#you are crass and blood thirsty

[just-some-random-blogger]

hi! your works are absolutely fascinating! so alive(?) and captivating. (if you're comfortable with it) can you please write something about daemon x rhae royce's younger sister who looks like a pretty lady but has a personality of a much harsher warrior than anyone could imagine. maybe she appears at the court right after rhae's death or even later. i just had an idea and it's totally you right to decide what to do with it. thank u in advance!

Served Cold

Daemon Targaryen x Royce!Reader

Summary: "Twas never my sister which was the ugly one between the two of us," I seethe, holding my dagger even tighter to the prince's neck, "Twas I."

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Depictions/descriptions of violence/death/murder, fem!reader, i spun a roulette to decide daemon's fate, i describe readers features, gaslight gatekeep girlboss, typos, etc.

A/N: I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS NONNIE. RHEA WASN'T EVEN UGLY DAEMON NEEDS GLASSES AND TO GO TO JAIL. This is my vindication for the baddest babe that never got to be. I hope you like it nonnie, this took quite a dark turn lol Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda Part two anyone "I Want You, I Get You"

I made it a point to perfect my form before even practicing my moves. I was conscientious and sedulous in my work. Fair enough, I was not a quick learner like my sister. Rhea had always been better a picking up new things, but then again, I suppose the reason why it took me a while to learn something was because I wanted to make sure I knew every nuance, every sliver of detail about whatever it was that I was learning, before allowing myself to get into it.

And so when I was getting into him, by the time I was done, I knew Daemon Targaryen better than he even knew himself.

I knew it all. What he liked, and what he didn't. What got him turned on, what got him blood thirsty, and what got him bored.

I knew him like the back of my hand.

I knew what would make him tick before I even met him.

And I knew well to dress myself in colors that pleased him-- his house colors, of course, in all his vanity. I knew what style of dresses he liked on women; I knew the exact level of madonna and whore he was looking for.

I made sure the plunges of my collars were deep enough to attract attention, but modest enough to keep something for the imagination. I also I told my seamstress to keep my sleeves short and capped so he would want nothing more than to touch my bare arms.

If a tinge of decency overcame Daemon out of sport, I made sure to give him reason to avert his attentions to my skin by wearing some delicate silver jewelry.

I painted my face to accentuate the features I have been complimented on since a child. I drew on my eyes to make them look as though they were constantly gazing unto him with wonder, and brushed red on my cheeks, as though I was constantly blushing at his remarks, and on my lips, as though I was constantly pouting at his teases.

But all those things were nothing. The appearances I've had in front of the prince thus far, at court, during festivities and otherwise where nothing compared to what I had planned on our red-letter day.

Today, the kicker was my hair, my hair that was tied well enough to keep my thick, brown locks in fashion, but loose enough that with a strong enough flick, it would come undone.

"Lady Royce," Daemon calls, handing me a drink. I raised an eye at him and showed no acceptance of it as I crossed my arms.

He enjoyed that. He enjoyed it so much he poured the drink meant for me into his own cup and threw the empty one behind him with no regard. Why would he have regard, anyway?

He rakes in my appearance, "I see you have made a point to wear blue and red this evening," his lips curve, "could this be a marriage proposal between our two houses?"

Daemon is excited by my crass response, "you have not only already tainted my sister's being and bloodied your hands with hers, yet now you still thirst to defile the last remaining of her house?"

He tilts his head down at me as he narrows his eyes, "except I never touched that troll," the prince steps forward, "never wanted to touch her," he smirks, "unlike her little sister."

I lean close to him as I glare, "you're going to have to keep dreaming about it, my prince, because the day our skin touches is the day one of us dies."

Daemon breathes in my scent before I pull away abruptly. He chuckles from his spot, watching as I stormed off.

I was meant to exit the chamber and have him follow after me, but it seems that would not be happening, as Jason Lannister made it a point to grab my arm before I could depart.

"Lady Royce," he calls, making me turn and stand before him as he pulls away, "I apologize for the brashness, but I could not allow myself to have you leave without sharing at least one drink with me.

My lips curve at his words. A devious smile winds up on my lips, "why of course, my lord."

Jason then leads me off to where we could share a drink in relative quiet. I feel Daemon's gaze burn me with every move I made.

He was not particularly entertaining; Jason made it a point to talk about himself and how rich and powerful he was, but still, I made it appear that I was absolutely enchanted by our conversation, and that I was absolutely smitten.

I do say, Daemon had a timeliness to himself when he caught me genuinely laughing to the first funny thing Jason Lannister said all night.

And so when the vermin carelessly pulled me back with so much force, my hair tie finally gave up as I turned to him in offence.

I gasp at it, clutching my hair and its accessories, so that it would not further fall. Jason picks up one of my fallen clips as I rip my arm out of Daemon's clutch. I eye him darkly and mutter, "imbecile."

He lets out a dry scoff as Jason does a horrible job at trying to put my clip back where it was a while ago.

I grab his hand in both of mine and give a pinched smile, "I appreciate the efforts, Jason, but I think it is a sign I should retire. I could not go about the rest of the night like this."

"Nonesense," he shakes his head, "dare I say you look better this way."

I chuckle under my breath and begin to back away, "I thank you for your high opinions of me, but I really must go."

I take in Jason's expression as he steps towards me. Daemon eyes him darkly.

A clever thought springs in mind. I release a breath, "well, if you would like, we can meet at the gardens after I fix my hair."

The Lannister's face lights up, "I would want nothing more."

I give him one last look of regard, forfeiting one for Daemon, and make my way outside.

I make attempts together my hair up and fix it the way it was a while ago. It was I that fashioned my hair today. It was an easy task to do it again, even without a mirror, this time, more securely. I make my way out of the hall, towards the gardens.

I feel my stomach churn in anticipation when I hear the heavy footsteps behind me.

The next thing I know, I am pressed against the wall, being stared down my the riled up Targaryen, "you exasperating minx."

My nostrils flare at his expression and I shove him off me with a grunt. He reels back at my unexpected strength.

I give him a dirty look as I speed down the hall.

Daemon takes a moment before replying and chasing after me, "do you expect me to believe you did not plan for that to happen?"

I scoff as I gather my skirts in my hands, "oh, but of course I wanted my hair to come undone before Jason Lannister. That was the plan from the moment I was born."

When I hear his steps quicken, I bring my skirt higher and tighter in my grips, running faster.

Daemon is stunned by this and it takes a moment for the scene to register in his mind.

I eventually make it into the garden when he manages to grab me again. We are both heaving when he spins me around and tightly clasps my arms, "nowhere to run, little girl."

I grip my skirt tightly as I wrangle my shoulders in his grip. Daemon smirks at me all while using his strength against my actions.

"Now that you've had your fun," he leans in, "it's my turn now."

I bring my hand under my skirt. The moment he makes the mistake of withdrawing one of his hands, I knee him with all my strength in his groin, sending him crumpling down with a pained whine. That will hopefully prevent him from ever having children.

"You fucking bit-"

I tackle him to the ground, ripping my dagger off my thigh holster as I did so. With him pinned bellow me and my knee onto his back, I brought the blade to his neck, red immediately begins to gush against his skin, "you must understand something-"

I gag him with a piece of cloth I prepared in the chance he squirmed. He did not, I gaged him out of spite.

"Twas never my sister which was the ugly one between the two of us," I seethe, holding my dagger even tighter to the prince's neck, "Twas always I."

With one, clean, practiced move, I slashed the prince's throat. I made sure it was not enough to kill him, but enough for the guards to find him when I scream for help. We'll find out soon enough if it is his fate to meet my sister, or if it is mine.

I drop the blade to his side and pull away from him. I turn to my hands, smiling at the fact I managed to keep them clean. I then drop to my hind, and crawl back screaming, "HELP! HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! THE PRINCE HAS BEEN SLAIN!"

I continue my screams up until someone comes.

It's Jason, frantic and distraught.

Perfect.

[rwac96]

Is their anyone who can match Pyrrha's thirst for Jaune?

"T-Thirst?!" The Mistral Champion sputtered, her cheeks gaining a pink tinge. "I-I am not thirsty--!!" Pyrrha denied, folding her arms over her bust, but found herself interrupted.

"You're thirsty for him, P-Money," Yang teased her with a cheeky grin, which made the redhead's cheeks turn red as her hair.

As Pyrrha huffed, listening to the snickering of Ruby and Nora, Blake simply smiled at the exchange, and Ren exhales while enjoying his tea. Weiss rolled her ice-blue eyes, still uncertain of what the famed Champion sees in Jaune, who was in her opinion loveable, but a goofball. As Pyrrha was about to get into an argument with Yang, a loud 'manly' shout was heard; which was obviously from the redhead's object of affection. They turn to see Jaune Arc, who was being fondled by a black-haired girl in dark colors, who strangely resembled Weiss.

"Oh, no," the Schnee Heiress groaned in dread, "not her. Please, not her!"

"C'mon, Darling," Bleiss Gele says to the flustered swordsman, his cheeks crimson as she had her hands on his crotch and abdomen. "I thought you like getting hugs~?"

"There's a difference between hugs," Jaune clarifies to the Atlesian Blacksheep, "and fondling people in public, Bleiss!!"

As the crass, vulgar dark mirror of Weiss continued to harass the young blonde; Weiss and Pyrrha glared at the scene taking place. For Weiss, it was unpleasant to be related to the girl who resembled her, if she was a profanity-ridden, lustful banshee. Even though she was given away by their father to keep up the facade of him being a natural Schnee instead of marrying into the family, Bleiss' attitude made it difficult to relate to her. Plus, her sexually harassing Jaune was something utterly degenerate in her eyes. For Pyrrha, it was rage-inducing to meet an unpleasant version of Weiss. Sure, the white-haired Glyph Maker was difficult to get along with in the beginning, but she eventually grew on her in time. Bleiss, however, was everything opposite of Weiss and yet more unbearable. Plus, seeing her getting too close to Jaune made her blood boil.

"Oh, great," Yang said with a groan, "it's M-Rated Weiss." She exhaled, placing her cheek against her right hand. "Just, great," she said sarcastically.

"To think she makes Weiss, in the beginning, look like a saint," Blake said, which earned her an annoyed sneer from her teammate. "I'm just stating the truth," the Cat Faunus replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yeesh," Nora grimaced as she watched Jaune back away from the approaching Bleiss, "talk about a greater thirst, huh Pyr-Pyr?" Nora turns to her teammate, who was cracking her knuckles.

"Her again," Pyrrha said as she rises from her seat, walking up to Bleiss and getting in between her and her leader/teammate/crush. "That's enough, Bleiss!"

"Hey," the Schnee Blacksheep scowls, "fuck off, Cereal Bitch! I was talking with Darling first~." She flutters her eyelashes toward Jaune, who gulped in response.

"You mean harassing him," she replied, wrapping her arm around Jaune's. "Bleiss, you do remember Goodwitch's warning, right?"

"When it comes to my fuckable himbo," the black-haired twin replies, huffing. "I don't give a fuck what Goodbitch says!"

"Bleiss, I swear," Pyrrha grits her teeth, "if you as so much attempt anything untoward--!"

"Rich," Bleiss snickered, "coming from a bitch thirsty as me, Cereal Bitch. At least I'm honest," she smiles smugly, which made the Champion's anger rise.

'I swear to the Brothers,' Pyrrha thought, gritting her teeth. 'I am going to punch this harlot's teeth in!'

"Yeesh," another feminine voice spoke up, this time it was mature but it wasn't one of the professors. "girls, give a guy some breathing room."

Bleiss, Pyrrha, and Jaune turn to a tall, voluptuous woman with long brunette hair flowing behind her approaching the trio. She wore a black, tight-hugging dress that clung to her hourglass figure. She stared at the situation with concerned chocolate eyes, though her gaze mainly focused on the hoodie-wearing knight. As she moved toward Jaune, pushing Pyrrha aside; they noticed that her ample bust was bigger than Yang's, and her wide hips made Blake's look slim. She pulls the swordsman into a hug, specifically placing his cheek against her bust; the top of her dress has a small cross between her breasts, holding them together like straps. She pats the other side of the blonde's face while pushing it against her chest, which made him blush greatly.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves," the brunette scolds the two girls, "it's unbecoming of a Champion of Mistral, and certainly unbecoming of a Schnee, regardless if she's disowned."

"Excuse me," Pyrrha spoke up as if her rage was given another boost. "Unbecoming?!"

"The fuck you say, bitch?!" Bleiss grabs hold of Bitchbreaker's handle, preparing to unsheathe it, "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"Kendra Otani," she answers the Schnee Blacksheep, turning away from the two girls; beginning to take Jaune in tow. "a friend of his sister's, and someone who needs to keep him away from hormonal lil' hooligans." She caresses his cheek, "Isn't that right, baby~?"

"I...Uh," Jaune stammers, his entire face red and his brain becoming fried. "Uh, sure thing."

Team RWBY, the remaining Team JNPR, and Bleiss Gele watched with widened eyes. Blinking for a few seconds, before the black-haired diva opened her mouth.

"THAT CUNT!!" Bleiss shouts at the top of her lungs, "How dare she snatch Darling away from me?!"

"I don't know who that is," Pyrrha said, as she caresses Auko gently, "but I would like to have a 'talk' with her."

(Kendra Otani created by @rwbysmut4life)

[isfjmel-phleg]

At the antique store today, I found a Batman comic from 1989. I didn't get it (although I did pick up another from the previous year that has a brief Angry Jason moment), but in the back was a letter page with responses to A Death in the Family and I took pictures. Here's a glimpse of what the 1989 Discourse was around Jason's death:

Some readers approached it in terms of story quality, like Bob U., who wrote a lengthy piece comparing it in quality to a previous story and concluded with

The voting, well, that was rather crass, if you ask me, but all in all, I think the characters stand up, and the pure adventure of it all will be remembered for years to come. You allowed the fans to contribute, and that couldn't have been easy. So thanks, I guess, for a few fun months of Batman and Robin, and what I hope will be some really brutal Dark-night Detective stuff in the months to come.

