#which dashes so frantically that they often bang into something and may have a heart attack]]

[eyeballcommander]

Fez got this anger management thing figured out, watch and learn, Commander

Fez has the courage of a titimat and attention span of a gnat.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Hey @vindicatedvirgil remember this prompt you sent a while back that was supposed to be Rociet but I changed my mind? I finally finished the original!

At the Last Second

Summary:   Inspired by Snowing in Venice by Elizaveta. In an attempt to get as far away from their hometown as possible, Janus decides to go to college in Venice, Italy. Roman is conflicted over his feelings about it and doesn't know what to say until the last second.

Warnings: asthma mention. Please let me know if there are more

Ships: Janus x Roman, Rociet

WC: 1, 985

General Taglist: (ask to be tagged generally or in specific writing.) @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

Maybe my song, isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above

My coffee gets cold, as I’m staring enthralled 

At the snow that keeps falling outside

-----

Roman snuck another glance at Janus when they thought he wasn’t looking, seeing him still smiling slightly and nodding along to whatever song was on that Roman couldn’t concentrate on right now because they were looking at Janus. It wasn’t as if this was a new occurrence, they looked at Janus all the time. When he took half assed notes during class, pushing his soft, straight hair out from in front of his eyes with practiced impatience. When he glided along beside Roman on his skateboard while they tried desperately to keep their eyes on the sidewalk lest they flip over the handlebars of their bike. When he walked towards them with that signature crookeds smile, straight backed but casual and always ready with some biting quip they would both laugh at. And now- when he was driving to the airport for college, Roman sat beside him destined to waste away in the small town they had grown up in, alone and forgotten.

Admittedly that was dramatic even for them but it felt true all the same. Roman had never really gotten along with Janus until high school hit, when Roman had actually started looking away from their own little bubble and out towards everyone else’s. For the life of them they couldn’t imagine why they had ever been enemies. Janus was smart, scarily so sometimes, often getting into debates (arguments) with Logan and Virgil in any given class and always seeming to have just the right phrase or quote or research paper handy to pull up on his phone that drove his points across. He could sing, though Roman didn’t admit they had heard him while he painted the theater sets one day until many months later; his beautifully haunting baritone filling the theater as if he was the only one ever meant to sing in it. He was also incredibly caring, helping Roman through rough patch after rough patch and letting Roman do the same for him. They had become nearly inseparable from ninth grade on but now-

Janus had always been smart and always wanted to move as far away from their hometown as possibly- namely his family but that was another topic entirely. Roman had helped him research colleges when they were in eleventh grade, jokingly saying that with all his dramatics and flair he should go to Paris to study, citing it as a place to find the romanticism he alway put into everything anyway. Learning he had taken that to heart as a possibility to get even further away, eventually enrolling in and getting accepted not to anywhere in Paris, but instead Venice, Italy had nearly torn Roman in two. They had been so incredibly happy for and proud of their friend but they selfishly wished he had stayed just a little bit closer. Roman dreamed of a teaching job, somewhere they could help out in the creative department helping kids like them come out of their shell and discover new talents and passions. They didn’t need to go overseas for that- they didn’t want to and was in the process of preparing to move a state over to go to a community college to start out that path.

So Janus was moving thousands of miles away for who knew how long (four years at least) and Roman would then only be furthering that gap with his own move, leaving them to letters and skype calls as the primary source of communication rather than their trips to the cake shop or late night talks at the local park. And Roman knew that should be enough, but he was already missing the weight of Janus’ hand in their own and his warmth at their side during movie marathons and their smile and laugh and stupid, sarcastic sense of humor. They snuck  another glance over but realized with a start Janus was looking at them, his hand off the wheel and- when had the car stopped? They couldn’t possibly be there already could they?

But they were, and Janus was looking at them with that all knowing look that always infuriated Roman to no end but he said nothing, instead reaching over and squeezing their hand before moving to get out of the car. The airport wasn’t really that far away from their town, just an hours drive to the edge of the city but Roman still felt they had just wasted it pouting instead of actively being there for their best friend. Janus wouldn’t say anything though, he probably knew how Roman was feeling before they knew themself but the knowing silence was somehow worse, filling the space between them that was about to get so much longer with too many words and not enough time to say them. Nevertheless they grabbed up a bag and smiled at the other, shutting the trunk after him and following to the waiting area. They had made good time, having a little over an hour to waste before Janus would have to board, which Roman had previously been ecstatic about but now it meant they might actually have to talk and they didn’t think they’d have the common sense to keep their mouth shut when it came to how they actually felt about him leaving.

“Roman, did you leave my medical bag in the car?” Janus’ concern pulled them out of their head as they looked around where they had decided to sit, sure it had been among the things they had picked up but they didn’t notice the unmistakable bright orange anywhere.

“I’ll go check, you stay with the bags so they don’t get stolen.” Janus nodding to give them the go-ahead had them turning on their heel and hurrying back towards the parking garage, twirling the keys around their finger as they went.

One thorough search of the car later and Roman was frantically texting Janus that they must have left it at the house, though how either of them had managed it they couldn’t fathom. 

Roman: I’ll just drive back and get it. Text you when I find it.

Janus: Hold on, let me get there since you left me with ALL THE BAGS

Roman: It’ll be faster if I just go. Let me be the dashing prince to rescue your trip!

