#also if they EVER even consider singing vampires live i will literally go to whatever continent they do that in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugar-petals · 3 years

Note

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house.

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like.

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine.

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship.

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like.

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that.

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same.

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket.

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #yoongi x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts hc #yoongi scenario

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

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What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

#jjba #ask-c-c-cherry #headcanons #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #bucci gang #giorno giovanna

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clansayeed · 3 years

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 7: The Hierophant

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby, @tayab12, @saratustra4, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists, @thepotatobleh

*join the Tag List here!

⥼ Summary ⥽

In Prague, Nadya and the others seek the audience of the most famous name in histories both mortal and vampire. It's probably for the best that she doesn't get her hopes up.

content warnings: language

[READ IT ON AO3]

Prague is cramped roads and buildings of all sizes and heights all mostly the same four or five different earthy, rusty tones. Cobblestone streets and narrow alleys she can’t help but look at even in passing and think, with the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention, there goes another hiding place for something wicked and foul.

That isn’t to say Prague isn’t beautiful. Because it is. One of Nadya’s favorite things about living abroad in college (and only in the very smallest back of her mind in Paris and the other cities they’ve hopped to and from here while on the run for their lives and the very fate of the human race) was all the old architecture she got to walk past every day like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Prague is full of opportunities like that.

In her most Nadya-esque fashion, she chooses to focus on that instead of what may or may not lurk in the shadows. She chooses to look at the beauty and history around her because you don’t see stuff like this every day.

That, and because she knows it doesn’t matter what hiding place she might spot — doesn’t matter whether that alleyway or this abandoned road is empty or not. There are things out to get them — out to stop them — regardless of whether or not she’s lucky enough to catch a glimpse.

That’s just their new reality.

Prague is chillier; a fact not made any better by the fact none of the bodies she can cling to in the cold have an ounce of warmth for her to leech. Prague is also kinda rainy; and more often than not when she has the chance to push back the curtains of their modest hotel room the sky is the same shade of grey it was the day before. That’s totally fine — just add some snow and it’s almost like home.

Prague is also the long-time home of Vlad Tepes, the vampire more popularly known around the world as Dracula.

Don’t forget that bit.

Lily certainly hasn’t.

“C’mon,” she’s brought this up half a dozen times now and it always ends the same way but when has that ever stopped her before, “he can’t really be that bad.” Because she’s convinced herself that Kamilah, Serafine, and Adrian are all being a touch too dramatic when it comes to their biased opinions on the most (in)famous vampire in history.

And part of Nadya is inclined to agree… but it wouldn’t be fair not to take into account how literally none of the aforementioned vampires are prone to excessive hyperbole. So maybe he can really be, well, that bad.

Kamilah simply sighs and continues sipping her wine in idle silence. She stopped entering the discussion early on; probably of the mindset that Lily will see exactly what they all mean when the time comes. Whatever that means.

At this point the only one who will actively engage with her is Adrian. Which says a lot — that’s really out of character for him. “I thought much the same before I met him in person, but the truth is much stranger than the fiction when it comes to Vlad.” He’s said something to this effect every single time, too.

And don’t think Nadya hasn’t noticed how he usually ends up shifting where he sits and-slash-or stands. Or how Serafine is usually there to offer him an affectionate touch in some form or another. There’s a story there, she’s certain of it. But she trusts him to bring it up if or when it becomes relevant to their current dilemma — and if it isn’t then she looks forward to teasing him when the world is safe and Gaius is dust in the wind.

Because it’s important to note that truth and fiction are as different as oil and water when it comes to the man, the myth, the legend. Who apparently did his fair share of noteworthy conquests in his human years and even his first couple of decades as a vampire; but somewhere down the line wound up going from famed ‘impaler’ to something that — based on Serafine’s general description anyway — is shaping in Nadya’s mind’s eye to look something like a cross between Vegas-sensation Mario Bautista and KISS without the face paint.

“There’s something to be said for the measure of success Vlad has been able to attain while living in the heart of the Order’s battleground,” says Serafine almost absently, “but any praise for him should live and die there — even that I find myself questioning from time to time.

“He has been widely reviled from the moment he brought that ridiculous novel to light. Not only for placing us in the public eye but for doing so with such utter… disregard for our truths.”

Jax raises an eyebrow. “You’d think spreading a bunch of lies that humans end up believing wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” But everything on Serafine’s face disagrees.

“One might think, perhaps. But if anyone was less suited to such an ill-fitting ego…”

“So he’s got a big head,” Lily shrugs, “what’s the big deal?”

The Big Deal is, apparently, how Vlad Tepes has gone from boasting ass to full-on diva in the centuries that followed. Something Serafine seems to take more than a little personally. “And one could suffer his endless tales when they revolved around little more than himself. When he shifted his focus to the Church of the First things became… complicated.”

Needless to say the entire premise of ‘Vlad Tepes—the Dracula—considers himself to be a prophet for the First Vampire in all but official theophany, and serves as Europe’s go-to for all things related to the devotion of Rheya Herself’ is something Nadya has been struggling to wrap her head around for… this whole time.

Maybe seeing it all with her own eyes will do something about that, she thinks, if only so Lily will finally stop trying to poke and prod for answers their friends don’t seem eager to provide.

Unlikely, but, you know.

“How a person takes in faith is unique to them, and a deeply personal experience. Regardless of their…” Serafine purses her lips for the right words. Or at least ones that are a little more in English and a little less like curses. “… unchecked vanity.

“While I cannot speak with certainty as to whether or not Vlad was a true believer in the ideals of the Goddess, whatever he did feel was enough to earn him a place at Gaius’ side during the pivotal years he spent spreading Her belief.

“What he lacks in all else he makes up for in his ability to sensationalize anything that comes tumbling out of that vacant head of his.”

Which explains the whole ‘singing Gaius’ praises’ thing; the largest source of disagreement when it finally came down to whether or not they were willing to risk it all for what Vlad might know.

And while it was unanimous that they would have preferred to wait and see what more concrete information they could dig up, time isn’t on their side. “Still an awful lot to risk on a mere hunch,” comments Cadence — whose natural affinity for research has made spontaneously vanishing away to Prague more than a little stressful for him.

“I just can’t understand how anyone would even consider believing his claims to have seen the Eternal Tree for himself when there’s literal published proof he’s a pathological liar.”

But this is something they’ve been over, too. Not that Nadya doesn’t totally understand venting the same frustrations in the wake of inaction. But it’s not faith in Vlad Tepes that she has.

Her faith lies in Kamilah. That is more than enough.

“Time and time again I witnessed retribution served by Gaius unto those who claimed to have been touched by the First in some divine form or another. He would not suffer anyone speaking falsely of Her — for good or for ill. Vlad’s claim to have seen the Tree with his own eyes wasn’t exactly kept quiet, yet he remained untouched and, unfortunately, very much alive.”

Which pretty much confirms it’s the one impossible thing he’s actually telling the truth about. This is a good thing!

“And you’re sure you are up to the task, petit?”

Nadya knows Serafine only asks because this is something they can’t do without her. Serafine could try to suss out the truth from him on her own but it would only waste more time.

For once though, Nadya feels… not-as-uncertain as she usually does about these things. She wouldn’t be so bold as to call it confidence, but how hard can one ordinary (fame aside) vampire be after she literally pulled Gaius’ oldest memory out of thin air?

“I am.”

“And if your way doesn’t work, we can always go my route.”

And perhaps the most disconcerting thing of all is how those who would normally oppose Jax’s methods of sword-related threats and violence remain pointedly and purposefully silent. Not that anyone is particularly inclined to draw attention to it.

Just like they don’t draw attention to the way Kamilah tactfully uses the rim of her wine glass to conceal the barest twitch of her lips.

Though none of them are surprised at his offer however, Serafine seems to have outright expected it. She throws him a coy smile across the table; a devious glint in her eye.

“Actually Jax, I’m glad to hear you are up to the task. As what I have in mind will not be possible without your help.”

Sometimes the best plans are the ones that take the most direct route to get to where you’re going. And there’s really nothing more direct than what Serafine has in mind.

The estate is a little under an hour away from Prague itself; swathed in lush and vibrant countryside — or that’s what Nadya imagines. It’s kind of hard for her to see out of the tinted limousine windows as they venture on their lonely road after dark.

Not that the place itself is hard to see. Like a beacon in the night the Tepes manor and surrounding land is lit up in the night. Even with the moon hidden behind roiling clouds the moment their car pulls in and begins ambling up the long gravel pathway they are met with what’s practically a battalion of lamp-posts to show them the way.

All she can think about is how long it must take someone to travel the grounds and light up every single one.

The rest of Vlad Tepes’ lands are hard to see properly. On account of the towering and neatly-trimmed hedge walls that flank their path. “Vlad’s labyrinth is somewhat of a popular novelty,” Serafine explains quietly, “though our heightened senses take most of the intrigue and mystery from the search from start to finish.”

But some well-manicured bushes are nothing compared to the splendor of the actual castle itself. With its sprawling Gothic architecture in spires and buttresses it’s truly everything one would expect when they hear something like ‘the Castle of Vlad Tepes.’

Flickering flames in old stained-glass windows somehow both perfectly preserved and still allowed to age with grace. Not unlike vampires themselves, Nadya thinks fleetingly, and lets herself drink in the passive appreciation of it while she can.

Before something inevitably goes wrong and, much like in the way of Marcel’s castle back home, has her thinking back on it with a sour taste in her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you just called the guy up.”

Jax has barely paid any of it a second glance; not the journey or the destination. He’s stayed in pretty much the same position the entire drive; arms never uncrossing from his chest and, to literally no one’s surprise, with his sword never leaving his lap.

“How would you rather I have gone about arranging this little parley then, hm?”

The two vampires stare one another down in silence. Suddenly the cabin feels a lot more cramped and heated than it did just a moment ago. Nadya tugs at the collar of her shirt in discomfort.

“I’m not saying I had a plan, but if I’d had time to make one it wouldn’t be walking through his front door.”

But the younger’s irritation only seems to amuse Serafine, who purses her lips into a thin line to keep from smirking at him too obviously.

“Ah, oui. I suspect you would have gone looking for a secret entrance of some kind… perhaps a sewage tunnel by which to secret yourself in and out undetected?”

Jax just shrugs. “Can’t say I wouldn’t.”

“I can.”

Two words and just like that all the mirth is sapped from the air around them. Nothing fills the void left behind; it stays hollow and empty with foreboding.

“If such a passage did exist, which I can assure you it does not, would the Order not have used it long ago in much the same way?” She raises a single eyebrow at Jax, continuing before he has a chance to answer her.

“While your modern methods are indeed a fresh eye on an old war, Jax, they seem to blind you to the full scope of the kind of life we have lived here for all these centuries. Safety is but a fleeting dream to us. No shadow goes undisturbed for signs of the enemy. Every shelter — from a boarded-up chapel on the wayside to a sprawling manor house such as this — has been deemed safe only after proceeding with the utmost caution.

“Even someone as brazen as Vlad would not dare risk his own life by doing anything else.”

Nadya swears she can hear Jax’s teeth grind in his set jaw. That may be the gravel under the tires though.

The limo starts to slow down as they pass through a break in the hedges to reveal a wide arcing roundabout that stops just shy of the castle’s imposing front doors.

“So what you’re saying is if this goes to shit tonight there’s really no escape plan, huh?” Jax finally asks, and with a much softer voice than either Serafine or Nadya would have expected.

It makes the vampiress throw him a sympathetic look. One he pointedly ignores, but when has that ever stopped her before?

“Have you such little faith in my charming disposition?”

It’s a meager attempt to lighten the somber mood at best, but it’s enough to at least ease his suddenly white-knuckled grip on the sheath of his katana.

“More like a lack of faith in your judgment.”

“Inspired by?”

“Whatever the hell you see in Raines.”

It’s as though the driver has been taking his sweet time waiting for a break in their tension to finally get there. Which can’t possibly be the case; since the partition has been up from the moment they pulled away from the hotel and the ones they left behind… can it?

He cuts the engine abruptly. Something about the reigning silence makes Nadya’s heart start to inch its way up into her throat. Jax, sitting closest to her and no doubt hearing the spike in her pulse, reaches out and squeezes her shoulder.

“You okay there?”

She gives a noncommittal shrug, glad when he doesn’t drop his hand. “Situationally or existentially?” The joke, unfortunately, doesn’t quite land.

“At least this one is above ground.” He tries to reassure her. But apparently neither of them are allowed the luxury.

“The parts you can see…” Serafine says; her last words before the door opens to signal their arrival.

The night air is cold and makes Nadya’s eyes water as she steps out between her companions. She would have rather had Kamilah or Adrian at her side but that just wasn’t possible.

Serafine had made a point that couldn’t be denied. Between Kamilah’s assumed death and Gaius’ known ability to hold a grudge longer than most modern civilizations had been around, those two were pretty much screwed if anyone just so happened to recognize them.

With Antony and Isseya off the radar since Kamilah’s return and none of them having any hint or clue as to whether or not Gaius had started extending his reach overseas yet, they were better off housebound (metaphorically speaking) for the time being.

As it is they’re risking enough bringing Jax along, but apparently the fact he hadn’t made “much of an impression” on Gaius, to put it in Kamilah’s own words, was to their benefit. They were playing safe over sorry with Lily and her newly-acquired quirks too.

It was easy to write off the fact that Serafine hadn’t even allowed Cadence to volunteer before shooting him down as being, well, Serafine and Cadence being Serafine and Cadence. But there’s still a lot they don’t know about whatever had happened to their friends when the group split up — whatever it was though was enough to ease that tension in ways nobody would have expected.

“The intention is to meet with Vlad as quickly as possible, and ideally without arousing suspicion from him or any who might be in his entourage.” Serafine had explained. “Seeing as Cynbel of the Trinity has been famously dead for over a century now, seeing him suddenly reappear in the midst of Gaius’ ascension might as well be the definition of suspicious.”

The argument was fair and valid and lucky for them to have that kind of forethought, honestly. But when Nadya thinks back to the vague air of their talk back at Ahmanet in London and pairs it almost absentmindedly with the way Serafine and Kamilah exchanged a long and almost nervous glance at one another when Cadence’s back is turned…

Let’s just say at this point she’s just waiting around for the other shoe to drop. Or the other-other shoe. Like the kind of shoe an octopus might wear or something.