But other readers, like Rene S., had more emotional investment--in case some rather harsh and uncalled-for hatred of a fictional teenager:

After reading the conclusion of "A Death in the Family," I've only one thing to say: thank you very much for killing off Robin! I never liked the little gnat; he is not even the original Robin! I always thought that Batman looked a little bit silly running around with a fourteen (?) year old sidekick. Now the Batman is restored to his old glory, and I sincerely hope there won't be another Robin for some years to come (although I liked the girl Robin in DARK KNIGHT [i.e. Carrie Kelley], maybe you can do something with that...) Robin is dead, long live Batman!

Mitchell K. had none of that meanness but showed a fan-like interest in alternate endings:

I have been an avid Batman fan since I was a boy, and I just finished "A Death in the Family" series and thoroughly enjoyed it. I voted for Jason to live and was very shocked to see him die, but I was still very impressed with the rest of the story. But I can't help wondering how the story would have gone if Jason had lived. I would like to know if there is any way that DC Comics will ever publish the second ending.

To which the editor replied:

Mitchell, while we understand your curiosity, we have no plans at present to ever publish the "alternate" ending to BATMAN #428. Very few people even at DC have seen those pages, and sorry to say, but that for the time being the material will stay locked up tight in my file.

I hope Mitchell was inspired to create his own version of that ending! (Those top-secret alternate pages have since been glimpsed; they feature Batman holding Jason as he does in the original but exclaiming, "He's alive! Thank God!" and then Jason in the hospital in a coma with his recovery uncertain.)

Alvis S. has an unfortunate story about his thwarted intention to vote for Jason to live:

As I read "A Death in the Family," this time in the Graphic Novel form, I relived the frustration I felt when I read BATMAN #428. Why did I feel this frustration? It could be that on September 15th and 16th, the South Texas area was being threatened by Hurricane Gilbert. At that time, the Phone Company asked that the phone lines be kept clear for emergencies. Maybe my friends and I, who had planned to vote on keeping the late Jason Todd alive, could have made a difference. We made sure we voted on November 7th, though; but this time we have no excuses. What is done is done, but I will miss the effect Jason was having on our hero.

Shon G. was disgusted by the fandom's murderous attitude toward Jason:

It saddens me to see that comic fans are becoming so blood thirsty. I have never seen a character like Jason Todd be disliked so much. Maybe it was because he was no Dick Grayson. Who knows? But I know this: it tells you how far some people will go to get their way. I have also noticed that when a writer terminates a character, most people write in that it was a cop-out. This time it is not the writer's fault directly. It is ours. And it appears that a few people are being quite hypocritical. It is a shame you let us choose, for it is very frightening to know that, if given the chance, people will vote for the death of someone because of dislike. People always seem to miss possible alternatives. That makes us not only ignorant, but also narrow-minded. I am aware that this letter does not apply to everyone, but I wanted to, at least, voice my opinions on this situation. [...] P.S. Whatever happened to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness"? Especially for those heroes who have given us so much--whether we admit it or not.

To which the editor replied:

Voicing opinions is what letter columns are all about, Shon. But I really don't think you give your fellow readers enough credit. Try to keep in mind that Jason Todd was a work of fiction (despite the incredible feelings of angst and finality we all felt as the votes came in [...]). You know as well as I do that if the phone vote was over the life or death of a real-life, living, breathing PERSON, the results would have been a little different. A LOT different.

...would it have been? For someone so apparently hated? Some people can be surprisingly just as cruel with real people as they are with fictional ones.

Similarly, Rob H. is concerned by such attitudes in the fandom:

First of all, let me say that I am not writing to complain about his [Jason's] death, nor am I writing to cheer about it. Personally, I do wish he had survived, although I must admit I wasn't fond of his character after his origin was changed after the Crisis; however, he was still an interesting character. I don't mind the fact that he is dead as much as I mind the manner of his death. The Joker didn't kill him. The readers did. He didn't die for any good purpose that I can see. He died because of some stupid idea to garner some free publicity. Look at all the media coverage it got. If it hadn't been for the phone-in poll, I doubt his passing would have gotten much attention at all. It just seems to me that the only reason he died was to make some money. I am not so concerned about the money aspect of his death, but with many readers' outright joy that he died. The letter column seems to be full of people gloating that they helped kill him. Why are they so overjoyed? They really seem to have hated him a lot. Why? It seems more and more readers are calling for the deaths of characters. In SUICIDE SQUAD, the readers keep pleading for more people to die. In NEW TITANS, readers seem to be calling for Danny Chase to die. What is this obsession with death? Admittedly, these characters are merely fictional, but doesn't this fixation with death seem like a sad commentary upon society? I, for one, like it when the heroes prevail. Sure I like realism in comics, but I also like the escapism. There is enough death and destruction in the world today. It seems to be getting harder to occasionally escape from the madness for even a short time.

In light of the outcome of the vote, it's good to know that there were some people who were disturbed by all that. Sure, it's "just a fictional character" whose death wouldn't matter in the same way that a real person's would, but if a fictional character is ultimately so inconsequential, why was there enough investment to warrant that level of vitriol? I tend to agree with Rob; it's "a sad commentary on society" that readers were so harsh.

Even if it resulted in some fascinating storylines, both shortly after and much, much later.

[elgatt0]

Thirst

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

"Captain was having a hell of a thirst, and sky arrives at the worst best time possible"

Based on Thou Shall Not Fall by @catreginae

(It's actually the same vampire just a little more silly and dramatic o3o)

Warnings: silly writing and blood

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

It started with a small will, a passing feeling like that quick urge to drink something just because his mind thought "why not".

But that feeling was neither quick nor fleeting, it increased the measure of the day as drop by drop made its way, filling his mouth with his bloody desire only to be empty and thirstier than before, like his throat was on fire.

He hoped his agony would end with daylight, but his thirst grew worse as the moon rise. He lays in bed broken and tired after a long day of fighting either the monsters around him or the one that ignited his bloodlust desire.

"Why is this happening at all? No matter how much blood I drink, this thirst is never quenched or relieved! And it seems to get worse when more when I think..." The captain growls in frustration as he has not found a solution to his desolation.

He places one of his hands over his eyes and focuses on the darkness, as he tries to leave his vampiric desires behind.

Inhaling and exhaling, trying focusing on anything other than his thirst igniting...

A soft knock on the door brings the captain out of his pensive darkness. He looks towards and crass responds reckless "Leave me alone! Otherwise I'll break your every damn bone!"

He regrets it as soon as his words comes out, the person outside didn't deserve this injustice caused by his harshly mouth "It's been a long day... I'm sorry for freaking out" He says as he calms down.

The one on the other side of the door was shudder from his teammate's sudden outburst of temper. Sky takes a deep breath while looking at the ceiling and goes back to talking, ignoring that strange feeling.

"It's okay, it was my fault for bothering you, after today's fight you really wanted to rest for sure" The chosen hero spoke in a soft and serene tone, it was almost as if his captain's earlier outburst of temper had not come.

The serenity in the chosen hero's voice made the captain feel even worse. Sky was just worried about him, and warriors kick him like a wild horse.

"Sorry..." He gets up from his bed to compose himself, he takes a deep breath and is enchanted by a sweet bloody smell.

His pupils dilate, his fangs itch in his mouth, his thirst burns in his throat and a seductive sweet scent of blood seeps into his nose.

A sharp hiss escapes the captain's lips. Beyond the door, he searches for his next victim.

The chosen hero widens as the door is brutally opened. He looks into his teammate's eyes, but only sees a ravenous bloody monster "Wait!" scared, Sky cries.

With an iron grip he pins the chosen hero against the wall. His hot breath is on the hero's neck, and sends shivers down.

The vampire's teeth are bared, and his mouth opens wide, as bloody slobber drips down his fangs, revealing his desire "You'll be my next prey!" He shouts with a voice filled with a thirsty ire.

Without a last warning, the captain sinks his fangs into Sky's throat. His cries fell on deaf ears, his moans growing quieter and quieter until they faded away into a strained silence.

[adultswim2021]

Saul of the Mole Men #8: “IC-CAW” | April 2, 2007 - 12:00AM | S01E08

Saul Malone 64: In the Talons of the Big Bird. PRESS START

Saul is in the clutches of a Bird Bat. It wants his amber stone that he gave to Lil. Lil runs to Johnny Tambourine and Fallopia’s, uh, cave? I guess they live in a cave. They are fighting, because Johnny Tambourine feels smothered by her (and I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout them big old hammers she got). Lil convinces them to come with him to go save Saul from the Bat Bird people.

Johnny Tambourine and Fallopia’s fight is a good example of this show’s shoddy (on purpose?) writing: They are immediately out of the honeymoon phase for no describable logical reason other than it’s sorta funny to have unexpected/erratic mood swings occur as character development. But really, it’s to serve some sort of plot shake-up that needs to happen, also for “some reason”. I guess the show’s goal here is to unravel this mysterious theory Saul has about the ancient mother rock, explain his amber gem, and to get him together with Fallopia. 

Another example of this: this story progresses with Johnny, Fallopia, Lil, and Robot all making their way up the mountain where the Bird Bats reside. Johnny gets fed up with Robot and yells at him for being a crass blabbermouth. Robot says he’ll just lay down and die to make them feel bad. Johnny simply agrees that he should, and they start making their way up the mountain without him. Robot was bluffing, but he hits a snag in the path and topples over, unable to move forward. The relationships between the characters are treated in this glib of a manner in the name of making the show seem like it’s moving at a faster pace than it really is. It would appear that “bad writing” is a pretty easy joke to write.

It turns out that Bird Bat needs the amber gem because it’s going to play some scientific role in reviving his dead wife, a lady Bird Bat who was shot down by Bertram one day as though he were on a duck hunt. This is explained via flashback narrated by the Bird Bat. A very simple explanation for how she died, I guess. Bertram just sucks so he did it for fun. Okay. I guess I like it on paper. Bird Bat tries to get Saul to spill the beans on where the amber gem is by torturing him. We see him saw off half of Saul’s mustache (it flies off instantly). In the next shot it’s back and fine. That’s the kind of fun we’re having, baby. 

Johnny winds up getting left behind on the trek up the mountain when his pod needs to serve as a bridge between two cliffs. Fallopia calls him a jerk while walking over him. Johnny smiles, presumably because he got to look up her dress. Come on dude you just had your wiener up in there. Act like you’ve been here before. Bird Bat’s dead wife? I think? Shows up suddenly and lays an egg over Johnny Tambourine’s pod, very seductively. Johnny is into it. I really do love the shot of him smiling with perverted glee while getting egg on his face. Little moments like that almost make this show worth it. Now I have to explain why she’s alive, and I don’t think we know yet. I’m guessing the answer is more bad writing. This could be another girl Bird Bat. I don’t know. I’m also a bad writer.

There’s another scene where the Bird Bat confers with some Emperor Palpatine like figure using some kind of holographic communications machine. He looks like marijuana bud to me, but he’s like a moss guy, I guess. I can’t understand him. I don’t remember what this was all about. I guess this is going deeper than I think. 

Lil, who recently got testicles (remember, last episode?) turns into a hulking blood-thirsty monster upon activating his glands; he becomes “pubertized” so to speak. By this I mean his face changes to a more crazed, angry face, and now has a laser gun, which makes no sense, but I respect it. He blasts a lotta Bird Bats away, saving Saul. Him and Fallopia have a moment. Maybe she has feelings for him. Maybe not. We simply do not know. 

In the shocking twist ending, the head Bird Bat brings in his henchmen, Jim E. James and Jen E. James, who are alive! Remember them from episode one?? They now have their heads embedded inside a big rock, or maybe their bodies were harvested and the head is like some sort of new rock brain? When I first saw this, I thought the idea was that this is what their bodies looked like when found, shoved inside big rocks, as a mild retcon. Whatever the case may be, this is a shocking twist, I guess. Bird Bat demands they “bring me the stone of Saul Malone!” as dramatic music plays over the credits. 

This thing happens with me and Saul of the Mole Men: I tend to watch them and think to myself “this really sucks, I don’t care for this” etc. But then when I write about it I start finding more things to appreciate about it on paper, and I sorta convince myself that I sorta like it, or at the very least they were merely one missing ingredient from making this a truly good show.

I think this episode is sorta fun in it’s own way. It’s more plodding than I made it sound; many stretches are dedicated to characters just delivering humorless exposition, or just acting mildly absurd for extended periods of time. Johnny and Fallopia’s screaming match is almost certainly intentionally idiodic, with them just screaming unintelligible words at one another. But it’s also actually abrasive, and probably required no thought to write. You still need panache even when you’re just doing irony. This episode comes close but ultimately doesn’t hit the mark.

EPHEMERA CORNER:

Tom Goes to the Mayor: Complete Series DVD (April 3, 2007)

Tom Goes to the Mayor came out on DVD, and boy, do I love this set. All 30 episodes on three discs, and abundant extras. They even do commentary on every episode, and most of them they are completely sincere! I actually really love that about them, that they decided to be sincere on the commentary for their show. I love commentary. I don’t really feel like cataloging all the extras here, but please know that they are plentiful and worth your time. Also there are jokes within the making-of that are very funny. Tim And Eric wear their outfits from episode 2 of Awesome Show. In fact this footage came first, and they wrote a sketch around these personas of very professional TV presenters. Some of this footage also made it’s way onto Adult Swim in the form of Tom Goes to the Mayor promos.

MAIL BAG

Good on you for not falling down Adam's disgusting caillou-hating trap. I've heard from good sources that hating Barney is why trump got elected. Every time you sang "Whoomp! Barney's Dead!" in the schoolyard you were contributing to the rise of fascism. something to think about with your morning coffee.

