know how Vanus feels about this stuff. You'd think she'd be extra careful to make sure her demo was as non-threatening as possible.

So why else then? The suicide maybe. I have a pet headcanon that has zero evidence but is wholly plausible: from certain scenes in the mage guild quest, I infer that Vanus's mother killed herself before he ran away from his hold. If so, seeing some guy die in front of him would be a nasty trigger. Hell, for most people it would be damn uncomfortable, even if it were freely chosen. And from Galerion the Mystic, we know that his old Kinlord was a real piece of work, which would explain his extreme distaste for anything that could remotely be seen as disrespect for the dead. So those two together? Yeah.

 Slowly, he stood to address the assembled students. He spoke with vindictiveness and an anger none would expect from his unassuming mien. When he was finished, he turned and left.

Some followed him. None could blame them, he wasn't wrong—the Sigil Geode was a dangerous creation. Misused, it could spark wars and bring about destruction unheard of in our history.

Vastarie was undeterred, convinced that Galerion's willful ignorance would lead to his undoing, but something else would gain her attention in the years to come. A vast ruin was discovered beneath her tower's foundation, concealed from sight and scrying by the power of a Daedric Prince.

In time, she walked into those ruins and never came out. Some of us still await her return.

Vindictiveness and anger fits with what I say above. Vastarie's demo accidently triggered the fuck outta him, but instead instead of bursting into tears, he spews fire and brimstone then books it to the nearest people-free place he can find and bawls his eyes out, probably without even knowing why. And whatever he said must have been pretty good, because a few people walk out with him. A shy little sweetie with a hidden oratory superpower. Maybe that’s what Manni saw in him.

None would expect from his unassuming mien. I get the impression that Vanus was and is constantly underestimated by his contemporaries, even for all his actual success. This seems insane with how mythic a figure he becomes in history. Though, outside of lore nerds, the thing he is most known for besides founding the guild is his presumed death by Mannimarco. Now there's some psychology for you.

Call me dumb, but given how limited that crystal ball of hers is, I can’t see how this thing is so dangerous. Unless they mean dangerous in the sense of some scam artist or usurper not being able to bullshit their way into power because you can always call up that dead ruler himself and ask him if it was really ok for "Mr. Smith" here to write himself into his will or not. Or one of his asshole heirs. Yeah real dangerous. Truth be like that./s.

  <https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Online:The_Legend_of_Vastarie>

[toothpastecanyon]

We Walk Like Humans Do, Chapter 1

The Transcendence has been, on the whole, a good thing for magical creatures... for the ones that walked on two legs and fit in doorways, at least. Lacie has other problems to overcome before she can live in the big city.

Inspired by @marshmellowextract‘s ideas on the TAU Discord.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

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               The Transcendence has been, on the whole, a good thing for magical creatures. True, there’s been no shortage of misunderstandings and pro-nat sentiments over the years, but all those centuries of hiding away from humans had been just as harmful.

               Humans are everywhere, after all. Avoiding them means avoiding most places on Earth, holing yourself away in dwindling forests and as-of-yet unexplored cave systems. Some could pass as human and live in their cities, but pre-Transcendence accounts of disguised elves or vampires often spoke of the burden of carrying such an immense secret, the disconnect they felt with any humans they befriended. They could never truly live as themselves.

               For some magical creatures, the Transcendence changed that. The Transcendence let them live freely amongst the humans, let them attend their schools and work alongside them to better the world.

               For some magical creatures, the Transcendence was the single best thing that had ever happened to them.

               For others?

               Well… for the less humanoid ones, they didn’t notice so much of a difference. For Lacie, she was still hanging out in the same old sewers she’d been hatched in.

               After all, when you’re a giant basilisk several bus-lengths long and capable of killing a man with a single glance, there are more obstacles to living in the city than ‘not feeling like you can be true to yourself.’

________________________________________________________________

               A snore rumbles through the depths of London’s sewers. Deep, deep underground, somewhere in a maze of rank-smelling tunnels sloshing with wastewater, there lies a hidden door, and behind that door slumbers a vicious, terrible monster guarding a tome of forbidden knowledge.

               That’s how the treasure hunters always describe Lacie’s home on the forums, and honestly, she finds it a little insulting. They’ll go on and on about how much the place stinks and how loudly she snores; it’s like they expect her to fix it or something, and… no? This is a sewer, it’s going to smell bad. And she needs to sleep, so it’s going to be noisy, too.

               If they’re gonna come down here to try and slay her and steal her shit, the least they can do is stop being so goddamn whiny about it.

               Like, look at these bozos coming in now. Lacie was having such a peaceful nap until they started messing around with the hidden door.

               She cracks a tired eye open, and glares at the sound of their voices.

               “No, it’s this one!” A rock shudders on the wall. “Didn’t you read the riddle? You touch the symbols clockwise!”

               “How did you get clockwise from the riddle? It’s way more complicated than that; the cipher clearly states-”

               “A-B-C-D. Clockwise.”

               “No, that’s- ABCD? Where on earth did you get ABCD?”

               Lacie lets out a rumbling sigh. Incompetent treasure hunters, oh joy. She shifts a little bit on her pile of gold, and waits for them to bumble their way into a solution so she can go back to  sleep.

               “Look, I don’t know how you’re getting ABCD, so why don’t we try my way first, and if mine doesn’t work-”

               “It’s absolutely not going to work.”

               “It will! I took a class in cryptography once, I know how this works.”

               “Ooo, aren’t you special.”

               “Look, just let me work, will you?”

               “Do it fast. Ugh, it smells like death down here.”

               At least it’s more bearable than your voice, Lacie thinks. She snorts at her own joke before hooking her tail around a wooden sign and dragging it in closer. She’ll need this later - quite a while later, most likely, but it’s good to be prepared.

               “That didn’t work?”

               “Of course it didn’t work, you idiot. I’ll open it-”

               “Hey, wait, maybe I did that wrong! Let me try that again!”

               “No, you had your chance!”

               “Just let- hey, get off me!”

               “No, you get off me!”

               “Come on dude, just let me try-”

               After listening to the treasure hunters scuffle and shout at each other for what felt like forever, Lacie hears a click in the door’s opening mechanism. The whole thing starts to rumble and dust loosens from the ceiling as it opens inwards, revealing… well, she doesn’t look at them directly in case they’re dumb enough not to bring basilisk protection, but she makes out two human figures with rifle-shaped sticks, which they immediately point at her face.

               “There it is!” The first man ushers the other back. “Stay behind me!”

               “Stay behind you? Dude, I’m a way better shot.”

               “What? No way, you are not!”

               “I totally am. Don’t you remember back at the range-”

               Lacie lets out a hiss before they can get into another stupid argument. She points the end of her tail at the sign, and it takes them a second to notice.

               “It’s doing something weird.”

               “Quick, let’s shoot it!”

               “No, look, that’s a sign it’s holding!” The second guy peers at the message. “Says ‘Fighting not needed, can’t let you take the physical book but am posting all chapters online at https- wait, you have a website?”

               She nods. A blog, actually.

               “Don’t be stupid.” The other guy gives him a shove. “There’s no way it has a website; this is some sort of trick!”

               “Yeah… yeah, you’re right! Wait, how is it a trick?”

               “Obviously it’s to confuse us and distract us from getting the treasure!” He cocks his rifle. “We have to stay focused! Stay behind me, I’ll get this thing right between the eyes-”

               Lacie finally looks down at the guy. Their gazes meet, the guy’s eyes widen; he yelps and staggers back, dropping his rifle and slapping a hand over his face… but he doesn’t drop dead. A second later, he peeks out behind his fingers.

               “I’m… still alive!” He cackles. “These contact lenses really do work!” Ha! Take that, you dumb lizard!”

               The other guy high fives him. “Yeah, take that! Now let’s kill this thing!”

               Huh, they’re slightly more prepared than she thought. Lacie stares at his smug smile a moment longer, then swings her tail around and dashes both of them against the right wall.

               There are no contact lenses that protect against blunt force trauma. They let out short-lived screams, cut off as soon as their bodies crash against stone; there’s a chorus of splintering cracks, then silence as they crumple to the ground amongst a pile of other shattered skeletons.

               Lacie looks at them now. Listens to all the familiar noises that could be heard in the absence of their voices - the dull roar of running water, the drips that fall from the ceiling and splash in puddles, the tinkling of gold coins as she shifts her weight.

               All the things she could hear, now that they were dead.

               Does she feel bad?

               Eh… sort of.

               She feels... more frustrated than anything else, these days. It’s not like she doesn’t give them a chance to escape, and they are trying to kill her… but still. It’s such a senseless loss of life - especially for such young, stupid humans - and over what? Some useless book?

               She turns and glares at it now, sitting on its little lecturn at the far end of the room. Stupid thing.

               One day, she will be free of it.

               But for now, she’s tired. She lays her head on glittering gold, closes her eyes, and falls asleep to all the quiet, comforting sounds of her home.

               She probably starts snoring, too… fuck, they’ve made her self conscious about it.

________________________________________________________________

               Chapter 7 of Wizard Animago’s Not-So-Secret Spellbook - His Shitty Death Spells and Why They’re Not to Die For, Seriously

               Hey everyone, this is 18Lacie5 back with another chapter overview. I know it’s been a year since I last posted, sorry about that. I’m usually way too tired to work on one of these - the joys of being cold blooded in England. Annnnnyyyyywwwwaaaayyyy, here is the much-anticipated chapter on ol’ Animago’s secret death spells!

               Spoiler alert: it’s gonna disappoint you.

               Now, for anybody new reading this, Sironus Animago was a 19th century English wizard that specialised in the study of animal transmogrification. If you don’t know who he is, that’s because he was a recluse who hated humanity so much he spent half his life trying to turn himself into literally anything else. The only time anybody hears about him is generally in treasure hunting circles, concerning a riddle he left behind for ‘any man worthy enough to learn his secrets.’ It is said that he wrote a spellbook containing all the knowledge he had accumulated over his lifetime, and considered it so dangerous he bound a basilisk into guarding it after his passing.

               Well, I am that basilisk, and I’m here to tell you why Animago’s spellbook is stupid and absolutely not worth dying for.

               This chapter’s an easy one: his death spells suck. Even by pre-Transcendence standards, they suck. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested in offensive magic, and I’m pretty sure he threw these ones in here because hey, every spellbook’s gotta have a spooky scary dark magic section, right?

               Let’s examine the first spell of Chapter 7: ‘Planis fugere a mortalis huius’ (a moment of silence for that Latin.) So ‘fly away from this mortal plane(s?)’ sounds pretty and all, but it’s way too poetic to be a reliable spell. Unlike the standard modern equivalent, which is, you know, just ‘Die’, your magic’s gonna have to figure out a whole lot about this sentence before it puts it into action. Fly away, how? Where are they flying to? What could count as our ‘planis’ here? The ground?

               You see how easily this could result in something like giving your enemy a pair of wings instead of killing them. Great. That’s totally what you’d want to happen in battle, right?

               This issue would have come up immediately in testing, which leads me to believe it was a purely theoretical spell of Animago’s, and not a particularly good one (but hey, at least it’s original this time, right?) As with all of them it does come with the minorly unique addition of alternate pronounciations in five different animal forms, but again, unless you’re turning yourself into a chicken, a dog, a hawk, a bear or a snake on a regular basis, when are you ever going to need this?

               All in all, probably the worst chapter in the entire spellbook, with sloppy, overly complex incantations I’d toss away in a heartbeat if not for the fact that I’ve been bound into protecting them. Next post, we tackle chapter 11: turning your furniture into animals!

               (Because that’s what your couch is missing. Teeth and claws and an ability to run away from you.)

               Do s both a favour, and don’t make me kill you over these shitty spells.

               Curled around her favourite pile of gold, Lacie scrolls down her blog, reading its contents with drooping eyes. She uses her tail to move a laptop’s trackpad, which makes it a little difficult to navigate - the frustration she feels whenever the clicker shoots off in random directions is the main reason she’s still awake - but not as much as one might be expecting, as the laptop is not an ordinary laptop.

               It’s gigantic. The screen is bigger than her, and the top almost scratches against the ceiling. Carefully balanced above the wet stone on four smaller gold piles, the charging port is wired up to a truly massive, glowing purple power strip. It hums with magical energy, charging her laptop as she gets to the end of the blog post.

               ‘Do s both a favour ’... ah, typo. Lacie shoves her mouse in the general direction of the edit button for a few seconds before landing on it; now she clicks, adds a u, and struggles her way back to the main page.

               Fixed. That was totally worth the effort.

               She lets out a snort, which turns into a great big yawn and leaves her head resting on top of the laptop. The metal’s got some warmth to it; she feels that against her cheek, and almost immediately starts struggling to keep her eyes open.

               This was a mistake, she thinks. Come on, she literally just got up! She can’t go right back to sleep!

               Just a little more time… to herself… without any… any humans… she was supposed to... to...

               The distant whoosh of water overhead and the steady hum of the power strip lulls her closer and closer to sleep, and she tries one last time to lift up her eyelids-

               And plop.

               A little water droplet lands right in her eye, and she jumps. Rises up, blinks rapidly - first to get the blurriness out of her vision, then to get rid of the sleepiness already creeping its way back in.

               She shakes her head to clear it. Once she’s mostly awake again, she lets out a triumphant little puff of air: not today, sleep! Not when she’s got shit to do!