All of that and only Nadya is left; always the odd one out. But the Bloodkeeper can’t not do this, so what choice does she have?

They just have to hope Kamilah was right when she assumed Gaius would want to do everything in his power not to let Nadya’s name and face spread too far or wide. That he wouldn’t dare run the risk of someone else getting to her before he could.

Neither option appeals, for the record. But at least she’s not the only one risking her neck.

The driver gestures for them to wait at the base of the castle steps, letting them know they will be shown in shortly. He doesn’t linger, job completed, and soon Nadya is throwing a glance over her shoulder to catch the bright red tail lights before the car disappears back around the hedge line and out of sight.

Serafine’s hand comes down in between her shoulder blades somehow both heavy and comforting. A simple touch that eases the tension beginning to knot there that Nadya hadn’t even realized existed.

“Your heart is racing, Nadya,” she states the obvious with a gentle smile of her own, “we may be able to account his notoriety for your nerves but please… try to control your breathing.”

She nods, wide eyed, and swallows through her dry throat before inhaling deeply through her nostrils, holding, and letting it out as a warm breath on her lips. In, and hold, and out, and in, and hold, and out several times before she glances and sees the tiniest nod of approval from the vampiress.

“You’re pretty calm, given everything.”

“Why would I not be?” asks Serafine in obvious surprise. A little too sincere, in Nadya’s opinion.

“The way you’ve been talking about him sounds a lot like you guys aren’t old friends.”

Her rouge-tinted lips purse wryly. “No, I would not associate myself with him so plainly.”

“Then why did he agree to meet with you?”

A fair question, too. One that has Jax listening attentively even if he doesn’t look away from the doors still not yet opened to greet them.

Given the gravity of the situation, Nadya’s grateful that the woman doesn’t seem to need the time to carefully choose her words on this. Hopefully that means she isn’t sugarcoating it.

“The truth is that I did not reach out to him, but rather chose to finally accept a long-standing invitation.”

“Invitation to what?”

Serafine’s answer is drowned out by the sudden opening of the front doors; old heavy wood on ornate hinges designed more with the aesthetic in mind. Their harsh squeal cuts into the trio’s ears and makes Nadya flinch violently.

Soft yellowing light spills out into the night. A haze that stretches down the stone steps and all the way to where they stand gathered on the gravel. Nadya quickly throws the back of her hand over her eyes as she blinks away hazy colorless dots in front of her sight.

It’s just one big gaping hole of uninterrupted brightness… until a shadow starts to cut a long path through the din. It stretches longer and longer until it nearly reaches all the way back near the break in the hedges; a towering figure that, once her eyes adjust to the new lighting, doesn’t quite match the reality that stands before them.

“As I live and breathe — what be this vision before me? It could not be the captivating sight of one Serafine Dupont, surely!”

There’s so much to unpack there but Nadya’s brain is already frozen and buffering on account of the singular thought that consumes her entire being.

Those are some tight leather pants.

The fact that Vlad is wearing all black only adds to the formidable, if shapely, shadow he cuts across the front path. He gestures widely and exuberantly and with no small amount of purpose; the kind of motion that makes sure his large billowing sleeves move in precisely the right way and give him the perfect amount of flair.

Even without the combined warnings from Kamilah and Serafine prior to this exact moment, Nadya’s certain this first impression is all it would take for her to know exactly the kind of man Dracula is.

A one-hundred percent unrepentant drama queen.

Neither Jax or Nadya miss the sight of Serafine quickly steeling herself. How she tucks away any lingering distaste (though maybe it’s the whole psychic-connection thing but Nadya swears it’s not that hidden if she can still feel the remnants of it) and slips on what could very well pass as a genuinely sincere smile for how natural it looks.

Oh, she’s good.

“Vlad,” she coos, somehow both a greeting and an endearment both with one meager syllable. “I see the years have remained kind.”

With his hands on his cocked hips Vlad lets out his own rich bellowing laugh. The kind that has Nadya looking subtle as she can over her shoulders to see if there really is anyone able to hear him waiting in the shadows; witnessing them all like a permanent audience for his constant theatrics. Her senses may be perilously human but Jax doesn’t seem to notice anything off… hopefully he’s got a better grasp on their surroundings while their host holds Serafine captive with a gaze.

“Whereas you, my exquisite creature, look absolutely radiant. Perhaps even glowing as much as I am!”

The ‘Count’ is definitely younger than Serafine, which makes his comment more than a little suspect. About as suspect as the fact that he hasn’t moved from his place at the top of the steps… nor has she moved from her place here below.

They’re having a good old-fashioned stand off. Each one waiting for the other to yield their ground and move things along. But it’s different between the pair of them, that much is obvious.

Vlad shifts on the heels of his boots with an expectant lilt to his smile. He’s used to being greeted with respect and reverence — which Serafine isn’t not giving him — but it means he makes others come to him.

And everyone (Vlad included) knows quite well that Serafine only does what she wishes and nothing more. Hence the way she stands graceful, calm, and poised. Hands folded lightly over the bodice tight against her blouse.

She tilts her head to the side so gently her hair falls around her shoulder in a dark pillowing cloud.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks bemusedly, “aren’t you going to come give us a kiss?”

With his hand forced and no time to find a reasonable way to turn the tables Vlad has no choice but to acquiesce. “Of course, of course!” Then he’s skipping down the worn stone steps two at a time, the rhythm of his heels following him all the way down. “I just needed a moment to take all of you in, darling. Alive and well and vibrant as ever.”

He embraces his fellow survivor with open arms and a kiss to each of her cheeks.

Another good reason Adrian didn’t come with, Nadya finds herself thinking — the only distraction she can muster to keep from cringing at how he gets a little too friendly on her face with his lips, we need Vlad alive after all.

And after that display… that might have been something up in the air.

Vlad coaxes Serafine back to hold her at arms’ length; only he doesn’t actually let her go. Some small attempt to reconcile his failed power play, maybe.

It doesn’t matter. Just as she did before Serafine breezes her way through anything he might do to her — a simple gesture and roll of her shoulders to adjust her hair has Vlad all but staggering back like she’s thrown him backwards with all of her strength.

“You say such things as though they may have been in doubt.”

His recovery is a meager and tight-lipped smile. “My ears on the ground have a lot to say about changes abound on your side of the continent. Absolute chaos, from what I’m told.”

Tension ripples through Jax and has his hand drifting to the sword affixed to his belt. Nadya throws him a worried look; all wide eyes and silent pleas, but from the looks of it she didn’t need to bother.

They might as well be invisible for all the attention the famed vampire gives them. Not when he has whatever old grudge fuels the calculated exchange between himself and Serafine to put his energy into. But never in her life has Nadya been more glad to be considered chopped liver.

Serafine doesn’t immediately answer. The inaction makes Vlad’s eyes flicker in ruby shades of delight; makes his smile grow wider and a little more meaningful — he thinks he’s won somehow.

“Surely you know of what I speak,” hand over his heart and eyes downcast in cheap, tacky grief, “as I can’t begin to imagine why you wouldn’t have been in Paris during the Dark Solstice. A morbid affair, from what I’ve heard. Almost no survivors to speak of.

“Save yourself, of course.”

Tension crackles between the vampires like electricity. It amps up the long pause that lets his words settle in like a rot; one he’s content to let spread so long as he can’t see it, or as long as nothing of his is damaged by it. Though if he lets it fester everyone’s gonna succumb eventually… or some other metaphor like that.

“You’ve always given credence to such boisterous tales, Vlad.” The woman replies a mite too calmly.

“You deny the Order has reared its fearsome head on your side of the continent?”

“Did I say that?”

“You did not say otherwise.”

“No…” Her voice trails into something soft; hand coming up the brush the back of her knuckles over the high arch of Vlad’s almost alabaster cheekbone. He could bat her hand away, step out of her immediate reach; anything to abate the way he’s shaking very obviously now in his boots. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t move an inch.

He just takes it.

Topped with the cherry pink of Serafine’s angelic smile.

“No I did not.”

And just like that she’s restored some sort of hierarchy between them. One that existed long ago and that Vlad Tepes had apparently forgotten in the intermission that followed. There’s less fear in him when he finally relaxes, when she lowers her hand to clasp his with a gentle little squeeze. But there’s a difference between showing fear and being afraid.

Serafine continues with a newfound confidence. “But your concern warms my heart, old friend. Such as my heart warms to know that with our differences aside we can remember the one thing that binds us. That which is more important than anything else.

“By the Will of the Goddess.”

She takes their joined hands and twists them gently. The darkened copper of her skin in stark contrast to his as she coaxes his palm facing upwards.

Nadya watches intently. She wonders for a moment if Serafine intends to draw blood from the bright vein under her thumb… but it passes over like a kiss and nothing more.

“By the Will of the Goddess,” Vlad repeats — far more winded than he had been mere moments ago.

To Serafine’s left Jax shifts on his boots restlessly. Not that anybody asked but Nadya’s seriously impressed with him right now; given his track record with these kinds of things the fact that he can resist rolling his eyes and looking for all the world as though he’d rather take his way through this in favor of the bare minimum of neutrality is worthy of some serious accolades.

Not that he gets any. But Serafine can take a hint.

“Vlad, ma puce, let us move this inside, shall we? I’ve yet to introduce my delightfully stoic American friend here; and he’s been so patient with us hasn’t he?”

It isn’t hard for Jax to pretend to be utterly disinterested in Vlad as the man finally seems to acknowledge his presence — simply because he’s not even pretending. But Vlad had been; that much is obvious. As he looks the younger vampire over with a lazy enough eye.

One that makes it abundantly clear that he had noticed Serafine was not alone; but that he simply didn’t see why he ought to make the effort to care.

“American you say,” — oh of course he says it like that; snooty upper crusty and like he’s actively trying to get Jax to put him at the top of his hit list; maybe even higher up than Gaius at this point — “how… bold of you.”

But his attitude aside, it’s impossible to miss the shift in the way Vlad’s eyes rake over Jax to take him in fully and as a person, less like a piece of Serafine’s luggage left aside.

His eyelids lower a fraction, likes like smoldering embers as he drags his gaze up to finally take in Jax’s handsome features through thick lashes. If there was any doubt left as to what the man’s mind conjures up with the sight before him — there really isn’t though — that’s pretty much dashed the moment he swipes a hint of his tongue out to wet his lower lip.

“Yes, bold indeed…”

Before he can say anything else there’s a loud noise from just beyond the castle doors. A heavy thud that sounds an awful lot like heavy furniture or something else being dragged across a floor.

Jax’s shoulders sag in visible relief as the sound jostles Vlad out of his thoughts and back to the present. He turns back to Serafine.

“Yes yes, do come inside! The American too, I suppose… You can even bring your little snack.”

It takes Nadya entirely too long for her to realize she is the snack. That doesn’t sit well, to be honest.

But it’s the first time Vlad’s even acknowledged her existence and… it’s a little underwhelming if she’s being honest. Not that she wants to earn Vlad’s attention in any form — especially with how touchy-feely he’d been with Serafine — but maybe by this point she’s just gotten so used to strange reactions from vampires that being completely and utterly ignored is… a whole lot of strange for its own reasons? If that makes sense?

It does make sense, if Serafine’s face is anything to go by. How she darts a quick look between Vlad and Nadya and just barely manages to wipe the confusion from her face before it becomes something worth noting.

It could be worse… so she counts her blessings.

Without further pleasantries the man takes long strides back up the steps. He assumes they will follow right at his heels, and they do. Though if the looks shared between the three of them are any indication nobody is feeling as confident about this whole mess as they did before they exited the car.

And they can’t even mention it. What with the whole vampires having supersense-hearing and all.

Vlad doesn’t stop at the top of the stairs. He continues striding right on through the doorway and immediately he’s met by an attendant on either side. Each face is pretty in the way model runways are pretty; with a sharpness to their features that makes them look almost feline and, these two at least, with some kind of gold-colored highlighter that accentuates the sharpness of their umber skin in the distant candlelight.

One steps behind him to catch the suit jacket he shrugs off of his shoulders, while the other who places a fresh glass of a brown liquor in his waiting hand.

“I hope you can forgive the mess of the place,” Vlad pauses to sip his drink and thanks one of the pretty faces with a knuckle stroked along their long throat. They remain impassive to the act but the intimacy can’t be denied.

“You know how crazy things can get when planning the social event of the year and all that.”

Only it’s not a mess so much as it is just a bit… bustling. From the front walk Nadya’s human hearing hadn’t caught onto the noises coming from inside the place but seeing it all now she’s considering getting her hearing checked.

One would expect an estate that looks like that on the outside would be no less decorated within, but decorated is pretty much an understatement. Though if anyone were to make sure any place they lived was decorated to the nines regardless of the time of year it would be Vlad.

Despite knowing that, the hectic bustle of bodies between propped open grand doors and up and down a staircase that branches off on three of the castle’s main floors, though the staggering height of the place from afar tells her there are more levels than what she sees here.

Everything is decorated with the kind of taste that comes from old and inherited wealth and is topped off with a modern edge.

Banisters roped with thick twines of velvet in various shades of reds and golds and what look like real diamonds acting as little more than baubles dangling from the tassels at the hems; furniture scattered around the large foyer in plush cushions and couches that look at first like the genuine antique but on second glance are gold-inlaid replicas built with modern crafting techniques and with longevity in mind.

Another thud comes from a handful of attendants moving a large chaise from one side of the hall through another doorway.

On the ground floor there’s a giant ladder propped up against the far left wall and an attendant balancing atop it. They hold themselves perfectly still, almost delicate, while they secure dark nearly blood-red ribbons around the bottom rungs of a chandelier. They must be nearly done, judging by the same material already wrapped around the chain securing it to the ceiling, and the dark color of the fabric dulls the light and leaves the room hazy both from the continuous heat of the flames that don’t quite permeate the thick texturing.

By the time this place — or this space at the very least — is done being decorated it will certainly be beautiful. But it will be a dark kind of beauty — gothic in a way.