I think you’ll find that it’s a wonderful show about (voice pitching up) family!

Funny, as I'm watching along with you I'm finding I'm enjoying Saul a lot more than Tim and Eric which was the opposite of what I originally felt (I don't think I even bothered watching Saul). Tim and Eric are fine but I think the comedy never rises about Channel 101 stuff that feels super dated while Saul isn't great it feels like it's one or two more ambitious writers away from being great. Maybe I just think Gardner is putting on a great performance. Sue me!

I really do try to be nice when people have different opinions from me, and think it’s obnoxious to be aggressive about such things. But you’re fucking crazy. You are being so crazy right now. This seems different but: The only people I know who weren’t big Tim & Eric fans eventually came around on it after finding the right bits or having it slightly more explained to them. Plenty of the stuff they do is unspectacular. A bad episode of Tom Goes to the Mayor would turn anyone off of them. Again, you seem very well-informed and I believe your opinion is genuine and I appreciate you. I’m sorry I called you crazy. I am learning to be a good guy, lately.

Sure, Tim and Eric exploited the delightfully demented for cheap laughs on their show but Bob Odenkirk does sign language during his Here She Comes song, which makes it The Least Ableist Show on Adult Swim so far.

He is signing stuff like “hairy pussy hairy pussy” mostly that’s it. Get your facts straight. This show detests the differently-abled.

Rewatching Season 1 of Tim and Eric and realizing that James Quall is nowhere to be found and that he wasn't introduced until the opening of Season 2. Wow! Actually, his debut might actually be on Tim and Eric Nite Live! Are you gonna cover those?

You wanna know what? I think I will, as Ephemera. But I’ll try to actually rewatch them. We gotta get the Awesome Show + Nite Live chronology rep’d.

T&E: AS, GJ is a celebration of sketch comedy, music, and having a good time with your friends. Nothing like it will exist again.

This is why we must cherish it and celebrate it at all costs.

correct me if im wrong but I believe Anniversary is the last public appearance of Tom Kenny before he left to do the voice of Spongebob Squarepants

Holy god, I thought that certainly couldn’t be true, and then I went to go on IMDB to disprove it and it was just an ocean of animation. Could it be simply so? I wish you could filter out “(voice)” credits on IMDB (maybe you can [I don’t know, I didn’t pay close enough attention {I’m bad}])

[angie-long-legs-moved]

Angel shrugged, a glint of mischief still lingering in his expression. He was far from backing down.

"Well, as long as you're here, I sure ain't," he smirked. "And if the rest a' the limp-dicks who ain't interested in gettin' it on with me are as dried up as you - I say keep 'em."

At first, Angel had found it incredibly frustrating that Alastor had rejected his advances with such blunt honesty. However, as time went on, he'd come to find it rather fascinating. His disinterest in sex opposed Angel's own sensibilities so drastically - the spider could barely comprehend not indulging in this particular avenue of filth when Hell was so chock-full of it. But Alastor's desires were far more malicious and blood-thirsty - and Hell certainly allowed for them just as readily.

For Angel, his sin of choice was lust. For Alastor - wrath.

The line between the two blurred more than Angel cared to admit.

"And, trust me- ain't nothin' miserable about it," he lied through sharp, bared teeth, a twisted mimic of a smile. How fitting, considering his company. "Bein' wanted is what it's all about, baby."

For a moment, he pondered their differences. Being wanted, while not in Angel's more crude definition of the word, had to be something Alastor could relate to.

"Y'know, we ain't so different, you an' me," he said, uncharacteristically candid. "Betcha get off real good thinkin' about how many fuckers ya got foamin' at the mouth to be the one to kill the Radio Demon. They want ya, real carnal want. That's some animal kingdom shit right there."

Suddenly, Angel was aware he was doing all the talking (not that this was unusual for him), while his tight-lipped companion, despite the ever-present smile, looked deeply uncomfortable. Angel almost felt sorry for him: stuck with his last choice for a company, somewhere he would never willingly set foot in, forced to listen as the drinking buddy he didn't ask for made cynical jabs about him.

He signalled the bartender with a wave of his hand.

"Two shots a' sambuca, please. Actually, make that four."

If Angel was going to be stuck at the bar with the demon who made no secret of the fact that he found him irritating at best and unbearably crass at worst, they both might as well loosen up a little.

Besides, maybe this was the secret to exposing the tender flesh that Alastor kept so neatly hidden behind that smile. Maybe alcohol was the key to making him spill his guts - it sure worked on everyone else.

@angie-long-legs continued from x!

Alastor had a lot of experience under his belt. He had been disguising his emotions for nearly a century now— ever smiling (although to varying degrees) and, typically, upbeat. Whenever someone managed to get under his skin, as happened far more often than he would admit, he opted to play it off with humor and pizzazz, and sometimes with thinly veiled threats.

What better way to turn down the advances of a poor, misguided soul than with a booming "HA! NO." and a joyful grin?

There was one thing about every facade, however... and that was that they always revealed their flaws in due time. As much as Alastor liked to believe that he was completely unreadable, that was not the case. His smile was a barrier, not a wall. It was but a white picket fence, when he had ordered an iron gate.

His eyes were his failing. They showed everything that was going through his mind, and he could do nothing to help it. His body language was something he had more control over, but that, too, often screamed out his true intentions. Those who knew him well enough could even read through his smile, which grew and shrunk and wobbled and tensed... always against his best effort to fight it.

Even his radio static, which filled the air more heavily whenever he was angered, excited, and a slew of other emotions, worked more against than for him. It was the cherry on top of it all.

The gold star on his legibility test.

Alastor knew that Angel targeted him on purpose, desperate for a reaction, as many were— but Alastor was determined not to give him one. Not even one tiny hint of one. Not this time.

Thus, they were at a stalemate.

The Radio Demon glanced down to his feet and Angel's, and then back up at the spider's face.

"I believe I am!" he observed, smiling cheerfully-- as opposite to his truth as possible. "Standing, that is. Whilst in the same room as you. Funny how that just happens!"

He wanted nothing more than to go play some classic tunes to drown from his mind the appetite-murdering story that he had just fallen victim to, but he couldn't.

They were at a club— a terrible place, and one that Alastor would never have stepped foot inside at his own discretion. Charlie, however, was convinced that she could recruit some new sinners to her cause if she, Alastor, and the rest of the hotel residents went out together.

Everyone had been right at the Radio Demon's side just a minute ago; Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Charlie... but, appropriately, Hell had its way of sticking Alastor in unsavory situations.

The group had dispersed after the story, and Alastor, having been too wrapped up in the horrors to pay attention to them, now found himself alone at the bar with Angel Dust.

Just wonderful!

"And... EVERY sinner?" he backtracked, "Are you sure? What a miserable existence! You must be hard-pressed to find someone who isn't."

Leave, his inner voice screamed at him, but he didn't. He didn't have to indulge this, but he was.

Perhaps some part of Alastor was curious, too.

[abiglizord]

my biggest character flaw is being attracted to ivarr ragnarsson from ac

[selfships-in-spanish]

Okay I can finally post about this AU me and @spirit-in-the-library have been working on like two cackling and scheming gremlins ❤

Who is ready for an Arranged Marriage!AU? :D This is gonna be a wild ride.

This is an idea I originally had for Ona and Connor but it didn't quite fit in what I had in mind, so I left it until I could find how to make it work. Then Eva and Erwin came and it clicked together perfectly 👌So, me and my friend @spirit-in-the-library humbly present this AU!

We got Erwin, Eva, Freyja (her OC, a total badass and I love her) and Levi all suited up for this adventure. I'll put a read more!

Eva comes from the kingdom of Gottesreich, a heavily religious and conservative kingdom where its King is always looking to expand territory and gain power, as well as bring the true word of God to the less advanced territories (he's a fucking asshole). It's a patriarchal monotheistic religion culture and kingdom, and definitely has some Adam and Eve-style enforced gender dynamics ingrained into the culture.

This reflects heavily whenever she is in front of other men and also of high status; she never speaks, only if asked and even in such situations she's afraid to give her opinion, conditioned to not do that by her father. To their eyes, Eva is the perfect Princess, her strict governess and her own father made sure of that. She knows how to act, what to say, what not to say, how to elegantly walk and bow, even has diplomatic knowledge, since she travelled quite often with her brothers when they had to do their own diplomatic missions. She's the perfect asset to any Kingdom and her father knows it pretty well, she's valuable and he has to gain something big in return of trading her.

So, this leaves Eva who has practically no self-steem or sees her own value but to be a bargaining chip, and it's heartbreaking. When Erwin sees her and gets to know her a little bit better, he knows she has a curious and inquisitive mind too, her eyes shine with intelligence when she thinks no-one is looking. She has a lot to say on her mind but years of toxic parenthood and the Kingdom's twisted values makes her keep her mouth shut, head bowed down.

The cultural shock between Eva's culture and Erwin's tribe renders Eva speechless. Men and women are equal, women can do whatever they want, can be warriors, and also worship three benevolent Goddesses (Maria, Rose and Sina), deeply respect nature and try to maintain balance and harmony the best of their capabilities. Eva's mind is blown.

Erwin is the Chief of the proud Warriors of Eldia, often labelled as demons by their enemies who have faced them in battle. They are depicted as blood-thirsty horned devils who have no mercy, when this couldn't be farther from the truth. Erwin is proud of his people, so he's the perfect example of the true poise and demeanour of a proud warrior. Kind of following the canon, he's extremely intelligent and clever, respected by his warriors and people, and is always scheming huge and even intricate plans, making his famous big gambles (like making an alliance with Eva's brother's to help them overthrow their corrupt father and keep their sister safe under the pretence of a marriage ;D). People often think Eldia is only a tribe of savages, but they couldn't be more wrong about it. They want to be left in peace and do their thing without being bothered.

He makes a personal vow to bring Eva to her fullest self, angry at the way they wilted a beautiful flower from its full bloom. Erwin acknowledges her intelligence and vehemently wants to know her opinion on things, strategies and the village's concerns.

Still with the Eldians, Levi is Erwin's right hand man, the second in command, and is not afraid to speak his mind and call on Erwin's bullshit quite often. He's crass and harsh, but deeply cares for the tribe and its people. He is small compared to other Eldian males, but he compensates with a sturdy body and almost insane reflexes and agility. He's fast, precise and terrifying with a sword. He makes a perfect assassin if needed, but also a fearsome warrior that has nothing to envy the big bulls they have in their army as soldiers.

He is also in charge of training troops, and often barks at the brats (the 104th) to stop being idiots and train like Maria is on their asses.

And at last, Freyja! Gottesreich decided to expand territory and colonise and annex the neighbouring villages and small kingdoms, and one of them was Freyja's one. She survived and fled, ending up as a refugee at the tribe of warriors of Eldia where they gave her food and a roof, but not after Erwin pulling strings to keep her head on her shoulders; he recognised her value as a warrior herself after taking down several of his men, and it would be a pity to lose such an asset. Freyja is terrifyingly good when teamed up with Levi, although they bicker and bite at each other constantly.

But she won't forget the absolute massacre carried on her people because Eva's father deemed heretics those who wouldn't convert. So, she's quite bitter towards Eva, and refuses to be her bodyguard and teacher of Eldia's culture and language when she is appointed as such by Erwin. They start a very rocky path but they become inseparable at the end.

WHEW CONGRATS ON FINISHING READING ALL THIS! We got many things planned and I'm already writing things 👀

I hope you like it!

Enjoy! :D

[destructiontoself]

A new rival (Rick x Reader smut)

It was another day for you. Dimension jumping and assassinating  You didn’t have to do it for work, you just enjoyed doing it. You knew that beings were after you. Looking to hand you in for a quick buck. As you finished a task you noticed a planet you haven’t been to since you were small. Earth. A place of crass cruelty and a history of genocide and slaughter. “Fuck it, Whats another visit.” You think to yourself. Walking back into earth brought back a lot for you. Both good and bad memories. You remember the pain and shrug it off. People don’t see you as a murderous monster here. You just seem normal. As you walked into a nearby shop, a portal opens and an arm grabs you to pull you in. You land on the cement floor of a garage and you notice a gun to your temple and a figure standing right by the top of your head. The figure than pulls the gun away which gives you the chance to get up quickly and point the gun in the figures direction.

And there he was. Your ex rival, Rick Sanchez. You never really liked him. He always got on top of any wanted list and the fact he was a household name made your blood boil. “Ok, calm down y/n!” he said as he put his arms in the air. “You. What the hell did you kidnap me for!?” you yelled still pointing the gun at him. He backed up. “Just wanted to see you. Seems you haven’t changed.” You didn’t want to shoot him. Something stops you when you try to harm him. You drop your gun and he grabs it off you. You sat on the floor unhappy that you once again couldn’t take him out. “You didn’t fully answer my question, Sanchez.” you gave him a glare of anger as you spoke. Rick places his hand on your head. “I already said to see you. There’s nothing else to it.” You smack his hand away. “If you think you going to get on my good side than your fucking wrong?!” He laughed “Yep, haven’t changed. Just give me a chance, y/n. We haven’t had a good moment for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks burn up. “Whatever.” You got up and walked towards the garage door. You made a new portal but you felt a hand pull you back. “Let me go! I don’t want to trust you!” He wrapped his arms around you embracing you tightly. Before you could speak he kissed you. Once again, you burnt up but you didn’t fight back. His hands ran down your back, grabbing you ass. “HEY! What the fuck!!” You shouted as you pushed him away. He walked towards you again and pushed you, causing you to hit the garage door. You looked up to him. He looked like he didn’t mean to do that. You got back up and brushed yourself off. “You really want to start this.” You said glaring at him. You wanted him to continue but you felt embarrassed. For someone who had been such a tough warrior, you really didn’t like showing feelings, especially to someone you considered a rival. Rick interrupted your thinking. “So, your still a virgin?” He laughed. You knew he was teasing you. You walk towards him and grab his throat. “Your such a degenerate asshole. I should’ve killed you ages ago!” You than felt a grab between your legs. “Kill me than. You won’t. We both know that” Rick knew what you were capable of and what you weren’t. “Fuck it!” you yelled and threw him on the ground. 