               With that, Lacie turns back to her laptop and mouses over to another tab, titled ‘List of Craig’ and next to it, ‘(1)’ for one new message.  She’s been waiting for that (1) to show up - hopefully she hasn’t taken too long to respond back.

               The tab opens after she jabs left click a couple times, revealing a short chatbox:

L at 20:25: [is that double length chalk shipment still available?]

M at 20:35: [yes]

L at 20:36: [would be very interested in buying that, are you are ok with teleswitch methods of payment? you don’t have to wheel it anywhere, just let me know where it is in the house]

               Fifteen whole minutes later at 20:51, there’s the much-anticipated reply:

               [k]

               Lacie reads this, and has a sudden urge to smack her head against the keyboard. With a growl rumbling in her throat, she gets typing

L at 20:52: [okay, where is the shipment in your house? what room? the spell i use needs this.]

               She sends it off… and waits, scowling at the chatbox.

               And waits...

               And waits...

               And is still waiting. Stars, maybe she could’ve taken a nap.

               Speaking of that, her eyelids are starting to droop again. She huffs and shakes her head in a couple quick, flicking movements; that jolts her back awake, and she clicks back to her blog page.

               The latest post on chapter 7 stares back at her. In the dim-lit room, it’s glaring down on her, almost accusingly.

               Next post, it reads, we tackle chapter 11: turning your furniture into animals!

Post updated: less than two minutes ago

Post uploaded: more than two years ago

               Lacie sighs. This is what happens now when she takes a nap.

               Years, they’ve begun to pass her by like nothing . All she remembers of the past two are groggy hazes, half-recalled dreams; the only times she’d wake would be to fend off the occasional treasure hunter, then back to her slumber she’d go, like that was her only purpose in life.

               It didn’t used to be this way. She didn’t used to feel so tired all the time. Why?

               ...She’s getting too big for her home. The magic that sustains her, it isn’t enough anymore.

               That’s got to be the explanation.

               Which means she’s got to get out of here. She’s got to break that damn binding that tethers her to the spellbook…

               Lacie shoots a look at it now. Glares at the stony grey lectern it rests on, and everything piled around the base of that. The wax candles. The incense burners. The unholy artefacts. The tomes upon tomes of academic research, summoning circle references, nonstandard incantation guides…

               She has to break it.

               By any means necessary.

               …

               She’s got a new message from the human.

M at 21:13: [I put it outside for you. Its in the back yard. Your welcome.]

               With an eyeroll, Lacie wraps her tail around the lectern’s pole and brings it in closer. The spellbook slides precariously around the surface it’s resting on, but with a bit of care she places it down in front of her without anything falling off the edges.

               Now, the book - she peers at it now.

               As always, it looks like a mess; its leather binding had been handmade by Wizard Animago himself, but only because the guy was too paranoid to have anybody else do it. He did a sloppy job, and over the centuries it had fallen to pieces until the only thing holding it together anymore was a couple remaining strings and a headache-inducing cocktail of protection charms.

               For Lacie, it’s tiny, making it incredibly hard to flip through. She can’t help but wonder if it had seemed this tiny the last time she’d opened it… maybe she’d grown a little bigger since then.

               Stuffing that thought down, she keeps flipping; past Chapter 2 on transfiguration, past Chapter 3 on general transmutation, Chapter 4 on alchemy… Chapter 5, there it is.

               And bingo bongo, there’s the spell she wants: ‘Sironus Animago’s Telekinetic Switch’... and Lacie can’t help but snort at that name, because it isn’t actually a spell he invented.

               Like many less-than-reputable wizards of his time, he had a habit of stealing spells from contemporaries in other fields of magic, slapping his name in front of them and trying to pass them off as his own to pad out the number of chapters in his spellbook.

               (The internet was a terrible invention for guys like him. Lacie had a lot of fun ripping into this practice when she wrote about Chapter 5.)

               Anyway, while she could find the original spell anywhere on the internet, there is something Animago added to every entry he wrote down in his book - that something is off to the far right, almost obscured by the yellowing and curling of the page.

               Here, next to five simple illustrations of a chicken, a dog, a hawk, a bear, and a snake, are the alternate pronounciations of the spell.

               Lacie squints at the last line - her mouth moves as she refamiliarises herself with the incantation - then she nods to herself, and scoops up a generous portion of gold coins, and closes her eyes.

               Pictures a backyard, with a crate full of summoning chalk, just waiting for her to pick them up.

               And with that in mind, she speaks.

               Not in words. Not in a language. She speaks in hisses and spits, in a string of meaningless noises that fit better in her mouth than any human tongue. At the end of it, though, that specific arrangement of sounds triggers an enchantment, which triggers the telekinetic switch.

               The coins in her grasp blink out of existence. A second later, they’re replaced by a crate of summoning chalk. It rattles when she picks it up; the sound echoes around her room until she puts it down by the rest of her demon supplies.

               There’s a lot piled up there now, Lacie thinks. Enough to summon a demon, and at that, she grimaces. Suppresses a yawn.

               She’d better get on with it, then.

________________________________________________________________

               Lacie is starting to think that maybe demons don’t design their summoning rituals with basilisks in mind.

               She’s cleared a space in her room for the circle - has shrunk her laptop back down to normal size with one of Animago’s spells - and now that it’s time to draw the thing, she’s encountered a problem.

               Have you ever tried to draw a chalk circle on wet stone tiles? Have you ever tried to do it without hands?

               It is, in a word, difficult.

               Fortunately, she’d seen this issue coming from day one. She bought a shape template from some website selling school supplies, and blew it up with the same sizing spell she uses on her laptop. She put that over a stone slab she pulled off a drier part of the wall, traced the circle, and voila! A summoning circle.

               (She still needed to decorate it, but she’d rather intentionally chosen a demon with a simpler design. It didn’t take too long to replicate, all things considered.)

               Now onto the candles. To Lacie’s eternal disappointment, there’s no spell on the books for fire, or heat, or anything like that; she has to get creative. While rifling through the backpacks of some ex-treasure hunters, she comes across a portable gas cooker. The ignition is a simple switch she can flip - tick tick tick fwoom , it goes, then fire.

               She keeps that close to her, ready to use.

               After that… The incantation. She physically can’t pronounce the Latin chants needed to perform a sufficiently compelling summoning, which is a big problem. Most powerful demons - ones powerful enough to break bindings - tend to be rather picky about how they’re summoned. Unless it’s done exactly right, they won’t bother showing up for her.

               She needs a demon that’ll be a little more forgiving, and after pouring through textbooks, how-to guides, summoning lists, there’s only one name that seems to fit the bill.

               Lacie lights the candles, one by one, and watches as the circle of Alcor the Dreambender begins to glow.

               Strange things begin to happen. Shadows lengthen. The air gets colder - she feels that like a punch in the gut. In the centre of the chalk lines, a wispy black smoke forms, and golden eyes open from within the darkness.

               Those eyes… Lacie isn’t used to being scared of things, but she stares into those eyes and knows, suddenly, definitively, that she isn’t the monster in the room anymore.

               They turn to look at her now, and-

               “Ow!” The void-black being winces back, rubbing its forehead. “What the heck? It’s like a migraine… what is this?”

               She blinks. Huh, her stare works on demons. They didn’t mention that the summoning guides.

               The demon’s straightening again. “Is this a binding? Because guys, I’m gonna be real annoyed if you tried… to… to bind me with..? Guys?”

               It looks around the circle in confusion… then up, up, following the line of her body to meet her eyes again.

               “Oh.” It gives a hard blink. “Ow, okay. You know you’re supposed to give me a sacrifice before you sic me on the big scary snake monster, right?”

               Shit, it doesn’t see the sign. She holds it up higher.

               “Like, at least a little bit of candy for starters, y’know? Just to be like ‘Hey, I appreciate you for coming all this way’ and I’ll be like ‘Thanks! Now I actually feel motivated to save you from-’” It notices the sign, and pauses. “Um. Hang on a second, I’m missing something.”

               Lacie watches the demon read over the sign: BOUND TO SPELLBOOK, it reads, DEAL TO BREAK BINDING IN EXCHANGE FOR HUMAN SACRIFICES? Its glowing eyes steadily widen, and it glances back up at her.

               “Wait, you summoned- agh!” It blocks her stare with a hand. “You summoned me?”

               She nods.

               “Okay, that’s… new. What did you want again… spellbook... break binding to spellbook- human sacrifice?” Its eyes narrow. “Where are these humans you’re talking about?”

               Putting down the sign, she points at the pile next to the door. Most of them are bones by now, but hey, apparently some demons like that. She watches this one inspect them.

               “Oh, they’re… not fresh. Where did they all come fr- ow ! Okay, please stop with the staring, that’s not gonna work for me!” When she obligingly averts her gaze, he lets out a sigh. “Thank you. Now, uh, I kinda wanna know where you got all these bones from?”

               He sounds way more bothered about that than Lacie thought he would. A little panic fluttering in her chest, she flips the sign over and grabs her carving rock.

               “What are you…? Oh, you can’t talk, can you. Alright.” It shuffles its feet. “You wanted me to break a binding… I can see it now. Connected to that book over there?”

               Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Alcor float closer to it. Closer, closer, too close - it tiggers something in her, and she has to stop writing to block it with her tail. Has to let out a hiss at the literal demon; thank the stars its eyes widen in understanding instead of darkening in anger.

               “Oh, you’ve been bound to guard it,” it says, stepping back. “I see. Sorry. So, those bones - they’re from people who tried to take it, right?”

               Thank the stars again that it realises, because she isn’t even halfway done with the message. She nods.

               “That makes sense. Wow, that must be some important spellbook you’re guarding, huh?”

               An important spellbook - Lacie can’t muffle a snort as she shakes her head. Alcor laughs too, though he sounds a little bit uncomfortable.

               “Oh, that, that’s gotta suck. I’m sorry, uh… What’s your name? If you have one- oh stars what am I saying, ‘if you have one’ that sounds so rude -”

               With another snort, she points at a welcome mat she’s carved just in front of the hidden door.

               “‘Welcome to Lacie’s home. You found the way in, now’ - heh - ‘find the way out.’ I like that, it’s funny!” He grins up at her. “I guess these guys didn’t- ow . Agh, sorry, I was gonna say, I guess these guys didn’t see the sign when they came in, huh?”

               A head shake; they did not. They certainly didn’t laugh at it either.

               (To be fair, they were generally too busy gaping at the giant basilisk in the room to give an opinion on her decorations, but it was nice to finally get a little validation. She is funny sometimes, isn’t she?)

               “Didn’t think so.” Alcor straightens his cufflinks. “Well, Lacie, while I don’t think I can technically count this as a human sacrifice, it should still be more than enough to break any basic bond. So ,”

               She watches him extend a hand wreathed in blue fire, hears him speak with a voice that brings back a little of that initial fear, reminds her that as friendly as he may seem…

               “D̵̜͍͖̘o̱͖̙̰̪̥̹͜ w̹͖̝̩͢e ̵̲͓̖h͇̹͖̞̦̠̮͘a̤̰v̹͔͚̭̦͜e̻ ̻̘̭̫a̩ ͈̳̯̯̰̣̪d̕e͇̪͍̜̻̪͘a̙̻̬̦͔ͅl̲̝͓͔?”

               She’s still dealing with a demon.

               “Wait, uh… you don’t have to shake.” He retracts his hand, demonic reverb gone as suddenly as it showed up, but the memory of it is hard to shake. “You can just, you know, nod or something, that’s fine.”

               Lacie thinks hard on that for a moment. She glances back at the spellbook, the stupid, useless spellbook she’s been bound to, sitting on a lecturn in a room she’s been trapped in her whole life, a room that’s getting smaller and smaller as the years go by.

               She’s outgrown this, she thinks. It’s time to move on.

               “Hang on a second.”

               Alcor’s voice makes her turn. He’s closed his eyes, and there’s a frown on his face that Lacie doesn’t like the look of. She leans in closer, listening to him mutter to himself.

               “This isn’t- now how did he do this…? Oh. Oh , that’s not… dammit, that’s not good.” He opens his eyes. “Uh, Lacie? Got some bad news: I, uh, can’t break the binding.”

               ...What? Why not?

               She blinks, watches him struggle to explain.

               “I-I mean I can, technically! But not with this deal - not that I don’t want to help you, but… it’s complicated. Demon deals are complicated, there’s got to be a give and a take and it sucks, it’s...”

               She watches him sigh. Frowns, as he looks away.

               “Look, uh, I was going on the impression that this was a simple guardian bond, but it’s not. I didn’t think - you know, you were laughing when I said it was an important spellbook or something - I didn’t think it was gonna be some high-level magic… but it is.” He clenches his fists. “He’s managed to bind it to your soul , and that gets tricky for demons. There’s got to be a give and a take, right? And if I give a soul freedom…”

               … he has to take another’s , Lacie thinks, and narrows her eyes. Is this heading where she thinks this is heading?

               “I have to take freedom too, which… well, you don’t feel like selling your soul to me, do you?”

               No no no, that’s the one thing all the manuals said never ever to do! She shakes her head vigourously, and he gives a quiet chuckle.

               “Yeah, didn’t think so… I really did want to help you with the binding, but I can’t. Not without enough payment in return.” The most powerful demon in the world just shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry. It’s a stupid rule and I’m always trying to bend it if I can, but I can’t outright break it.”