Exactly the kind of event decorations you would expect from Count Dracula; but there’s a respect to be had for the fact he leans into the aesthetic with gusto.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Tepes,” praises Serafine through a hitch in her throat. She’s looking around the foyer with a wistful kind of wanting; a small sparkle held in her eyes that has nothing to do with the lavish decor and everything to do with the invisible hand squeezing her heart up into her throat.

Given recent events especially, the vampiress is no stranger to grief and longing.

And Vlad beams like the way she speaks is more of a compliment than the words themselves.

“Only the best for the best of us, as I’m sure you remember.”

“All your earlier words about the Order, yet you insist on throwing your bal masqué.”

“It is specifically because of these troubling times that we must continue with our most important traditions, Serafine!” He feigns shock with a hand on his chest. The ice in his tumbler tinks together delicately in his grasp. “I thought you, of anyone, would agree.”

He’s goading her and getting more obvious in how he does it by the second. She’s taken it with grace up until now but there’s a tight edge to her tone starting to chip through her armor.

“Tradition, in times of war, can be put aside if that’s what ensures it has chance to be continued.”

“When are we not at war? The Order is no less vicious now than it was before…” He stops and sips his drink again. Casting a passive appraisal around the continued decorating.

“Unless,” with a click of his tongue, “there is a different war you speak of.”

Nadya doesn’t know what’s scaring her more right now; the fact that Serafine had let something that dangerous slip to begin with or the fact that Vlad had caught on so easily. She risks a look at him out of the corner of her eye… much to her relief his sights are still set on Serafine.

An easy grin curls his mouth. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment; let me make sure the parlor’s been made to greet us.” And when he takes his leave of them off to the right and around a set of double doors there’s a saunter to his gait that wasn’t there before. His smugness lingers in the air like a bad perfume.

The moment he’s out of earshot Jax rounds on Serafine with barely-restrained frustration.

“What the hell are we playing his games for? We don’t need to do any of this to find out what he knows.”

With pursed lips Serafine continues to watch the preparations taking place around them. Jax’s frown deepens.

“Serafine.”

“I heard you Jax, don’t worry.”

But that’s still not an answer. Before he ends up raising his voice even more, Nadya reaches out and lays her hand over Serafine’s where she wrings her fingers together at her waist.

“Serafine…” If only she didn’t sound as worried as she is; as the woman’s continued silence makes grow inside her. Serafine doesn’t push her away, but she doesn’t seem welcome to the touch either.

She finally lets her head hang with a weary sigh. “I had thought that given all that transpires around us, Vlad might have chosen to postpone this for the sake of his own safety.

“If not because of Gaius, then because of the Order.”

“Because they’ve been attacking more often, you mean.”

She nods. “But that’s assuming far too much of him. Cunning though Vlad may be, he isn’t very bright.”

“He’s certainly…” Jax’s growl drips with venom, “something.” Nothing good.

“So are we keeping with the plan?”

Squeezing the woman’s hand is enough to finally wrench Serafine’s attention back to Nadya. “No, we are not.”

Jax tenses. “Why the hell not?”

“Because this —” Nadya’s hand falls to let her offer a sweeping gesture to the foyer’s decorations, “— his bal masqué? It changes things. It changes everything.”

She says it in a way that has Nadya feeling like she’s missing a few key facts. She and Jax exchange equally confused glances, and make Serafine sigh heavily for it.

“There’s too much to be explained here. We must leave while we still are able.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he knows who you are, Nadya.”

It’s like a large gust of wind blows out every candle in the room. Not literally — but the warmth of them is sucked from her bones easily enough. It leaves Nadya feeling hollow as much as she is cold; makes her wrap her arms around herself like that will somehow protect her. She shakes her head slowly… but the disbelief isn’t as intense as she would have hoped it to be.

“But he —”

“— is a performer before he is anything else,” interrupts Serafine; and she’s not wrong. “While he may not have guessed you would be at my side tonight, he has likely known your face and who you are for as long as Isseya and Antony have.”

“So Gaius has been in contact with him then.”

Serafine doesn’t even have to give Jax a verbal response.

“Then we need to go. We need to leave the city; regroup somewhere else.”

“We’ll take our leave of him tonight, yes… but—” —there shouldn’t be any ‘buts’— “—we will be back. We’ll be here for the bal masqué, with the others; and, Goddess-willing, better prepared.”

Uhm… what?

“Why the hell would we do that?” And Jax just barely manages to check his volume, though he’s no less angry. “It’s a party for fucks’ sakes. What’s the big deal?”

“Not here.”

The swordsman throws a look over his shoulder towards the doors Vlad should be coming back through any minute now. “He’s not just gonna let us leave. Especially if —”

Especially if he knows.

But Serafine seems to think otherwise.

“He will. He knows we’ll return; I would even hazard to say he is counting on it.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Unsurprising.”

Before he can try and push the issue Serafine wraps a strong arm around Nadya’s shoulders and all but shoves her towards Jax. “Take her and go. I will deal with Vlad and give you what time I can.”

He just barely manages to catch Nadya before she falls into him. Reaching out to steady her and make sure she has her feet before rounding on their companion. “What the he—”

But he’s too late. Serafine is already five long strides away — far enough that he’d need to raise his voice to catch her. And they both know he won’t take the risk in alerting Vlad’s house staff. They’ve all been dutifully working this entire time, but if the woman dusting picture frames or the couple laying down ornate Persian rugs are anywhere as deceptive as their boss they may be ready to strike at any time.

That thought does not sit well with Nadya’s meager dinner.

“We should try and leave.” While we still can.

His jaw visibly tenses, but already he’s starting to slowly nudge the pair of them back through the open doors. “Fine. But she and I aren’t done with this.”

They catch the distant sound of Serafine’s laugh just as they walk through the doorway. The cold bites Nadya’s hands and face harder than before but sheer panic is more than enough to keep her putting one foot in front of the other. When they’re out of the building and back in the darkness, Nadya and Jax don’t hesitate to pick up the pace. Any faster when they hit the gravel and they’ll be full-on running into the night.

Well… they are running into the night. That’s the point.

“What’s with all the vampires on this freaking continent and the fact they can’t give a straight answer to save their lives?”

“Well they can’t all be like you.”

At the glower he gives her Nadya just barely manages a smile through chattering teeth. It definitely helps her feel less panicky.

“And that means what exactly?”

“They can’t all be bold Americans, obviously.”

Jax groans, fully under-appreciating her brand of awkward humor, and takes Nadya’s hand to bring her along as he speeds away.

#bloodbound #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #kamilah x mc #jax matsuo #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #serafine dupont #vlad tepes #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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vtmb2s · 3 years

Note

Past 1, 3, 6, 8 for Jason my beloved and Present 5-8 for Jenny annnd Future 2, 5, 7 for Helena! 😏

─ JASON

1. Briefly describe the way their parents grew up, and how it affected the way they raised them.

Both his parents were two regular middle class new yorkers, Frank (his dad) grew up in New York's suburbs and had a very conventional upbringing, he was the middle child of three siblings and thus kind of ignored so he usually just minded his own business... that very much carried over into adulthood, he was very reclusive and didn't really bother spending much time with his family -_-

Jason's mom, Gina, was a 2nd generation italian-american who grew up in a huge family with a billion siblings and cousins who are all very different from her husband. She liked it in the beginning but she became more and more unhappy and kind of underwhelmed. She really projected all her dreams of ever becoming someone on her kids that failed with her because she was stuck in a boring marriage with the most unambitious and boring man ever 😑

3. Describe their family. Who raised them, and who had the most impact on them? Did they have any siblings? Who were they closest to? What were the family dynamics like?

This ties in with the previous question but Frank was a bit of a loser, not particularly attractive and more timid & shy.. he was a very unambitious guy who worked a boring office job all his life without any intention of climbing the ladder. He really spent most of his time off work with his boring little loser hobbies :/

Gina was a much more spirited and lively person than her husband, Jason takes a lot more after her than his dad. She wasn't a great mother by all means due to the fact that she was unhappy in her marriage and with her life and kind of took that out on her kids, in a way where she placed certain expectations on them which Jason never really met. They weren't particularly close due to Jason's more.. rebellious nature he had as a kid, which in turn made him cause more trouble because that was the only way his parents gave him any attention at all :/ He also has an older brother, Richard, who their mother very obviously favored. Frank didn't really give a fuck about either of his sons -_-

He had a very close relationship with his mother's family though, particularly with one of her brothers. Carlo (said uncle) was a lot like him and never had any kids on his own so he became somewhat of a father figure to Jason :-)

6. Did the location they grew up in affect them significantly? Do they still go there?

He grew up in some little house in New York's suburb, not the prettiest house there because they didn't make enough for one of the nicer looking ones. He's not that fond of the boring suburbs (even in Boston), he spent more time in the city with his relatives and preferred that over his actual home. Other than that it didn't affect him much 🤷‍♀️

8. What was their childhood/teenage bedroom like?

A small little room with an ugly sports wallpaper that his parents never bothered to replace as he got older. It always looked a little messy and had a few mismatching mid-century decorations and furniture in there. As he grew older he started to cover the walls with random posters he had, to hide the ugly baseball wallpaper.

─ JENNY

5. What kind of people do they usually interact with? Who are their friends, the people they look up to/trust, and who are their “associates”?

She interacts with all sorts of people in New Bordeaux' criminal underworld - if you do anything illegal chances are you'll know Jenny. As for her actual friends, she's friends with the 3 other criminal 20 year olds in town, Danny, Lincoln, Ellis, unfortunately Giorgi (frenemies would be more fitting) and Lena. Her closest and best friends would definitely be Gavin (of @dannyburke fame)and Juliet (of @jennystahl fame) though, they're also pretty much the only ones who would fall into the "people she trusts" category... they're the only ones she'll have long weed induced therapy sessions at 1 am while the monkees are on tv.

6. What is their current relationship with their family?

Complicated... the love is there and all that, it's more of a business relationship though rather than a parent-child thing, especially with her dad. It's nothing that she ever questions (until aforementioned therapy sessions with her friends), she grew up in an environment where affection isn't really something she sees often and almost all her friends have messed up relationships with their parents too so while there is some resentment she never really questions that the way they raised her might not be ideal :c

The relationship with her siblings is complicated as well, especially because they're both a LOT younger than her. She was an only-child until the age of 13 and moved out of her childhood home when they were eight and six years old so there's this weird disconnect but there's a relationship nonetheless, which is weird. Eldest daughter AND only child disease 😓Not to mention that her parents are looking to make her little brother head of the family because he's a boy or whatever.. drama!

7. Do they have a partner? How did they meet, and what’s their relationship like now?

Yes.. she and Ellis met on some random job in the Hollow in 1963 that her dad was taking her along with (he and Sammy did random deals together and were also good friends 😌) and Jenny was like wow how boring. What if I just talk to this this guy's sons instead.... she thought he was some annoying teenage guy and only really talked to him whenever necessary (when her dad's business trips to Sammy's got REALLY boring). She forced herself to hang out with him more after Lincoln went to Vietnam and realized he's not so bad so they became friends :)

In actual game canon nothing really happens because he dies, Jenny just becomes sad that her friends were killed (him, Danny, Sammy and maybe Michael too because of Juliet connection.. she doesn't give a fuck abt Giorgi anymore that little rat can die) and wonders if she liked that goofy little guy with the ugly shirts, but in any case it's too late now.

We're doing au's here though (also this is as of '68) so in the good timeline they get together in 1968.. sort of. It's not a friends with benefits thing, more that sort of relationship that you know will end sooner or later for various reasons, so you're kind of living in the moment and have fun while it lasts. It IS genuine and not just about hooking up from time to time of course, it's just not the kind of thing that was built to last because it's based off of a dumb 20 year olds friendship and one of them (Jenny) doesn't really plan on sticking around in New Bordeaux. But well, who knows what will happen 😏

8. What hobby or pastime of theirs do they consider most important to them and why?

Well, she's big on making music, she plays the guitar and sings (she has a pretty nice voice c: ), she grew up in a pretty fucked up environment so that was her sort of escape in her youth, to be a normal kid who's playing the guitar very very badly. She doesn't play it badly as a 23 year old anymore of course and it's a little thing she shares with her best friends so that means a lot to her 😳

─ HELENA

2. Are they content with their future situation? Is there anything they would change?

Well, she's certainly not happy with the whole vampire situation - her dreams of becoming famous for acting were pretty much ruined, now she's legally dead and nothing more than a photo on true crime blogs and conspiracy theory websites... Famous but for the wrong reasons, in a way she's more bitter about "dying" before she had the chance to become famous than about the whole vampirism thing herself. There would have been something incredibly poetic about a beautiful young actress dying at the height of her career, now she's just some random nobody :/

It could be worse though. She's known among L.A. vampires for her lack of loyalty to any of the factions (despite her working for the Camarilla earlier) and her just helping whoever she feels like which is fine to her, most of them will just leave her alone. In any case, she's not in Los Angeles anymore after the events of Bloodlines!!

5. Did they get married or have a family? Why? If otherwise, why not?

See she would like to get married eventually, making a promise to love someone and be with them for eternity (literally... because... vampires) is incredibly romantic and she would love that (THIS is her wedding... not really because she's not that cringe but also.. yeah), so who knows what might happen.

Family though, no!! Starting one isn't possible, at least not with biological children since she's a vampire. It doesn't bother her that much, she always did envision herself with one child in the future but she's not desperate to be a mother anyway so she doesn't beat herself up about it. She does wonder what it might be like to have children and laments it from time to time (she's a little overdramatic) but overall she doesn't mind that much.

7. Are their friends still a part of their life? Are there people they are no longer in touch with, or newly important people?

Yes, sort of! As I mentioned before she's not in L.A. anymore post-bloodlines and she never had many friends there to begin with so she keeps in touch with the few she has there. She miiight make a few new (or old) connections once shes out of Los Angeles too, who knows!

#THANK U ❤❤❤#three hotties..#i got SO many for Jenny i'm gonna end up having to replay mafia by the time i'm done with this #queennymeria #ask #c: jason #c: jenny #c: helena

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mnthpprt · 4 years

Text

Chapter 38: Nocturnal

[Am I procrastinating by writing yet another chapter? Yes I am. Pls send help.]