Roman started the car up and quickly put it into reverse, not really thinking about practically stealing Janus’ car from him. Their phone buzzed from the passenger seat as he glanced in the rear view before pulling out completely, wincing as he saw Janus standing there where the car had just been parked. Several buzzes later and the car fell silent, making them bite back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. They had wanted an out from the tense hour that waiting for the flight would have been, they just wished it had been something a bit more low stakes than forgetting a bag with Janus’ epipen and inhaler inside. Settling further down into the seat they concentrated hard on the road, praying there wouldn’t be any traffic.

-----

Ten minutes.

Roman practically face planted on their way out of the car, swinging the bag up in triumph of finding it or fear of breaking it they didn’t know and was too busy to think about at the moment. Tearing through the air port as fast as they possibly could they finally found Janus standing near the line people were in to board the plane, glancing at his phone before looking around for any sign of Roman coming with his bag. In their haste they had forgotten to text him but they were here now- sweaty, gross and aching with all the things they wanted to say but didn't have time to even though they probably wouldn’t have taken the chance when they had it anyway. As much as they so wished this moment to be their happily ever after it was too soon in both of their lives for that and they’d have to come to terms with the fact that long distance anything was hard and they would both be busy with their own lives.

Pushing their bangs away from their face they finally reached Janus and held out the rescued bag, chest heaving from running through a house and then an airport. 

“You truly didn’t have to go all the way back on your own to get this Roman, but thank you.” Janus squinted at him and chuckled. “It’s a good thing I have this, do you need my inhaler?”

“I’d have to keep it since looking at you takes my breath away already.” Roman blurted, opening their mouth before they could think.

Janus blinked, then scowled playfully. “Roman Sanders, was that a pick up line? You waited until I’m about to leave the country to flirt with me?”

“No! ...well, yes but- I’ve flirted with you plenty before!”

“Jokingly!” Janus shoved them before grabbing at the front of their shirt and stepping closer. “You are insufferable.”

Roman hardly dared to breath as Janus leaned in closer, hands fluttering nervously at their sides as they stood still and waited. Smiling, Janus leaned up slightly. “May I have a kiss goodbye then?”

“If you don’t I will scream so loud security will take you and then you’ll have no choice but to stay here longer.”

Chuckling Janus stepped closer, erasing any pretense of space between them. Finally deciding their hands would feel less awkward resting on the others’ hips, they pulled Janus forward gently and tilted their head with his. The general din of the airport faded away as soft strands of feather light hair tickled their nose and Janus’ hands came up to tangle in their own somewhat frizzier hair at the nape of their neck. There was an announcement that vaguely sounded like Janus was being called to board but they were only held tighter as their lips finally, finally met.

And oh.

They almost wished they could sue Disney only on the merit that it had set their expectations for a first kiss entirely too low. There were no fireworks, no choir to set the mood further. It didn’t feel like the climax of their life nor like coming home after a long and tiring journey. It was soft, so very soft. A simple brush against their lips that filled them with an indescribable amount of joy for such a small action; and then they were being pulled and they followed willingly, pressing against the other just a little tighter. Their noses bumped despite the angle and Roman’s hands still felt awkward even if Janus hadn’t brushed them away but it felt like nothing and everything they had always dreamed it would be because it was Janus so it was good and perfect and like nothing they had ever experienced or wanted to experience in their life.

It only lasted a couple seconds, Janus pulling away only to peck their nose and whisper a quiet “see you later” against their lips and he was gone, hurrying towards the plane as the last call for his appearance was announced. Roman stood there, dumbfounded with a burning face but a chest that was burning  ten times hotter, hands still slightly outstretched where Janus’ waist had been moments before. Shaking themself out of it they turned swiftly and made their way over to a bench by the windows to watch the plane take off. Four years in Venice for Janus, four years in Pennsylvania for Roman.

They could do that.

-----

Maybe my song isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above me

My coffee gets cold as I’m staring enthralled 

This work is also available on AO3!

At the snow the keeps falling outside

If you like this please reblog! Reblogs helps creators get their work seen!

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Katelyn you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Marlene McKinnon!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Oh my goodness, your application immediately reminded me of all the reasons I love Marlene. Even from your jumping off section on why you chose her, it was clear to me how much you care for her as a character and how much development you could bring to her! And all your answers, along with the para sample, painted a really vivid picture in my head on who your Marlene is. I think she’ll bring something really needed to our dash, especially given everything that she’s dealing with at the moment, and I can’t wait to see what you do with her!

application beneath the cut; tw: ptsd (in para sample)

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Katelyn, 23, EST

ACTIVITY

I work a full time job and juggle some school work on top of that, so I’d give myself a good 7 out of ten when it comes to activity. I’ll try to get on at least once everyday, but if that can’t be managed it’ll be every other day for sure!

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Marlene McKinnon tag

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I wouldn’t necessarily say I identify with him most, but my favorite character is definitely Sirius Black. I fell in love with the Black family the second they were brought up and continue to love them with all of my heart.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nothing!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Marlene Elspeth McKinnon

FACE CLAIM

Freya Mavor is good with me!

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

Oh goodness. My love for Marlene dates back to years ago when I first started roleplaying – not just in the Marauders Era, but the very first time I gave writing a character a shot. I had read the books, but it had been so long I completely forgot she was a canon character until I stumbled across my blonde haired firecracker in the Marauders RP tag. She is definitely one of the first characters I look to when I check out a roleplay, and I was so excited to find that she’s open here.