               Lacie looks back at the spellbook. She knows a thing or two about stupid rules she can’t break. She really can’t, apparently.

               Apparently, she’s going to be stuck with this thing for the rest of her life. Well. This… this sucks.

               What is she going to do now?

               “Um, listen,” Alcor clears his throat. “I can’t- uh, I may not be able to break the binding, but if there’s anything else I can do… well, you’ve got a lot of stuff you can sacrifice to me, I can probably do just about anything - anything that’s not soul-related, anyway.”

               Lacie blinks. Just about anything... she could still get out of this room before it starves her. Yes, if he was able to teleport both her and the book outside-

               But what would she do after that? The book’s tiny ; she’d need some way to lug it around, and she’d need to do that while finding food for herself, and oh stars all the guides on demon deals were screaming at her to be specific right now-

               “Do you need some time to decide?”

               She looks down at Alcor, and nods. He floats back towards the summoning circle.

               “Alright, well, call me up again when you’ve got a deal in mind...” Glancing around the circle, at the crispy candles and the shaky drawings of his symbols, he blinks, then he glances back at her. “Uh… how long did this take you to do?”

               A while, Lacie thinks, and snorts. He seems to get the message.

               “Right, well, I’ll leave my calling card with you, so you don’t have to do that all over again.” He fishes the card out of his pocket; somehow, it comes out almost as big as him. “When you’re ready to make a deal, just prick your fing… uh, just hold it, okay? I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

               She takes it, and nods. Tries for a smile, like the humans do to show gratitude.

               “What are you-? Ow.” He squints away from her stare. “Um, well, it was nice meeting you, Lacie! I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

               Alcor seems like he wants to say more, but after a moment of hesitation he gives a quick wave and disappears in a puff of smoke. The candles go out with him - remembering the sheer effort it took to light them in the first place, she cringes at that.

               Well, at least she doesn’t have to summon him again. She looks from the smoke wisping off the wicks, down to the business card in her grasp.

               It’s glossy and black; on one side, there’s a white circle around Alcor’s golden symbol; presumably that’s the place you’re supposed to prick your finger on. There’s a little note up top that says, ‘Need help? Summon Alcor the Dreambender today!’ and she snorts at that.

               What a strange little creature… strangely endearing. She can hear how crazy she sounds thinking about it, but that demon was actually kind of a decent guy? She isn’t about to go selling her soul to him any time soon, but it felt like he genuinely wanted to help and that’s… refreshing.

               It’s certainly a change of pace from the treasure hunters she usually encounters.

               With that in mind, Lacie grips the card. It feels sturdier than it looks, but she still takes care tucking it underneath her. Once she’s done that, she turns back to face the circle again.

               She sighs. Blinks, slowly. After something like that, all she wants to do is take a nice long nap, but...

               Well, she’d better get cracking with that deal.

________________________________________________________________

Showing comments for Chapter 7 of Wizard Animago’s Not-So-Secret Spellbook - His Shitty Death Spells and Why They’re Not to Die For, Seriously

EdgyTwedgy666: [fake lol]

               Sometimes, Lacie really doesn’t like humanity. She likes reading their writings, she likes looking at the photos they take of their world, she even likes the occasional specific human, but as a whole?

Rey_hunter: [can you tell me how to solve animagos riddle?? plz]

JarrSlayer8: [I dont get it. Author keeps calling himself a battlisk? Is this a joke account, because he needs to say its a joke so people don’t get confused.]

Foundit_56: [hehe nice try dude… im coming for that spellbook even if your to scared to…]

               If this is what humans are like, she can understand why Animago hated being one so much. I mean seriously, she’s telling people what’s in the spellbook so they’ll leave her alone, and these are the kind of comments she gets?

Pyrocandro: [ummm, you know planis fugere a mortalis huius doesn’t translate to fly away from this mortal plane right? It looks more like go away to me… jus sayin. Maybe you should take a latin class? ;)]

               Lacie narrows her eyes.

               Maybe the non-treasure hunting humans are nicer.

               Maybe up on the surface, humans are actually cool and not smugly correcting her Latin on every post.

               Maybe, but it’s a shame a human trapped her down here to guard his shitty book, so she might never find out.

               A sigh, long and tired. She’s been brainstorming deals ever since Alcor left, but with her still lugging around the spellbook they all seemed… unfeasible. The thing is falling apart already - how’s she supposed to keep it safe out there? Call it a lack of imagination, but she’s exhausted and the only thing she can think of is to keep holing up in her room, ask Alcor to boost the energy of Animago’s old sustaining spells so it can support her again.

               That would work. It would, but it feels…

               Lacie grimaces.

               It feels like there’s more than this. There’s a whole world out there beyond her room, beyond guarding some spellbook; she’s been looking at it ever since she took a laptop off a treasure hunter’s body. She’s been looking, she’s been reading, she’s been writing, and, just as she was about to make that deal with Alcor, she suddenly realised she’s been wanting .

               Wanting to go out there. Wanting to explore, wanting to leave this place. She’s outgrown it, in more ways than one, and now the thought of staying here, forever...

               It feels like she’ll regret not making a better deal when she had the chance.

               But what is a better deal? Maybe she’s just too tired to think, but her mind is blank and now she’s just scrolling through stupid human comments, thinking this is what I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life...

woodzarcor4lyfe: [how does a bastlisk type lol theyve got no arms]

               Oh, god. Oh, no.

SheldonHunts: [Actually, basilisks are classified as supernatural BEASTS instead of supernatural BEINGS. They’re non-sentient, so I’m preeetty sure you’re not a basilisk dude... cool post tho, was fun to read :)]

               Fucking. Humans. Why are they like this?

Epicbl00dhound: [looooool i bet there’s so many dumbasses in the comments fallin for this………. your not a bastlicks buddy i bet you made this up to feel special………  i bet your just some guy in your moms basement pretending…… dont pretend cuz humans are THE BEST we beat all other spacies (watch pronatpat he has the TRUTH) so get out of there….. be a human!]

               Ugggghhhhhhhh, why is this her life? Why can’t she-

               Wait.

               Lacie reads that last comment again. Through all the weird grammar and the pro-nat grossness and everything else she doesn’t even want to unpack… it’s giving her an idea.

               Be a human...

               A strange, strange idea - but it might just actually work.

[panticwritten]

“are you finishing that or…?” “Do it. I dare you.” But together in the same prompt. >:3

This took me so long to write because I kept having to stand up and walk away toward the end. I’m weak for fluff and shit but I almost never write it.

Anyway, content warning for blood drinking at the very beginning (the vampire’s here for two seconds) and sort of amnesia.

Tag list and the scene are under the cut!

@spirit-wizard-nerd @alextriestowritestuff @samueldeckerthompson @ishanijasmin @the-real-rg @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @authorarsinoe @asinwolves @cadewrites @fandomloverangel 

—-

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know what you asked and I’ll tell you again.” Jess sucks on the the tube of a bloodbag like a bendy straw. “He works Tuesday through Saturday, noon to six.”

I grind my teeth but don’t press it. If they don’t want to help, I’m not gonna change that by force. They’re like Sawyer that way. They are Sawyer that way.

“You’ll have to find him yourself.” They raise an eyebrow and lean back on their stool. “Or, you know. Ask the Cube-slash-Sawyer where he is.”

“I’m not doing that,” I say flatly. I huff at their shrug and hop off my own seat. I’ll be able to find him myself.

“Nine tonight, don’t be late!” they call out behind me. “And you’ll have to talk to them eventually!”

I wave my coffee cup at them vaguely without looking back. It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to them, I just… you know. I need to talk to Dominic, remind myself he didn’t actually die.

I push out of the Lounge and look into the In-Between from the entryway’s floor to ceiling windows. It’s definitely a view. It tickles something in the back of my head to look at from this vantage, from inside the Cube.

I shake my head and go on through the next door into the Cube itself. I’ll run into someone who knows where he is eventually. Hopefully. If I’m not too terribly unlucky.

He might be able to help me fill in these gaps in my memory. It all kinda feels like a dream now that I’m not just astral projecting or whatever. Fuzzy and not quite together enough to remember all the way. My memories of the Vampire have solidified after hanging around them a few days, hopefully I’ll get the rest of them cleared up.

There are some things…

Yeah, I need to talk to Dominic. 

All of the doors in this area are empty. They don’t connect to a specific universe, at least. The signs over them all read vacant. Knowing what I know about the different universes I’m not so sure. There’s someone out there.

V was there before Breaking Furnace, after all. I haven’t brought it up to them yet, but it makes sense! There have to be others! V was too focused on Furnace to also have been running other universes.

Ugh, it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for V. If I keep thinking about them, the Cube’ll just take me to their door instead of to Dominic.

I really missed this place. I can’t believe I was ever okay with leaving. With staying away when I could be somewhere that listens. Sometimes it can have a weird sense of humor, but it usually isn’t mean. 

Last time I saw Dominic—really saw him—was at the river. Cold, hurt, and so goddamn loyal he dragged Gamzee under at the cost of his own life. I hope I gave him a piece of my mind about that when I was ghosting around. I just don’t remember. 

I sigh and down a few gulps of coffee. Jess must have made this bottomless—I’m sure I’ve poured at least two mugs full down my throat at this point.  

Maybe I’ll just do it again, even if it turns out I did. After I see him and my bones stop vibrating. After I know how much of what I remember was real* and how much was just wishful thinking. Before I get to the other person I really do need to get around to talking to.

I’ll do that eventually. I have to stop jumping up the second they need me, though. They’re a big kid—they’re in college now and everything—they’ll be fine without me for a few more days.

…

Or not if I don’t stop thinking about them like a dumbass.

I lift a hand and feel the edges of the Cube’s consciousness. It’s not that hard, with how close to being Collective I am. I figure, maybe, if it won’t just tune into me and take me where I want to go I can just, you know. Ask it to take me there? Maybe?

If I can wave a hand and make tables and shit, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to do this.

It doesn’t always feel the same. It depends on what Sawyer’s brain is doing and how they are, I guess. Today, it’s kind of like sticking my hand into a whirlpool of, like. Static. And glass.

That’s worrisome. Tomorrow, I swear I’ll go talk to them tomorrow.

I flex my fingers and dig into the fabric of thought there. I’m still not sure if Sawyer knows when I do this kind of thing. Whether it’s really the capricious Cube that answers this kind of request or if it’s them.

I guess this is sort of what Jess wanted me to do in the first place.

Still, the question of where to go buzzes over my fingers and into the world around me. It sits there, the whirlpool jagged and grating on my own mind, while I walk on. I don’t get an answer, exactly, but I do see the next turn up ahead change from a left turn to a right turn.

It’s probably the best I’m going to get. I yank my hand back and motherfucker, I hate the tingling it leaves. My entire hand has that shitty almost-numb buzz, enough that I just grimace and tip my head back to chug my drink until I round the corner.

I almost choke and stop dead. I never actually thought about. What I was gonna say when I found Dominic. 

He hasn’t even seen me yet, though Jay’s gaze locks on me from the other end of the sizeable hallway. Their smile turns wry. They tilt their head only slightly, then return their attention to Dominic.

I don’t know what they say. I don’t need to know. He freezes on the spot and jerks his head up in response, whatever it is.

After a long beat of mutual wide-eyed staring, he grins and says something—he’s still too far away to really hear—and starts toward me.

At a fucking run.

“Coming in!” he crows about halfway to me and holy shit he isn’t— 

It would be really funny if I could complete the meme, but I kinda blank out for a second. Between the realization of what this idiot is doing and the second I have to catch him, I must have dropped the coffee because of course I did.

I stumble back because, okay, Nick’s kind of a big guy. His momentum, legs locked around my middle, knocks the breath from my lungs, the carefree laughter I’ve never heard from him keeps my throat a little choked up.

So maybe it’s understandable that my first nonsensical thought is that he might actually be trying to suffocate me when he kisses me. It shorts something out in my head. He wisely jerks back when my legs give out and I end up flat on my back.

With Dominic sitting on my chest and smiling at me like he didn’t just, like, try to kill me or something, his face—his eyes—maybe six inches from mine.

“That answers that question,” I wheeze with a thin laugh.

He cocks his head and sits back. “What question?”

“How’s that memory coming?”

Dominic jolts—meaning, he squeezes the air out of my lungs again—and twists to look at Jay, who stands over us just behind him. They aren’t looking at him, though. Their level gaze sits on me. So does their phone camera.

“Better than it was.” I huff and try to sit up. Without any prompting, Dominic shuffles back just enough that I can lever myself upright. He stays in my lap, though, which is a little bit of a comfort. “I think they just need, uh, reinforcement.”

Something sparks—literally—in their eyes. They don’t comment, though. In fact, they pocket their phone and start back the way they came with a shrug. “I doubt you’ll find many complaints on that front.”

They wink before they actually turn around. I’d throw something at them if I weren’t. You know. On the ground and also finally face to face with the boy.

And, of the many brilliant and witty things I could say, I land on…

“You made me drop my coffee,” I inform him blandly.

He leans bodily back and, hey! I catch sight of my mug, which somehow managed to land upright with just a ring of coffee that must have splashed out. I reach for it when he hooks a finger into the handle and sits back up.

The fucker doesn’t give it to me.