“You wanna fuck around than go for it. I give up!” you than stood back from him. As he got up, he gives you a look of pure lust. He pins you to the wall and starts to kiss your neck. “Your not as innocent as I originally thought.” He runs his fingers down your sides while kissing you passionately. You liked this but you didn’t want him to hear you moan just yet. You run your hand down his body, grabbing his cock through his pants. “Fuucckk!” he cried out. He was hard as a rock. You got his venerable spot. This is the power you wanted. Controlling someone who was better at everything. You lean back on his table and run your hands down your body than up while lifting your shirt up revealing you bra. “Fucking tease.”  He looked needy. Really needy. You got on your knees and unbuckled his belt. “Your such a thirsty little whore.” He grabbed your hair with full force. As you pulled his underwear down you pulled back seeing his size. Rick yanks your hair. “Are you gonna blow me or just sit there.” You tuck your hair behind you ear and slowly swallow his throbbing cock. He grabs the back of your head and forces himself down your throat than lets you take a breath. “That’s how your meant to do it. I thought you said you were tough.” he looks down at you. “Pathetic.” Rick than pushes you to the floor, takes your panties off and forces your legs open. You lay there trying to hold in your excitement. To him, you’ve done this before but you know its your first time. You feel something warm rub against your entrance and feel it slowly enter you. “Ohhh shit, your fucking tight.” He leans in and kisses you. You grab the back of his lab coat. “Huhh Ahhh.” You cry out as he hits the back of you. As you look up, you see his face just showing how much he loves filling you to the fucking brim with his dick. He begins rubbing your clit causing you to scream out. “I’m close. I’m gonna cum, Rick please!!!” Rick wraps his hand around your throat. “Do it, cum for me, slut.” You body bucks back as your orgasm fills your body. “FUCKKKKK!!!” Rick violently grabs your sides as he fills you with his thick semen.

[urlocalbunny]

.bloodplay - vladimir.

hey there, lovelies! as promised, i’m back. tumblr finally let me do something!

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, unprotected sex.

1,504 words bc i got carried away... again.

"It is not so hard to sweep a floor, Ethan." Vladimir nagged, narrowing his eyes at the younger vampire.

"Then do it yourself! I'm not cleaning after this mess! Why did this particular party made so much mess, and suddenly I'm the one sweeping this time?" He grunted, taking his elbows off the table and crossing his arms.

"That is because you made this mess yourself, to begin with!" The blonde retorted, exasperated. "This conversation is over. You are over a hundred years old. Act like it!" He stood up, and Ethan held the broom and left, slamming the door, making Ivan and Aaron whisper to each other and snicker lowly. "I do not look like a... A "mom!" He nagged, looking at Eloise instead. "Do I look like a mother when I nag?"

The girl was so surprised that the only answer she gave was loud laughter, making the other two burst into a giggling fit too. Vladimir sighed, then let a few giggles out himself. 

"Let's just go upstairs. You need some rest." She said softly, bidding Aaron and Ivan farewell and waiting for Vladimir to do the same. When he did, they left. 

"You look hungry." 

"I am. But this can wait until I take a bath. You should, too. You look tired." He said, rubbing her shoulder and holding it, kissing her temple lovingly. "I will wait for you in my room in a few minutes. Don't make me wait. I'll miss you," he said, staring at his feet for a second, a blush coating his cheeks. He kissed her temple and left, a tired aspect on his shoulders. 

She bathed and scrubbed herself, soaking for a few minutes, but knowing Vladimir and her habits of letting her fingers prune up in the tub for more than an hour, if she didn't come out now, he'd finish his bath, and she didn't want him to sleep hungry. She dressed and rushed up the stairs when she felt hunger eat at her stomach. That was him.

"You could have taken your time." He said, buttoning his sleeves and sitting down on the bed. He didn't seem to want to dress anything else other than his pants and the shirt. His hair was a little damp, flowing around his shoulders under the moonlight. Eloise smiled fondly at the now open window, locking the door behind her and walking to the other side of the room, watching the moon. His eyes followed her with adoration. 

"How could I, when you need me?" She said lowly, looking at him. He averted his gaze, smiling sheepishly. "Come here, love." She said, sitting down beside him and sliding her hands across his arms and chest slowly. He held her waist. "You have always been so good to me, no matter how terrible I was to you." He said, kissing her temple. 

"Don't say that. It's normal to feel like you did when you're suffering for so long. Of course, you could've been easier," Vladimir chuckled, "but then I guess it wouldn't be you. I want to take care of this house, our friends, and our relationship from now on. That's what matters the most for me. Forget about all the rough patches, will you?" He looked into her eyes so intensely that her breath caught in her throat, then he kissed her passionately.

Eloise reciprocated eagerly. Her hands found themselves holding his face softly, feeling the smooth cheekbones under her fingertips. Vladimir got needy, thirsty. His tongue swiped languidly over hers, dancing around and tasting her between hums and groans of approval. His hands, once on her bottom, pulled her dress off in one swift motion, making her yelp. He chuckled.

"Oh. You are not wearing anything underneath. I want to... Maybe... Try something different for a change." He said hesitantly, "May I?" She nodded, waiting for his next step. "Lay down then, love."

The girl complied, waiting. He leaned over her, his fangs dangerously close to her wrist. Looking right into her eyes, Vladimir bit, but instead of sucking on the small wounds, he let the blood slide across her arm. He then moved it as he pleased, making a new path with his finger to guide the blood to her collarbone. The red liquid painted the skin in between her breasts slowly enough to be met with Vladimir's tongue just above her navel. She whined and arched into him. 

His tongue felt so hot. He hummed in approval, sucking on her neck with a hint of urgency, placing himself between her legs and making another sound when she started to grind against his bulge, pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the chair close to the bed. He let blood pool again close to her breasts, sucking on her nipples and licking them clean. He looked her in the eyes, then. His tongue was out, and he smiled shamelessly, lapping up her buds

"You taste good," he mumbled, coming up to kiss her again. Her tongue tasted the iron on his, pushing away to look at him through hooded eyes. Vladimir sneakily lowered his arm, running his fingers along her slit. Her eyes fluttered shut when he rubbed lazy circles around her throbbing clit.

"Vladimir, please." He snorted lowly.

"Please what? Am I not doing enough?" He teased, taking in her reaction viciously. Her eyebrows furrowed in a needy expression. Her nose crinkled at a strong run of his fingers. He quickened the pace, keeping it soft but fast. She bucked her hips.

"K-keep drinking." He licked her arm tentatively, making her keen on pleasure. Then, he resumed his path. He was pondering whether he'd indulge completely into her or not, but she beat him to it.

"Please, take me."

To him, that was enough.

Eloise started to kick around slowly to push his pants, using her free arm as help to unbutton him and pull his pants down to her feet, where she hooked her fingers and pulled them off. He chuckled.

"That is a lot of work. I could have just done it myself." She huffed.

"Oh, don't act like you don't enjoy seeing me suffering," she pouted, pulling his pants off and tossing them to the chair. He smiled.

"That is true, love," he began, "but today, I will let you have what you want quickly. I happen to be starving." He looked at her hungrily, making her suck in a breath. 

His cock twitched against her as he ground into her shamelessly. His eyes darted from her eyes to the place where they were sliding against each other. After a little while of teasing, he pushed his tip inside, hissing when he felt the welcoming heat. She left a relaxed sigh. 

"You feel amazing, love." He whispered, kissing her temple lovingly and starting his movements, setting a nice and slow pace, to begin. She smiled, pulling him in for a kiss. He smiled into it, savoring how her tongue caressed his once again, what reactions his body had. Pulling away, he granted her wish and sunk his fangs in her flesh again. This time, however, in her neck, sucking at it harshly. She gasped, bracing herself into his back with her hands. Desperate moans bubbled on her throat, moans for more, for all of it. And Vladimir would be mad to decline. His pace quickened, but the delicate moment didn't break. He left her soft neck after lapping a few droplets up to moan in a needy way. 

For some solid minutes, it was just them, ragged breathing and desperate moaning that none of them could control. Vladimir was close to his end, and Eloise would not come too far.

"You will have to excuse my foul words, but you look so fucking hot right now. I am so close to cumming." He moaned, pushing his hips forward and throwing his head back to hide his face after such indecency. His mouth hung open in a silent cry, feeling her walls spasming. Maybe she reacted better to crassness than he previously thought. He'd keep that in mind. 

"Hmm, Vlad, keep going, keep going, give me another one!" She cried, turning her face from him to catch her breath. He nodded even if she didn't see him, pushing further into her. 

"Not going to last." She caught the message and started to rub herself with one hand, squeezing her breast with the other and looking at him with pleading eyes. Vladimir found that to be extremely lewd. So lewd that he simply couldn't take it anymore, burying himself to the hilt and grinding his hips frantically while Eloise cried out in pure pleasure. Vladimir's moans surfaced after a small delay, chanting Eloise's name lowly. His eyes teared up. The pleasure was blinding, yet he kept riding it out. 

"Are you alright?" He huffed after a while. Eloise giggled, caressing his hair. "Hmm, I'll take that as a yes."

Outside of the room, a person sweeping the floor could be heard.

[seelie-regent]

For the writing requests, would you be willing to write something where after POF, Thomas starts trying to include Janus and Remus more during group discussions, but him and the Light Sides end up surprised by how affectionate the two are with one another? Not in a romantic way, but more in an almost brotherly way. After a few meetings, they ask Janus and Remus about it and are very surprised to find out how close they are. Maybe some Janus angst and hurt/comfort mixed in? I hope this isn’t too specific or anything...(I’ve never sent a request for anything before so I’m sorry if I did it wrong)

I hope you like it. I tried to get everything you asked for.

The aftermath of Putting Others First gave Thomas a lot of time to think. How he treated the two dark sides wasn’t exactly fair. So he began to try and include them more. He started by inviting the two to movie nights with him and the other sides then he moved on to inviting them to takeout nights. Finally he had worked up to inviting the two to a meeting between him and the other sides.

“What are they doing here?” Roman asked.

“Yeah I thought this was a meeting between you and us,” Virgil said.

“They deserve a voice too. After all they are a part of me too,” Thomas said.

“We don’t appreciate it Thomas,” Janus said, while Remus nodded beside him.

“Yeah thanks,” Remus said.

“That makes sense,” Logan said, with a nod.

“How?” Roman cried hurt by the fact that Thomas seemed to think that he wasn’t enough.

“Because they deserve to be heard Roman. No matter how much you don’t like it they are still in fact a part of me and who I am and I can’t ignore that. I need to listen to every part of me. Who knows they might be able to help we won’t know if we keep icing them out of every conversation. Now can we move? On we have more important things to discuss,” Thomas explained.

“What seems to be the problem today kiddo?” Patton asked.

“Nico asked me on a date the same day I’m supposed to hang out with Joan and a few others. I told Nico I would have to get back to him so I could decided what to do. Any ideas as to what I should do?” Thomas said.

“Couldn’t you just ask your friends to reschedule and tell them you got a date?” Remus said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“N- Wait that is actually a pretty good idea Remus,” Logan said.

“He has actually has quite a lot of those if you cared to listen less often,” Janus said.

Patton winced at the comment but other than that it was ignored.

“But his friends will hate us for canceling last minute like that,” Virgil said.

“Not if they are true friends,” Remus said with a shrug.

“My you aren’t full of bad ideas today,” Janus said and ruffled the sides hair.

“Why thank you Janny,” Remus said beaming with pride.

“Of course Remi,” Janus said.

“How can you say that! He is suggesting jeopardizing our friendships!” Virgil cried.

“He is not. Thomas when isn’t the date?” Janus asked.

“Two weeks from now,” Thomas answered.

“If we cancel now they have a heads up,” Logan said.

“Bingo,” Remus said.

“Told you he is all crass and violent all of the time,” Janus said to Patton.

“So that is why you keep him around?” Roman asked.

“I keep him around because he isn’t my best friend,” Janus hissed.

“So he keeps you around,” Roman said.

“We keep each other around now shut it before I shove my mace down your throat.

“Calm down kiddos,” Patton said trying to stop the fighting.

“I was just joking jeez,” Roman grumbled.

“It did sound like that,” Janus snapped.

“Guys can we not do this today?” Thomas said.

Roman sunk out in a huff irritated that his brother of all people was being  accepted. Was he really not enough? Did they need crass and disturbing Remus?

“Virgil can you go talk to him?” Patton asked.

“Whatever,” Virgil said and left to go find Roman.

“May we get back to helping Thomas now?” Logan asked.

“Oh yeah,” Remus said.

“Text Joan and tell him you can make it,” Janus said.

“Right,” Thomas said.

“Oh and tell him why so he knows why your ditching,” Remus piped up.

“That too,” Janus said.

“May we leave now Thomas?” Logan asked.

“Yeah. Thanks for the help you guys,” Thomas said.

“Of course,” Janus said.

“Try not to get murdered,” Remus said as he sunk out.

The next time the sides were summoned it was for movie night the next day. Roman planned on apologizing to the two. Virgil had explained thongs to him and pointed some stuff out making him realize how much of a dick he had been being to the other two.

When everyone was summoned Janus and Remus appeared with Janus crying in Remus arms.

“It’s okay käärme (Snake, Finnish),” Remus said trying to calm him down.

“But-” Janus started.

“No but’s or unless we’re talking about ass. Thomas is listening now. We can help now. He isn’t going to yank it away from us like an asshole does with a child and their favorite toy,” Remus said.

“I know you’re wrong but it’s easy to believe after being shoved to the side for so long,” Janus said.