I wake up only a couple hours later to find Arthur is gone. He must have gone back to write in is room. I don something comfortable and pick up my blood soaked clothes from the bathroom floor to wash them. Though Sebastian knows what I did, I don’t want to wake him up in the middle of the night for this. He has done enough already, and I can deal with the stains myself.

I fetch a bucket and a jar of salt from the kitchen and bring it back to my bedroom before filling it with cold water. I then proceed to scrub as much as I can off the clothes inside the shower, using a thick salt paste, and when the water stops running red, I lather them in soap and leave them to soak in the bucket. The stains are fairly fresh, so hopefully they will come out in a day or two.

After drying myself off, I leave to aimlessly roam around the mansion. I need to do something, anything, to keep my mind occupied. I eventually end up in the attic, crawling onto the roof through the dormer window. I am pleased to find Jean is there. I don’t think I could handle being alone with my thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, knocking on the window frame. Jean turns to glance at me before shuffling over, making space for me beside him on the edge. “This is becoming a habit, huh?”

“It’s not one I’m opposed to,” he shrugs. I light a cigarillo, and he looks at it disapprovingly. “Unlike that one.”

“Sorry.” Before I can smother the flame on the roof tiles, he holds my hand to stop me.

“I was joking...” he mutters. “I don’t mind if you smoke.”

I... did not think Jean had a sense of humor. His is a lot like Mozart’s, I think, in the sense that it’s hard to tell when they’re kidding. I chuckle and look up at the sky. The sun is still nowhere near the horizon. It must be around 3 in the morning.

After exhaling a cloud of smoke, I glance at Jean to notice him staring at my arm. My sleeves are still rolled up from the laundry, and most of my tattoos are fully exposed.

“Is that some sort of plant?” he shyly asks. I nod.

“A monstera adansonii. I used to work in a flower shop, and this is my favorite plant that we sold,” I explain. Though it is commonly referred to as ‘Swiss cheese plant’, the holes on its leaves have always reminded me of the craters on the moon.

“I own a shop too,” he quietly informs me, catching me by surprise. “I sell weapons.”

“Sounds about right,” I chuckle. His fascination with the objects is evident in his bedroom. “Do you make them yourself?”

“Only some of them. I mostly just make slight alterations.”

“Must be a lot of work, if you also own the place,” I ponder out loud. “No wonder I rarely see you during the day, you must be so busy.”

“Napoleon helps me with the paperwork. I wouldn’t be able to manage without him.” I tilt my head, wondering what he means by that. “I, uh... I can’t read or write,” he explains.

“Oh.” It makes sense, given the time that he lived in. Most people back then were illiterate. I open my mouth when a thought occurs to me, but quickly close it and sink down against the chimney, resigned.

“What is it?”

“I was going to offer to teach you, but I’m not much better off myself,” I chuckle. “I could not spell in French if my life depended on it. I can kind of read it, though. That, I might be able to help you with.”

“... Thank you,” he murmurs after a brief pause, before turning to look at me with his good eye. “I am glad that you are staying here, Anaïs.”

“Yeah, about that...” I mutter. “I think I understand how you felt that night. These baby vampire impulses are... a bit too much to handle. It’s rough.”

Jean nods slowly and looks away from me, as if thinking about something. When he finally speaks again, his voice is even softer than usual.

“You slipped, didn’t you?” His unexpected question makes me tense beside him. I guess he feels it, because he continues. “I was up here when you came back. I saw you.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I sigh. “It was bad. I mean, it was self defence, but that doesn’t make it any less awful...”

“It does,” he declares. “Do you think that person would have died if they hadn’t attacked you?”

“Not really, but-”

“Then they deserved it and their blood is not on your hands,” he cuts me off. “Not literally, at least.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. The logic in his argument is not exactly airtight, but it’s better than blaming myself for what I did. I helped Jean hate himself a little less, it’s time to let him do the same for me. Satisfied with my new mindset, I bring the cigarillo to my lips and inhale a deep puff.

“... People,” I finally correct him after I blow out the smoke. He looks at me, confusion in his ocean blue eye. “There were two people.”

“And you took them down on your own?” he inquires. I shrug. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. “Impressive. I didn’t think a frail little woman like you could defeat one, even as a vampire.”

“Hey, I’m stronger than I look,” I laugh. I am still not sure whether he was teasing me or not, but I chose to take it that way. He looks at me before shaking his head.

“Nah, I don’t believe that.” Yeah, he is definitely messing with me this time.

“I am, I swear!” I play along, gently smacking his muscular arm. “Wanna take this to the training room?”

Instead of replying, he gets up and offers me his hand. I take it, letting him effortlessly pull me to my feet, and follow him back inside.

“You know,” I say on the way there, “I’ve been wanting to learn how to fight properly for a while. Ever since I saw you and Napoleon on my first day here.”

“How about I teach you that, and you teach me how to read?” he suggests. I smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

When we enter the training room, Jean turns the switch on the wall, making the lights turn on with a flicker. I wonder how he feels about all this new technology, so unfamiliar to him. He seems to have gotten somewhat used to electricity and running water, at least. Although I’m pretty sure his brain would implode if he saw the things that are common in my time.

He exchanges his rapier for a wooden version of it he takes from the rack in the corner, and hands me another one, identical to his. It’s heavier than I expected. I hold it between my thighs to tie my hair up as Jean expertly waves his sword around with a flourish, getting accustomed to the different handle in his hand. What did I just get myself into? Whatever it is, it’s going to be fun.

“En garde!” He takes a stance, and I try to mimic it, but my thin right arm is unused to the weight of the weapon, so my left hand instinctually joins to support it. “No, use only one hand,” he instructs. “Like this.”

I am surprised to see I can easily hold it up once I get past the mental barrier of what my human body was capable of. I am stronger and more resilient than I have ever been, though I think I’ll need some time to get used to that.

“Alright, I’m going to attack now. Try to block it,” he warns be before lunging forward and thrusting his sword towards my stomach. The movement is deliberately slow to give me time to deflect it, which I successfully do.

He slashes at me again, stepping closer. I push his sword to the side with my own, but it comes back in full force. I barely manage to block it this time, reeling backwards.

“Focus,” he orders me. “There is more than one way to avoid being hit.”

I nod, taking the hint. When he attacks again, I am quick to dodge his sword, focusing on agility rather than strength. While I struggled significantly to parry Jean’s hits, I can effortlessly jump and twist out of the way without ever having to lift my own sword. His movements accelerate, and I follow along, resulting in a graceful dance between us. It reminds me of waltz with Mozart, how he had spun me around the ballroom until my vision blurred and I struggled to keep up with his quick footwork.

“Ow!” I cry out in pain when Jean’s sword hits my hand, right on my knuckles.

“Désolé! (Sorry)” he apologizes, lowering his weapon. “Not bad, Anaïs. How come you’re so fast? You’ve never trained before.”

I simply point at my skates across the room, the red suede boots having become part of the training room’s vast collection of equipment over time. I started leaving them here, on the floor near a corner, when I realized I could never use them outside of the mansion.

“When you’re falling from a triple spin in the air, you gotta be quick or you end up breaking your leg, or something,” I chuckle. Jean nods, his eyebrows raised, as if he just considered that possibility for the first time. He probably did, but to be fair, he has been watching me skate for a month now. He should know better.

I slowly flex my fingers over the sword’s handle, but wince in pain when I try to move my pinky. It’s too sore for me to continue training.

“Are you hurt?” Jean asks, concerned. I shake my head.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just my pinky,” I brush it off. “It will be healed in a day or so.”

“We should continue another day, then.”

I want to argue, but he’s right. I can barely hold the sword straight. My pinky might have taken the brunt of it, but the dull ache expands through my entire hand.

“Okay, but I’m gonna skate instead, if you don’t mind,” I finally give in, walking to ‘my’ corner of the room, before kicking my shoes off. “I have way too much energy. I fear I’ll end up eating someone again if I don’t get rid of it somehow.”

As I struggle to tie my laces with a semi-numb hand, I remember something. I look up at Jean and stare at him for a few seconds before voicing my thoughts.

“Do you know any songs?”

“Yes, why?” he asks, confused.

“My headphones are dead.”

“Headphones?” He sits on the floor beside me and tilts his head.

“Yeah, you know those little things I wear in my ears sometimes?” I remind him. “They play music. And, well, it’s kinda weird for me to skate without music, so I was wondering if you could sing something...”

“Did I accidentally hit your head?”

I snort at his genuine question. Of course, he seems even more confused by my explanation. It is then that I remember my phone still works. I turned it off after my first night here to preserve the battery. It must be in my room somewhere, along with my wireless earplugs.

“Wait here,” I tell him, quickly pulling off my skates. “I’m just gonna show you. I’ll be right back.”

That said, I jump up and run barefoot out of the training room. I have no idea how I’m gonna explain this to Jean without him thinking it’s witchcraft, but it might be better if I just let him see it for himself.

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire jean #ikevamp jean

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nyarisu · 4 years

Text

Völkerball liveblogging

Dear lord this took me so long to edit you better appreciate it

Reise reise

Oooo~ but I still like the Hellfest version more :)) (Till’s face during the Hellfest chorus will always be my sexuality)

Schneider’s costume is fabulous but I’ll never trust those curls

Also vampire Reesh that’s a good look

Asdfghjklthe vagina entrance XDDD they really had to

Hello nice legs

I’ve watched this only once because i don’t like the sound. Someone said Till was sick and I don’t know what actually happened but his voice kinda sounds like it, especially more towards the middle of the live.

But the chorus is still so nice~

The tongue via Till’s fucked up slut face

Olli’s really serious

"Ist kein Licht am Horizont" REESH DO YOU WANNA KILL ME?? That was one sexy face

I really love Till’s expressions i want to kiss his face

The eyes! And then looking up to the sky<3 (was there even a sky or was inside I didn’t even notice XD)

I really don’t like Paul and Flake’s costumes

Fucking god that entrance is craking me up

Links 234

Hei hei hei!

I love how they all march on the stage

Bwhbwbwhwbhwbwhw XD

That’s a nice middle to wrap your hands around, mr Lindemann

I love when he’s hittig his chest on “links”

THE FANGS

Paul means business XD

You can’t not sing with them during links

Oh the solo<3 sounds so nice live

Thank god my favourite person from this stupid band is also the one most filmes otherwise I would’ve been in trouble

Dem boobs XD

Keine lust

I thought it was Sonne for one sec

He kicked the mic stand XD

Now you can hear he’s a little raspy

Yes Till we know the lyrics’ meaning and also that you’re horny

The chorus sounds nice again, it sounds better when he’s actually siniging vs talking

Who’s foamning at the mouth over that patch of skin under his pants, I’ve seen people talk about that (unfortunately it’s doing nothing for me)

"kaaaalt. Soo kaaaalt" I’ll keep you warm bby just don’t be sad T_T

Ok but Flake’s headpiece is actually hilariuous gotta admit

I really want to kiss Till *opening his mouth like a retarded owl* I don’t think I want anymore

Feuer frei

That was his I’m ready to slut pose XD

DONT HIT YOURSELF YOU DUMB BABY

Ooooooh Olli got shirtless (what were they calling this?)

I really like RZK’s top

Of course he’s gotta bully Flake

Chumby

I’m really trying to focus more on image but the voice is such a big thing for me and it’s clear he has something

The masks!! I love those so much

„Jaaaa”

Wow Schneider’s drumsticks went out with a literal bang

Asche zu Asche

4 lines later I finally realised what song is >.< and only because Till began to sing...

DID YOU SEE WHAT HE WAS DOING WITH THOSE DRUMSTICKS?!? I knew why I had a thing for hands/fingers

Asdfghjkl Richard strutting down the stage with his little red stripe<3

He’s a moody goth and I love his look did he just put his hands on his hips? XD

Till’s cheeks! I want to pinch his face

Everyone’s favourite part and THE NECK TILT ok wow now that was hot

Tho I usually preffer the “In zehn Tagen” to RZK’s “Ich komm wieder” now it was the opposite (probably because I couldn’t see Till that well) and Reesh acting all sexy was definitely improving it

Go Flake go XD he’s so serious and by the end he’s having the time of his life meanwhile Till is having an existential crisis (another)

Olli’s abs are heeeeella nice

Till with his hand over his heart didn’t help his case

Yeah Richard ok you’re sexy i get it holly fuck I’ve never been more attracted to him

And now i’ll never be able to unsee the neck tilt

That ich kom wieder just unmade me

Morgenstern

Bath time XD

I really like when Till slicks his hair back

Dear lord the chorus thank you for your voice sir and congrats on it

I really like the general image of a bassist playing their bass (other verb I could’ve used was fingering XD that’s literally what he’s doing!!)

Ooooh the keyboards sound so nice<3

DON’T pluck your eyes out!

The fire part is really impressive

I love then Richard is doign his gay boy pose XD and then the closeup on him while bobbing his head

I need to say once again the chorus sounds wundershon

Mein Teil

The first 2 seconds I thought it was MHB

Paul and Richard walking towards each other<3

Aaaand the epicness begins!

Schneider is fabulous behind his drums, can’t forget about him

YEET

The tongue’s is at it again

FLAKE POPING UP WITH THAT SMILE CRACKED ME UP you demented human

People are rocking the hell out this song

“durch Engelsscharen” Till’s expression<3

And the maddnes begins. Wow it was shorter than usual... obviously, it was at the beginning

Flake has such a special style of running I can’t XD

Stein um Stein

And everyone is gonna talk about him drawing a house xD it was cute (considering what the song is about)

You’re being a slut again

Aaaaah I want to complain about the playback but I really can’t I rather prefer him with vocal cords. At least the rest of the song sounded excelent!

The little sound at the end of „sein” and his face: childish enjoyment while talking about fucked up shit. If this doesn’t perfectly summarize Till then I don’t know what does

Schenider’s smile

No but really beside the screeching parts he sung it so well!