“What’s wrong with your memory?” he asks brightly with my caffeine held hostage.

“Brain machine broke,” I mutter. “Turns out, a slice of a person doesn’t make very reliable records.”

He blinks once, twice, then sets the cup to the side.

“It’s not a big deal,” I assure him. “I just need to, uh. Do the whole memory association thing.”

“I just—” He reaches out and seems to change his mind a couple times before he just rests his hands on my shoulders. “What all do you remember?”

I make an uncertain sound in the back of my throat. “We hung out a lot, right? And there were some flashes, of—”

I look away and he squeezes my shoulders reassuringly.

“Anyway, the short answer is not much.”

I jolt when he snorts. His head drops down against my shoulder, his hands trail down my arms in his laughter and I do not know what to think about that. 

“I can’t believe you caught me!” He cackles into my shirt. “The Cube screwed up your memory and you just went with it.”

It takes a beat for me to decide that, yes, I’m probably allowed to, and cling to him, fingers dug into the back of his shirt. He still trembles in now-silent laughter.

Thank christ I was right about all this.

He straightens up suddenly and his concern even alarms me.

“Crap, I kissed you, I’m sorry.” He shifts back, and I have a feeling if I didn’t tighten my grip he would be standing up. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have—”

“I promise, it’s fine,” I say a little too fast.

It takes a few seconds, long enough for him to make sure I’m not lying, I assume, but his worry slowly melts back into a gently smug smile. It smacks me right into a memory.

A good day. A view of the In-Between. Scars, sharing, and a shit-eating grin over a plate of stupid cucumber sandwiches. It flits through my mind in an instant, doesn’t give me time to recover before Nick rolls a leading look at my coffee. 

“So, are you finishing that, or…”

I level as calm a gaze as I can at him. I want nothing more than to snatch that cup, but come on. Come on.

“Do it.” I don’t think I quite manage to keep the smile out of my voice or the laugh in my head from leaking into the air around us, but I’m not about to let that stop me. “I dare you.”

He doesn’t wait before he grabs it and downs it.

Or, he tries to. It’s a bottomless cup of black coffee, okay, and the guy has a sweet tooth. He lasts maybe five seconds before he splutters out a perfect spit take and coughs into the cup.

I mean, we’re both covered in coffee now. Does that make it any less worth it when I take the mug and take a long drink?

No, it absolutely does not.

[screamxqueenx94]

Wolf Moon Part 3/ Teen Wolf Series

A/N: This if the final part for Wolf Moon! I'm excited to be moving onto the next one! I hope you guys enjoy it :) also, I'm sorry for this being so short!!!

Warnings: There's like 1 f-bomb lol and fluff

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x OC! Charli Vérszívó

Part 1, Part 2

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The Sun starts rising and I can see Scott headed for the road. I start the car, back out and follow him, stopping for him. He gets in and I reach in the backseat and grab a hoodie and lay it over him. We ride quietly for awhile until he finally speaks up.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks, holding his injured arm.

“Figured you'd be out here looking for Derek.” I answer, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Where's Stiles?”

“At home, waiting for you to call him and let him know you're okay.”

It's quiet between us again. The only noise is coming from the engine of the beetle and the radio playing “Monster” by Skillet at a low volume. Scott looks at the radio, then out the window.

“Can you turn that off, please?” He asks. I turn it off and keep driving. God, I hate awkward silences.

“You know what actually worries me the most?” Scott asks with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“If you say Allison… I'm gonna puke.” I reply as I continue to look straight ahead.

“She probably hates me now…” he sighs

“I seriously doubt that, but it might help if you come up with a pretty damn good apology. No excuses for it, just an apology…” I inform him. “Just don't do what Stiles would suggest.” I continue.

“Which is?”

“Tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of being a werewolf!” I say, poorly impersonating Stiles, making Scott slightly chuckle.

“You're gonna get through this, even if Stiles and I have to chain you up on a Full Moon night and feed you live mice.” I say, trying to comfort him.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks after a minute.

“Sure.”

“Why are you helping me?” I look at him for a second, then back to the road.

“Scott… when I moved here, you and Stiles were the first people to talk to me. You accepted me early on and were nice to me and included me in stuff… I consider you my friend…” I answer back kindly. “Which is why if I tell you a secret, you have to promise that you won't tell Stiles.” I continue.

“Why?” He asks, turning his body towards me.

“Because if I even have a molecule of a chance with him, I want to tell him myself.” I answer.

“Fair enough…” he shrugs. “So… what's the secret?” He asks.

I sigh, preparing myself for what I'm about to say. “You and Derek aren't the only supernatural creatures…” I trail off.

“Charli are-- are you a werewolf too?” He asks with pure shock in his voice.

I sigh. “No, but I have had a lot of movies made about what I am.”

“A witch?” He asks.

“No… I'm something more… bloodthirsty.” I try to hint.

He sits for a minute looking away, thinking. He finally has his ‘a-ha’ moment and whips his head towards me.

“You're a vampire?” He questions loudly.

“Yep.” I reply as I make a turn. He just stares at me in complete surprise. Great… more awkward silence.

“I assume you have a lot questions.” I mention. He slowly nods his head.

“Well I can answer one for you right now: I don't fucking sparkle in the sunlight.” I answer bitterly. “Fuck you, Stephanie Meyers…” I curse under my breath.

I pull up outside of Scott's house and put the car in park. I sigh and lean back so my head is on the headrest. Scott does the same. We then look at each other.

“Well, I gotta get home and do some damage control with my dad…” I tell him. “If you need anything, shoot me a text and I'll do what I can, okay?” I finish.

“Same to you, especially if you wanna talk about… well, y'know.” He sympathized.

“You promise you won't tell Stiles, right?” I insist.

“I promise.” He assures. I nod and half smile. He gets out and I watch him walk into the house. Once he's inside, I shift the gear into drive and go home.

On the drive home, I start to cry. Why, I'm not exactly sure. Maybe from being tired. Maybe from the fact that I made Scott promise to lie to his best friend. Or maybe the fact that Scott has turned into the one creature that I swore I'd never trust… but it's not his fault. I think it was a combination of all three.

He didn't ask to be bitten. He wasn't born that way either. Poor kid was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I decided to just help him. At least until I see him as a threat to me, to my father, or to Stiles…

~

I pull into my driveway and take off my boots to quietly enter my house incase my dad is still sleeping. When I turn around, he's standing in the middle of the foyer, still in his pajamas with his arms crossed over his chest and giving me a stern look.

“You were out all night… wanna explain what you were doing before I strangle the life out of you?” He grumbles.

I set my boots next to the door then straighten back up to face him.

“Scott got sick and his mom couldn't leave work, so Stiles and I stayed with him to make sure he was okay.” I lie. Now how can I lie so easily to my dad and even come up with a good one, but yet I can't lie to Stiles?

“Really? Cuz I noticed you came home in the middle of the night and got your car… what was the reason for that?” He interrogates.

“Stiles’ jeep breaks down a lot, so incase we needed to take Scott to the hospital we needed a reliable car.” I lie again.

He steps closer. “You're picking at your nails.” He points out.

I look down at my hand and put it behind my back and don't make eye contact with him. “So? It's a bad habit I have…”

“Yeah, a habit you have when you lie.” he argues. “Look, I don't care if you go out with your friends, but I don't appreciate the lying.” He continues.

I look down at my feet and chew on the corner of my bottom lip. “I'm sorry…” I whisper.

“Yeah, well, you can apologize as you wash and wax my car.” He orders as he tosses me his keys.

I catch them and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. I head upstairs and change into a pair black running shorts and a tank top. I take everything I need outside and pull my dad's car out of the garage. I put my headphones in and start listening to music as I fill up a bucket with soap and water.

I put my hair up in a messy bun and start washing the car. After a little while of washing his car, ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ by Wheatus starts playing. I hum to the music, then start singing and even get to the point of playing guitar with the sponge. I get so into it that I don't even notice the old lady from across the street staring at me like I'm a nutcase. I just keep going, not even washing the car anymore and just having a public jam session. When the beat slows down, I turn back around to get back to work, only to see Stiles standing there with his hands in his hoodie pockets, smirking and chuckling at me, making me drop the sponge. My cheeks become hot and rosey as I take out my earbuds. Well this is fucking embarrassing. I'm gonna go crawl in a hole and die now.

“How long have you been standing there?” I squeak.

“Long enough to know that you play air guitar with a sponge.” He teases. I try to hide my face, then he continues. “It's cute.”

I look up and give him a shy smile. He smiles back. “Did you even get to sleep yet?” He asks.

“No, my dad caught me sneaking back in and as punishment, he's making me wash and wax his car.” I inform him.

“Well that sucks.” He comments. I nod in agreement, then pick the sponge back up and get back to washing the car.

He walks into my garage. I'm about to say something when he comes back out with another sponge and puts it in the bucket. He takes off his hoodie and tosses it in the garage.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Part of this was my fault, so I'm helping you.” He states.

“Are you kidding? If my dad comes out here and sees you, he's gonna kill us both!” I warn.

“He's gonna have to catch me first…” he smirks and wiggles his eyebrows, making me laugh.

He picks up the second sponge and starts helping me. He's so fucking pretty!

I go pick up the hose to rinse off all the suds on the car when I notice that Stiles isn't paying attention and is ringing out the sponges. I get an evil genius idea.

“Hey Stiles?” I question innocently to get his attention.

He looks at me and I press the trigger on the hose and spray him. He put his hands up and turns his head away. When I stop, he puts his hands on his hips and and shakes his head down as he's looking down. He looks up at me through his lashes and presses his lips on a straight line and starts nodding.

“Okay, you wanna play that game?” he remarks, picking up the bucket of soapy water next to him.  

A mischievous smile spreads across his mole covered face and starts walking towards me. I take off running and he runs after me, both of us laughing. He catches up to me and dumps a bunch of water behind me all going down my back and my hair. I turn around and start spraying him again, he's trying to dodge the hose as I try to dodge him with the bucket. I eventually drop the hose and hide behind my dad's car. He comes over to me and is about to dump the rest of water in the bucket on me when I quickly look over at his house, then back to him.

“Hey I think your dad's calling for you.” I point towards his house.

He looks over and I flip the bucket and it lands on his head, soaking him. I burst into laughter and he lifts it up halfway, enough so his honey colored eyes are showing. Once I get myself together, I take it off his head and set it on the ground.

“I can't believe I fell for that.” He confesses shyly with rosey cheeks, smiling. We chuckle.

“Honestly? Neither can I sense you're dad's not even home.” I admit.

He looks over at his house again and starts laughing as he facepalms. He looks back at me and tucks some loose strands that were sticking to my cheek behind my ear, his long fingers grazing my cheek. Oh God, there's that weird butterfly feeling again!

We just look into each other's eyes for awhile. He steps closer to me, his look intensifies. Am I about to get my first kiss? Oh God, what if I suck? What if my breath stinks? Are my lips chapped? My mouth feels really dry…

We get so close that there's barely any distance between us. I close my eyes and suddenly I'm being hit with water. I put my hands up to protect my face and see that Stiles has done the same thing. I look in the direction of the stream and it's my father… spraying Stiles and I with the hose with a deadpan look on his face.

“Go home, Stiles.” He commands after he stops spraying us.

“Yes sir.” Stiles replies quietly. He grabs his hoodie out of the garage and instead of putting it on himself, he puts on me.

I look up at him confused. “I don't want you to get sick.” He answers my unasked question. He puts his hands in his drenched jeans pockets and heads to his house.

I can't help but watch him walk away. I like his butt. It's cute.

I look at my father with dagger eyes, then clean up and go change my clothes and go to lay in my bed, thinking about what was about to happen.

Was I really about to have my first kiss? Was he actually gonna kiss me? Was I just daydreaming? God! I can't believe my dad ruined the moment for me!

I let my thoughts race until I fell asleep. Who knew crushing hard on a guy could make on so exhausted?

~

I'm sitting cross legged on a bench outside of the school Monday, reading, and Scott sits next to me.

"I have some questions..." He declares

I look over at him and close my book. "Shoot." I tell him.

"Why aren't you affected by sunlight?" He asks, tilting his head like a puppy.

"My mom was half human, so I'm like... one third human." I answer.

"Do you drink human blood?"

"Nope. Strictly animal blood."

"Are you affected by garlic or holy water?"

"No, but my dad is..." I acknowledge.

"Is he a full blooded vampire?" He asks.

"Yep." I answer.

"So... can you turn into a bat?" He asks.

I roll my eyes and groan. "No, that's not an actual thing... I literally have no idea where that even came from." I inform him.

"How old are you really?" He nudges me with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows.

"16... just like you and Stiles..." I grumble. "My dad, however, is 2,000 years old." I continue.

Scott's eyes nearly bug out of his head. I chuckle. I look behind him and see Allison coming. I tap him and point in her direction. When he turns around I get up and leave, seeing Stiles and walking over to him.

"Hey." I greet.

He looks at me and smiles. "Hey!" He greets back, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"I-uh, I want to apologize for my dad the other day--" he cuts me off.

"Hey, don't even worry about it. I get it... you're his daughter and I'm a teenage boy... dads with daughters hate teenage boys!" He explains, making me laugh.

"I know, but sometimes he can be a little overprotective." I acknowledge.

"Trust me, I'd be worried if he wasn't." He stops and faces me as he speaks.