“But it is true and we don’t have to live in the dark anymore. We don’t have be the blood thirsty monster ready to rip your throat out and eat it anymore,” Remus said.

“Together never,” Janus said.

“Forever and always,” Remus said.

Janus nodded and let go of Remus and that was when they noticed that they were no longer in Janus room. Janus scrubbed at his face ridding the tears while Remus shuffled awkwardly.

“Ummmm... Hi,” Remus said.

“We really treated you guys poorly didn’t we,” Roman said.

“I think that is obvious,” Logan said.

“Are you okay Janus?” Patton asked.

Virgil stayed quite before saying, “When did you two get so close?”

“After you left,” Remus said.

“You guys were close enough before I left. I didn’t think you could get closer,” Virgil said.

“I’m not okay Patton,” Janus said

“Do you want to pick the movie we watch?” Thomas asked.

“Can’t we watch Into the Woods?” Janus asked.

“Sure it’s been awhile since we’ve watched that,” Thomas said.

Janus curled up in Remus lap and Remus began running his fingers through his hair. This got a confused look from the others.

“Are you dating?” Roman asked.

“No,” Remus said.

“I don’t feel more comfortable around Remus than anyone else. He is not my best friend,” Janus said like it was obvious.

“Ah,” Logan said.

“Hey Janus?” Patton said.

“No,” Janus answered.

“Why did you pick into the woods?” Patton asked.

“It isn’t my favorite Disney movie,” Janus said.

“I thought it would be The Jungle book,” Roman said.

The night carried on like that. Everyone talking and having fun. Janus forgot about his worries and Roman apologized.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: 'Tis The Damn Season V

---

"Do you know what she's like?" "Huh?" "Well… do you have an idea what to expect?" "Hmm?"

"Are you even paying attention to me right now?" The younger girl asked abruptly, doe-eyes wide and blue as she looked balefully back at her companion. The confused look she got in return made her cheeks flush a soft shade of pink that didn't quite match up to her hair. "I was asking if you knew what the woman was like. The...the hunter. Like.. I've never met a hunter before, and aren't they supposed to be dangerous?"

Tems brows creased for a second, blue-grey eyes catching the light as the darker haired woman gave a short, sharp laugh. Bela tossed her hair back, brown waves tucking over her shoulder in a way that managed to look effortlessly chic like she'd never been able to do herself. "Hunters? Pssh. They talk a big game, but those I've dealt with? Rarely worth worrying about, and that was when I was a human."

"Yeah, but...but now wouldn't they...you know...be happy to kill you?" "Most would've been before, now I've got extra tricks up my sleeves though. Just like you."

"Well...I don't know about that," Tems mumbled quietly to herself as she fiddled with the edge of her choker impatiently. "I don't know if...that is, uh...I don't think I could hurt someone- someone who's a person and alive and-"

"Human. I get it." Bela's smile was comforting, and Tems found herself smiling shyly back under the other woman's supportive look. This was why she was so glad that the other demon had come along. Alone, she would've been terrified. "So, what was the question again?"

"Do you know what she's like?" Tems asked again, voice firmer and feeling more in control as she shifted her weight after a second of hesitation again, looking across at her friend as they waited at the edge of the parking lot. "I mean, whoever she is must be important if Cr- the King is sending her messages."

"Like I said, the hunters I used to run into weren't all that. Pretty much they're balding, middle aged men that are barely functioning alcoholics with too much flannel and death wishes," The other demon said thoughtfully, pulling a nail file from the air and starting to work on her already immaculate fingers. "There's only three that were worth any consideration, and I know two of them are already on fairly positive talking chit-chat levels with the good ol' boss man."

"Oh?" "You don't scheme to take down Lucifer together without getting some sort of working relationship sorted, right?" "I...I suppose not."

The other demon smiled at her gently, and Tems let out a small huff as she blushed again at the realisation she was being teased all over again. Just because her drive for ambition hadn't kicked in yet despite how long and just how spotless her record was, didn't mean she should always be getting teased about it. Kicking at the loose pebbles at the edge of the tarred parking lot as she fiddled with the edge of her choker, the redhead forced herself not to pout or sound too upset as she added sulkily, "You still didn't answer my question. Do you know what she's like?"

"Not personally," Bela replied quietly, picking at her pinky nail with renewed focus. "And I'd also never dealt with a female hunter. Didn't think there were that many around really, it's more of a dick-swinging contest."

"Oh, it definitely is." The unexpected voice made both demons jump, Bela dropping her nail file and Tems almost tripping on the uneven surface as she jerked her head over from looking at her friend to the short woman in front of her. "I mean, I'm still waitin' for my eight inch strap to arrive in the mail so I can participate, but I should match up or exceed the other guys' expectations then."

If the typical hunter was an older man reeking of cheap booze and dirty flannels like Bela's description had conjured for the younger demon, the person speaking to them was the complete opposite. Pretty and petite, but with clearly defined muscle under a casual mix of a floral print top and cut off jean shorts, the blonde was not like the other's answer to what hunters were like - even ignoring that she was a woman. The only things that set off any warning bells as Tems righted herself and tugged carefully at the wrist hems of her plain blue dress were the innocuous charm bracelet on one wrist and the sharp as a blade smile.

"Depending who you're competing with it probably would be-" "I thought it was a safe starting point. I don't need to beat them all, just some." "Seems like you likely would. Unless you know some giants."

"Only one." The blonde and Bela's banter took a few moments to sink through Tems shock to resonate and catch her attention again. There was a beat as the two others shared a common look before the shorter of the two added as sharply as her smile. "Can I help you loiterers?"

The demon pair shared an exchange of looks - Bela’s brow curved upwards for a long moment as Tems’ eyes darted between her companion and the staring blonde - before the older of the two gave a huff. “Well, the princess here’s been sent with a message for someone. I’m just here for some fresh air.”

“The what now?” There was a second as the shorter hunter’s eyes widened in confusion before she tilted her head the other direction. “Nevermind. Who’re you two after?”

“Joanna Harvelle.” “Ah, so me then.” “I kind of already worked that out, darling.” “Aren’t you clever. Now who the Hell, and while you’re at it what the Hell, are you two? And who’s sent you to find me?”

Tems shuffled awkwardly at the others’ exchange, biting on her lip for a moment as she considered just how scary such a small woman must be to not only be a hunter, but a hunter at that diminutive a size, and a hunter that had caused enough issues for the King to have sent a messenger to her. She closed her eyes for a moment, clinging to the thought that Crowley was fond of her and cared about her and wouldn’t risk her on some dangerous mission if this huntress was that scary. He had to be sure she’d be okay to send her and not someone else, right? Or maybe he just didn’t trust anyone else with the information - not that she understood that point much of her message at all.

“Um, we’re- well, you got it kind of right. Uh, my name is Tempest, and this is Bela-” Tems finally found her voice, shaky though it was, as she opened her eyes and looked back down towards the shorter woman. She jerked a hand up, gesturing towards her friend and chanced a look to see the older demon giving a slightly haughty look at the other, before returning to fiddling at her sleeve cuffs. “We were sent by the King- um, by Crowley the King of the Crossroads?” Her voice trailed off as she hoped for any sign of recognition from the woman, and prepared herself to smoke away at the first sign of violence.

While it wasn’t violence, she definitely saw the flash of awareness followed immediately by a twist and pursing of the hunter’s lips, something that seemed so innocuous but sent a slight shiver down her back at noticing it.

“Oh, that fuckin’ bastard, huh?” Joanna’s voice was harsh and rough as she shifted her weight and even took a full step back from the pair, eyes running over them as if sizing them up before pulling herself back up into her fullest height and a cocky smirk crossed her face. “What’s that asshole want? He finally want’ta accept his defeat gracefully? Want to know if I’ma send his drunken ass somewhere other than Hell next time I see him?”

Tems’ cheeks flushed hotly at the other’s words - the crassness catching her off guard from a sweet looking woman, as well as the obvious hatred setting through her tone - before dropping her eyes down to her shoes rather than dare to stare the other down. “N- no, that’s not what he, uh, said.”

“Oh? Well now I am curious what the fuck he wants.” “He, um, wanted to confirm if we- that is, like, crossroads demons - could go back to operating in the area if called.”

“Huh?”

“Something was taking us out, hunter,” Bela cut over the top of Tems’ trying to work out what to say to that question. She’d not been privy to the exact issue, Crowley’s keeping her usually from a lot of the other demons as his favorite but also not sharing the issues that the other redeyes whispered about to each other, but the dark haired demon definitely knew more about it than Tems did. “Whenever we came in this state pretty much. Crowley’d negotiated a, shall we say, cease-fire but it also left an entire area of crossroads with little deals popping up being not serviced or only serviced with those...disposable demons.”

“So you mean all of you?” “Oh, like you hunters are any less so. Bunch of sociopathic, blood-thirsty vicious-”

The blonde shook her head at Bela’s hissed outburst, throwing her head back with a harsh laugh before shaking it again and giving a quiet sigh. “So, you’re here cause Crowley wants me to do him a favor, huh?”

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again at the realisation that was the truth, and even further - her skin glowing redder still that she was sure it would match her hair if she looked in the mirror - to realise that that’s why he’d sent her for this. Crowley chose his best negotiator, he trusted her to be the one to be able to deliver not only the message but deliver on it. That was pressure. A lot of pressure. And pressure that left her tugging at her sleeves as she shrugged a shoulder at the question and dropped her eyes rather than look at the curious look she was being given by her friend. Bela was a good demon, there was a reason Tems enjoyed her company, but this was her task.

“He does.” The redhead said gently, sucking in a breath sharply as she gave a final nervous tug at her sleeves before looking up towards the sneering huntress. “I, uh, look I don’t know what the situation might be between yourself and the King, but, like, he had hoped that we’d be able to come to an agreement of sorts.”

The blonde paused as if considering the words, before her sneer shifted into a wide smirk that screamed danger towards Tems. “Oh, I’d sure love to hear what he might have to even try to organise. Ya know what?”

“Hmm?”

“You tell that asshole, and in these words exactly-” Joanna’s eyes had a shine to them that unsettled her. It was like the fleeting times she had spotted some of the older, more vicious and powerful demons around, that exuded power and cruelty in their looks only, that would send little redeyes like them scurrying away within moments. But she couldn’t drop her eyes as she looked back at the blonde even if she wanted to. She needed to deliver this message, she needed to succeed or at least ensure the best negotiation she could for Crowley, she couldn’t fail the man that put his trust in her. The hunter smirked wider, teeth white and sharp. “-That if he wants to work out some details, he can come talk to me himself at a very specific blade point. Then maybe I might be so nice as to consider considerin’ helping him. For I am a benevolent God. ...You got that?”

Tems could see her friend nodding from her peripheral as she nodded her head too, something about how simple the words were making her feel like they held far more meaning to them for the blonde and likely for Crowley than they sounded like. Glancing to the side, she saw Bela’s brows creasing as well, before she darted a look back to the blonde.

The hunter’s smirk had slowly shifted at their nods, her mouth pulled into a slight frown instead and those eyes that flashed with that dangerous edge had softened as she seemed to look between the two demons for a moment before shrugging. “If he has an issue with that, tell him I said he could stick it up his own ass rather than takin’ it out on your two too, okay?” Joanna’s words didn’t sound particularly nice or caring, but at the same time, Tems thought it sounded like an apology as well. “Can’t help what ya’s have become, so don’t let him hold what I’ve got to say ‘gainst you.”

Frowning slightly, Tems felt her head nodding again before her mind had even had a chance to catch up to what she was saying. It was something Tems wasn’t sure she felt was fair either - she knew she’d made a deal as a child before she knew right from wrong really but she could have helped from condemning herself, and the same could be said for her friend even if her situation had been all the worse.

“Say,” The hunter’s voice cut through Tems’ morose thoughts then, brown eyes wide and curious instead as she glanced between the pair of demons. “Why’d he send you two anyways?”

“I’m just here to stretch my legs, actually.” Bela quipped back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she looked back at the other. “I don’t suppose you know what it’s like down there-”

“More like Dante’s or like Paradise Lost?” “Depends where you are, actually.” “Given Mr Would-Be-King sent you, I’m guessin’ you’re both redders?” “So the areas a lot less… screaming than the rest, yes.”

The back and forth had shifted somewhere from aggressively judging into a swift pattern of give and take, before the hunter gave a shrug of her shoulders - a peek of sun-kissed tan skin that spoke volumes of the difference between a sun filled life to the dank of a cold afterlife. “Hmm, I don’t suppose Dean or Sammy could confirm that then - not that anyone wants to ever talk ‘bout it.”

“Oh, you know those two?” There was an edge in Bela’s tone as she spoke, and Tems tilted her head curiously before reaching out and taking her friend’s hand. “Don’t suppose they’ve grown any hearts since I knew them, hmm?”

“When was that?” “Dean was on his count-down clock, and can’t say I’m not a little sad that I missed out on seein’ him downstairs.”

“Hmm? Ouch, that’s harsh.” “Well, if they wouldn’t help out a girl in need - they deserve harsh.”

Tems squeezed her friend’s hand tighter then, trying to send through what kind of support she could to the other. Dying and knowing it was coming for you was not something that could be understood other than by those who’d experienced it first hand, and the desperation in those last few months, weeks, days and hours couldn’t be faulted. Sharing a supportive look with her friend, the younger demon shifted a little closer unconsciously as if it would help any.

“Can’t say they’re fans of it still, I’ve had to beg them a few times before they’ll pull on up. But perhaps I just get their softer side than others do.” The hunter’s voice was soft, and Tems could see that her face was equally soft as she looked between the two demons before tilting her head curiously. “That wasn’t all that long ago, surprised you’re already...high enough… to be on any sort of terms with the fuckin’ dumbass.” There was a blink where both demons’ looked back at her in confusion before the blonde clarified, “I mean Crowley. Being what - King of the Crossroads? Heh, bet he hated that little downgrade. He makin’ the most of holding any sort of power then, huh?”