Were they trying to film Richards crotch? Whatever he’s sexy

Another reason why I watch this only once before was me being kind of meh regarding Till’s look he’s my favourite after all I gotta act the part

Los

My fucking god Scheider’s legs! I fucking love thighs. And he has a nice ass too

Richard’s smile!! Don’t kill me

Is it me or does Till start to stare into space and look generally Not Ok (tm)?

„fucking mickey mouse” XDDD

Los is among the last 10 songs on my list I usually just skip it

I died when I saw him with a harmonica the first time

Flake and Olli XD

Don’t manhandle poor Flake (I really want to say I wish that were me but knowing myself I would probably just deck Till in the face XD)

The sunglasses are sick

RZK and Till headbaning<3

Rip (rest in pieces) to keyboard

Du riechts so gut

THE BOW! The cute flamingo pose aside, that bow is one of my favourite pyro effects ever

And then the synchronised bodybanging<3

That „pang” never sounded so good?

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN MENTIONED THE NECK TILT REESH IS SO SEXY HERE I CAN’T EVEN

The deepest he sings the lees you hear the raspiness

Lord! The whole audience just fucking went for it

Schneider’s muscles, Richard’s little smirk and Till zombie 2.0

Even more bodybanging. Flake is enjoying himself

WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU SO PRETTY?!? (me to Richard)

Flake casually going back to his keyboards uthgjkhfzc that looked so cool and smooth

I promise I still drool over Till just... Richard is so prettily standing there! I cant ignore him!

The firesleeves are so cool and it looks so good, especially with them facing different ways

And freeze! Nice and dramatic

Till hammer time

That one guy really feeling the „DRSG” in the audience XD

Benzine

3 consecutive thought: it is Benzine fuck yeah, I can never tell if it’s Benzine or Keine Lust, Till’s terrified face

The most Rammstein song to ever Rammstein

Paul going wild XD but I still don’t like his hat

Flake is spazzing again

Du hast

Thank god I’m actually enjoying this song now, I skipped it for half a year

The drums and the beginning and the keyboards are <3

The tongue >w<

People are going wild

I like Richard’s dramatic gesturing. Pretty rockstar boy

The chorus sounds so good

Flake what is that on your head? XD is he a One Piece character?

Did he just casually shoved the mic into his pocket? XD

I much more preffer the newest effect from Paris onwards (which is also my top favourite)

Sehnsucht

This song has a very special and unique feel to it probably because it screams Live aus Berlin more than any other (and now I feel like watching LAB again)

It’s the chanting in the background probably

He’s sounding sick again :(

You have muscles in the arms (and probably legs too) and chumby in the belly it’s perfect

Lol @ Paul trying to look scary

„SEHNSUCHT!”

Ok Richard honey you can stop with the sexy neck tilt

He’s slapping the hell out of his guitar

Please stop pulling your hair out

Amerika

@Flake on that thing: wierd flex but ok

Sexy fishnet legs

Wow that’s a really soft and nice opening, pretty unexpected

LOL Flake taking off his hat like „sorry for your loss” but considering the song it’s expected from him XD

Beauatiful eyes<3

He’s just nyooming from one side of the stage to the other? XD

That eyeliner looks so fucking good on Till

Flake is suffering :)) (what the fuck was I talking about I can’t remember now that I’m editing)

Even Richard’s hair looks pretty! What the fuck??

The last scene with Schneider (and then his legs)

Rammstein

Those are some fucking guns he has right there

This is the most badass intrumental intro ever

“Scheeeeeein”

Oooooh so this is where that gif was coming from for some reason it thought it was Engel from MSG. Does this live even has Engel on it?

I love when drummers throw their sticks in the air and then catch them again

Ok the image of Till slowly backing off between Paul and Richard who were both vibing in their own way was really nice

Sonne

Schneider is enjoiying this isn’t he XD

For some reason this song doesn’t seem as energic as it usually is?

Was Till humping the mic stand? (more likely than you’d think)

Seing Flake and Till doing the hammer side by side is really funny, that’s some size difference

Ich will

Bye bye mic stand again

Till baby what did you do with your throat to make your voice sound like that?

Richard looking to the side during „ich will” hhhhhHhh

Let me slap that ass Till

I want to lick your face

Ohne dich

Ollie what are you doing

Asdfhjkl Flake comforting Till and the way he just rests his head on Flake’s shoulder is breaking my heart

Poor baby come here and let me love you

You can clearly see he’s trerrified

Lsnhxkvj his eyes<3

Nawwww they are kissing

I am silently thristing over Till don’t mind me

Please don’t cry T_T and then him looking over his bangs sfdghjkl

„is he... ya know” pose with a hand in the air Heirate mich style (aka Till Lehmann is a sub)

Look I know he’s suffering and all but I really can’t focus on that with all the water dripping off him

Stripped

No wonder I didn’t recognised the song it doensn’t even exist to me XD

Till pointing like „you. drop your panties. now” XD

I had half a mind to skip it but then I would have missed Till’s wonderful tongue performance

Was he flicking it to the rythm??

Hearing him sing in english is always so weird (I only recently rediscovered the gem the Children of the Sun is)

Richard what was that sexy face?

Ollie is braving the human seas, telepathy at its finest XD

Hmm that is a really nice lower back

Gangsta XD „how do you do fellow kids”

Paul is enjoying the show

Schneider has killer looks. Literally XD

YEET

Conclusions:

Half of it went really slow and then the other half went really fast? I don’t understand what happened

So this is the setting for Mit Dir Bin Ich Auch Allein... ok, good to know ;)

You sure this was a good idea 4 songs in and I already wrote 2 pages, now the total is at 6.

I’m not particulary fond of the looks and Till sounds sick so I usually avoid this live. Also some songs are weird with the energy so yeah

Richard is so pretty I can’t (and fucking hot how come I don’t remeber this??)

#rammstein #rammbois #liveblogging #I have a temporal crush on Richard quick I need to read some fics #but no seriously why was he so pretty??#Rena's R+ ramblings

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simminglena · 5 years

Photo

🌈 RAINBOW BERRY! LEGACY CHALLENGE

– I love berry Sims! You too? I know, right...? Aren’t they just so cute?

I’ve been considering for a good while whether to do a Berry Challenge or not, but while @lilsimsie already shared her Not So Berry Legacy Challenge with us, I couldn’t click with it for some reason. So, I’ve decided to create my OWN version. It will be a mix of the Not So Berry with the original Legacy Challenge and choose some new rules for my own Rainbow Berry! Legacy Challenge (´｡• ◡ •｡`)ﾉﾞ ♡

If you want to join me in this adventure, buckle up, my friend! Here’s what you need to know (= •ㅅ• =)

NOTE: In order to fully enjoy the Challenge, you must own ALL PACKS! Also, YOU WILL NEED BERRY SKINTONES! You can find some here:

• Noodle’s 16 Pastel Skin Colors • SimplySimblr’s 25 Shades of Berries • Noodle’s 64 Berry Skin Colors • TheSimsperience’s 63 Custom Skin Colors

» The Basics:

You will be playing with your Sims up to the 10th Generation. The perk of this Challenge is that each Generation will be represented by a signature color, wherever applicable. However, it is possible to choose whether their hair/eyes/clothes match their signature color (and skintone) or not.

» Rules:

▪ Cheats are not allowed. The only exception is for the FreeRealEstate cheat when you move into your first home.

▪ Your starter Sim must be created using random genetics. NOTE: It is possible to tweak him/her, as long as none of the game’s presets is used. Keep in mind that some of your Sims’ traits, aspirations and careers must be randomly chosen by a Scenario Generator.

▪ The first born will always be the heir for the next generation unless otherwise stated.

▪ Every generation must complete both the Career and Aspiration unless otherwise stated.

▪ Lifespan must be set to Normal. Don’t forget to always keep track of your Sims’ aging!

In case you wish to share your Berry homes on the Gallery, or just wish to share your progress with the Challenge, feel free to do so by using the #RainbowBerryLegacy tag!

Generations list under the cut!

» The Generations:

There are 10 Generations: » CORAL (Red) » PUMPKIN (Orange) » CITRUS (Yellow) » JADE (Green) » MINT (Aqua) » INDIGO (Blue) » PLUM (Purple) » LILY (Lilac) » BERRY (Pink) » ASH (Gray)

BONUS! » EBONY & IVORY (Black & White)

Each Generation has a list of goals you must achieve before passing over to the next one. Never forget your trustworthy Scenario Generator, because you will need to use it several times through your Challenge.

🌈 Generation #1: CORAL

Gender: x // Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x // Career: x

You are a fiery yet fun-loving young Sim with a liking for clubs and nightlife. You rarely make plans, and if you have to, you're most likely going to mess them up in order to follow your instinct. But you never give up, whatever result you get from your – sometimes reckless – decisions.

REQUIREMENT: Hot-headed trait.

» GOALS:

Get invited to a Club and become their leader;

Adopt a large dog;

Maximize Mischief and Dancing skills;

Have at least 5 lovers;

Get married and have one child after reaching the Adult phase.

🌈 Generation #2: PUMPKIN

Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x

You're almost never seen without a bright, wide smile plastered on your face, and if you’re gloomy, it’s most likely because your batch of cookies didn’t turn out the way you wanted. Your heart belongs to the kitchen – and your furry minions – and your mission is to make your neighborhood a little happier everyday with your bakery. As you always say: Good Food is Good Mood.

REQUIREMENT: Goofball trait.

» GOALS:

Adopt at least 3 red cats;

Maximize Cooking and Baking skills;

Unlock and learn all recipes;

Run a bakery;

Find love, marry and have 3 children before Elder phase

The first Male will be the heir for next Generation.

🌈 Generation #3: CITRUS

Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x

You are full of energy, with a big thing for gyms and good looks. You may be a bit narcissistic, but when it comes to your skills you’re so fond of yourself that you like to share your progress and enthusiasm all over the Social Networks. You're quite scatterbrained and perhaps a bit selfish, but overall, you’re a good noodle.

REQUIREMENT: Active trait.

» GOALS:

Social Media career;

Maximize Fitness and Videogaming skills;

Complete the Snow Globe and Postcards collection;

Propose to a childhood friend but leave her at the altar;

Get married to another sim and have at least 2 children before reaching the Adult phase.

The first Female will be the heir for next Generation.

🌈 Generation #4: JADE

Age: Young Adult // 1 trait: x // Aspiration: x // Career: x

You must have been some kind of Flower Fairy in your past life. Everything concerning nature and its creatures is mesmerizing to you, to the point that you adore even the smallest flower and wish to live in extreme harmony with each living being surrounding you.

REQUIREMENTS: Loves Outdoors and Vegetarian traits.

» GOALS:

Maximize Gardening, Fishing and Herbalism skills;

Own a Cowplant;

Join the Garden Gnomes Club and become their leader;

Complete Insect, Fish and Frog collections;

Marry a coworker and have one child before Elder stage.

🌈 Generation #5: MINT

Age: Young Adult // Traits: x // Aspiration: x

You don’t quite share your mother’s interests. You believe in balance and good health. Your main focus – quite literally – is on human beings and the wondrous way the human body works, both physically and mentally. You’re extremely dedicated to your job... although you really enjoy your moments of relax.

REQUIREMENT: Doctor career.

» GOALS:

Maximize Logic and Wellness skills;

Meditate and do Yoga at least twice a week;

Adopt a cat or a small dog;

Have 3 failed relationships before finding love with a Veterinary;

Never have children, but adopt a child before Elder stage.

🌈 Generation #6: INDIGO

Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x

Justice. There’s nothing that excites you more than investigate and solve crimes in order to punish those criminals. But your heart is a soft one, and at times one must consider and evaluate different paths before making their choice... heart or career? In your case, definitely heart.

REQUIREMENT: Good trait, Detective career.

» GOALS:

Maximize Logic and Charisma skills;

Adopt a large dog;

Find love with a Criminal before level 7 of your career;

Quit career at level 7 and move to a different scenario;

Marry in secret and have four children.

The first Male will be the heir for next Generation.

🌈 Generation #7: PLUM

Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x

Your brains crawl with questions. Quite literally. Why do we breathe oxygen? How many stars are beyond our sight? What’s Sixam, and what wonders does it hide? Your curiosity is what pushes you forward, and you’re determined to find the answer to all of your doubts!

REQUIREMENT: Genius trait, Scientist career.

» GOALS:

Maximize Logic and Rocket Science skills;

Build a Rocket Ship;

Complete Alien, Geodes, Elements, Crystals and Space Rocks collections;

Have a relationship on the job before falling in love with an Alien;

Have two children before reaching the Adult phase.

🌈 Generation #8: LILY

Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x // Career: x

There’s a gift in each of us, and deep within you there’s a star. Your truest passion lies in music, and you wish to make a living out of it. You may be a little frivolous, but you know what you want, and you know how to get it... don’t you?

REQUIREMENT: Music Lover trait.

» GOALS:

Maximize Singing and Guitar skills;

Write at least 25 songs and earn at least 50.000§ by singing;

Become a World Famous Celebrity;

Have an affair with an Actor;

Have 3 children from 3 different relationships.

🌈 Generation #9: BERRY

Age: Young Adult // 2 traits: x // Aspiration: x // Career: x

You may be born in the spotlight, but celebrity life is not all fun and games. Fun, however, are the many many colors that surround you as you paint. Creativity is your best form of expression... maybe you could also make a few extra simoleons out of it?

REQUIREMENT: Creative trait.

» GOALS:

Maximize Painting and Photography skills;

DIY — where possible — your own furniture and decorations;

Earn at least 50.000§ by painting;

Marry a Snob sim;

Divorce, remarry and have at least two children.

The first Female will be the heir of next Generation.

🌈 Generation #10: ASH

Age: Young Adult // 1 trait: x // Career: x

Life is boring. So boring. Nobody is up to your standards, and the only places you find interesting are inside the books you read. In fact, you wish to belong somewhere else. Humans are ephemeral, empty shells. You want to become superior and immortal... like those mysterious creatures in your favourite books.

REQUIREMENT: Bookworm trait, Bestselling Author aspiration.

» GOALS:

Become a Vampire;

Maximize Writing and Vampire Lore skills;

Write at least 25 books and earn at least 50.000§ by writing;

Unlock all your Vampire Powers and become Grand Master;

Entice and marry Count Vladislaus;

BONUS: Have TWINS – you may cheat for this one!