I smile at him, then I notice something... Allison gets into a car with one of the hunters from last night. Stiles must've noticed because he looks in the direction I was looking, then back to me.

"What is it?" He asks concerned.

"I recognize him..." I trail off as the hunter closes Allison's door and walks to the driver side.

"How?" Stiles asks.

"He tried to kill Scott and Derek last night..."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

@mummybear @ficus-fig @music-magic-mayhem @zenawa @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @maaariiiooo13 @thekingofselfloathing @sporadiccookiebagel @bewarethebees @inschi @awesomeandromedablack @wil2space @bansheeintuition @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @nicole-lynne

[amwritingmeta]

13x16: Sometimes It’s About the Journey...

…not the destination. So says Dean Winchester. In an episode that sees him more or less move into the peak of his arc in a spectacular way. I cannot believe how gorgeous it is. Or I can. I really fucking can believe it. And I’m not saying he’s reached the peak, climbed across it and is looking out on the view that is his future and balance and happiness, but hot damn if he’s not almost there.

((Enter: Michael. Dun-dun-DUN))

I wanted to outline how I’ve followed Dean’s journey of self-actualisation since that pivotal moment in 12x22 and the firing of the grenade launcher = self-liberation, to this episode and all the remarkable lack of walls he’s showing.

Throughout this season, Dean’s come face to face with the lesson he’s needed to learn the most: time to drop the mask.

Time to face himself and admit that this toxic masculinity spiel isn’t who he is and it isn’t who he wants to be. If he hadn’t been wearing a mask, he would’ve told the man he loves how he feels a long time ago. 

The mask isn’t armour to keep him safe, it’s armour to hide behind. 

And it’s bullshit armour that is linked to personality traits he’s never actually believed in or stood behind, he’s only made them part of himself out of a sense of duty that has been warped and twisted out of shape. 

In 13x01 Dean is called out on this by Miriam, who says he’s Becky. Becky who takes things and breaks things, and doesn’t care about anyone but herself. 

And ��>

Following this, throughout S13, Dean has faced a whole string of Bad Guys who look like one thing but is really something else:

Asmodeus; wraith whose reflection give them away; shifter wearing Dean’s face; ghost wearing a mask; ghoul wearing the face of a gunslinger hero; two-faced killer pretending to be the good brother; a crossroads demon who comes in peace but does what crossroads demons do; Jack who is innocent of what Dean is suspecting him of; a vampire and a human being in a literal pig mask.

If we see each of these Bad Guys as representatives of Dean’s toxic masculinity - which is the reason he’s wearing his own mask - and each of them pushing him one step further on his journey to opening up to this fact, and letting the mask go, then there’s an immediate pattern here. 

Because Dean may end up killing the wraith in 13x03, but only after we get the visual of the wraith stabbing him repeatedly in the stomach, killing him first. For Dean, this kill is made in absolute fury and self-defence. He’s nowhere near ready to recognise the mask for what it is, he’s much too deep into his grief for that to be possible. He rejects the lesson of recognising this toxic masculinity for what it truly is, and does away with the threat to his perceived identity, because the anger is all he has to hold onto.

By 13x04 this attitude has changed, thanks to Sam intervening. Sam manipulates the entire episode, getting Dean into that therapy session (only for Sam himself to reveal how much he is truly in need of speaking his mind to his brother), but it also pushes Dean’s self-reflection. The thought of catharsis has hooks and they sink in deep, no matter how Dean may reject the idea of it. By the end of the episode he’s admitted the truth to Sam: right now, Dean can’t believe in a damn thing. 

Then we move forward with the Bad Guys, right? Doctor with a drill in 13x05 almost drills a hole in Dean��s head because Dean can’t believe in a damn thing. I don’t think Dean’s suicidal here, I think he simply cannot see the point, so if he dies, he dies. He’s ambivalent. He’s not going to go looking for death, but he’s not going to fight to live either. Ironic, then, that it’s Death herself who tells him to live.

He faces his old idol in 13x06 without hesitation, though Dean, still, is not the one to kill him: native american sheriff with the white hat does that. (and I’d say the White Hat represents the balanced Dean we’re all wishing and hoping for) (and he’s almost in a position to don it) (betcha by golly) 

And in 13x07 he’s finally the one to inflict some pain on the toxic masculinity representative when he shoots Ketch in the shoulder. (I screamed) (Ketch is such a manifestation of a dark mirror for Dean so I kind of love that they brought him back)

By 13x08 we have a Dean interacting with a Charlie-replica. Charlie, who is a highlighter for Dean’s true nature more than any other character has ever been. And we have Dean telling this other highlighter for his true self that she should stay weird, essentially showing how he’s sincerely beginning to open up to this side to himself. (because of Cas coming back) (of course)

In 13x09 we have a huge setback when he realises that he was wrong about Mary being dead, and that old reliable self-doubt and self-hatred comes pouring back in, in copious amounts. It’s strong enough to make him pull a gun and shout in Kaia’s face for her to GET IN THE CAR. Yeah. (I screamed again) (oh the humanity!)

When 13x11 rolls around we get a whole set of our favourite beasties and Sam’s heart (SAM’S heart) is on the line. So it’s poetic that this is the man (and as Ketch, whom he wounded, this is a human man) in a mask that Dean finally kills himself, with a shot through the heart. And the fact is that Dean wearing the toxic masculinity mask does threaten Sam, because it is what informs the codependency, it’s what keeps it so firmly in place. But oh man does it begin to slip now.

In 13x12 we have our first Bad Girl… why does that actually sound dirty rather than menacing? We have our first Dark Female of the season, when we get the twins and Rowena in one episode. They tick the box for yet one more supernatural creature to add to the list: witches. And, of course, we get the epic scene of our leading Dark Female - who is a very strong Dean mirror btw - finding her release and self-liberation. Mind blown. 

In 13x13 Dean is shocked to learn that Cas has been held captive and he had no fucking clue. He sticks close to Cas as they face down Lucifer, who doesn’t faze Dean for a moment, take out Ketch, who will never be trusted again, and find some semblance of a team spirit amidst all of it.

By 13x14 Dean isn’t really displaying any toxic masculine behaviour, right? I mean, he isn’t. If he was happily in love in 13x12, then you almost expect him to burst into song in this episode because he’s so relaxed, working with Cas, spending quality time with Cas (referencing rock and rolling………) and staring down two uber-masculine specimens and getting the giggles over their loincloths. Like… the very image of the male strong rough warrior is actually turned into a joke by how Dean now views masculinity. Honestly. Kill me. It’s gorgeous.

In 13x15 the coping mechanisms are sent on their way for good. I mean, I’m so sure of it. I shouldn’t say I am, but I feel very very convinced that this is the case. Dean has moved far beyond needing them, or even wanting to engage with them. He enjoys food and beer and flirtation and sex, of course, but because he enjoys these things for what they are, not because he needs to take the edge off or find an emotional bandaid. He also looks the toxic masculinity representative dead in the eye and questions his motives for behaving like an asshole. The Boss has his reasons, and Dean can recognise them, but The Boss is a strong Dean mirror when it comes to taking things and breaking things and not caring who gets hurt, because The Boss believes he’s right. Dean is fed up with this attitude from everyone. 

And now then. 

Now we reach 13x16.

more below the cut

12x22 allowed Dean to experience his moment of self-liberation, a necessary step toward self-actualisation (which I wrote about here in how these steps are informing Cas’ arc) (and these steps are also absolutely informing Sam’s arc as well), the brief definitions of which are:

Self-liberation: Recognising irrational thinking patterns caused by unrealistic demands placed on the self and defusing these harmful irrational beliefs in order to lead a happy, healthy life. Self-actualisation: Living creatively and fully using your potentials, driven by a desire for self-fulfilment, feeling finally yourself, safe, free from anxiety, accepted and loved.

So, if Dean experienced self-liberation when firing that grenade launcher in 12x22, then he’s been moving through these above outlined necessary steps of recognising and letting go of the toxic masculinity armour in S13, because to reach the place where you’re ready for self-actualisation, you have to recognise and let go of all that baggage you’ve been carrying around with you.

By 13x11 he’s done believing in the toxic masculinity. It lingers moving forward, because it’s ingrained, but he’s not allowing it to govern him anymore.

By 13x15 we have it underlined to us that Dean taking charge and acting like he always has, doling out orders, is not a good thing. Dean shouldn’t be sole decision maker. That time is over. The reason for the toxic masculinity armour to be worn doesn’t exist: it’s time he stripped the armour off and began to trust.

So, in 13x16 - does he display trust?

Well, yes, he does. One significant moment is when he succumbs to the rules of the world they’re in and allows Fred to play his part, setting a trap that Dean knows won’t work, just for the hell of it, while Dean has his plan B (Operation Bookworm) (FFS) ready to go. This isn’t him displaying control freak behaviour, this is him showing he can be a team player and fucking chill. 

But there’s also a thread throughout the entire episode where he is just… himself. Right? Where he displays honest faith in himself, in his point of view, in his likes being his and he’ll be damned if anyone else’s opinions on these views will make him question them. Jesus, when he quoted Frozen and referenced Elsa without blinking at it, not retracting it or in any way trying to distract Sam from it, I was about ready to hand in the towel.

Especially when he made this face at Sam’s frown –>

(the heart sings with the joy of witnessing this expression)

And we get so much more, like later on in the episode, when he happily shows off the “sleeping robe” and he puts that Ascot on. The final scene and Dean’s reaction to the non-subtle judgment made me think of this one in 4x06:

This bristling at the questioning of his manhood leading to this display of insecure defensiveness (because he’s just been put through the emotional ringer coming face to face with his deep fear of judgment, due to his even deeper fear of rejection, because Good Things Don’t Last, and all of is tied in with a lacking sense of true identity) we get these dimples of discontent:

So, then, what a difference in attitude we get in 13x16. What a remarkable wonderful growth. I mean –>

TRUE IDENTITY ^^^^^ 

But that’s not all that we got from this episode in terms of Dean’s furthered progression, because not only has he faced down a toxic masculinity that has kept him from being himself, out of a sense of duty, believing the only way he could be strong enough to act the shield was to become only the weapon, but in 13x16 he’s also confronted with his inner child.

I was hoping for this so badly. 

(I screamed when the ghost turned into a child) (no I actually didn’t) (I went OH MY GOD!!) (yeah that I did) 

I was hoping for it because it’s the final few steps towards Dean being able to fully let go of the past and look to the future. (it makes me want to weep) (for real it makes me seriously emotional) And look how absolutely magically it’s handled in this episode –>

This moment underlines what Dean’s inner longing is: he just wants his dad. His dad. Not the soldier dude who was a mean drunk and raised him to survive and to protect Sammy at all costs, not that dude, but his dad. The guy who loved Mary more than anything, and who tried his best in impossible circumstances to keep his head above the waterline, the trekkie, the dad who walked into CBGB’s and had grown men go apologetic and self-conscious.

Dean lost the love of his life. He’s in a position now to understand what that does to you. How it breaks down everything you thought you were and turns you inside out. Just as he got to see Mary as an individual, as a person, in S12, Dean is now in a place where he can distance himself from his dad as well, where he can see John as a person who made choices and who made mistakes but who, ultimately, made them out of love, not only for Mary - but for his boys, too. He did what he believed he had to in order to keep them alive. He did what he thought was right. And the deep suffering and his sense of failure crippled him into becoming someone different to the man Mary fell in love with.

And this is the foremost baggage Dean needs to let go of, at least to my mind, because he needs to forgive his father, just as he forgave his mother.

Now this might be as subtly done as his progression has been through the season, we might not get this verbalised at all, and personally I’m just curious to see how and if they’ll give it to us, whether I’m right in this reading or not.

Either way, I think they’re setting up for Michael to be an absolutely smashing piece of exposition!

We also get a pretty significant callback from Dean coming face to face with this inner child of his because remember this moment? –>

This is an underlining, in dialogue, of Dean’s self-view, and it’s one that Dean must put to rest. Because we all know he’s not poison, he doesn’t hurt everyone he loves, he doesn’t cause death and destruction, he is worth saving and he deserves all the love the world has to offer. 

He’s getting there. This tie-back moment in 13x16 underlines it.

Because Becky is dead. Long live Elsa.

In fact, this entire episode underlines this as we watch him freely engage with something he enjoys and he doesn’t for one moment stop simply because Sam is frowning and judging him. He tells Sam off and goes to enjoy himself. This while Sam is absolutely putting his foot down continually, questioning Dean’s decisions and behaviour and calling him out on it. Yeah. 

13x15 set all of this up gorgeously and they are totally building on the moving out of toxic codependency and it makes my insides want to do the jig!! 

The fact that there are traces of old Dean here is more a highlighter to me than anything else.

He doesn’t go for the blonde waitress –>

Barely even looks at her.

Daphne is a trophy he’s set on winning, because, of course, his rivalry is entirely with Fred, which is set up immediately. And that Daphne is a trophy is given to us in dialogue when he says:

Dean: Should’ve known Velma was good to go. It’s always the quiet ones.

But I actually don’t think Dean is engaging in toxic masculine behaviour, not as it’s been displayed this season. He’s a douche. He’s a teenage jock with a big ego who thinks he’s god’s gift. 

I mean, come on, Dean. You’re fucking better than this. Don’t grab women by the arm like that, for example. She will run the fuck away from you to the guy she wants to be with. Learn your lessons, Dean!