“He has been, uh, more attentive to us, that’s true.” The redhead replied this time, noting that her friend was still clearly stuck digesting the information regarding the other hunters she’d known in life. That they were both alive seemingly was causing some confusion for her, and Tems would have to talk to Bela later about it. “He’s a very good King.”

“And a very good sort of asshole too.” Joanna chirped back with a smirk, rolling her eyes, before fixing them onto Tems. “So, she’s new and you’re the messenger. That makes you older, right?”

“Oh, oh no.” Tems felt herself flushing at that misunderstanding. “I… that is, Bela has been around longer than myself but I, uh, I’m good at my job.”

“Oh, so you’re useful. Hmm.” “Crowley is very complimentary to me.” “Best watch yourself or he’ll be more than complimentary.” “He’d never!”

Tems had not been that shocked before than at hearing the implication from the hunter before her. It was one thing for other demons - those who knew Crowley and the way he was - to assume things, and another for someone she’d never met before make the suggestion that that could happen. That she seemed to know it wasn’t already though - the warning in those brown eyes and that gentle tone - was almost as shocking.

“No?” Joanna’s brows creased for a second as she seemed to be thinking before fixing her with another look instead. Eyes fixated on the black necklace around her neck. “She called you ‘princess’ before, right? Crowley dotin’ on you like a daddy, and not the sugar type, huh?”

Her cheeks felt all warm again, and she tugged her hand from her friend’s now comforting grip to tug awkwardly at the collar of her dress with a quiet cough, as if to cover her choker. It wasn’t exactly right but it was also not wrong either - Crowley protected her and clearly cared about her as more than just for her successes; but that wasn’t exactly how it felt for her. “I- He’s- It’s not totally like that.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll fuck up sometime soon enough.” The blonde’s words sounded sharper for a moment then, and looking up from her shoes, Tems was surprised to see something else to the woman’s eyes all over again. Not the hatred and fire from before, the dangerous thread of a threat earlier, or even the detached sympathy towards Bela when they’d discussed some mutual acquaintances. It confused her to see something more akin to compassion and actual empathy directed towards her from someone who should for all intents be pointing a gun in her face or reciting some exorcism to send her back where she came from. “Perhaps he’ll be better with you and learn from his previous mistakes, loosen up that stick from his ass to let you have your own life. Seems you’re allowed other friends at least, so maybe…” There was a pause, and Tems felt herself frowning in confusion as the words seemed to seep into her mind and bounce about confusingly as the blonde’s eyes flickered between the demonic pair and then back to meet her own gaze steadily. “Maybe you’ll be better off, and he ain’t all that bad. He's not always an asshole, not entirely...”

By the time she finished chewing the thought over though, the blonde woman was halfway across the parking lot back towards the rough looking building as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Thanks!” She heard herself calling out, and jerked all over again in surprise to see the blonde spin about and wave a friendly hand towards them as she called back as well “No problem! Next time, just knock.” before the sound of laughter cut through the air again.

It was something Tems realised, as she turned back to her friend and then tugged on that part of herself that was that intrinsic part that let her disappear from one place and appear in another, that had been missing. The sound of carefree laughter and the loss of it was ringing in her head as she found herself returning to the figurative darkness of the underworld, pondering if maybe she would get another chance to head back up and maybe negotiate again, maybe even get to make the sound herself next time.

---

[medeafive]

Blood and Stone - 18

Masterpost

"Just give it a few more seconds," Pepper suggests.

Natasha groans, head dropping back against the cold tiles. It's crowded in here, with the IV drip and two people. Little bathroom. Sitting upright is pretty exhausting, not to mention getting there.

"I think there's a line- yes, it's getting stronger," Pepper announces, flipping the cardboard packaging. "And line means- yeah, line means pregnant. So everything as expected."

Natasha doesn't know if she expected it not to show up because it's a vampire baby, or because she still kind of believes this is all a big misunderstanding, or- "Let's get you back to bed, then," Pepper says, putting the pregnancy test back in the box. "Bruce said if you sleep so much, you need to eat almost every waking hour."

She feels like a stuffing goose shoving more and more food down her own throat. "Could you-"

"Sure," Pepper replies, stepping in to help her up, avoiding the IV drip. "Uh, I'll help you with your pants, too, don't bother."

Natasha closes her eyes, just waiting. Her legs are weak. Everyone is always running around her, bringing her stuff, helping her, steadying her. Pampering. If she weren't so weak… "Here," Pepper says, putting an arm around her waist. "Got it?"

She nods quietly, prying her eyes open to the crass light in the bathroom, taking careful steps. Pepper helps along, opening the door for her, dragging the IV with them. They make it back to the lab where Sam and Sharon are waiting. Sam jumps up, taking over from Pepper and leading her the rest of the way to the bed. She can hardly keep herself upright, collapsing onto the sheets.

"Thanks." Pepper sighs, pushing a few bangs out of her face. "Came back positive. As expected."

"Bruce is still asleep, told him I would change the drip," Sam replies. "Nat, do you hear me?"

It's very mushy. "Mhm," she croaks out.

"Made you a protein shake," Sam says. "And brought some candy bars. If you want anything else, just say it."

"Okay," she mutters. "You don't- need to be here. All of you. All the time."

"I just wanna see Steve-" Sharon hesitates. "Maybe I should just go in now. While he's still asleep."

"Uh, he's being fed through a tube," Sam remarks. "Not the prettiest sight."

Sharon snorts. "I don't care. Uh, I'll just go in quietly. Just a minute. I'll get you immediately if he wakes up."

"Careful," Sam advises. "Uh, I'll take a Snickers if you don't mind."

Natasha chuckles, the sound scratching in her throat. "Bastard. Gimme one."

The wrapping rustles. A door closes somewhere. "There," Sam's voice says. "So… we haven't really had the chance to talk."

"About what," Natasha replies, feeling around his hand until her fingers close around the chocolate. "No idea what you're referring to."

Sam, surprisingly, doesn't call her a smartass. "Tony said something to the effect that you don't want the abortion."

She's too exhausted to fight. Hell, she can't even keep her eyes open. "...don't understand, do you."

Sam sighs. "It's not about understanding. I just don't know what my- what the right thing- if you wanted to jump off a roof, I should clearly stop you. Even if you really wanted to jump."

"Jump off a roof," she repeats weakly.

"I don't know if you noticed but you're not doing well," Sam remarks. "And you're very much at the beginning, so it's gonna get a lot worse. So continuing is kind of suici-"

A door opens and closes very quickly. "Shit, shit, shit," Sharon breathes. "I woke him up. Shit."

She can very well imagine the look of exasperation on Sam's face. "I'll take care of it. Can you look after her? Wake up Bruce if her vitals take a dive."

"Yes, sure," Sharon replies quickly. "Sorry. Really."

The door opens and closes. Sharon takes a seat somewhere. There's some sort of struggle next door. "Here," Sam's voice says. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," the strange voice croaks. "Who- who was that dame?"

"Sharon," Sam replies hesitantly. "Listen, the- the war is over, so could we just- I'm Sam."

Silence. "The war is over?"

"Yeah, you missed a lot."

"You said something- I don't remember but it was very upsetting. Uh, Steve. I'm Steve."

"Oh yeah. The year."

"But who won? The war?"

"Oh, the Allied forces. That actually ended quite well. Apart from the Soviet Union."

"Well, that's- what happened with the Soviet Union?"

"Gained control of most of Eastern Europe, including a part of Germany. Installed Communist satellite governments and all. But there was a peaceful revolution a few years ago, so the Communists are not in power anymore. The Nazis are pretty much gone, by the way. Other than- well."

Groaning. "Can I have something to drink before that? Sam?"

"Oh, sure. You're really going to need it."

  "...gave her Glucagon but her blood sugar is still low…"

"... like bleeding out…"

"Kofola?"

"...might drop into a coma if we…"

"...cut it out…"

"Her pulse is super fast… weak…"

"Try honey, my mom used to…"

"No time…"

"...shock…"

"15 minutes?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is…"

"Do it."

"Cut it out."

"All our reserves…"

"... extremely low blood pressure."

"...normal…"

"Just…"

"...the infusion…"

"Then we'll…"

"...can't be sure…"

"...gotta do something… right now…"

"...try…"

"...she's gonna die…"

"...sugar… sweet…"

"...blood… vampire blood…"

"...don't know…"

"...something…"

"...stop…"

"...die…"

  Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

"I think she just twitched."

"So what? You never twitch?"

"Doesn't mean she's awake."

"How much is that now?"

"Less than a bag. Half a liter maybe."

"And we only have two? Great."

"I mean, we have a lot of vampire blood."

"That's crazy. You have no idea what that would do to her body."

"Kinda do, don't we."

"Ah, yes, I will forever remember when you warned her she'd regrow her uterus ."

"Look, healing is a very fluid concept."

"Nice try."

"What about the ice block?"

"Went back to sleep. Was just trying to explain to him what Vietnam even is."

"Well, what is Vietnam?"

"You never went to that Vietnamese restaurant over in Žižkov? It's really great, you should."

"Maybe Barton should join your lessons."

"Is that still open?"

"Sure. Nothing better than soup after a night on patrol."

"I hate all of you."

"Maybe it's our only option. The vampire blood."

"Yes, let's poison her some more."

"Steve seems to be doing fine!"

"Have you checked his teeth?"

"I think she twitched again."

"I saw nothing."

"Didn't see anything either."

"Oh, now she definitely twitched."

"Maybe she can hear us?"

"I hope she can't hear all of you idiots."

"I'm just glad her blood pressure is going up."

"Yeah, really surprising she has more blood now that we pumped it directly into her veins."

"Shut up."

"Excuse me, I have to explain to Steve who you even are ."

A door slams somewhere above.

"Oh great. Is that…"

"You expect anyone else?"

"Really been looking forward to that."

She hardly hears the steps but the swooshing cloak. "What the fuck are you doing?"

James. That's James' voice. She tries to pry her eyes open just a little. "That's something you should answer. Or rather, what you were doing."

She feels a gush of cold air and the touch of cold firm stone that slowly warms up. "Is she hurt? Was it the raid-"

"Pregnant. She's pregnant."

"She's what ?"

"Oh, now you're surprised ?"

"Hey," she croaks out.

More of the cold touch on her hand. "Oh, Nat. Are you- how do you- how are you?"

"Mhm." Her mouth is too numb to talk but she tries to smile. "Mhm."

"Her blood pressure is very low," Bruce explains. "This thing is basically sucking the blood and the sugar and the nutrients out of her and using that to grow rapidly. I'm afraid she won't be able to handle it much longer."

"Then why haven't you gotten rid of it-"

"Mhm!"

"We haven't decided yet. And we're still waiting for a gynaecologist because I definitely can't do that."

"How is it even possible that-"

"Oh, fuck off. As if you don't know."

"Of course I don't know! How was I supposed to- I'm a fucking vampire, if you haven't noticed."

"Well, certain things seem to be working just fine. Looks like you noticed that."

"Don't get gross, Tony. Well, she had her uterus removed, years ago, so she shouldn't have been able to get pregnant. But it’s back now. Our theory is that the injection of vampire blood somehow reconstructed or regrew it."

"I mean, she's been injecting it for months, on and off. But why that would affect her- it doesn't fix scars either, that's not how vampire blood works."

"Wait, for months?"

"She didn't wanna tell you. To get stronger, to heal faster."

"Wow, you're both the worst."

"But it worked for her? I don't think she had a lot of adverse side effects- apart from the uterus thing. We could really use that now."

"Mhm."

"I think she wants to say something."

"Mhm!"

"Give her something to drink, that should help."

"Is that Coca Cola ?"

"Kofola. Don't ask, it was a longer discussion."

"Has a lot of sugar, though."

"Still disgusting."

"Sweetheart, if you don't like it here, just go home."

"Mhm. Mhm."

"It's for the blood sugar."

Someone helps her lift her back, sit up. Steadies her with a pillow. She opens her mouth tentatively and starts drinking. Her lips and mouth are still numb so she drools a little but she's also quite thirsty. She has no idea what time or day it is. The sugary drink, carbonated, caffeinated, it seems to go to her brain as well, waking her up. She leans back, eyes fluttering open. Very bright. "More?" Sam's vague shape asks, very close.

She shakes her head slowly, blinking. "So when is that other doctor coming?" James' voice asks.

"She's in Italy," Fury says. "Could take a few days."

She gathers her breath and her spit. "No."

They turn to her, still vague silhouettes. "I don't want the-"

Her voice is breaking and she's not sure they even hear her. "I should change the blood bag," Bruce says.

"She's still very pale," Pepper says. "I don't like it."

"James," she whispers. He's sitting at her bedside, holding her hand. He's warmer than her.

"Pulse?" Fury asks.

"Still rather quick," Bruce replies. "I'll put in the second one. And then we'll just have to see."

She tries to squeeze James' hand, weakly. "Yeah, she can't eat all the time," Sam says. "I'm not even sure her stomach can work quick enough."

"This is too much," Sharon whispers. "For her body."

"Well, maybe should have thought about that beforehand," Tony needles.

James hisses at him, all fangs. "As if that was- what do you even want, just help her already."

"Trying," Bruce mutters, somewhere on her left.

"Just take it out," James pleads. "Just, for the love of God, please kill that thing before it kills her. Please."

"James," she whispers, holding onto his hands.

"Yeah, tell her that," Clint advises. "Cause she won't hear it."

"James," she whispers. "Please. No."

"Everyone's crazy here," Tony states.

"Okay, done," Bruce says. "I really don't know about the vampire blood."

"She's barely conscious," Sam remarks. "I'm not sure she can- tell what she wants. If she really understands the situation."

"The situation he got her into," Tony points out. "Let's not forget that."

"Come on, we all know her," Clint says. "She'd never- if she were in her right mind, she'd get rid of that monster instantly."