🌈 BONUS Generation: EBONY & IVORY

Age: Toddler RANDOMIZE TRAITS + ASPIRATION FOR ONE TWIN, THEN CHOOSE THE OPPOSITES FOR THE OTHER.

You two are the complete opposite of each other. To you, everything the other does is utterly nonsensical, and just gets on your nerves. And yet, how is it that you two just cannot have your own lives? Will this curse ever end? Maybe adulthood will finally let you part your ways... or reconcile with each other.

REQUIREMENT: The twins cannot part until the challenge is over.

» GOALS:

Maximize at least 3 skills;

Mess with each other until Teen phase;

One sibling must steal the other’s lover at least once;

Get the same part-time job during Teen phase;

Share the same room until Young Adult phase.

Will the siblings finally part? Will they reconcile? Choose your own ending!

Thanks for reading this far! It may be cheesy and predictable at times, but I had a lot of fun writing this Challenge, so I’m excited to share it with you!

I hope you’ll enjoy playing it as much as I do! So, good luck, and Happy Simming! ヽ(°´∀`°)ﾉ♪ .･:☆

NOTE: REPOSTED, UPDATED FOR GET FAMOUS.

#The Sims 4 #TS4 #Sims4Challenge #S4Challenge #Legacy Challenge #RainbowBerryLegacy

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

Text

AU where in the first season of each of their respective shows, Scott McCall and Tyler Lockwood run into each other after they both skip town and go off on their own because literally every other werewolf they know is an asshole. And like, granted, Tyler’s an asshole too at that point, but in a ‘he’ll grow out of it’ kinda way, and I mean...enter Scott McCall. Hashtag Growth happens immediately for both. Tyler’s like “No dude, you gotta be more selfish. Look out for number one, you know?”

Scott squints. “I’m number one?” He says slowly, in classic ‘I’m the hot girl?’ tone and cadence, as though the idea has never occurred to him before.

“You’re totally number one, champ,” Tyler says affirmatively, because like...he has eyes, and also has known Scott for longer than five minutes now and thus its pretty obvious that this is in fact true. Also, Tyler is at this point still the kind of asshole who says things like “champ”, and like....not even in an ironic way.

Then the next day Tyler’s an asshole to someone who doesn’t deserve it and Scott looks at him sadly.

“I don’t know how to tell you this dude, but like, you gotta care about other people,” he says. Tyler frowns. Contemplates this.

“Okay,” he says and shrugs, and its pretty much that simple because I mean, he legit literally just needed someone to tell him that. Have you met his parents? They’re AWFUL. I mean they were. Haha, they died. I mean oh no. Much sadness.

They form their own pack and its awesome and eventually that gay werewolf dude from The Originals, Aiden, joins up with them - but only because he brings his vampire boyfriend Josh along with him. I don’t really care about Aiden, but Josh was cool, ergo, I guess Aiden can stay. What is it with white werewolf dudes named Aiden anyway? There are other names, guys. Branch out. Live a little.

They then go to Canada for awhile and run into the werewolves from Bitten.

“Yeah, this seems like a whole mess,” Tyler says, gesturing vaguely in a way meant to encompass every fucked up thing that is wrong with the werewolves in the world of Bitten.

“I just remembered I left the stove on. Sorry, we gotta go,” Scott says, backing away slowly. Their pack turns and leaves *vague hand gestures* All That behind.

They then go to New York and meet the Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Shenanigans ensue, and in the process, they wind up in like, Valentine’s dungeons where they stumble across and rescue Luke Garroway.

“Wait, aren’t you that werewolf cop?” Josh asks, confused. Luke frowns.

“What? Why the hell would I be a cop? Oh, you must mean that doppelganger Valentine hired to be me to keep any of my old Shadowhunters allies or Clary’s mom to look for me. Wait, he’s a cop? Man, FUCK that guy.”

“Fuck doppelgangers, dude,” Tyler agrees, nodding sagely. Scott cocks an eyebrow at him in query.

“They just really suck,” Tyler says, with feeling. Scott nods. Well okay then. Fuck doppelgangers.

Luke joins their pack and the novelty of knowing an adult werewolf who doesn’t completely suck isn’t wearing off any time soon. Who knew that was a thing? They begin to have hope that being a werewolf isn’t synonymous with turning into a douchebag on your twenty-first birthday. Especially Tyler. He like literally JUST un-douchefied himself.

They then go wherever the fuck that show The Gates was set. There’s a whole pack there, and they don’t seem completely awful, but then there’s this one werewolf kid named Brett. Scott goes still.

“Do you have a twin brother?” He asks Brett. Brett scowls.

“What the fuck kind of a question is that? No.”

“Oh, sorry,” Scott says. “It’s just you look a lot like this guy I knew back home, Jackson.”

“Well I’m not him and I don’t have a twin brother,” Brett says with unnecessary aggression that is doing nothing to assuage comparisons to Jackson. Like, chill. It was just a question.

“Oh no! He must be a doppelganger! Sorry, we have to go, we left the water running in the sink,” Tyler yells, standing up and sweeping Scott off his feet and over one shoulder while hollering over the other as he runs off into the night. The rest of their pack look at each other in confusion, shrug, and run after them. Because like, that probably means something, they figure. The Gates pack stares after them with varying expressions of wtf.

“Fucking weirdos,” Brett scoffs then. He goes back to being just The Worst Ever.

Then they wind up in Seattle, where they meet the roommates from Being Human. The American version obviously, I mean, not to be US centric but they’re not going to fucking London just to run into more werewolves, An American Werewolf in London honestly just wasn’t good enough to justify the endless jokes about American werewolves going to London, like, get over it already, let it go.

Werewolf Josh is decent enough. They consider inviting him to join their pack. Then his vampire roommate Aidan gets home, and he’s like, a whole serial killer and a half. So.

“Oh no, I left an unwrapped burrito from 7-11 in the microwave, its gonna go bad!” Vampire Josh shouts in horror, throwing Scott over one shoulder, Tyler over the other, sweeping his boyfriend up in his arms bridal style and then backing into Luke until the older man sighs, hates everything, makes plans to buy a gas-economical SUV because being a werewolf suburban soccer mom is still less undignified than being given piggy back rides by their token vampire when he runs out of arms and shoulders. Then Josh sprints all the way outside the Seattle city limits before stopping and dropping his passengers off as the rest of their pack gathers around them.

“What was wrong with this one?” Asks Tommy Dawkins, the werewolf from Big Wolf on Campus. He and Scott make up the pack’s “Wholesome Jocks In Recovery Post Asshole BFF-endectomy” club. Luke told all the teens that home-schooling was fine, but they still needed extracurriculars. This was not what he had in mind, but well. Baby steps.

“Terrible judge of character,” Scott explains. “Has philosophical debates with his vampire roommate about said vampire roommate’s triple digit body count.”

“Ahh.”

“Am I the only vampire who isn’t just ‘oh look at me, I can go homicidal at the drop of a hat and kill scores of people and then click my heels together and go whoops, all better now, man, THAT was a bad decade for me, huh?’ Am I? AM I?” Josh wails, hiccuping between sobs. Like all vampires, he is very pretty 90% of the time, but he’s a super ugly crier. It’s wonderfully humanizing. Gross, and like, dude gets snot everywhere, but there is an Official Pack Rule. Nobody tell Josh about the ugly crying. Plus, its just a cheap shot, you know? Its not his fault 99% of other vampires use their Pretty for evil.

“Josh,” Tyler says solemnly, putting his arms on both the vampire’s shoulders and looking him gravely in the eye. “I hate to have to tell you this, but I think that like. Yeah. You might just be...The One.”

“Wait no, I heard about this one vampire who’s supposed to not be awful? Down in LA I think,” says Mark, from Lost Girl. He’s not actually a werewolf, he’s a shapeshifter who turns into a black panther. They ran into his dad first, a werewolf named Dyson, but they all sensed he was Horrible within the first five seconds. Except before Luke could say he forgot to feed his goldfish, they gotta go, they bumped into Dyson’s non-awful bisexual panther teenage son and well like. They had to save him from the Horrible then. Like, technically they kidnapped him? Whatever, all their role models were terrible people.

Josh looks up, hopeful. He rubs at his face with his forearm but doesn’t really clean up the snot so much as get it everywhere. Several werewolves wince and look away politely. Mark is scrolling through something on his phone, seemingly oblivious.

“Did you seriously just leave that on a cliffhanger?” Luke scolds. Mark looks up belatedly.

“What? Oh, no. Its just supposedly he only has a soul sometimes, and when he has a soul he’s supposed to be like, a pretty decent guy, but when he doesn’t have a soul, he’s like....a maniacal ax murderer on murder-steroids. Its this whole thing apparently. I follow this demon on twitter who owns a bar down there. He posts weekly updates on whether or not the guy has his soul this week....calls it Soulwatch. I guess the last couple times the dude didn’t have his soul he almost ended the world or something? So anyway, lotta people like updates on that, since I guess he and that vampire are good buds or whatever.”

“He doesn’t have a soul sometimes?” Tyler scowls skeptically. “That sounds fake.”

“Do you have a soul?” A nameless werewolf extra from True Blood asks Josh.

Josh hiccups and gropes around at his chest, frowning.

“I think so? Nobody ever told me I might not, I don’t know. Like I mean, I feel like I have a soul, I’m pretty sure?”

“He clutches his stomach and goes ‘ow my heart’ when that Sarah McLachlan commercial with the sad puppies comes on TV,” his boyfriend says helpfully.

“That’s not where the heart is....” someone starts to say, but they’re quickly shushed. Scott, Tommy and Luke are all clutching their stomachs and nodding in understanding. Tyler rubs his temples.

“Josh, you have a soul. You literally burst into song every time you see a baby smile, and last month you guilt-tripped us all into volunteering with you at that pediatric hospital which means we heard nothing but you singing showtunes and Christmas carols for an entire week straight. In July. Mark, does your demon twitter follower say this vampire has his soul this week or not? Are we going to LA next? And someone please hit me for having to utter that sentence in the first place, it’ll make me feel better, please just do it.”

Sophia Donner, the only decent werewolf from the almost entirely werewolf-populated town of Wolf Lake, helpfully kicks him in the shin.

“What?” Mark looks up again, baffled. “Dude, he doesn’t follow ME on twitter, are you kidding? He has like, six hundred thousand twitter followers.”

“Really? Why so many?” Tommy asks.

“He has this thing where he can like, see your future or your aura or some shit like that when you sing. So karaoke night at his bar is always packed with lots of A-List celebs obsessed with the occult. Its like, impossible to get into cuz of that unless you know someone, but it means everyone who’s anyone in Hollywood follows him on twitter and is always trying to hit him up and get on the list, and so like, of course all their followers follow him too even if they don’t know why everyone follows him, they just figure obviously he must be someone important?”

“Ahh.”

“People,” Tyler barks. “Focus.”

He looks around for Scott, wondering why the hell he’s the only one trying to get a handle on this. He eventually finds Scott at the edge of their little gathering. Fucker’s holding up his cell phone and recording everything. He shoots Tyler a thumbs up and mouths “You’re doing amazing, sweetie” at him. Tyler would be pissed, but like, he was the one who made it his mission to get Scott to occasionally be more of a selfish asshole specifically so....nah. Fuck it. He was gonna be pissed anyway.

“Ummm,” Mark hedges some more, still scrolling through his phone. He frowns then, and shoots Josh an apologetic glance. “Sorry. Looks like he’s soulless again this week.”

Scott decides to intervene then, looking suddenly concerned. “Uh...does that mean he might maybe almost destroy the world again? Should we go to LA anyway and like...I dunno. Try and help?”

“Help who?” Tyler demands, throwing up his arms in exasperation at the whole day. This is what he gets for getting out of bed, like. Ever. Nothing good comes from getting out of bed. When will he learn?

“I don’t know. Don’t get testy with me,” Scott bites out testily. “The people. Who try and...stop him from destroying the world? Obviously world’s not destroyed so somebody must have stopped him the last couple times which means someone’s probably trying to stop him this time too.”

“Or he could just be really bad at it,” Tommy suggests.

“Nope, we’re good,” Mark interrupts, still on his phone. “It says they’ve got him magically locked up in some hotel so he can’t go anywhere while they wait for their witch friend to bring his soul back and put it in him. I guess after the last time they put like, a low-jack spell on it so if it went missing again it’d just go straight to her, since she’s the only one good at putting it back anyway.”

“Well then,” Tyler says after a moment or two to digest the concept of a low-jacked soul. “That was a super efficient tangent. Are we all good here now at least? Can we move on and like....go somewhere not within range of a serial killer vampire who’s probably miffed at us for being rude and committing some hospitality faux pas?”

Josh sniffs and rubs at his face again, this time with more success. “Yeah, sorry. I’m all good now.”

“Well I’m not,” Aiden yells out then, apparently taking the all-clear on his boyfriend’s issue as a go ahead to vent his own drama. “Am I the only Aiden who isn’t just a complete asshole??”

“I mean, you’re kinda an asshole sometimes too,” Sophia says, idly chewing a nail.

“Not helpful, Soph,” Scott scolds gently. She shrugs.

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Let’s start a pack, you said,” Tyler growls, glaring daggers at his co-alpha. Scott smirks back without remorse. “It’ll be good for us, you said. There’s probably lots of other teen wolves in the same boat as us, you said. Shouldn’t we help them, you said.”

“I did say all that,” Scott agrees. He saunters off, you know, like an asshole.

Two weeks later they’re not far from LA. The vampire has his soul this week and everyone wants to go celeb-watching at the demon dude’s karaoke night. Luke knows a guy who can get them in, apparently. They stop to help a hitchhiking teenage werewolf in trouble because like, Scott has a sixth sense for that shit.

“So what’s your name?” Tyler asks the kid.

“Derek Hale,” he says, and Tyler squints. Why does that name sound familiar. Next to him, Scott hisses like an angry cat. Oh. Right. That.

“You’re not Derek Hale,” Scott accuses, and the kid bristles right back at him. Tyler watches, bemused. Was this a Beacon Hills thing? Or did all of them look like that when having like....what was this, a territorial pissing match? Angsty backstory showdown? What was even happening here, exactly?