Because how he chooses to relate to Daphne, and how she continuously keeps markedly blowing him off, tells us that he needs to grow the hell up already. And, to me, that’s the whole point. I could dig into the symbology and representation that I can see in the setup of the character interaction, but my dudes, I’ll throw it into a separate post.

The point is, this episode tells us that Dean doesn’t want casual, he doesn’t want a trophy.

He wants someone to sit next to him, share a beer and watch movies with him.

That’s what he wants, and the fact that he’s overcompensating for this fact by chasing a pretty woman is entirely in line with how him lusting after a man has pretty much always been handled on the show. 

He wants Cas. And how we close the Scooby portion with Dean stating he should’ve known “it’s always the quiet ones” is a rather formidable plant. 

Well, fingers crossed, of course. I know nothing. I predict nothing. But if they can take the time to draw Dean helping Cas up and Cas reaching out and taking Dean’s hand once he’s done so, and if they can take the time to draw them in synchronisation, then, you know… Cave of Deanitude it is? Joint shares? *mh mh good*

And whoa boy did I love this episode! 

[assassin-owl]

I Need a Summer (But It’s Winter In My Heart)

Shortly after the fall of SHIELD Bucky tries laying low in Sunnydale. All he wants is peace and quiet, but Sunnydale isn’t a great place for either, except of the “silent as the grave” variety. While there, he runs into a strange group of people who are out to save the world. He is fresh from hell and their leader has just been pulled back from heaven and both of them are trying to learn to live again.

(In case you are wondering, the ship name is WinterSummer. I’m not even sure how I came up with it, but my sister and I were joking about these two and somehow we ended up naming the ship and once you name it you start getting attached to it. Somehow, that spiraled into this story.)

I’m finally posting in honor of Bucky’s 100th birthday falling on the same day as twenty years of BtVS.

Rated T

The Asset… no, Bucky, his name is Bucky. The man on the bridge, Steve called him Bucky. The exhibit at the museum called him Bucky. And Bucky had been running ever since. Literally, a lot of the time. He isn’t sure what he is running from, not most of it, just that he had to get away.

He stole a car a few times, to get further away, but walked a lot too. He just needed to keep moving. HYDRA might find him. Steve might find him. He isn’t sure which would be worse. If someone finds him, he might hurt them, and he is so tired of hurting people. 

He wasn’t able to get very far the first week or two. He spent most of it hiding in abandoned buildings, coming down from withdrawals from whatever HYDRA had pumped him full of. 

A couple of weeks later, he reaches the Pacific Ocean. Literally. He just keeps walking until he is standing on the beach of a tiny town called Sunnydale, staring out at the waves. For the first time that he can remember, which admittedly isn’t much, he feels almost peaceful. He has no idea where to go from here, but it’s a nice place for standing still.

He stands there for a long time, watching the sun set over the water. 

An odd snarling sound from behind him snaps him out of his reverie. He wheels around, ready for a fight. The man creeping up behind him doesn’t look quite human.

Bucky raises his metal arm to block the attack and the… thing bites his arm. Bites him. Whatever attack he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Apparently, it wasn’t expecting his metal arm either.

“Owww!” it complains.

“Hey!” a woman shouts from a little ways down the beach. “Leave him alone!”

“Which one of us?” the creature asks.

She answers by ramming a wooden stick through it’s chest. It collapses into a pile of dust.

She looks back at Bucky. “Whatever you think that was,” she says, waving around, “it was an optical illusion. A biker hopped up on pcp tried to mug you, and the rest was an optical illusion. He… ran off. Yeah.” She’s obviously lying, and not going to any great effort to hide the fact. “You’re new to Sunnydale, aren’t you?” she asks, then continues without waiting for him to answer. “You shouldn’t be outside after dark, especially alone.”

Bucky glances down at the pile of dust, then back up at the girl. There is a lot he doesn’t remember, a lot of lies to sort through, a lot of things he is unsure about, but he is almost entirely certain that this is not, and never has been, normal.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I told you. A drug addict. You should get inside.” She flashes him a smile, bright but haunted by something most people would probably miss. She takes off at a jog down the beach. She is almost out of sight before it even crosses his mind to thank her. He’s pretty sure he used to be good with people, which adds another layer of frustration to his present condition.

He knows he should leave, now, before he can get caught up in whatever weirdness is happening here. He sighed heavily. He had liked this town. It was the first place he had been since everything where he felt like he could have settled down. But he has to leave. He has to get away. He has to report back to… No. There is no one left to report to in any case, and he doesn’t have to do anything. If he wants to stay, he is damn well going to stay.

He had stolen some cash several days ago and still has a little left, so he gets a cheap hotel room, under an assumed name of course. According to the museum, James was actually his name, but it felt like an assumed name, and Dugan he had gotten from the museum too. He had been cycling through the old team’s names on the rare occasion that he needed to use a name, although he hadn’t figured out why.

“What kinds of things can a vampire not bite?” Buffy asks.

“Depends on the vampire,” Xander says.

“Very funny,��� Spike retorts. “Mock your allies. See what I do to you when I get this chip out.”

“I mean it,” Buffy interrupts. I could have sworn the vamp bit a guy, but he didn’t act like he had been bitten and didn’t look like he was bleeding. I think the vamp may have been hurt trying.”

“By the, um, by the actual bite, or by the retaliation?” Giles asks.

“By the actual bite. The guy didn’t hit the vampire back or anything. It just recoiled and I dusted it. The guy came across as human, but kinda distant, barely said anything.”

Willow and Xander exchange a guilty glance because the same could be said about Buffy.

“He had just seen a vampire turn to dust,” Tara points out. “That’s a little freaky the first time.”

“I could check,” Willow offers. “There’s a spell…” she breaks off at the disapproving looks from Giles and Tara.

“Do you think he wants to buy anything?” Anya asks.

“I don’t think that’s a high priority right now, An,” Xander points out. “Um, what is the priority right now?”

“For now, I don’t think there is much we can do,” Giles says. “I mean, it might be worth looking into, but he doesn’t sound like an imminent threat. Keep your eyes open of course, but I hardly think a man surviving a vampire attack is cause for alarm.”

“That’s right. That’s good,” Dawn agrees.

“You’re probably right,” Buffy concedes. “It’s a good thing. Everybody lives. That’s the goal, right?” she adds with false brightness.

“Buffy,” Giles starts.

“You know what, I should get back out there.” She snatches up her jacket and heads out into the night.

“She just needs time,” Giles says, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“Because time will totally make this better,” Xander retorts.

“We should get her a card,” Anya says.

“I don’t think a card will help,” Dawn says.

Bucky wakes from a confused dream, teaming with the woman from the beach to save a much smaller Steve from a fight in what he thinks is a familiar alleyway. It’s better than most of the dreams he has been having. There is a brief moment of fear. For so long, waking had brought pain. 

He sighs heavily and swings his feet onto the floor. He doesn’t have a plan. Staying had looked so much more reasonable the night before, or at least a properly defiant stance. But in the bright light of day it looks more like a quaint little beachside town. And his memory is questionable so he isn’t sure anymore about the man turning to dust. It’s frustrating, not being able to trust his own mind. 

He gets dressed in a hoodie and gloves like usual to hide his face and his metal arm. It’s a little warm here for that. He may have to head north where he can wear more clothes without drawing attention.

On his way out he flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes at the receptionist. She smiles back.

“There’s a free continental breakfast in the dining room,” she says.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says with a nod, making the effort to be polite. He isn’t good at it like he thinks he used to be, but it is important. HYDRA never had time for niceties.

He hadn’t eaten with HYDRA either. It had taken him nearly a week to be able to keep anything down, but now he is enjoying trying different things. He isn’t sure, but he doesn’t think most of this was available back in Brooklyn in the old days. He doesn’t stuff his pockets with food, well, maybe a few muffins. He has enough money for a couple more nights and doesn’t want to blow it on lunch. Southern California is a little warm for his usual hoodie and gloves, even in early November. Oddly enough, he isn’t even the most completely covered person. Gloves, hats, sunglasses, scarves… It’s ridiculous. And he loves it, because he suspects he’s not the weirdest one here. For someone on the run, that is a very good quality in a town.

He isn’t sure what jobs people have these days, or which ones are open to people born in the twenties whose only recent job experience is murder. 

He is making his way through the town, just having a look around. He has the feeling someone is following him, but he is afraid he might just be paranoid. Just in case, he makes his way to the busiest part of town. That doesn’t always help, but he is pretty sure he was almost never sent after people on busy streets. Except that one time.

Someone is definitely following him. It’s one of those people in a ridiculously large amount of clothing.

The stranger catches up with him on the busy street and punches Bucky hard in the face. Then the stranger screams.

“Ow! Bloody hell!” the stranger shouts.

Bucky doesn’t let the man’s odd reaction throw him. He retaliates, striking with his flesh and blood hand, knocking the stranger into a wall.

“Woah! What the hell are you? You’re not a demon but that wasn’t a human punch.”

“What options are there, other than human?” Bucky asks, keeping a close eye on the stranger as he stands to his feet. Instinct tells him to finish his target, but this stranger may or may not be a target.

“So you don’t know about demons? Never mind then. But how did you throw me through a wall? Hate to break it to you, but no normal human could do that to me.”

“Get out of my way,” Bucky says quietly.

“Not until you answer my question.”

Bucky looks around, sizing up possible escape routes. Seeing none that are reliable, he hits the stranger hard across the jaw. The other man manages to hit back before pulling away clutching his head.

“Spike!” a woman’s voice snaps. The blonde woman from the beach is hurrying toward them. “Are you attacking random people?”

“No. I’m getting answers. For you if you must know. And for me,” he added, backpedaling quickly. “I was curious. He’s human, if you were wondering, but that punch is stronger than any human I’ve ever met. Present company excepted of course.”

“Get out of here, Spike,” she says

“What is the other option?” Bucky asks.

“He stays and I kick his ass into next week.”

Bucky lip twitches into almost a smile at that. “I mean other than human.” “Oh. Well… Nothing. There’s no such thing as monster. Everyone knows that.”

“Of course there are,” Bucky says softly. 

“Look, you’re new in town. Just turn around and leave again. If you don’t know about the monsters, you can keep sleeping soundly at night.”

“A bit late for that,” he admits.

She narrows her eyes, studying his face. “It really is, isn’t it.”  She frowns in thought. “Show him the other option, Spike.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is? You want me to stick around as an example of not being human?”

“You don’t like humans,” she retorts.

“Too right, I don’t. Fine, Slayer. I’ll show off.” He… changes. His teeth elongate into fangs and ridges form on his forehead.

“This is a vampire,” the woman says. “Normally we kill them.”

“Hey!”

“But Spike can’t hurt people.”

“He punched me. Twice,” Bucky argues at the same time as Spike exclaims “Hey! Way to keep up my fearsome reputation!”

“He has a chip in his head that causes him debilitating pain when he tries,” the woman clarifies.

“I see you’re keeping my secrets so well. Maybe I should let slip a few of your deep dark secrets, love.”

“Don’t you dare,” she says evenly, a hint of threat in the way she half turns toward Spike. Then her shoulders slump. “Please,” she adds in a much softer voice.

The vampire sighed. “You know I won’t. I should. I should march straight back and tell Willow on general principle. Remind you and the whole lot of them that I’m a vampire, evil bloodsucker, that’s me.”

The woman almost smiles. “Yes, Spike, you’re so terribly evil. It would really be much better if I just staked you.”

“Too right, it would. As soon as I get rid of this chip…” “You’ll disembowel all of us on the spot,” she says, shaking her head.

There is somethings of the familiar in their bickering, not so much that it reminds Bucky of anything (although he can almost hear Steve, his voice fond, calling him a jerk,) but that the two strangers are clearly comfortable and familiar with this dynamic. That means that it is unlikely to change, unlikely to become a problem, in spite of the threats their bickering contains.

“Don’t mind him,” the woman says as the vampire jogs off toward welcoming shade. “He’s all bark.”

Bucky nods.

“So how are you taking the existence of vampires so well?”

“I’m not easily freaked out,” Bucky says. It’s not entirely true. He nearly panicked when a train blocked his path a few days before.  <Freight train> He pushes that thought aside and manages a strained smile at the woman.

"I can see that. If you're really intent on staying in Sunnydale, my name's Buffy. I tend to be around so if you need anything, check in at the magic shop downtown."

"Bucky," he says, offering his hand.

"Bucky? Is that a name?" she asks.

"You're one to talk, Buffy," he retorts with a smile.

She smiles and for a second it reaches her eyes.