I cannot actually tell you how many times I’ve played Marlene, and it’s usually different every time with the heart still being in the same place. Maybe the reason I automatically felt so attached to her character is because the way I play her I see a piece of her in myself. (Though, you can definitely take that in a good or bad way – depending on what piece we’re talking about.) She’s such a loving person, even if she doesn’t know how to always show it. Marlene feels everything so deeply that she doesn’t always know what to do with all of the emotion she has inside of her. For a girl who tries to show the world that she can just shrug everything off she really is pretty shitty at it – though she’s better at fooling others than herself, especially as of late.

How can anyone take her as an emotionless character? Her smile lights up her entire face and practically glows for everyone to see. Marlene’s laugh rings out – loud enough that people don’t even have to be in the same room with her to not only hear her joy, but also feel it. But with great emotion comes with the flip side. When she’s angry she’s absolutely livid. Marlene warns people to get out of her way when she’s losing her temper. And then when she’s sad she’s distraught, often one to lock herself away for hours so nobody is there to witness any tears that are more than likely going to fall. She’s not one that’s able to control her emotions well, but if I’m being honest that’s something I absolutely love about her.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

I hardly ever go into a roleplay with preferred ships just because Marlene has never been a character who allows that. It’s not that she doesn’t believe in love – in fact she is one of the biggest undercover hopeless romantics you’ll ever meet. It’s quite a shock to most because Marlene is the type of person that would laugh off things and say love isn’t worth the heartache, but it’s more towards herself than the actual idea of love itself. She just doesn’t think it’s meant for her because Marlene couldn’t see herself settling down with someone – she’d just hurt them in the end.

As for her preference…well, she’d say as long as the person is fun and attractive it doesn’t really matter to her. Marlene wouldn’t use a label, but for the purpose of it I’d say she’s pansexual. She just likes anyone she can have a good time with.

For gender she is a female and uses she/her pronouns.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

- A MOCKBLOG

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

It took her a second to think about, though her mouth opened almost automatically to say something funny or lighthearted. That would be a go to for Marlene, but with such a serious question dropped at her feet she took a moment to think of something useful – something that might actually help her. If one was to ask her a year ago the answer would’ve been something different – probably something to do with alcohol, but a lot can happen in a year.

“I’d probably go with a charm that can remove someone’s ability to do magic,” she admitted, almost quietly as if she was ashamed that was her answer. Marlene wasn’t ashamed, of course, the blonde girl was so rarely ashamed of anything. However, she was lost in thought. “Though that could certainly be used against us, but it’d solve a lot of problems in the war. Less death, I guess. Not that everyone even deserves to live anyway.” She certainly had a list of people the world would be better without.

Shoulders lifted in a halfhearted shrug and within seconds the bright smile Marlene was so well known for was back. “After that, however, I want something that’ll just make alcohol come to me the second I want it. I don’t have a name for it yet. I wanna be drunk when I come up with it – reckon it’ll make for a better spell that way.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“I don’t think anyone would want to be stuck in the Forbidden Forest with me. I’d drive them mental,” she joked with a laugh, but given the person it could be taken seriously. Marlene was the type of person someone either loved or hated – the was no in between. “I’d probably take Marcus just because he’s forced to deal with me, and then a comfy blanket.” She gave a bored look, already moving on from the question. “I get cold easily and you never said the person I bring with me can’t pick an object of their choosing. Even so I hate being cold.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Mum says I shouldn’t be trusted with any serious decision,” Marlene quipped automatically, and she herself would agree with that more often than not. She hated making any decision that could have any big altercation – at least she hated being given time to think about it. She had always been an impulsive person, so if Marlene was just thrown into something it wouldn’t be too hard for her because her natural instinct was to act first and think about repercussions later.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

That was an easy one. “That I had no significance – that I was boring,” Marlene answered honestly. There were a lot of things that could be said about the blonde, a lot of insults that could so easily be shrugged off and contemplated as true sometimes even by Marlene herself. She was irrational, a bitch, too stubborn, and an endless list of ever things. However, boring wasn’t one of them. The biggest insult anyone could ever say was she didn’t make an impact on life. You only live once so you might as well make the most of it – that had always been something she lived by so strongly. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m sure as hell not boring, mate.”

WRITING SAMPLE

*tw PTSD*

Bang.

With a startled shriek that woke Marlene from her sleep she learned the horrifically high-pitched noise came from her own mouth. Lips closed tightly upon such a discovery and she even went as far as placing her hand over her mouth as her gaze swept the darkness which cloaked her room, her sleepy gaze only able to make out the familiar shapes of furniture and dirty clothes scattered over the floor. Nobody could ever accuse Marlene of being a tidy person, but at that moment that’s not what she was focusing on. Instead as blue eyes continued to frantically search her surroundings there was only one discovery.

Nobody was there.

Bang.

The sound came again and blonde haired girl reached for her wand which laid on the cluttered bedside table. With the piece of wood gripped tightly in her hand she blindly pushed the sheets from her body and got up, not being bothered by the feel of cold wood on her bare feet or the chill upon her legs. Marlene never slept in anything more than an oversized t-shirt – not the most attractive thing to wear to bed, but she had always been a confident enough girl. The only reason she’d find regret in her sleepwear at this point was it wasn’t the most logical thing to wear in a fight – or to wear during an escape. Not that she was one to change habits, but once upon a time Marlene McKinnon wouldn’t have thought like that. Then again she probably wasn’t the only one who had to think along such lines these days.

There was a war.

Bang.

With one foot in front of the other the blonde girl slowly walked to the door which lead to the sitting room in her small flat. It wasn’t much, but it was something Marlene could afford and a place to call home. It was something of her own, a place she had never felt threatened in. Until now that is.