She digs her nails into James' hand. "Guys!"

"Get out," James demands coldly. "All of you."

Of course, Tony can't keep himself from a final dig. "Isn't that just how we got here-"

"Out," James hisses. "I won't ask again."

"We'll wait outside," Fury says.

Natasha relaxes slightly, slumping back against the pillow. She really can't see well but she feels James' warm hands around hers. "Thank- Thanks."

The door falls shut. "Oh Natalia," James mutters, stroking her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Drink," she says.

He takes the bottle and helps her drink. More sugar, more hydration. Maybe it's the blood transfusion but she's beginning to feel a little better, a little clearer. Boy, must she be dirty. "Do I- smell?"

"Honestly," James replies, putting the bottle away. "You smell like you are dying. Without the bleeding."

"But I want it," she whispers.

He sighs. "You maybe want a baby but… this is a monster, a parasite. That's not what you want. I can't give you that."

"You don't know that," she says.

"I can see what it's doing to you," he replies. "Please don't do that to yourself. I care about you, I love you, you're everything to me, please don't let my mistakes kill you."

"Your mistakes?" she repeats. "Don't listen to them. They'll- they'll do everything to blame you."

"I blame me," he replies. "Because I should. I dragged you through way too much even before this."

"I kissed you," she says, trying to get her argument straight. "I slept with you. I wanted to. And now I want- I believe this happened for a reason."

He snorts. "Divine punishment?"

"Before all of this, I wanted-" She takes a deep breath. "A family. I gave that up for… And now I have a baby, and I'm not going to give it up."

"It's not a baby if it sucks the life out of you," James replies. "And I can't give you anything better, I can't give you a family, I'm sorry. I wish you could… maybe, if you had run. But we're here now and… don't let this be the end."

"I might never get another chance," she remarks. "Never. And we have so much vampire blood, Bruce knows so much about- I want to try. Don't throw this away."

"I don't want you to have my-" He sighs, rubbing his thumb over her hand. "I want you to have the baby you wanted before, a human baby. A real baby. Who knows what kind of- what if it's a vampire, it's already sucking your blood. Who knows how it'll turn out. If you ever get to see that at all. I never brought you anything good."

"Don't stop me," she pleads. "Please."

"What if the vampire blood doesn't work like you think it will?" James asks. "Please don't risk that for this thing."

"The doctor won't be here immediately anyway," she whispers, exhausted again. "Try the vampire blood. Make them try. Please."

James sighs. "Anything for you, Natalia. Always."

She tries to smile. "Tell them. And I love you, too."

"Oh God." He jerks back slightly. "Please tell me you're not doing this to have my- offspring, it is not worth having. Who knows how fucked up my genes are-"

"Oh God, you idiot," she breathes. "You're not that bad. But no, not having it for you. Seriously, you thought I'm not in love with you, I was just banging you because I got bored or what-"

"Don't exhaust yourself," James interrupts.

She rolls her eyes, closing them. "I'm glad you're here."

"Wish it were under different circumstances," he says. "I'll let the others back in, if that's okay."

"Mhm." Boy, talking is exhausting her. "Yeah."

He leans forward and pecks her dry lips, his are cold, and then he's suddenly at the door. "Give her the blood transfusion. The vampire blood."

Bruce peeks in. "I can't promise it won't make it worse. Maybe she'll go into cardiac failure-"

"She's dying if you don't do it," James states.

"Oh, yeah, he's the expert," Tony's voice remarks.

"Please do it," she croaks out.

Bruce moves closer to her because her voice is so quiet. "Hm?"

"Do it," she whispers again. "I know- know- what it does."

"If she's really been taking it for months, she knows better than anyone," Sharon argues. "I'd say give her a small dosis."

"But maybe a small dosis is not enough," Pepper remarks. "How much did you give her for the black cloak?"

"The ratio between human blood and vampire blood was much different then."

"Oh, come on, weren't we going to pump the ice block full of it?"

"Yeah, but he was frozen ."

"We gave her about 200ml. But not at once."

"Just give her something already."

"But how much is something ?"

"Try a hundred."

"So she was basically juicing-"

"I don't think it will negatively impact her. The foetus…"

"That you wanted to abort against her will minutes ago."

"Yeah, honestly, if it kills that thing or slows its growth, that's not the worst thing."

"And if it supercharges it?"

"Do it," Fury's voice interrupts. "Or do you want to stand here while she's wasting away?"

"So a hundred milliliter-"

"Here's a syringe."

"Inject it straight away."

"It might conflict with the blood transfusion-"

"Brucey, now is a really bad time to play through all the doom scenarios."

There's some more indistinct talking and then the needle sinks into her arm. She's too numb to really feel it.

"Seems okay."

"Nobody said she was going to spontaneously combust."

"If it goes really wrong, we might have to amputate the arm-"

"Bruce, calm down, you're driving everyone else crazy."

"It's going to be okay."

She's beginning to feel the emptiness in her left arm that she recognizes. It's never spectacular. "Alright," Fury states. "Putting that aside-"

"Putting that aside ?" James repeats.

"Why, you wanna talk about it?" Fury asks drily.

"...No."

"Didn't think so. What is the status on the black cloaks that were going to come here every day now?"

"Wow, I really forgot about that."

"I went to the Castle and- pretended to be really surprised hearing what happened to Pierce and- they haven't heard from Schmidt yet. So I told him I could find her and hunt her down and that she probably left town. Was going to ask her to stay in… guess that's not an issue. Anyway, Rumlow sent another messenger to Schmidt, maybe that will buy us more time."

"And he believed you," Fury questions.

"Lying comes really natural to you, doesn't it," Clint remarks sourly.

"Seriously," James hisses. "You wanna do that now ?"

"Boys, calm down."

"So neither of you should be seen around town?"

"Rumlow doesn't really care. But no one knows what Schmidt is going to do."

"Well, Nat's definitely staying in."

"So you could go back? Cover intact?"

"Why would I go back ?"

"Find out what Schmidt's planning. When the messenger comes back."

"I can't do this forever."

"But how long? That's the point..."

"...already dead, so there's no hurry…"

"...might be really mad…"

"...certainly understand.."

"...looking for her…"

"...really said…"

"...kill her?"

Something starts beeping.

"Oh-oh."

[wooziuji]

The Slaying

Word Count: 1.5K

Genre: Angst? Idk it’s a Gang AU lmao

Fandom: Seventeen, Original Characters

“Hey, hey- Look at me. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay, just look at Daddy.” 

His father’s pleading voice was the only thing registering in the boy’s ears; the chaos ensuing down the stairs falling deaf on their ears; the occasional gunshot causing him and his sister to jump. He was shaking, terrified, eyes wide as his gaze stayed trained on the sight before him.

A man had entered the room, powerful and demanding in presence, frightening. He stood impossibly tall, with a fire set ablaze in his eyes. Crass taunts left the man’s lips - foreign to the young boy’s ears but clear in their intentions thanks to his tone alone. With his father now restrained, the children were within the trained sights of the gun's barrel. Tears streamed down Minwoo’s cheeks; he understood far too much of what was happening for a boy barely past 5 years. Growing up in the ever-present dangers of gang life prepared everyone for situations like these, no matter how much his parents attempted to protect him from it. There was nothing he could do. Nothing his father could do. This was it; their finality was loaded into the barrel of a gun.

“Daddy--” his sister cried out beside him, Minwoo immediately tightening his grip on her hand. It all happened so fast…The door burst open, their mother appearing wild-eyed and panicked, autopilot carrying her full speed towards her children.

One shot - and she fell, blood pooling on the floor - his father screaming in protest and struggling in the man’s grip.

A second shot - his sister was ripped from the boy’s hold the second it sounded, crumpling to the ground.

A third shot - the boy’s hearing was nothing more than a shrill ringing, his father’s sobs and cries now deaf to him. A wet substance trickled down his cheek - and intense pain following immediately after. He wanted to cry out, but his mouth only became slack as he, too, fell to the floor. 

One last shot - or, the child was sure he had heard one more. His own mind was seizing up; succumbing to the darkness that was unconsciousness.

---

Memories presented themselves as never-ending torture. Memories plagued the boy nearly every waking and sleeping moment of the boy’s life - there was no escape. Perhaps, in retrospect, it was thanks to his father’s struggle that enabled Minwoo’s survival. He was so close to death...it was a miracle in and of itself that he still lived to breathe another day.

Jaw clenching, the boy - now aged 17 - pushed himself out of his bed, feet dragging as they carried him to the bathroom. A deep sigh sounded, deft fingers working to tie the cloth he kept securely over the taught and scarred flesh on the right side of his face.

His eye was gone, a thin layer of skin now covering the bone that had been exposed. His family...was dead, but he survived. Hands shifted, resting on the edge of the sink, gripping until knuckles turned a bright white. Minwoo had learned a lot in the last 12 years.

The man’s name, his family’s killer, was Park Sejin. He worked for a powerful entity known as Leeteuk, was his right hand man...and the whole reason Sejin came that night, was due to Seungcheol. From the information that he had obtained, Leeteuk ran an orphanage. Or, that was how he presented his ‘business’. The man produced super soldiers for the government, training young boys to become blood-thirsty emotionless husks. Seungcheol was Leeteuk’s strongest; his best...and one of the only two to ever escape. Leeteuk wanted him back, and if that involved a merciless killing of innocent lives, so be it.

Minwoo’s ‘uncle’ - one of his father’s closest friends...and the leader of their family’s little gang. The size of the family was plenty - at least 18 including himself, if he remembered correctly, and he reigned the only survivor. Or, that’s what he assumed.

Pushing off the sink, he quickly turned on his heel. A look of determination etched itself onto the boy’s features as he moved to get himself ready. Gun slid comfortably in the holster on his thigh. Blade, nestled in a little sheath attached to the inside of his boot. A second gun, in the holster, strapped to his chest. Backpack pulled on over one shoulder; boots laced, leather jacket zipped.

Leaving the room, Minwoo remained quiet as ever; beginning his journey down the hall and through the headquarters to the exit.

“Min?” a curious voice rang out, calling for him. Stopping him in his tracks as he peered back over his shoulder. “Where are you going?” The concern in her voice was palpable.

It was Mina - his mom’s old friend. Minwoo had recalled hearing his mother mention The Elite several times to his father, before the night that he had lost everything. It was the ‘family’ she had come from; a clustered mix of humans and supernatural beings led by a despicable man...and it was where the boy went, that fateful night, for refuge. Things were different now, though, that the man was gone. If things were different...maybe he even would have liked it here. 

Mina was, essentially, the whole reason he was safe. She took him in, raised him with the help of her boyfriend. Their medic - a friendly young male witch - healed him. Different members of The Elite attempted to befriend him, tried to talk to him, but progress was never obtained. People told him stories of his mother, Aneni, and even what they knew of his father, Mingyu. The boy only ever listened, however...but the occasional hint of a smile did sometimes grace his lips. This only ever lasted a few seconds, however. Even the good intentions of these stories proved to be only a painful and grim reminder. 

Regardless of Mina’s concern, the boy stayed ever silent, prying his gaze away after a minute and returning to his own quest. She didn’t stop him; she never did. After all, he hadn’t spoken a word in 12 years. 

---

12 years. 

It had been 12 years since he last stepped foot in his childhood home. The simple action alone of placing his hand on the cool knob of the door caused his heart to race...but he pushed on, twisting the knob and pushing - relieved that it gave way and opened without force.

Overwhelming wasn’t quite the word for the feeling occurring at the moment. A lone eye looked over every last inch of the home that could be seen, but feet would not move. No dust...everything still perfectly in place...almost as if it was still lived in. Pictures hung neatly on the wall, the warmth from the heater licking at his skin. A house once so lively and full of life now silent, but standing as though it had secrets to tell. Brow furrowing, confusion quickly took over - lips pursing. 

Steps were forced, walking into the living room and slowly dragging a single finger along the wood of a shelf. Nothing. Not a single spec of dust. Did someone else make it? No...no, everyone was home that night? The boy recalled seeing their faces: Seungkwan, and Seokmin. Minghao, Soonyoung, Wonwoo. Taeyong and Chanwoo. If they had all been home, the rest must have been too.

Everyone...except for Seungcheol. That was why Sejin chose that night, he had thought to himself. Was his father’s superior, and friend, still alive? What had he felt, seeing the slain bodies? What did he do? Where did he go?

Why hadn’t he looked for him?

Confliction reigned true in the boy’s mind: Sadness, relief, anger. Frustration. Frustration was quickly becoming the strongest. 

Too much of his time was being spent thinking. Minwoo once more forced himself away. He needed to get to work; time was truly of the essence. Only 2 weeks ago, Sejin had been left a note: the address of this home, a date, and a time were all that was marked on it. Minwoo watched; hidden completely in the shadows and quiet as a dormouse, as the elder male read the scrap piece of paper. 

It would have been so easy to take the man out right then and there, but it wouldn’t nearly have been satisfying enough.

Slinging his backpack onto the couch, the boy worked quickly to unzip it and pull out his supplies: tripwire, a doorstop alarm, flash grenades, and a few other miscellaneous supplies. It took only a few minutes - the boy had practiced several times in his own room (sans testing the flashbangs - his stock was limited), and he waited now around the corner.

Anxieties grew as he checked his phone. 7 minutes. There still were 7 long minutes to spare. His posture shifted from one foot to the other when suddenly an ear-piercing sound rang from the hall from the door opening. A bright flash of light emitted as the tripwire was triggered as well and Minwoo moved fast.

Around the corner he went, pulling out his blade and pouncing on the man in one swift movement, knife pushed harshly against the other’s throat. 

Only, it wasn’t Sejin. The boy’s eyes widened as he quickly was shoved off with a strength that could only belong to one man, and his voice trembled as he righted himself and spoke the first word since the slaying:

“Uncle?”