“I think I would know, dickface.”

“Look, I’ve met Derek Hale, and he’s like, twenty five, and an asshole,” Scott says. “You can’t be Derek Hale, because you’re like, fifteen, and adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m seventeen, and fuck you more, I’m not adorable, I will fucking rip your throat out with my teeth, dickface.”

“See? I’m supposed to be quaking in my shoes right now but all I wanna do is pat you on the head and hug you and feed you, because that was adorable,” Scott says, pointing at him. “Ergo, you can’t be Derek Hale, because all I ever wanted to do to that dude was kick him in the nuts for being an asshole who’s all like breaking into my house to tell me we’re brothers now or whatever the fuck that was all about, and then breaking my arm and trashing my phone two seconds later.”

The kid goes quiet. Squints at him. “Wait. Is your name Scott McCall?”

Scott frowns deeper and folds his arms across his chest, shifting awkwardly. He has trouble maintaining his like, Righteous Ire even when he’s definitely in the right, and adorable kid being adorable and no longer even aggressive was making his temper go bye-bye. Ugh, rude. Scotty Rage was hot, and all too rare. Tyler officially hated this kid. Why does he never get to have nice things?

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

The kid fidgets, sullen. “Heard about you. I told you, I am Derek Hale. I just got like, magically de-aged by my pedo ex-girlfriend who’s now even more pedo and creepier and like...whatever, I don’t even know what the fuck that was all about but like yeah. Apparently older me was a huge douchebag and your name came up as proof of his douchebaggery and I booked it awhile ago because like, nobody could figure out how to turn me back and I figured if I gotta be seventeen again at least I’m gonna be seventeen somewhere where people don’t all think I’m a douchebag because of what older not!me Derek the Dickhead did. You know?”

“Not even a little bit,” Tyler says.

“Kinda,” Scott says. He gnaws his lip. “That sucks. Well. You hungry? We were about to go get some dinner. Wanna come with?”

Derek the Littler Dick stares at him before shooting Tyler an incredulous glance. “Is he for real?”

“Unfortunately,” Tyler deadpans. Scott frowns defensively.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dude, you just hated me like ten whole seconds ago.”

“I didn’t know who you were ten seconds ago,” Scott shrugs, as though that explains everything. Problem is, in his head it probably did. Freak, Tyler thinks affectionately.

“Yeah but now you do know who I am and now you know I’m someone you hate? So....?”

“No, you used to be someone I hate,” Scott explains slowly, as if to a small child. “You said it yourself, you’re not really him. Besides, I decided I’m over it anyway.”

“You decided you’re....over it. Anyway.” LDD repeats, breaking it down slowly. As if to a small child. Oh, this is going to be amazing, isn’t it. The other half of Tyler’s future home entertainment gifts him with another incredulous look, like, are you sure this guy is for real? Tyler nods in confirmation.

“He’s just...like that. It’s so weird.”

“Fine,” Derek huffs at last, over aggressively because why stray from a theme, yeah? “But this better not be some fucked up elaborate revenge plan for older me being a dick or like...”

“You’ll rip my throat out with your teeth,” Scott says dryly. The kid sulks.

“Well of course it sounds lame when you say it like that.”

“You still have baby fat,” Scott tells him. Derek shifts into an enraged were-porcupine.

“I so the fuck do not!”

“You have like, chubby little baby werewolf chipmunk cheeks.”

“Asshole!”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“That’s so stupid! You’re so stupid! What are you, twelve?”

“No, that’s you. Look in a mirror, short stuff.”

“Oh god,” Tyler despairs, staring after the two of them walking off towards the rest of the pack. “They’re brothers now.”

#kalen writes crack fic sometimes #look i dont know what this is #i just know it was in my brain #so now its here

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taergalive · 5 years

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Okay I filled out that character thingy I reblogged

It’s a little unreasonable for everyone in a Middle Ages-esque fantasy to be perfectly literate, and writing with quills was considered legitimate labor! How well can your oc read and/or write? How detailed is their quest log/journal, if they keep one at all? Imogen took to reading quite readily. She can read high level material and is well read. Her vocabulary is decent. Her journal is fairly detailed, though mostly just emotions shes feeling. Kalo has dyslexia, so reading can be tricky for him. He would rather read novels than textbooks, but it takes him a while to get through a book. He doesn't keep a journal at all. He just reads his sister's. How educated is your oc? Did their parents teach them, did they have a tutor or were they apprenticed to a master, or did they attend a university? What university? What are they educated in? How long did their education take? (Learned skills like blacksmithing count here too!) Imogen had tutors, and when she was old enough, she attended the Arcane University to study Conjuration and Mysticism. She will never consider herself good enough to stop learning. Even with the war going on, Imogen makes it a point to visit the Mages Guild to keep up with her studies. She also studies history and linguistics. Kalo had tutors, but the war interrupted his studies. Behind his father's back, he took up swordplay, and he continues to practice. He is over confident in his skills, though he picks up how to fight rather naturally. Does your oc have any kind of crafting skills that either aren’t in-game or don’t have as much importance in-game as they would in real life? (For example, can your oc sew or weave, etc? Are they skilled in any kind of art? Can they make jewelry or work glass? Are they musicians? etc) Imogen can sew, but not very well. Enough to patch holes. She learned to sing when she was younger, but she's too shy to ever do it in public. Kalo is really good at making makeshift tools. Give him some sticks and some string and he's good. What pantheon does your oc worship? If they worship the Cyrodiilic/Imperial pantheon, does that include Talos? If they secretly worship Talos, how do they justify hiding it? How religious is your oc? Do they come into conflict with others over their beliefs? If their patron deity told them to do something extremely undesirable or against their moral compass, would they do it? Most iterations of Imogen worship the Daedra, but this one is fairly dedicated to Akatosh and Mara. She, however, questions her beliefs often and feels conflicted. Her mother was the head of a cult that worshipped Sanguine. It makes her wonder if Daedra are bad. would be tempted by Hermaeus Mora. But she holds to her moral compass. Kalo is agnostic. Mostly doesn't care about gods or things like that. Never really paid attention to it. But shows interest in some of the Daedra, much to his sister's dismay. Does your oc have a family of origin? How many members of their FoO are still living? Do they have a good relationship? How much contact does your oc have with their FoO? How in-the-loop is your oc’s FoO about your oc’s being Dragonborn/HoK/Nerevarine? Well, Immy and Kalo are siblings. Their father is still alive but they are not sure where in the world he is because of the war. Haven't seen him since they fled to Glenumbra. Imogen never felt like she met her father's expectations. While he has a hard time showing it, though, her father does care for her. He tends to be colder towards Kalo, as he isn't convinced the boy is his. Kalo tried to hide the fact he was the Vestige to Imogen. He didn't want her to know that he was soulless because she would have blamed herself. He's bad at keeping secrets though. What social class was your oc born into? Did they change classes at all? How?How politically active is your oc? Are they obviously influential, or is their influence more subtle? Mildly high. Niece and nephew of the Count of Leyawiin. Imogen tries to be politically active, but her emotions run too high. Kalo thinks politics are a waste of time. Especially now with the war. Blames political agendas on it. What unplayable faction would/did your oc join, if any? Why? I'm still mad I can't be loyal to the empire... How trustworthy is your oc? Would they ever change opposing factions? Both are trustworthy. If they promise something, they mean it. Imogen is fiercely loyal to the empire, though meeting those outside of Cyrodiil makes her question it. She is learning that the empire might not be as good as she believes. Kalo is loyal to individual people. He allies himself with those he considers good. What is your oc’s main source of income, if they have one besides plundering tombs and adventuring? If they’re mercenaries, are they part of a company? Does your oc own their own business, and if so, what is it?Is your oc good with finances? Bartering? How long can they keep the money they make? As the two take refuge in Glenumbra, they have no connections and no money. Imogen takes up odd jobs as a maid, scribe, bar wench, whatever to get by. Kalo takes odd jobs for people in town, which is how he gets roped into becoming the Vestige in the first place. Does your oc have any particular rivalry or mutual dislike with any NPC?How well-liked is your oc? What is their reputation, if they’re well-known? Are they simply liked/disliked, or are they respected but feared, or personally liked but not taken seriously, etc? Do major factions consider your oc an important player? Imogen, surprisingly, has reservations on most of the NPCs you deal with in ESO lol. She doesn't trust anyone with the war going on. This makes her come off as cold, which probably makes her hard to get along with. She forms a small bond with King Emeric for helping out alongside Kalo (and for being the one to kill Septima oops). She sort of treats him as a father figure. Kalo is definitely personally liked but not taken seriously by most people. He's young and reckless. But damn if he isn't loyal. I'd say the Covenant likes him for helping out. Does your oc have a horse/other mount? A pet? How did they get this animal? If they were given the animal, do they have the money to maintain it? How careful/careless are they with their animal? What do they do with their pets while adventuring, especially on dangerous quests? Imogen has a shadow horse she conjures up. His name is Auferte. She has a stone that she uses to summon him. Kalo doesn't have any pets but he would love a dog. Or a cat. Or anything really. Imogen won't let him. She doesn't trust him. Does your oc take their time as they travel, or are they purposeful? How do they survive in the wilds, especially if they aren’t hunter-types? How dependent is your oc on civilized society? Imogen is purposeful; she feels like she's on a timer. Kalo takes his time unless he is on a mission. Imogen relies on her magic to protect her, and she doesn't do well outdoors. Gets tired easily. Kalo seems to be an endless bout of energy. What does your oc like to eat? How much food do they eat? Can your oc cook, and can they do it well? Kalo eats like Goku from DBZ. Like dear god. Loves potatoes, meat, and bread mostly. Imogen eats like a bird, sort of picks at her food. Enjoys sweeter things like fruits...and actual sweets. Kalo can roast things over a fire. Imogen can't cook. It was not a skill she was taught, though now she's forced to learn to provide for herself and Kalo. She's okay at it, but she gets nervous while she cooks. Makes a mess. If your oc is a vampire, do they go outside in the daytime? Does the daylight affect or hurt them in any way different from in-game? If they interact with society, how do they justify looking half-dead and hating sunlight? How good is your oc at blending in? Do they even like dealing with society?If your oc is a werebeast, how much control do they have over their transformations? Have they ever lost control? What happened? If not, why do they have such strong control? Does Hircine ever call on them, and do they answer? NA What does your oc wear in the city/settlements? In the house? When travelling, but not adventuring or expecting combat? Do they vary their clothes depending on what hold/city they’re in? If they don’t, why not (e.g., if your oc wears the same outfit to tend their garden or lounge around the house as they did to meet Ulfric or Elisif, why?) Does your oc have a good or bad sense of fashion? How many clothes does your oc have?How picky is your oc about their gear? Do they have different equipment for different adventures, or is it the same suit of armor for everything (not counting upgrades like from steel to ebony)? How does your oc acquire their clothes, and from where/whom? While Imogen works in Glenumbra, she tends to dress the part. But once she joins in on the adventure she wears more Cyrodiilic clothing. Typically a tunic and tights. The sandals man. No matter what, she wears the sapphire circlet her mother gave her before passing away. She panics if she can't find it. She sold any other jewelry she had with her after they fled Cyrodiil. Occasionally, Imogen will wear Imperial armor. But that is rare. Kalo dresses to match the domain. Not so much because he wants to but because he tends to destroy whatever he is wearing. As far as armor goes, he travels light. Prefers leathers to protect him. Can your oc swim, and how well? Have they ever swam in the ocean, or only lakes/rivers? Remember, it’s much harder to swim in the ocean than in a lake! If your oc is an Argonian, do they take special advantage of it somehow (e.g., do they go diving for fun/for profit, do they instinctively hide in the water, etc)? If your oc is a Khajiit who can swim, how do they get their fur dry? Imogen has always felt a connection to water. She loves to swim in lakes and rivers. Kalo, surprisingly, is afraid of water (though he denies it). Poor dude can't swim. How easy/difficult is it to rob your oc? Pickpocket? Bribe? If your oc is part of one of the more morally questionable or outright evil factions, how do they justify it to themselves? Do they still consider themselves as morally good? How well known is their affiliation to these groups? Do they have separate personas (e.g. Dragonborn to some people, Listener to others)? Do their family/friends know? If they have separate personas, how do they keep their less than righteous activities secret? Imma be honest I'm tired and cant think for this one lol How helpful is your oc, and why? Are they helpful or kind even during difficult situations? Are they pragmatic, or do they have a hero syndrome? Kalo has hero syndrome. Imogen, while she considers herself a good person, has trouble agreeing to help others. Again, she is too cautious. Thinks people have ulterior motives. Will help those she cares about in a heartbeat

#Animal kingdom made me sick so I'm chilling in the hotel #Imogen the Imperial #Kalo the Imperial #ESO #Elder Scrolls

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uas-fics · 5 years

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Part 2 of The Goth and The Vampire, a fic inspired by @bybasily ‘s stutters piece