Bang.

Marlene quickly checked the bathroom and then the kitchen, coming up empty in both rooms. Her feet stopped her in the middle of the kitchen, becoming more away of the cold tile underneath her feet and she struggled to adjust to the darkness around her and make out something which could be causing the noise which startled her from a usually rather dead sleep.

Bang.

This time another sound followed, one that eased her paranoia. Laughter – a sound Marlene was familiar with all too well. It then occurred to her that the noise was coming from the floor below and with a sigh she dropped her head, blonde curls falling messily in her face as she willed the tension to leave her body.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself, setting her wand on the counter which held a few dirty dishes which needed to be washed. “It’s just the pub.” That’s what she got when she lived above the pub she worked at, but once upon a time she liked the lively nature. When she wasn’t working she was usually drinking, though that night she tucked herself in early because she didn’t sleep well the night before. Now she started to think maybe her decision wasn’t the best, but she wasn’t going to pack up and leave just because she got scared. Fuck – s c a r e d. All because a drunken patron went bump in the night. Was that all it took now?

She hadn’t woke up in a cold sweat in weeks and because of that Marlene thought she was free, but apparently not. A wise man once told her they wouldn’t be free until the war was done – not that she agreed to such a statement. Marlene lived as the poster girl from freedom, and that meant free from her demons even if they insisted on shackling her more and more as of late. Well, tying her down and making her scared would take more than an unfortunate situation and scary noises in the night. She didn’t want to jump at the monsters that go ‘boo’ – she wouldn’t.

Bang.

This time Marlene rolled her eyes and pushed her hair back before reaching for a bottle: whiskey. The Devil’s poison some would say, be she reckoned her Devil drank such a liquid many times before. Maybe she’d even drink with him someday.

The Hufflepuff Alumna brought the rim of the bottle to her lips and tipped it back, tasting the familiar liquor on her tongue before she swallowed. She repeated the process again and again as she walked back to her room, her gaze going to the window. Stars filled the night and Marlene smiled to herself, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Maybe not the healthiest way to handle a problem, but it was the way she knew nonetheless.

“Cheers, mate,” she said, a cruel smile making it’s way to her lips as she lifted the bottle. “Another time means one less now in the future.” With that Marlene set the bottle on her bedside table and climbed back into bed.

[kyungpom]

The Midnight Priest

By @alphapuppy1221

Pairing: top!soo/bottom!jongin Genre/AU: smut, Supernatural/Hunchback of Notre Dame (I thought it would be a great idea to listen to Hellfire while writing this, and now Jongin is Esmeralda, lol. Aside from a few scattered references, everything of importance is explained in context) Word Count: 5k (exactly 5k) Rating: NC-17 Warnings: religious themes, slight rimming, some slut shaming  Header: The hunchback isn’t the only abomination that lives in Notre Dame.

(Read Here)

The moon manages to shine through the thick clouds, glowing even as rain falls to the earth in sheets. Lightning flashes, illuminating the world for a brief moment, followed by a menacing roll of thunder. Against the harsh winds and blinding rain, the cathedral of Notre Dame stands tall and proud in the center of this part of Paris, its ivory stone standing out against the gray of the world. The statues that stand atop the doors hold a bit of a glow with each strike of lightning, and the toll of the bells is more mighty than the thunder.

Inside, the archdeacon leads the priests through the outer aisles, thurible swinging slowly as they chant in Latin. The rain streaks the windows, painting lines of shadow onto the silver-tinted reflection of the stained glass images. Wisps of smoke rise from the metal censer, carrying with it the sweet musk scent of frankincense and the prayers of the devoted servants of the church. The smoke curls gracefully in the air as it rises, only to disappear once it meets the light of the moon. A thick black shadow replaces it once it vanishes, appearing out of thin air and swirling with an even more exquisite grace as it travels down to the floor, blending in with the shade on the ground.

As soon as the archdeacon and the others leave, the shadow materializes. Wips of shade become flowing black robes as a man emerges, the dusk umbrage moving as he walks. His hair is black and cut short, the sides shaved and the bangs pulled back and away from his forehead. In the center of his white collar in a circular pin of his own design, which he absently touches to make sure it’s still there. His fingertip grazes the runic symbols of protection that’re etched into the rose gold trim, which outlines the first ring of rubies. The red gems themselves were enchanted to constantly channel magic, transferring it directly to his dark essence. Rings of miniature rubies and rose gold alternate twice before giving way to a round cut sunstone, which shines with a light all its own. The sunstone matches his honey amber eyes, which makes him all the more proud he can call this relic his own.

His hands fully emerge from the large billowing sleeves of his robes, nimble fingers procuring a gold chain from thin air, a pocketwatch dangling at the end of it. Stepping into the moonlight, he eyes the engraving on the back of his heirloom, admiring his clan’s symbol. A wyvern is etched into the back, its two legs in the front and outstretched in a permanent defensive stance. Two rubies are imbedded in the gold, representing the wyvern’s eyes and glowing with the flames that linger on its forked tongue. He clicks open the watch and looks at the time, seeing that it’s just before midnight. Perfect timing.

He decides to take his time walking down the center aisle, his feet making no sound against the tilted floor as he makes his way to the alter. He takes in the sight of the space illuminated with soft moonlight, chanting softly in Sanguisese, the ancient language of his kind. While comparable to the mortal languages of Italian and Latin, his native tongue captures something that he hasn’t been able to find on this world; the utmost reverence and devotion to the magic that grants him life.