[krinsbez]

Book Recommendations: Da Big List, Non-Fiction Edition

(same disclaimer applies)

-The Seven Lives of Colonel Patterson: How an Irish Lion Hunter Led the Jewish Legion to Victory by Denis Brian. A slim biography of Colonel John Henry Patterson, a man who, among other things, led the hunt for not one but TWO man-eating lions, got involved in a scandal that inspired a story by Hemingway, and helped form what eventually evolved into the core of the Israeli Defense Force. -The Dead Travel Fast: Stalking Vampires from Nosferatu to Count Chocula by Eric Nuzum. A fun little book in which the author tries to explore vampires in pop culture from every possible angle (at the time; it was written pre-Twilight); he goes on a tour of Transylvania, visits a Dark Shadows con, watches all of Buffy, reads Dracula and Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, plays Vampire: The Masquerade, works as a vampire at a haunted house, makes a noble effort to watch every vampire movie ever made, and more. -Popular Crime: Reflections on the Celebration of Violence by Bill James. A somewhat weightier tome, in which the creator of sabermetrics turns his attention from studying baseball to studying murder, or at least the pop culture appreciation of murder. It's rather more entertaining than you'd expect, and includes lots of good stuff; my favorites are how he explains that it is simultaneously impossible for Lizzie Borden to have murdered her parents AND for anyone else to have done it, and the bit at the end when he suggests a novel approach to prison reform. -The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson. You've probably heard of this one, which explores the efforts to build the 1893 Chicago World's Fair and juxtaposes 'em with the crimes of serial killer H. H. Holmes in the same time and place. -The Golden Age of Quackery by Stuart H. Holbrook. Everything you can ever want to know about the age of patent medicines is in this book. -Sacred Monsters: Mysterious and Mythical Creatures of Scripture, Talmud, and Midrash by Rabbi Natan Slifkin. In this book, banned by several Haredi Rabbis, the author discusses various creatures mentioned in Jewish holy texts that are known not to exist and tries to figure out what it's talking about; was the term for a mundane creature mistranslated? was it a metaphor? or were the Sages of old mistaken? -1920: The Year of the Six Presidents by David Pietrusza. A fascinating look at the US presidential race for 1920, in which, as the title notes, six men who were or would become President were majorly involved. -The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America by David Hadju. A marvelous book that is exactly what is says on the tin. -Gun Guys: A Road Trip by Dan Baum. In which a man who is somehow both a liberal and a gun-lover travels America exploring various facets of American gun culture. As close to an unbiased look on the subject you're liable to get, and fun besides. -Triumph in a White Suburb: The Dramatic Story of Teaneck, N.J., the First Town in the Nation to Vote for Integrated Schools by Reginald G. Damerell. Exactly what it says on the tin. Admission; I have family in Teaneck (though they moved in much later), so my enjoyment of the book may have been skewed. -Death in the City of Light: The Serial Killer of Nazi-Occupied Paris by David King. As it says, the tale of a serial killer who used the climate of fear created by the Nazi occupation of Paris to lure his victims and cover up his crimes, and afterwards tried to escape justice by claiming to be a resistance fighter. -The Forger's Spell: A True Story of Vermeer, Nazis, and the Greatest Art Hoax of the Twentieth Century by Edward Dolnick. The tale of Dutch art forger Hans van Meegren, who's counterfeit Vermeers were only exposed when he was put on trial for selling one to Goering. -Operation Mincemeat: The True Spy Story That Changed the Course of WWII by Ben Macintyre. The story of how British Intelligence used a corpse to convince the Nazis that the Allies were planning to invade Sardinia instead of Sicily. -Charlemagne's Tablecloth: A Piquant History of Feasting by Nichola Fletcher. As the subtitle suggests, this book looks at feasting throughout history, exploring not only what people of different times and places chose to ate when they feasted and why, but the cultural activities that accompanied the eating. -Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time by Dava Sobel. Tells the story of the 18th Cenutry quest to create a reliable method of telling time at sea, and of John Harrison, the man whose invention of the chronometer solved the problem. The book was later re-released as The Illustrated Longitude, with a lavish array of photos and such, which is what I read. -Why Did the Chicken Cross the World?: The Epic Saga of the Bird That Powers Civilization by Andrew Lawler. In which the origins of the world's most common barnyard fowl are explored and it's surprisingly powerful impact on history are explicated. -Connections by James Burke. Written as companion to a 1978 TV documentary, this is a marvelous history of science and invention, showing how seemingly disparate discoveries and events led to many of the cornerstones of the modern world. -A. J. Jacobs is a writer for Esquire magazine who will periodically spend a year doing...something, and then write a book about the experience, spiced up with interviews with relevant experts. I've read four of these books; they are vastly better than they have any right to be and I adore them. In order (seriously, read them in order, some of the best stuff is seeing what lifestyle changes stick between stunts), they are The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest To Become the Smartest Person in the World (in which he reads the entire Encyclopedia Britannica); The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest To Follow The Bible As Literally As Possible (the subtitle is fairly self-explanatory); The Guinea Pig Diaries: My Life As An Experiment (a collection of shorter stunts, EG the time he impersonated a C-List movie star and crashed the Oscars, a week where he tried to live according to the precepts of Radical Honesty, stuff like that); Drop Dead Healthy: One Man's Humble Quest For Bodily Perfection (where he tries out a bunch of fad diets and exercise regimes and so forth); and It's All Relative: Adventures Up and Down the World's Family Tree (genealogy, the fact that ultimately everyone is related ot everyone else, which fact leads him to attempt to create a "Global Family Reunion") -Moveable Feasts: From Ancient Rome to the 21st Century, the Incredible Journeys of the Food We Eat by Sarah Murray. A collection of essays that explores, of all subjects, the transportation of food. Ranging from ancient Roman amphorae to modern refrigerated shipping containers, and subjects as diverse as the influence of the grain elevators of Buffalo, New York on Bauhaus architecture, the logistics of the Berlin Airlift, and the science of making MREs. -The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food by Jennifer 8 Lee (no, that's not a typo, her middle initial is the number eight). This is another one of those "layman author looks at a particular subject from a wide array of angles" books that I'm so fond of. In this case, as the title suggests, the subject is Chinese food, ranging from investigating the true origins of the fortune cookie and discovering who the hell General Tso was to documenting how running a Chinese restaurant caused one immigrant family to disintegrate and delving into the Great Kosher Duck Scandal of 1989. -Kosher Nation: Why More and More of America's Food Answers To A Higher Authority by Susie Fishkoff. And speaking of Kosher food, that's the subject here. I admit to being somewhat biased for obvious reasons, but this is actually a really interesting subject, and there's a lot of ground here for Fishkoff to cover; the Agriprocessors scandal, the current "kosher revival" in the Reform and Conservative movements, the intersection of Jewish kashrut and Islamic halal, the sometimes surprisingly cutthroat competition between kosher certification agencies, not to mention the nitty-gritty details of being a kashrut supervisor from the Midwest to China. -Brainiac: Adventures in the Curious, Competitive, Compulsive World of Trivia Buffs by Ken Jennings. After achieving national prominence for having the longest winning streak in the history of the game show Jeopardy!, Ken Jennings was naturally paid to write a book about it. Rather than simply produce a memoir of his experience, he decided to explore the world of trivia in general. The result is thoroughly entertaining, and of course introduces one to loads of fascinating, if useless, information. He later went on to write Maphead: Charting the Wide Weird World of Geography Wonks, which is equally entertaining. -Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and A Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human by Grant Morrison. This one's actually a bit difficult to define; it's partially a history of superhero comics, partially the autobiography of an acclaimed comics writer, and partially a somewhat rambling philosophical interrogation of superhero comics. It's great fun AND makes you look at certain aspects of superherodom in new ways. -Storm Kings: The Untold History of America's First Tornado Chasers by Lee Sandlin. This book chronicles the long and twisted path of tornado research. While it starts with the first documented cyclones of colonial America, the bulk of the text is taken up covering the great scientific debates of the early and mid 19th century over the nature of tornadoes. Men long forgotten, such as Espy, Hare, and Redfield are brought back to life, along with their bitter rivalries. Later sections on the efforts of the Army Signal Corps to predicate tornadoes and of the political battles on the nature of weather forecasting are equally fascinating, though are cut somewhat short - I really wish the book lasted a bit longer. Either way, Storm Kings was a truly great look at a little-known facet of history. (NOTE: This review was originally written by Alamo, but I second every word) -The Inventor and the Tycoon: A Gilded Age Murder and the Birth of Moving Pictures by Edward Ball. You've probably heard of the story about how the motion-picture was invented, and how it involved a bet made by the Governor of California on how horses galloped. However, the tale of Eadweard Muybridge, the actual inventor, is often ignored, or glossed over. As one reads this book, the reasons for that become increasingly clear. Ball chronicles the long and twisted journey that brought Muybridge from his native Britain to the wild west, and the then-famous murder he committed. (NOTE: This review was also originally written by Alamo, but again I completely agree) -Priceless: How I Went Undercover to Rescue the World's Stolen Treasures by Robert K. Wittman. This is an inside look at the FBI's efforts to recover rare pieces of art and antiquities. (NOTE: This one was also one of Alamo's, etc.) -The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore. A fascinating biography of William Moulton Marston, the idiosyncratic creator of the world's most famous superheroine. Really fascinating stuff. -Banquet at Delmonico's: Great Minds, the Gilded Age, and the Triumph of Evolution In America by Barry Werth. The story of how the theory of evolution became accepted a smainstream by the American elite, and the corollary origins of Social Darwinism. -Engines of Change: A History of the American Dream in Fifteen Cars by Paul Ingrassia. Honestly, the subtitle is fairly self-explanatory. -The Great Detective: The Amazing Rise and Immortal Life of Sherlock Holmes by Zach Dundas. This is another one of those "layman author looks at subject from multiple angles" books, that I'm so fond of. Very well written, occasional insightful, and with lots of cool trivia.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #104: Vampire.

Written: 4/25/2017                                                                      Monster Week

My favorite thing about Gladys, besides her collection of Rina Ketty records, was probably her name, which felt like a proper name for somebody who lived in an old folk’s home. Its a name that was probably a symbol of youth during her generation, and it’s weird for me to think that one day, if I still have a job by then, if this place still exists, I may be in the care of elders named Skyler of Christyn. Another thing that was great about Gladys was the fact that her dementia was pretty advanced, and since I apparently resembled her sister, back in the postwar days, she was docile towards me, and would listen to every command that I gave her, so, naturally, she was always in my care, and was a breeze to take care of. Sure, there may have been a couple incidents where I risked her being taken away from me, but those were just due to my own paranoia, because her dementia usually allowed for her to hardly even notice when I would produce that trusty razor blade, that I kept in my purse, and make an incision somewhere along her back, legs, thighs, neck, really anywhere that would be covered up by heir long, elegant hair or the dresses that she loved to wear. And, if she was lucid, all I would have to do was tape her mouth shut, and slice away anyways, because she was bound to forget about it when the fog would creep back into her brain, but this only happened on rare occasions, since playing ‘Printemps et Baeux Jours’ was enough to get her lost inside of the fog of her aging mind, scraping at some memory that was connected to the song. She would just smile her vacant smile, and I would cut her real quick, watch the blood drain out of her, and wait until there was a decent amount until I buried my face in it, lapping it up and enjoying it, making sure to not open the wound any larger then it already was, especially after the incident where one of my canines had caught, and some skin had ripped away just to get it out. Sure, the old broad may be covered in scars, but I am the only one who washes her, so nobody else is suspicious of the ‘abuse’, if you can even call it that.

This all changed when one my coworkers was caught taking advantage of some of the patients, was swiftly arrested and dealt with, and the nursing home not only decided to keep an eye on the rest of us, who weren’t even doing anything nearly as bad as what that sick fuck was doing, but also decided to hire his replacement, who had never worked in the field before, and was assigned to shadow me for a while so that I could show him the ropes. Goodbye Rina, goodbye Gladys. The only time alone I’ve had with the broad has been when I give her sponge baths, since male orderlies are banned from washing female patients, for obvious legal reasons, and even though its enough to save my ass, and not let anyone see her scarred body, which looks somewhat like no man’s land, but its not enough for me to be able to continue the cutting, because if I take too long to wash her, a female orderly will eventually come and check on me. So, I have to starve. ———————————————————————————————————

Okay, so you may be wondering, why is this girl talking about cutting up old people and drinking their blood? Is she a vampire? But if she was a vampire, wouldn’t she just bite into them with her teeth and suck it out of them that way, couldn’t she just stare people in the eyes to hypnotize them, so that she wouldn’t have to prey on the elderly, couldn’t she just drink the blood of wild animals, and just skip all of the trouble that comes from preying on humans? Well, yeah, I am a vampire, but not in the sense that people seem to think they exist. And let me tell you that I hate that title so much, but I don’t really know of any title that is more accurate, so it is one I have to bear.

Also, I have to say that most of the stuff you may know about vampires is total bullshit, because a lot of that is just made up to sell books or young adult movies. So, forget most of what you know.

One important thing to know is that the main thing that all sources get right is the fact that we need blood survive. However, we can’t get it from anything other than people, and we don’t actually have to drink it, we just need to get it into our bodies some way. There is no way for us to bite into people and suck all of their blood out, and I’m pretty sure that rumor was spread around from a guy who was hungry, desperate, and just bit another person because of those feelings. Hell, I think its pretty common for some of us to just get blood through transfusions, but problems arise from finding steady, safe, and reliable targets, especially since some newer vampires decide that strung out addicts would be easy prey, then end up with drug addictions, or try to rob blood banks, without being used to stealing, and either get away with it and learn that the place improved security, or they get arrested for it, with the possibility of getting sent to a mental institution. There’s also the issue of being a Jehovah’s Witness, but that’s not a common problem. Some of us who avoid transfusions just get blood through our own special ways, sometimes through violence, and the rest are just disgusted and horrified by the idea of having to steal and consume blood, and end up killing themselves to avoid the dreadful life ahead of them. I assume that the suicide rate is pretty high, but there are no statistics that I could rely on for this. I only have anecdotal evidence about all of the others that I’ve met (and I haven’t met that much, since we don’t have any groups or communities or whatever, since our disease isn’t really something to bond over in the first place), and all of those people were already fucked up to begin with, which probably is the reason that we all seem so evil, because its only the bad ones who are able to live with the disease. Natural selection.