[tonyhawksmovingcastle]

ok y’all know i’ve been dying to write a good omens howl’s moving castle style au and i managed to write a scene (the walking through air scene, to be precise!) i had been so eager to write the most. i don’t know if this is gonna take me anywhere but please let me know what you think!

Aziraphale walks cautiously through the cobblestone alleyways, eyes darting from the directions scribbled on the slip of paper in his hand to his surroundings. He takes in cracked walkways and woodgrain of exposed framework holding buildings together, and he is momentarily lost in thought until he realizes he’s about to bump into something—or, rather, someone.

He looks up at the soldier, who’s dressed in full attire and is bent over him, elbow propped up against the side of the building he’s leaning against. The soldier is giving Aziraphale a very leery grin, and he swallows back the nerves rising in his throat.

“Hey,” the soldier coos, cocking up a brow. “Looks like a little dove lost his way.”

“Oh, me? Er, I’m not lost,” Aziraphale stammers, flushing. He clenches the scrap of paper in a fist, willing his voice to even out.

“This little dove looks thirsty, actually,” the soldier continues, and he shifts to stand up straighter. When he does, Aziraphale notices the presence of another trooper, this time with thick facial hair. “We should take him out for a drink. A cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. My friend is expecting me and she’ll be very crass with me if I’m late,” Aziraphale says icily. Not only would she be crass, Anathema would be terribly worried, and possibly cause an uproar, which is the absolute last thing Aziraphale wants to happen.

“He’s pretty cute for a dove,” the soldier with the facial hair remarks, ogling Aziraphale like he’s a butterfly pinned in a shadowbox.

“So what’s your name? How old are you? Do you live around here?” the bare-faced soldier questions, rapidly encroaching on Aziraphale’s space.

Aziraphale’s heart is pounding in his chest and his eyes are swiftly darting here and there to plan an escape. He then squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest. “Leave me alone,” he snaps.

“See, told you your moustache scares all the pretty boys away,” the bare-faced soldier laments, shooting his partner a simpering look.

“What? I think he looks even cuter when he’s scared!”

“There you are, angel. Sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you.”

One would expect Aziraphale to stiffen when he feels an unfamiliar arm wrap around his shoulders, but, surprisingly, he does not. All it does is make his heart leap in his chest and all he can do about it is stand still and stare straight ahead.

“Hey, hey!” Both soldiers stand defensively, glaring at the man at Aziraphale’s side. “We’re busy!”

“Actually,” drawls the man in a honeyed tone that sounds so familiar that it makes Aziraphale gulp, “I think you were just leaving.”

Aziraphale can see it in the corner of his eye; the hand of the arm thrown over his shoulder flexes, and the index finger points up. Immediately, both soldiers stand to attention, backs ramrod straight. Then, a flick of the wrist and a twirl of the digit, and the soldiers take a ninety-degree turn, and with another flourish, they begin to maneuver around the two and march away.

Aziraphale looks after them in amazement as the arm comes to rest around his shoulders again. He hears a chuckle and remembers he’s not alone.

“Don’t hold it against them. They’re really not all that bad.” Aziraphale is struck speechless at the locks of auburn ringlets cascading down to the man’s shoulders, his freckled face with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and a pair of dark spectacles resting on the bridge of a strong nose, hiding his eyes. Apple-shaped earrings dangle from his earlobes and a snake necklace hangs from a slender neck.

Aziraphale is very much aware of the legends, having been told them since he was a child, but he never actually paid them any thought until now, when the main character of one such legend had his arm wrapped around his shoulder. In this instance, Aziraphale should probably run. Instead, he finds that the soles of his shoes have become ingrained with the ground.

“Where to next?” the wizard Crowley asks, flashing a toothy grin. “I’ll be your escort this evening.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says meekly. “I was just going to the bakery to meet my friend…”

“Bakery it is,” Crowley says, offering his elbow for Aziraphale to take. He leans in close, breath puffing against the shell of Aziraphale’s ear. He shivers. “Don’t be too alarmed, but I’m being followed. Act natural.”

Crowley tugs Aziraphale along, and he can’t help but follow, both their arms interlocked. The stride down the alleyway silently, matching the sounds of their footsteps on cobblestone.

There was nothing there, and yet, Aziraphale can feel something, a presence with ill intent slowly crawling on their heels. Despite the rumors whispered down from ear to ear, Aziraphale can’t help but cling to Crowley in fear of whatever is tagging along behind them. And he hears something—when they pass by a poster boasting about the war, there’s a sound that can only be described as the dripping of a thick sludge onto cobblestone paths. There is a flash of a dark figure in the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” Crowley hisses. “Looks like you’re involved.”

Aziraphale sucks in a sharp breath and tightens his hold on Crowley’s arm when the sound grows louder, and when tall, intimidating figures composed of black muck crawl out of the brick walls in front of them. Aziraphale sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle the squeak he wants to make out of fear.

“Hold on, this way,” and Crowley is tugging him along down another alleyway, arm locked around Aziraphale’s like a vice.

The detour is futile; the mucky figures have tailed behind them and even more have spawned ahead, and they’re crawling closer and closer, closing in on them, and Aziraphale screws his eyes shut in fear, and then—

“Hold on!” Crowley’s arm snakes around his waist and then suddenly there is no ground beneath his feet.

Aziraphale lets out a gasp as the buildings rise above and then below him, and he realizes that he is afloat, gravity a thing of the past. His blood is roaring in his ears and he feels like he’s going to tumble through the air to his demise, until he recalls the arm wrapped snuggly around his waist.

“Now,” Crowley begins, calm and suave as ever, “straighten your legs, and start walking.”

Crowley guides him at first, moving behind him and holding his hands until he gets the hang of it. After a few moments, Aziraphale is taking his very first steps in the air.

“See?” Crowley says, and Aziraphale can hear the smile in his voice. “Not so hard, is it?”

The city is still bustling with the remains of the parade, people mere ants scuttling around beneath them. They’re still so busy going about their lives to notice the two figures walking in the air, gliding along the shingled rooftops as if they weigh nothing. At this, Aziraphale can’t help but grin, giggling elatedly.

Crowley steps on a spire and pushes them higher in the air, gazing upon Aziraphale with an elated grin. “You’re a natural.”

Aziraphale’s shoulders shake with laughter. He’s never felt so free in his life, walking along the air lighter than a feather, the only thing tethering him in place being Crowley, the wizard whispered about in children’s tales, who eats the hearts of pretty men. Yet, Aziraphale does not feel apprehension at his presence; instead, there is an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

The bakery’s building is coming into view, the wraparound balcony framing the living spaces up top their destination. With the daintiness of a ballerina, Crowley twirls Aziraphale around and helps him to land gently onto the balcony’s floor. Aziraphale stumbles a bit with a shaky breath, shocked at the feeling of ground beneath his feet, but he regains his footing, hand still folded in Crowley’s.

“I’m gonna go draw them off, but promise me you’ll wait a bit before going outside?” Crowley says, ending in a question.

Aziraphale nods, breathless and flushed, cheeks hurting with how hard he’s been smiling. “Okay.”

“That’s my angel,” Crowley says, grinning. With a flourish of his hand, he hops away from the ledge of the balcony and falls to the ground, disappearing before Aziraphale can even scramble over the edge to stammer his goodbyes.

[toloveawarlord]

Spooktober Day 14 “We aren’t all bad”

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Yeah, I’m still planning on finishing these hopefully before the end of november

Have Isaac’s child Corinne at 8 years old! ^_^

The taps of her feet against the cobblestones were drowned out by the chatter and music of the festival happening around her. The streets packed with humans and vampires alike, illuminated by the streetlights and blood moon shining upon their forms. The one night a year where both species intermingled without the secret of vampires being threatened. Harvest Festivals were full of strange happenings.

The crowd gathered around had been the catalyst for the predicament that the young girl found herself in. Separated due to her attention being drawn away by the sparkling lanterns and the sweet scents wafting from the stores open late. A shuffle of the people and the Corinne had lost sight of the adults.

Anxiety of being utterly alone settled upon her, prompting the girl to seek a place with no hoards around. That paired with the naivety of being a child drove Corinne to find safety in an alley between two streets. The opportune place to watch for her father or any other that she trusted.

Yet, without the knowledge of an adult, or the innate fear of an unknown darkened alley, had landed her in a bad situation.

Red eyes reflecting the inhuman in the man crawling across the grimy stones. Primal movements. A vampire ravaged with the thirst for blood, preying on whatever crossed his path first.

Corinne had witnessed blood lust before, almost experienced it herself. That dryness in her throat that scratched with each swallow, unable to be quenched by any liquid but rouge. A week but incredibly heavy body. The equivalent to the human body of going too long without food or water.

A blood thirsty vampire risked exposing their secret.

The man eyed the humans passing behind her, uninterested as her smell marked her his kind.

“Hey mister, you can’t drink human blood in the open.” Corinne took one shaky step toward him. Unlike those at the mansion, this man wouldn’t hold her in the same regards, making him extremely dangerous.

He could hardly be interested in her. Though her blood would assist in quenching his thirst, her slight form only holding a fraction of the liquid that he hungered so much for. All that came from his mouth was a low, guttural growl, warning her to stay away.

Little hands lifted as if reaching out to comfort the starving vampire. “We can find you some rogue-”

Irritating. Her voice scratching at his mind as nails on a chalkboard. Shrill. His neck twisted, eyes fluttering with the pain pulsing behind them. Worse, and worse. All that he could focus on was the blood pumping through the veins of pale skin.

The girl stood between him and the humans he desperately sought. Without a single thought, he lunged at her, fangs barred.

Corinne barely let out a half a scream before a familiar figure appeared in front of her, sword drawn. “N-Napoleon!” Her small hands reaching up to grab onto his free hand.

The soldier cast a glance over his shoulder at her. “Are you hurt, Corinne?” It had taken too long to locate her. If he’d been a second later, who knows what might have happened to her.

Her small head shook, silver curls bouncing around. “I’m alright-”

“Goodness me. Look at the crass manners of a lesser vampire.”

“It’s quite unseemly. Really, they are the lowest of creatures. Dirtying the vampire race.”

“A lot that should be kept away from society, that’s for sure.”

A group of pure bloods had gathered at the entrance to the alley, effectively blocking the view of any humans around, and simultaneously judging the situation at hand. Snooty features adorned with beautiful make up and attire.

“We-We aren’t all bad,” Corinne whispered, saddened by how they spoke about her family. Big jade irises rose to plead with the women silently. She was caught between both worlds, considered a lesser vampire because of her father’s blood, yet none could hardly tell with her pure blood features of her mother.

One female let out a soft gasp, sharp eyes scanning the frightened the child. “Your features are that of a pure blood, yet your smell is quite different. Come with us, child. You need not be around these lesser vampires.”

She’d fully decided to take the young vampire with her, despite being wary that she didn’t have the pure blood air about her. Bony fingers wrapped around Corinne’s wrist, tugging her away from Napoleon.

“That girl is under my protection. Release her immediately-” Napoleon could hardly keep the starved vampire at bay and chase after Corinne at the same time. If his guard dropped, the man would surely make a run for it. More harm could come.

The woman gave a scoff, a wicked glare given to the vampire she believed to be beneath her. “I hardly see it fit to leave her with the likes of you.” Her words spat with distaste for him.

Corinne dug her heels down, body leaned back to cause the woman to struggle to force her along. “Let me go, please! I want to stay with Napoleon-”

“Corinne!” Her name spoken with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Isaac stumbled upon the scene after searching the crowd for her. He surveyed the situation, unsure of how his daughter had ended up in this situation.

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Another lesser. They’re out in droves tonight, I see.” Her grip loosened enough to allow the girl the ability to pull free. “Come back here, child!”

Her steps echoed through the alleyway until she rested safely in her father’s arms. Little body trembling from the event. “Papa! I got lost.” Her fingers fiddled with his tie, finding anything to distract herself.

Isaac brushed his hand through her curls to give comfort. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.” He’d pieced together what had occurred in the alley. What he couldn’t fathom was the pure-blooded woman’s attempt to take Corinne with her and her sharp glare pointed at him, making the physicist incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re the father? That would explain her mixed scent. She should be with the pure bloods, not some lesser miscreant.” The woman refused to pass by the panting vampire still starved for blood.

“Corinne is not going anywhere but home,” Isaac said, arms tightening around her slight form as a sign of his promise. Pure bloods typically hated all other kinds of vampires, so the interest in a half-breed made little sense. 

Before the situation could escalate, a new voice cut through the alley. “Allow me to give my sincerest apologies, mademoiselles, for interrupting your lovely evening,” Comet swiftly walked to them with a graceful smile. With him, came Theo, Jean, and Sebastian. 

The ladies straightened at the sight of him, infatuated smiles growing on their lips. Greetings were exchanged, positions swapped, and a hushed escape. The trio disappearing into the crowd before the women realized.

Napoleon trailed ahead, making a path for Isaac to follow with Corinne. The crowd thinned as they moved further from the inner city. “I’ll find us a carriage to take us back to the mansion.” He’d only taken one step before halting from his cape being tugged on.

“Don’t leave,” Corinne’s soft voice barely audible above the chatter behind them. Many things could bring the girl to tears. Butterflies getting trampled on, lost kittens or puppies, to name only a few. She feared small things getting hurt because of a big world, and that included herself.

Though both Isaac and Napoleon were vampires of equal strength, the soldiers experience in fighting had brought the title of protector upon him. Something both Newtons relied on.

Her words from the alley came back to his mind. We aren’t all bad. A declaration made to defend him, not herself. She’d been frightened so, yet incredibly strong in that situation and made an effort to support the ones she cared for. A contrary child. One worth more than any treasure given to the once emperor.

“Yes, I supposed it would be safer to stay together,” Napoleon replied, a reassuring smile growing on his features. If it were to protect the two he cared for most, he would do most anything.