He doesn’t serve the god this church is built for, but he does know how to pretend. The many decades he’s been trapped on this world have taught him that much. He pays his respects to a different set of deities, ones who’re is higher than any of the mortal creations he’s observed on this world. Ones who’re eternal, and who grant life without fail, despite being literally a world away. The one who provides safety and protection with her shadows, and the one who shines her light through the thick cover of storm clouds outside. It is because of Nocté, and Luna, the night and the moon, that he has life and power.

He kneels down at the altar, looking past the cross and up at the three stained glass windows above it. He closes his eyes and lets the shadows flow around him, surrounding him in a protective embrace as he bows his head and prays. He mutters blessings under his breath, short thanks for life and promises of devotion. He sighs softly as the moon casts her rays onto his relic pin, imbuing the ruby stones with pure magic. He takes in a breath as the magic flows through him, strength flowing through his veins as he slowly exhales. While the moonlight is refreshing, it’s not enough. In order to sustain the dark shadow of his soul, he needs blood. He knows that his hands, which’re pressed together in front of his face, are plagued with an ashen gray undertone. He hasn’t fed in a few nights, but he knows that neither Luna nor Nocté have abandoned him. If the moon shining through the clouds is any indication, tonight will be a good night. It is at times like this he feels that he’s back home, on his own world, with the real Luna to look up to.

“One night, Matre,” He whispers softly, slowly opening his eyes, “One night I will return to you.”

The pounding on the center door makes him turn around with a start. With a burst of speed he dashes over and opens it, looking down a man falls to the floor by his feet. The man’s frantic shouts of “Sanctuary!” are louder than the booming thunder as he scrambles into the cathedral, hiding behind Kyungsoo’s robes. Whatever was chasing the man turns gives up once he enters, and the gallop of horses quickly fades into the distance.

Kyungsoo closes the door and turns around, looking down at the person who has decided to take refuge in Notre Dame. He is tall, tanned skin holding a subtle brilliance in the moonlight. His hair is messy, long brown bangs falling into his eyes. Judging by the brightness of his tattered clothes and the sweet undertone in his dirt-trodden scent, this man is a gypsy, likely escaping the prejudice-laden rule of Judge Frollo. Though Kyungsoo may not be particularly invested in mortal affairs, any victim of Frollo is entitled to safety in his eyes. Besides, gypsies have the best tasting blood.

He’s seen this particular gypsy before, dancing at the Festival of Fools. He can certainly see what has Frollo so worked up. The sensual way he rolled his hips and the rhythmic way he moved his flexible body can drive even the purest of souls mad with desire. Honestly was his scent that truly intrigued Kyungsoo; a sweet musk with just a hint of spice. It intrigued him how a mortal could ever smell so enticing, and often wondered what his blood tasted like. To have him here, in Notre Dame… truly Luna and Nocté are with him tonight.

“Bless you, Father.” The gypsy shyly speaks up, dipping his head in gratitude as he stands. Kyungsoo looks up, now seeing the full extent of his height. If he didn’t recognize his scent, he wouldn’t think this unlucky refugee was the same vixen dancing in the square.

“Think nothing of it,” Kyungsoo tells him, “The least I can do for the children of god is protect them.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before.” The gypsy narrows his eyes against the darkness, trying to get a better look at Kyungsoo, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Father Do,” He tells him, waving a hand towards the aisles. As he does, the chandeliers hanging from the arches between the columns light up, small flames dancing above the pews in place of darkness. The gypsy looks around with wide eyes, and Kyungsoo can feel fear-laden amazement surge through him.

Kyungsoo’s deep voice makes him turn back with a start, “And your name, child?”

“Jongin,” The gypsy replies, absently playing with his fingers in a nervous tic.

Kyungsoo chuckles to himself, “You’re the gypsy dancer Frollo won’t stop raving about. The unholy demon who needs to be sent back to Hell.”

Jongin visibly tenses at this, averting the priest’s gaze and staring at his own bare feet. Sensing his discomfort, Kyungsoo grins to himself and lifts his chin with one finger, looking into his eyes as he says, “You’re no demon. Believe me, I know hellspawn when I see it, and that’s not what you are.”

“Thank you, Father.” The smiles that tugs on Jongin’s lips has Kyungsoo mirroring his grin, though he’s not smiling for the same reason as the mortal. He now has full control of this mortal’s emotions, and can play with them however he pleases.

“I’ve seen you dance before, and must I say you’re quite talented.” As expected, a shy sense of pride wells in Jongin’s chest, almost canceling out his sense of panic.

“T-thank you, Father,” Gaze shifting nervously to the door, Jongin remarks, “W-will it be alright if I stay here for the night? I fear if I leave, they’ll only catch me again.”

Kyungsoo pauses at this, pretending to weigh his options. Really he’s listening for any sign of his assailants, and sure enough he can pick up on the sound of hooves at every possible exit. If Jongin were to leave he wouldn’t stand a chance. Not that Kyungsoo was planning on having him leave at all.

“Of course you may,” He nods, “What type of man would I be if I sent you back out in the rain?”

The flicker of hope in the mortal’s eyes almost makes his heart skip a beat. Really he’s more interested in the life that flashes in his eyes than the emotion behind it. Life that he intends to take to sustain his own existence.

“There is an unused bedroom upstairs with food, water, and a clean bed. You can stay there for the night.” The statement is a formality, far from the truth. There’s no unused bedroom upstairs, only the bell tower, which is currently occupied.