Also, this isn’t relevant, but I once heard about a priest who was seduced and contracted the disease. He realized what he was, but then he knew that it was evil and he had to be stopped before he hurt anyone, yet this also troubled him because he knew that suicide was a sin, and he was at risk of going to hell for it. In the end, he drowned himself in a bowl of holy water.

You may be wondering why I mentioned that the priest was seduced, and that would take me to my next point, which is to mention that the disease I have is only sexually transmitted. The only reason it hasn’t spread out of control, like AIDS, is because it also causes people to have a ridiculously low sex drive, mainly due to our lack of natural blood, which is needed to function sexually in the first place. The only time we can actually have, or can actually be in the mood for sex is within an hour after we’ve ingested blood, and that doesn’t lead to very many opportunities. And, yes, that was how it happened to me, but I’m not sure if you would want to hear that story, since it wasn’t exactly consensual. That son of a bitch was probably able to have lived for a long time with the disease, he was rotten enough, but don’t worry, he’s not around any more, he didn’t live very long after he got off of me, but maybe he thought that I was just going to be another suicide.

We don’t really have many problems with sunlight other than problems that fair skinned people already have, so its not like if I walked outside, during the day, I would catch on fire, or turn into ash, or whatever. I would probably, worst case, just get a really bad sunburn. Its really just annoying, and for some reason sun block doesn’t seem to help at all. I guess there has to be some sort of downside. Also, drugs have very little effects on us, but I don’t think that’s a downside unless you’re heavily depressed, or an addict, but those people usually don’t last long anyways. ———————————————————————————————————

Other than the fact that he was making me starve, making me have to get creative with meal planning, the rookie really wasn’t that bad of a guy. He didn’t say much, and whenever he did talk it never felt like it was wasted. Some people thought that it meant that he was really smart, but its pretty clear, at least it is to me, that he is just shy. I think he may have picked up this job because he wanted to help people, and the people here either weren’t the conversational type, or would want to jabber at you without any input, so he mainly just had to speak to give commands. He was also the sort of guy who was always blending into the background, even if he was the only other person in the room, you could always forget that he was there. That quality made him like my shadow, and I always made sure to assume that he was right behind me, which made it even more frustrating to find a way to eat. For three days I had been starving, and I was starting to get the hunger, which is something I’ll bring up later, or not at all if possible.

When we would take our breaks, he would usually follow me to the parking lot where I would light up a cigarette, just because I liked the way I looked when I smoked, since they had no effects on me, and it was just kind of a small task that could fill that idle time. We never spoke much to each other, and after the third day I finally told him, in a tone that didn’t do much to mask my irritation, “You know you don’t have to stick by me for the break, right?”

“Yeah,” said the rookie, looking up at the overcast sky, “I know. I just like your company.” The way he said it made him sound like he didn’t care one way or the other, but it had a practiced quality to it that was grating.

“So you’re not even going to say anything, you’re just fine with hovering around me all of the time?”

“I’m talking now.”

“Barely. You’re mostly just responding anyways, just giving me answers. Cause and effect.”

“What’s wrong with that? If you have anything to say I can listen, if you have anything to ask I can answer. What’s the issue?”

“Its creepy, that’s what. Look, its one thing to wordlessly hover around me during the job, but during our free time, its just straight up creepy. There’s nothing for me to instruct you on. You’re just standing there watching me smoke away, an its worse that you can’t understand how strange that is. And you’re whole idea of this is pretty selfish, because you’re expecting me to do all of the work, but you’re the one who wants to be around me in the first place. You’re the one who keeps following me to the parking lot like a child who got lost at a supermarket. I shouldn’t have to talk to get rid of my discomfort, that shouldn’t be my job, you should just not make me uncomfortable in the first place! And you said that you enjoy my company, but why should you be the only one who gets to have the presence of another person? With the way you just wordlessly follow me around, its like I’m being followed by a ghost, not a person. So either try to talk to me, or fuck off and let me smoke alone.”

“Oh.” That’s all he responded with, ‘oh’, and then he just looked at his feet for a while. I couldn’t tell if I had hurt his feelings, or if he had gotten the message, and a minute passed with me blowing smoke into a direction that kept him out of my line of sight, and he probably kept staring at his feet. I checked my watch, four minutes left on the break, and then he spoke up again, “It looks like its going to rain.”

“Yeah,” exhaling a cloud of smoke, still looking away from him, “it might.”

“Good thing that we work inside.”

“Yeah, then we wont get wet.”

“I don’t like being wet, unless I’m going swimming, or am in the shower, or when I take a bath, I guess. I think I mainly don’t like being wet when I have clothes on, so I may actually enjoy being wet all of the time, but I tend to wear clothes most of the time, and if something gets me wet my clothes will also get wet, and then it is not enjoyable.” He talked in a slow pace, his words just seemed to lazily wonder out of him. “It seems like most of the times I get wet are when I don’t want to, like when it rains, and that is probably why I first said that I don’t like to be wet. What’s your opinion on this?”

I really wanted to rail into him for that lousy attempt at conversing, I wanted to turn to him and put my cigarette out onto one of his eyes, but instead I told him, “Breaks over, lets go inside”, and flicked my cigarette onto the asphalt, stepped on it, then walked back to the nursing home without checking if he was following, because he most likely was. Only two minutes were actually left in the break, but I don’t think he checked the time himself.

Until the next break, he had been completely silent, had reverted to his role as an extra, and I was glad for that. It was the one good thing that I had going for me, especially since I had been so hungry that I considered, after going to the bathroom, stealing a maxi pad out of the trash and eating away at it, but another female orderly walked in, and I decided I wasn’t hungry enough to do that anyways. If only I could’ve run into a patient with a nosebleed, or some other sort of injury, that would have allowed me to instruct that background character, the human scenery, to run and get me something to plug it up, and then I could have at least had a little bit of it while he was gone, just enough to tide my hunger over for a little moment, but I wasn’t lucky enough for that. There were only a lot of soiled diapers and jealous women, due to the fact that there were much more women than men in the home, which led to more hookups and drama than youths were even capable of. At one point I checked on Gladys, and she had me put on ‘Printemps et Baeux Jours’ for her. That make me hungrier than anything, and I was almost hypnotized by it, in the same way that she always was, which lead me to forget about my shadow until he had asked me why I was patting myself down. I wanted to answer that I was looking for my purse, which I had stopped keeping on my person since he started following me, but I knew that that answer would only have lead to more questions, and I hated him, like, deeply and purely hated him, for reminding me of how difficult he was making my life. I ended up just saying something about looking for my phone, feeling that I had a text or something, and he didn’t press it any further.

During the next break I was the one who stared at my feet, smoking away, while he stood only a couple feet away and jabbered on about, “If you think about it, aren’t bugs just like animals, like dogs and cats, because they were created by nature, but the only reason that we are so disgusted by them is because we evolved in different directions than them. They are only gross because they aren’t like us, and dogs and cats are enough like us, being mammals, that we don’t try to kill them whenever we see them. The same goes for snakes too, which are just lizards without legs. Lizards are something that we are okay with, maybe its because of the legs and their bodies that are similar to dogs and cats, but you take those away and you have a snake, which are suddenly not okay with anyone.” And he continued that train of thought in his monotone voice, which fed me impulses of thrusting his head through a car window, or hitting him with enough force to break those glasses of his, and I probably would have done one of those things if I didn’t accept the hunger. No, I don’t mean the hunger I had been feeling for blood, I’m talking about the Hunger. The feeling that most of us try to ignore, try to forget about, but is just a natural occurrence for those of us who choose to drink blood, to taste it. The feeling that is another reason that some of us tend to commit suicide.

I just had to have the perfect moment, I had to be very careful, and I decided that during the next day, I would answer that hunger.

But when I arrived at work, I was informed that he called in that day, saying that he wasn’t going to make it to work, and I was happy to be without his presence. Sure, I didn’t notice it when he was there, but it was good to have peace of mind. So, all I had to do was wait until two hours into my shift, ignoring everyone who asked if I was alright, waving off their concern, faintly explaining that I just didn’t get much sleep the other night, and that I hadn’t done my makeup, until I was finally in the room with Gladys, all alone. After I made sure everything was in order, I had dropped the needle down onto ‘Printemps et Baeux Jours’, and I haggardly watched as the life went away from her eyes, her mind going wherever it went to wander when she heard that song. I only waited about ten seconds after she became vacant, I couldn’t wait too long, until I rolled up the bottom of her dress, pulled the razor out of my purse, and struggled for a bit, hands shaking, to make an incision along her inner right thigh. Okay, so it was more of a gash than an incision, but I wasn’t in the mood to care about that. Normally I have to work to be able to actually care about others, its as if everyone else’s empathy is naturally on, but mine is naturally off, so I was too hungry to even pretend to care about harm that came to her, and I was just glad to feel that warm, thick, copper tasting liquid against my lips. And that’s when I heard something drop.

Apparently the rookie had been standing there with me the whole time, watching, speechless, horrified. I pushed the catatonic woman away from me, her wheelchair rolled back and banged into the bed behind her, she slouched slightly forward, blood continued to pour out of her. Eye contact was unbroken between the rookie and I as I rose to my feet, and I could feel the blood on my face, and partially on my uniform, so I must have been a ghastly sight. Calmly, and quietly, I asked, “How long have you been here?” The answer wouldn’t change anything, because even if he came in at the end he still would have seen the injured woman, and my blood stained face.

“I-I’ve been,” when he spoke it was like I was hearing his real voice for the first time, the calmness was gone, his words were wavering, and I could tell that he wanted to look away, but was terrified that something would happen if he did, “with you for the whole time. Since you got your uniform on, and, and started everything.”

“I thought you called in, I thought you weren’t here.”

“No, no I told you that Norman had, uh, called in. We are supposed to take over some of his work.”

“You aren’t Norman?”

“No, no my name is-” he looked at his feet, the fucker finally broke eye contact, and I knew that I would have to take the opportunity that was presented. In the background the record hand finished, but it kept revolving, the needle was still down. I knew that there was no way I could get myself out of this scenario, and I was still starved, since I hadn’t gotten very much blood down, so I thought ‘fuck it’, and reached for a nearby lamp, which I brought down and shattered against his head. It was shameful how easy he had gone down, and he hardly said a word before I started stomping down on his face, repeatedly, making sure that he wouldn’t be able to call out for help. By the time I had stopped, mainly because I was getting dizzy, it was hard to make out any resemblance of a human face. His head had more in common with a raspberry pie that had been dropped on the ground. I couldn’t resist, I had to crouch down and grab a bit of his brain between my index finger and thumb, and I brought it to my mouth. When I chewed on it, I wondered why I had avoided the hunger, why it had seemed like such a problem.

Gladys had started to stir, she started faintly saying something about being in pain, and my first instinct was to throw her chair over, in anger from the distraction that she served to be, but I decided that it would be better to just replay the song, figuring that if I looped it enough she would die without attracting any outside attention. When Rina began to sing again, I turned to the rookie, and almost burst into laughter when I realized that his crumpled figure, that had sprayed blood over the walls, and soaked the carpet, stood out way more than he ever did when he was alive. Wasting no time, since somebody could come looking for me if the other patients started to become ornery, I crouched by his body and used the razor to cut away the top of his uniform. Then, when his torso was exposed, I sliced his belly horizontally, making a line straight across his belly button, then reached my fingers into that slit, and pulled back the skin on one side, ripping it, which allowed for his glistening intestines to spill to the floor. Sure, they looked appetizing, but I knew that one wrong bite could leave me with a mouth full of shit, so I decided to make a vertical slice, realizing that other organs would be equally unappealing if I bit into them. When I had worked the cut open, I had pulled more skin back, and now a majority of his insides were sliding out of him, except for everything that was protected by the ribcage. At that point I knew that the heart was probably my best bet, it wouldn’t contain stomach acid or urine, but the way to it was obstructed. Grabbing a handful of brain to snack on, I started to walk towards the record player to replay the song, but I got one good glance at Gladys and knew that knew that she was permanently catatonic. However, I still played it because I enjoyed the noise. After finishing that damp, squishing snack of mine, I wiped my bloody hands off on her face, since I was well past the point of caring about any sort of politeness, and I looked around for something to break the ribcage open. Then, I got an idea, unplugged the record player, lugged it over towards the rookie’s remains, and threw it down on top of him, hearing a satisfying crunch when it landed. Problem was, I had to sort out the remains of the record player from all of his crushed organs, and by the time I had found his heart, somebody had opened the door to Gladys’s room. I locked eyes with the nurse who was coming to check on me, who looked as if she had woken up from a terrible nightmare, as I bit into his heart.

Apparently, answering to the hunger, in a way, had been suicide for me. Some people think that people like me have some special requirements to get killed, but let me tell you that all that was needed to take me down was a 9mm bullet, nothing fancy. I didn’t even have to hit me in the heart, it tore right through my stomach and I died hours later. However, I guess in a way, it did have to pierce a heart to kill me.