Jongin gets up to head for the stairs on the side, but before he has the chance to confirm the lie, Kyungsoo walks back down the center aisle, singing in his native language. The low baritone timbre of his voice echoes off the walls, full and rich as a choir. He knows that his voice entrances Jongin, that he’s luring the mortal like a siren would on his homeworld. He can hear Jongin walking a few paces behind him, bare feet completely in sync with his own slow footsteps. The priest walks up the small flight of stairs in the center before stopping at the altar and as expected, Jongin halts his steps, chocolate eyes glazed over with wonder.

When Kyungsoo turns around, Jongin’s voice is little more than an absent whisper as he remarks, “What were you singing? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Something the lord shared with me.” Kyungsoo shrugs, appearing to be vivaciously nonchalant. He was singing about an angel, just not one from this world.

“It’s beautiful.” Jongin steps closer, his feet only stopping once his shins meet the bar in the front of the sanctuary. It doesn’t stop him from moving, and Kyungsoo observes as Jongin’s gaze drops to his heart shaped lips, eyes hooding as he leans in. He stops himself, stuttering once he realizes what he was doing.

“Forgive me Father, I—” He trails off, looking down with shame in his eyes, “I am a sinner.”

“We are all sinners, my child. No sin is greater or lesser than any other in the eyes of our lord.” Kyungsoo replies in a reassuringly casual tone. He knows exactly what Jongin wanted. He wanted to kiss him, and perhaps more if he had the chance. Kyungsoo doesn’t normally make a habit of cavorting with his victims before feeding, but the night is still young, and this mortal’s emotions are as moldable as clay. He might be able to have some fun for a change.

“Something troubles you, my child?” Kyungsoo asks with a tone of faux concern, tilting his head for effect. Jongin doesn’t reply, but the guilt that clouds his face makes it clear that he’s not alright.

“I will never know what ails you if you don’t tell me.” Another lie; Kyungsoo knows exactly what Jongin’s thinking, and exactly why he feels troubled. He wants to hear Jongin say it himself, to feel his resolve break with the newfound silence.

“I…” Jongin clears his throat awkwardly, and after a few long moments he admits, “I lust after men.”

Kyungsoo hums with a nod, pretending to ponder the information. In reality, he could feel the lust building within him as soon as he started singing, and he can feel Jongin’s gaze moving up and down his form as he tries to pinpoint details of what his body looks like apart from his broad shoulders. An unexpected result, as he normally likes to pique the curiosity of mortals with his songs, but lust is good too. Lust makes for a faster pulse and a more satisfying feed. Besides, it seems like such a waste to have this alluring specimen as his next victim, only to drain him dry without experiencing the pleasure he can take from him. Deciding to play with him, Kyungsoo grabs his chin, lips only inches away from Jongin’s, “Is that so?”

Jongin swallows thickly and nods. Kyungsoo can feel guilt spiking with shock, mingling with the excitement of their proximity. This time when he whispers, their lips brush ever so slightly, “And what prompted such lust?”

Jongin all but squeaks and tries to move away, but finds that Kyungsoo’s grip is more than just the hand on his chin. He’s frozen in place from the shins down, as Kyungsoo has commanded shadows to encase his lower legs. “I-I always have, I suppose, b-but I never wanted to act on it…until now.”

Kyungsoo raises a curious brow at this, “And why do you suppose now is different?”

“Because now I…” Jongin sucks in a sharp breath as he looks into Kyungsoo’s eyes, “I’m lusting after you.”

Kyungsoo hums in thought and lets go of his face, but the shadows still keep him immobilized, “Tell me, Jongin, what do you think about me?”

Jongin bites his lip and shudders at the way Kyungsoo says his name, “I think you’re alluring, enchanting even. I’ve never seen anyone like you, and I want—”

He gasps as Kyungsoo grabs his hair and pulls him closer, muttering in a low whisper against his ear, “What do you want me to do to you?”

“I want… Father I cannot say this here.” Jongin furrows his brows in distress and blushes, the rose tinted bronze of his cheeks positively glowing in the candlelight.

Kyungsoo chuckles at his reaction, “Believe me when I say you can tell me anything, my child.”

The gypsy falls silent as lightning strikes again, Kyungsoo’s dark clothing and even darker aura a perfect contrast to the luminescence that fills the space. His breath hitches at the sight, at the power he can see that Kyungsoo commands, and he rests his gaze on Kyungsoo’s lips as he mutters, “I want you to take my clothes off and touch me.”

With a hum, the priest unbuttons Jongin’s semi wet shirt and lets it fall to the floor, running his hands over his toned chest, “Like this?”

“L-lower Father.” Jongin tentatively requests, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo’s hands.

Kyungsoo moves his hands down lower, kneading the flesh of his toned abdomen, “Here?”

Jongin closes his eyes and turns his head, too ashamed to look as he prompts, “A little lower.”

“Ah I see.” He reaches a hand down and palms his half hard cock through the worn linen of his pants, leaning up to capture those plush lips in a kiss. He pulls back after a moment, looking up at him with a teasing smirk as he squeezes his cock, “Here?”

“We cannot do this here Father,” Jongin gasps, weakly trying to push him away as he panics, “Someone will see.”

“No one will enter until sunrise. Besides, the way I see it,” Kyungsoo leans in and kisses along his jawline, “The only way to rid you of your thirst is to quench it.”

This time when he kisses him, he hums as the gypsy eagerly kisses him back, gripping his shoulders almost desperately.  “My you’re eager.” Kyungsoo hums between kisses, one hand coming up to grip his hair. He tangles his fingers in Jongin’s dark mocha locks, tugging on his hair. Jongin gasps in response, allowing him to slide his tongue into his mouth.

The gypsy tries to keep up, but Kyungsoo dictates the terms, slowly and almost thoughtfully exploring his mouth. He tastes exactly as he smells; sweet with a hint of spice, and it’s absolutely addictive. He hums as he savors the flavor, running his tongue along the length of Jongin’s own and chuckling at the mortal’s resulting squeal. The sound makes his own cock stir in the loose billow of his robes.

“Are you sure you’ve never acted on these desires before?” Kyungsoo asks, and with a small smile as adds, “You know, it’s a sin to lie.”

“N-No Father, I’ve never even kissed another man before,” Jongin bites his lip before mumbling, “You’re my first.”

Kyungsoo knows he’s lying, but decides to not prod. Instead, he strokes his hair, pushing him down to his knees, “Then let’s make sure you get the most out of this.”

The buttons towards the bottom of his robe become undone, allowing him to free his cock. Jongin looks up at his with wide eyes, desire pooling in his stomach. While it’s not the longest, Kyungsoo’s cock is thick, and he can only imagine how much his lips will have to stretch to accommodate his girth. He’s not sure how it’ll fit, but Jongin knows he definitely wants it in his mouth. He presses his lips to his cock, tongue darting out to lap at the foreskin.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo swears with a sigh, looking down at Jongin, “You want it? You want to suck my dick?”

Jongin shudders at the explicit words and the even more explicit implications, nodding slowly with a hint of uncertainty.

“Then open your mouth,” As if accepting a communion wafer, Jongin opens his mouth, tongue peeking out over his bottom lip. With a smirk, Kyungsoo pulls his head forward, humming as he’s encased by the wet heat if his mouth.

The slick sound of suckling echoes off the cathedral walls as Jongin sucks his cock. Any technique the gypsy has is lost in the fervor of his enthusiasm, which is somehow endearing. To feel the wet suction of his eagerness, to hear his soft moans of pleasure he breaches the back of his throat, to see those big brown eyes silently asking for his approval, is admittedly adorable. He finds himself petting Jongin’s hair, moaning softly at the pleasure of his tongue running along a sensitive vein on the underside. The blush on Jongin’s face intensifies, cheeks burning with the knowledge that he’s being defiled in this holy space.

Kyungsoo grabs him by the chin and pulls him off his cock, feeling sadistic pleasure well in his chest as Jongin whines and tries to chase his cock. With his other hand, he pulls the foreskin back to expose the head. A drop of precum leaks out, hovering just above Jongin’s waiting tongue.

“Want a taste?” He inquires, a slight lilt in his voice from the influx of pleasure. Jongin nods and the priest draws a cross on his tongue with beads of precum. Jongin hums as the bittersweet flavor coats his tongue, swallowing with an appreciative moan.

“You want more?” Kyungsoo prompts, chuckling at Jongin’s frantic nod. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he easily picks him up, holding him by the waist as Jongin instinctively wraps his arms and legs around Kyungsoo. He chuckles softly as he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “Such a greedy little gypsy. Perhaps Frollo was right about you.”

Jongin whines in protest at the statement, hissing as his bare skin meets the cold stone of the altar. Kyungsoo wastes no time and slides three fingers past Jongin’s lips, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

The mortal nods and sucks on his fingers, tongue darting between them to even coat them with spit. Kyungsoo pulls his hand back after a few moments and spreads his legs, easing one fingertip past his rim. Jongin bites his lip and whimpers at the stretch, but he spreads his legs wider and angles his hips to make it easier to slide in. The priest chuckles to himself; this is definitely not his first time with a man.

He slides one finger in and out of his hole, letting his fingertip drag along his sensitive walls. Jongin moans louder and arches his back, bucking his hips as Kyungsoo slides another finger in.

“You like that?” He teases, feeling a fresh wave of shy shame course through Jongin as he continues, “Such a needy little gypsy boy. Want me to fuck you? Right here in front of Mary?”

A bolt of lightning reveals a statue of the Virgin Mary holding a baby Jesus, along with several other saints, standing only a short distance away in the shadows. The subsequent roll of thunder adds to the gravity of what they’re doing, of what Jongin is letting— begging this priest to do to him.

“P-please Father,” He stutters, fingers scrambling to grip Kyungsoo through his silken robes.

“Please what?” Kyungsoo stops much to Jongin’s disappointment. The priest raises a brow as Jongin rolls his hips against his fingers, whimpering needily.

“Please Father, I need you inside me,” Jongin pants on one breath, quickly as if he didn’t want the statues of the saints to hear. He lets out a high pitched whine as he feels something wet and flexible prod at his entrance. The tip of Kyungsoo’s tongue circles his rim in a slow drag, making his toes curl as his back arches off the altar. Kyungsoo hums softly to himself; apparently Jongin taste sweet no matter where his mouth is. He scissors two fingers in and out of Jongin, tongue moving in as his fingers move out to stretch him even wider.

“You want it?” Kyungsoo taunts, now stretching him with three fingers. Jongin squirms and rolls his hips, groaning a touched out “yes~” as he feels Kyungsoo prod at a spot inside him that has him seeing stars.

He’s completely caught off guard when something thick and hot pushes past his rim, stretching him unexpectedly. The mortal throws his head back and cries out in a mixture of pain and exhilaration, feeling Kyungsoo’s thick cock fill him to the brim. Hips slam against the back of his thighs in a languid, heavy rhythm, the slow drag of Kyungsoo’s cock making him keen and tilt his head back.

Kyungsoo skillfully rolls his hips each time he pushes in, intent on drawing more pretty sounds from the gypsy. He watches as Jongin’s back bows sharply, a press of the head of his cock to his sweet spot creating such a beautiful arch. Pretty soon Kyungsoo picks up the pace, gripping his hips tightly as he slams into him. He can’t deny how much he enjoys the tight heat around his cock, but what he enjoys more is Jongin’s quickening heartbeat, the visible stutter of his breath as his chest rises and falls, the way his lips remain parted to let out a string of curse filled praises and wanton moans that’re louder than the roaring thunder outside. He leans down and presses his lips to Jongin’s, tongue moving in and out of his mouth in time with his steady thrusts.

He lets out a low exhale into the mortal’s mouth as he slams against his prostate, smirking as Jongin chokes on a moan and grips his shoulders desperately. His muscular thighs wrap around Kyungsoo’s waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back to pull him in deeper.

“Harder!” Jongin pulls away from the kiss and looks up with wild eyes, any trace of uncertainty completely gone as he begs, “Father, fuck me harder!” The priest obliges and slams into him harder and faster, hitting his sweet spot every time.

He can feel a wave of ecstasy about to overwhelm the mortal beneath him, and he knows his time on this world is almost at an end. With one hand cradling the back of his neck, Kyungsoo wraps his other arm around his waist, pressing against his solid body. He wants to feel the warmth of his body against his cold skin. He wants to revel in his delectable scent. He wants to savor the pulse of life he’s about to claim for himself.

Jongin throws his head back and screams when he cums, and that’s when Kyungsoo has his chance. With a hiss he unsheathes his fangs, sinking his teeth into the flesh of the gypsy’s neck. He growls as Jongin’s scream becomes two pitched and broken, splitting like the strike of lightning that strikes outside, feeling his own pleasure increase ten fold. Tangling his fingers in the victim’s hair, he lets the sweet metallic flavor coat his tongue, throat working to swallow the blood that wells in his mouth. Fuck, Jongin tastes good. He can taste the sarccharine hints of raw desire, and it excites him more than anything that occurred all night.

He groans in time with the next roll of thunder as he feels his skin fill out to become taut flesh, the undertone shifting from lifeless gray to rich gold. His hair brightens to a rich wine shade, the hair on top of his head growing to fall over his eyebrows while the sides remain short. The flames in the chandeliers flicker frantically as he moans loudly at the europhic bliss if his life being restored, hips stuttering as he shoots his load into Jongin.

Even as the mortal’s slumps, arms and legs untangling and falling limp, Kyungsoo holds fast, frantically rutting against him as every nerve in his body practically sings with bliss. He all but leaps onto the altar and he presses his face in deeper, short frenzied moans rumbling in his throat as he fills Jongin to the brim with hot cum. It’s been so long since he’s had a feed this satisfying, and he intends to enjoy it to the fullest. His hands frantically grab at his shoulders, claws unsheathing and digging into his skin and he sucks the life out of him. Pleasure continues to course through him in waves, and he sucks in a new mouthful of blood with each spurt of cum.

He lets out a ragged, languid groan as he feels Jongin twitch under him before finally falling limp in his grasp, shuddering through the last of his feed-induced orgasm. The candlelight snuffs out at the exact moment his blissful high ends, leaving him in moonlight and shadows once again. He pants heavily and pulls back once he’s drained the body dry, languidly licking the last remnants of blood from his plush bottom lip. Even as scarlet blood stains his fangs, his collar remains pristine and white, white as the cum that seeps out of the now lifeless body to trickle onto the floor.

He smirks and lifts the Jongin’s chin with a fingertip, pressing a kiss to his blue-tinted lips, “Your sins are forgiven, my child.”

He sits back on his ankles and runs a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs up and away from his forehead as he ponders how to proceed. He normally doesn’t leave this much of a mess, but it’s been awhile since he last fed, and neither Luna nor Nocté could blame him for getting a bit carried away. Part of him is debating on leaving him here, just like this. He laughs to himself at the image of Frollo’s reaction to discovering Jongin’s body the next morning. He’s certain the old man would drop dead at the sight.

As amusing as the thought is, he can’t just leave a dead mortal on the altar like this, all splayed out like a sacrificial offering. A sight like this will raise questions, which will mean other priests in Notre Dame at night. Sighing, he presses his hand to Jongin’s cheek as he gathers intense heat in his palm, flames shooting from his fingertips and igniting his hair. Keeping the fire contained in a telekinetic grip, Kyungsoo watches as the fire consumes Jongin’s body, smoke rising into the air as his once animated being becomes nothing more than ashes. Once only ashes remain on the altar, he gathers them in his hands, placing them inside the thurible the archdeacon left by the stairs. Now the only thing is hiding the scent.

He places incense inside the thurible with the ashes and lights it with a procured flame, holding the vessel by the chain as he steps off the sanctuary. He swings it at a slow rhythm as he makes his way up and down the aisles, letting the flame inside burn the ashes as well as release the scent of the incense. He twists his hand slightly each time he let’s go, the smoke thickening as he lets the sweet musk of the frankincense cover the scents of blood, lust, and death. Once the last remnants of Jongin disappear from the air, he sharply closes his fist, putting out the fire and placing the thurible back where he found it.

His body becomes dark wisps of shade as he makes his exit, becoming one with the night he serves once more.