Part 1 .

~~~

He didn’t get used to it.

Five months had passed, and being fed on was just as gross and uncomfortable as ever.

Raven rested his lower back against the top of the concrete barrier. The far end of the baseball field, behind the dugout, was a lonely place, tucked near the tree line, which made it perfect for smoking and the feeding in peace.

With one hand clamped against his shoulder, Butters gripped tighter to Raven’s front, his fingers balling around the fabric of his shirt. A rumbling came from his throat.

Rolling his eyes, Raven held his cigarette between his teeth, then reached up and flicked Butters in the nose.

“Stop it.” Raven snapped without looking back.

Butters took his teeth from Raven's neck, then rocked back on his toes until his back rested against the chain link fence.

He pouted while wiping the stray blood drops from his chin.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.” Butters ran his hand down from Raven’s shoulder to his mid-back. He let it rest there a moment before pulling it between his knees with his other hand.

“You can help moaning when you’re literally drinking my blood.” Raven took a drag, then purposely blew the smoke at Butters’ face.

He hated when Butters did that. It made his entire circulatory system ache every time. It also didn't help that it was just plain weird. Raven wasn't a particularly tasty slice of cake. There was no need to moan.

No matter how much Butters claimed to the contrary.

“But you taste real good, Raven!” Butters chirped, waving the smoke away. He rocked forward to wrap his arms back around his middle, but Raven took a step out of his reach.

Pulling from his pocket a large bandaid, Raven doctored up the bite mark. Butters looked away from Raven over his shoulder, lip out in a childish pout, at the trees. Usually Raven gave Butters twenty minutes to drink as much as he needed to get by. After breaking the no moaning rule this time, he’d only had eight.

It would be enough until Saturday. In the months since this all started, Raven had figured out how much Butters had to take to get by. He had it down to a science at this point. The full twenty minutes was just Raven being nice and letting Butters take a break every few minutes to jabber on about whatever was on his mind.

Raven pressed the bandaid to the bite with a wince before beginning to readjust his shirt. He’d have to wear his jacket zipped all the way up again. How many times had he told Butters to bite lower down on his shoulder? It might have been farther from the artery in his throat, but it was so much easier to hide.

“I’m only good because I’m all you have,” Raven muttered.

Butters hummed to himself. “Nah, that ain't it. You just taste good, better than some of the other people I’ve had.”

“You’ve had, like, two other people, one of which was Eric Cartman. It’s not much competition.” Raven stole a step back to slide down the side of the concrete barrier to the ground.

Apparently, when Butters was first turned, he tried to ignore his hunger, but it grew too strong for him and started to cloud his mind. Seeing Cartman through an unlocked window, he acted out of instinct instead of thought.

Somehow Cartman being one of Butters ‘victims’ seemed fitting to Raven. Cartman had always been pushing Butters around, bullying and tricking him. Raven figured sooner or later Butters would snap and somehow get revenge on his bully. Honestly, Raven wasn't sure how Butters hadn't gone out of his way to get back at all the people who were mean to him in elementary school. He had the power to do it, but his good heart must have held him back.

Butters stuck out his tongue. “Eric tasted like lard — lard, rot, whip cream, and cheesy poofs. It was icky.”

“What about your ex-friend?” Raven took a drag. “How’d he taste?”

He hadn’t gotten Butters to spill whom the friend he had a falling out with was. He had, however, narrowed it down to either being Kyle Broflovski or Kenny McCormick. They were both old friends with Butters and, as far as Raven could remember, good enough people who would be willing to help Butters out — for a preppy know it all and a dirty pervert, anyway.

“Oh, he was interesting.” Butters looked up at the dreary sky. “Tasted like cherry, not real cherry, though, the fake kind they put in Poptarts, and something else. The something else was good, really good, but icky at the same time. Like...” He screwed up his face in thought, "grill steak and burnt bread.”

Raven tried to imagine that taste, but couldn’t get all the flavors to cross. He nearly asked what he tasted like, but the school bell cut him off before he could open his mouth.

Butters jumped to his feet. “Math class time!” He said in a sing-song voice.

Raven rolled his eyes. Butters, the vampire dork, who lived for math class that was his friend. Butters was an A-plus student in hall his math courses, though.

Raven heard somewhere that vampires had a tendency to count out everything. In days long past, that was how scared villagers would keep vampires in their graves: filling the grave up with tiny seeds that the vampires would have to count before they could leave. He’d wondered if Butters’ vampiric nature made his mind better at math or if he was already good at it before. Maybe it was both.

“I’ll consider heading to class when my eyes aren’t freakish,” Raven made a point to jab a finger towards his eyeballs. A side effect of being a vampire’s blood bag, his irises were tinged red for at least fifteen minutes after every feeding.

As Goth as it looked, it was a pain in the ass to explain away. Besides, if he had to deal with those emo brats gawking over his eyes being so ‘edgy’ and ‘cool’, he was going to vomit. At least being a Vamp Kid, Butters could pretend his weird red eyes were fancy contact lenses or something.

Butters smiled apologetically then leaped off the barrier. He landed on his toes with more grace than a normal human could ever muster. Butters took two steps, then stopped, spun back around and retraced his steps.

After digging in his pockets, he crouched down. “I only gotta ten today.” He slipped the bill into Raven’s hand. His fingers were warm, almost unnaturally so, against his palm.

Raven shrugged, then slipped his cigarette behind his ear. After running his tongue across his lips, he set a hand on Butters cheek, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips.

This part of their private time started as a joke. A month in, Raven commented he should start charging for his services. A moment after he had said that, Butters asked him how much would he charge for something like a kiss or a hug.

Thinking Butters was playing along, Raven jokingly replied, “Five for a hug, ten for a kiss, twenty-five for frenching, fifty for a handjob, and for a hundred, I’m yours for the night.”

He’d never expected Butters to take him seriously, but the very next Wednesday, Butters showed up with fifteen dollars that he blushingly pushed into Raven’s hands for one kiss on the cheek and a bear hug

Sometimes, Raven worried Butters would actually show up with twenty-five or more, but that had ever been the case. The closest he came was showing up with two tens to get four hugs. Raven wasn’t sure if his restraint came from respect or the fact he always spent his allowance the moment he got it. Either way, Raven was almost guaranteed at least five dollars four times a week just for showing Butters a little physical affection.

Butters giggled, his face pleasantly flushed. “Thank you for that!”

Raven grunted. “Whatever. Head to class. Can’t be a cog of society’s death machine if you can’t do arithmetic.”

Butters bobbed his head. “Right!” He exclaimed, a little too happily, as he jumped back to his feet.

“See you at the graveyard on Saturday,” Raven raised his cigarette towards him.

Butters paused a moment then offered, “If you want, we can have a sleepover at my house on Saturday. We could stay up all night playing games and then you could sleep in on Sunday, instead of going to church.”

“I’ll think about it,” Raven stated as if he hadn’t replied that exact same way every Friday when Butters asked him. Butters beamed then finally spun around to head back to class.

Raven ground his cigarette against the earth before reaching to pull another out of his pack.

In truth, Raven was not completely against the idea of a sleepover, but at the same time, the thought made his stomach churn.

He didn’t want to risk putting a name to their relationship.

Raven wasn't sure where he and Butters stood at this point. It wasn't that they weren't friends. On the contrary, Raven didn't think it was possible to have another man's lips on your neck willingly every other day for five months without some positive emotions turning up.

He just wasn't sure if his affections went as far as “crush” or “romantic love”, but they definitely were growing less and less platonic with every passing day. Sometimes, Raven wondered if they were platonic at all anymore.

At first, he chalked the positive emotions up to pity. He felt bad that someone who, really, wasn't all that terrible, was stuck spending his time with those douchebags, pseudo prep, Gothic subclass losers.

Since Raven started paying attention to Butters, he'd noticed that Butters just barely sat on the fringe of the Vamp Kids anyway. He rarely talked to them, and they rarely talked to him.

To Raven, it seemed that Butters just hung around with them so he wouldn't have to be physically alone.

But as time passed, Raven found his pity answer having less and less truth in it. He really did just enjoy Butters company, just like he had all those years ago. Even dyed in all black, Butters was a breath of fresh air from the heavy mausoleum air that hung around himself and the other Goths.

He put his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled.

If only he could piece together how Butters felt about the situation.

To Butters, were the butterfly kisses and hugs just a fill-in to actual romantic love? Was that why he never brought enough cash to go any farther? Was he too scared to risk his secret by getting close to anyone else? Was he using Raven as a stand-in for the girlfriend he wished he had?

No, Raven refused to spend an entire night alone with Butters. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found out he was just a substitute for something Butters couldn’t have.

~~~~

His mom's car wasn't in the driveway, but his dad's car was.

Raven cringed. Instead of walking into the house, he made his way to the garage.

The kittens had long since been adopted out to good homes, so there was no greetings of mewls this time. As Raven sat down on a box, he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Butters wanted to “apologize” to the kittens for murdering their mother, so every night for a week straight he came in and left them little gifts of food in an attempt to gain their forgiveness.

It never worked. The kittens still hissed at and hid from him when he came by every time until they were adopted out.

It was almost as funny to watch as the time when Pete and Henrietta attempted to paint the kittens' claws black.

Raven dropped his bag beside him then began to tap against his phone. At least one of his friends had to answer. If he had an excuse, he could just pop into the house, dump his shit, then head out — the less time with his dad, the better.

He already knew Henrietta was a no-go. Her little brother was coming from out of town to visit, and she had to stay home. Firkle was probably still sick with whatever flu or cold was going around the elementary, so he didn't bother texting him either. That left Pete and Michael. He texted Michael first since Michael lived closer.

A few moments later, he answered, “sorry. babysitting. kill me now.”

Raven replied with a frowning face and four pistol emoji. He sent Pete a text next, asking what his plans for the night were. Pete’s trailer might be farther away, but Raven wasn’t above walking there in the cold.

He pressed himself against the corner made by the wall and a shelf, waiting for Pete to reply back when the door to the house opened.

His dad peeked in, looking around until his eyes landed on Raven. Raven tried to stand so he could make a quick escape, but his dad was faster this time and made it over to him first, leaving Raven boxed in.

“Hey, son, how’s it hanging?” His dad asked in that tone he used when he wanted to talk about something uncomfortable.

“Just waiting for death, like always,” Raven muttered deadpan, praying Pete would text back soon.

“Oh.” His dad took a breath, then let it out in a low whistle. “You know, Raven, I think we need to have a talk.”

Raven flinched back. “About what?”

His dad looked everywhere else but him as he said, “You know, stuff.”

Raven wanted to die. He didn’t want to talk about ‘stuff’; he wanted to be left alone. His dad had his opportunity to make a deep bond with Raven years ago, and he squandered it with snide remarks about adding color to Raven’s outfit and wishing his Goth ‘phase’ would hurry up and go away so he could 'have his son back’.

His dad heaved a sigh. “Look, Raven, I just want to make sure you're being safe, ok?”

“Safe? Safe with what?” Raven set his jaw. Did he mean his knife? Or how he walked home in the dark? His dad never cared before, not until his mom flipped out on him about it after the night with the cat, anyway. Was that why he was doing this? Had his mom made him? Seemed a little late to be trying to be a good parent.

“Safe with, uh, well, you know, safe.” His dad scratched the back of his neck.

“If you’re not going to be clear about it, then just go.” Raven looked pointedly down at his phone, trying to urge Pete’s text to come.

His dad groaned. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and held out a thin, foil square.

Raven's eyes grew wide at the offered condom.

“I’ve seen the hickeys on your neck, son. I just want to make sure you and your little girlfriend aren’t doing anything that you two might regret.”

Raven’s mouth gaped open, his face going completely red. “I, I don’t — it’s not like that!” He pulled up his jacket collar until it touched his chin. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Dad.”

Realization flashed across his dad’s face. “Oooooh.” He nodded. “Well, if you and your boyfriend are doing stuff, you still need to be safe. STDs don't discriminate, Raven.”

Raven sputtered, but couldn’t for the life of him make a coherent sentence.

With a soft smile, his dad crouched down beside him then slung his arm over his shoulder.

“You know, it’s ok if you’re gay, son,” He promised. “I love you, either way. I just want you to be happy, and if being with a boy makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”

For the first time in a long time, something warm towards his dad welled up in Raven’s chest. When was the last time his dad had been this supportive of anything in Raven's life?

He might not have been completely right about it, as Raven still liked more than just boys, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I’d rather you be decked out in rainbows than all black, anyway.”

And then he took forty steps back.

With a cry of frustration, Raven shouldered his dad’s arm off him and stomped to his feet.

“Why do you always have to make it about you!?” Raven screamed. He stormed past him out of the garage.

“Stan, get back here!” His dad shouted after him.

Raven spun around and yelled back, “It’s Raven, you selfish fuck!” Without another word, Raven turned on his heels and ran.

~~~~~

It was dark, the wind was freezing, his phone was dead, and his eyes stung from crying.

What a way to spend a Friday night.

Raven pulled his knees to his chest then leaned against the plastic half sphere. He looked the eight feet down to the softwood chips that covered the ground around the playsets.

Another sob tried to force itself out of his throat, and he swallowed it down.

He could use a cup of coffee right now. That Tweak place was near the playground, wasn’t it?

He considered heading there but decided against it. He wanted to be warm but refused to go into such an ungoth place.

Or, that's what he tried to convince himself.

In truth, he just didn't want to risk running into anyone who knew him there. The Tweak's son was in his class, and all Tweek's friends hung around there on Fridays. The last thing he needed was a bunch of people hovering around him asking why he was upset.

No, he’d rather just suffer in the cold. Maybe he’d freeze overnight.

He curled into a tighter ball, burying his face in his arms.

Why couldn’t his dad just understand this was who he was? He didn’t want to play sports anymore or be the homecoming king. He was happy as a Goth, as paradoxical as that seemed.

His mom understood. His sister understood. Why can’t his dad?

A biting wind cut through his jacket. A few snowflakes slapped against his red cheeks.

Raven shuddered. He really was going to freeze if he stayed out here. Standing up, Raven looked towards the rest of the town. Henrietta’s place was closest, but the lights were all out at her house. She was still out with her family.

He turned, straining fruitlessly to try and see through the trees towards Michael's.

Even if Michael was home, Raven didn’t want to deal with Michael's siblings gawking over him and trying to rope him into playing with them. Firkle was sick, and Pete lived across town.

Setting his lips into a line, he let his eyes move to another house, just a few down from his own.

He took a breath and began to crawl off the playset.

~~~~~

Raven rubbed his arms as he stood in front of Butters’ front door. The snow started to fall down in thick heavy sheets on the walk over. The covering of white made it easy to sneak past his house but at the cost of freezing his extremities.

He reached up and knocked. It only took a few moments before the door opened.

“Raven?” Butters’ face burst out into a wide smile. “Well, howdy! What brings you here?”

“Sleepover.” Raven shivered. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

“Oh, yeah! Come in! Get warmed up! I’ll get you some cocoa.” Butters ushered Raven inside. His hand lingered a moment too long on his arm before he pulled it away.

Butters rushed towards the kitchen, leaving Raven standing awkwardly in his living room.

Butters’ mother sat on the couch, an infomercial playing as she fiddled on her phone. His father was seated at the table reading over a newspaper. Raven didn't remember much of Butters' parents from when they were eight, though some far off recollection he couldn't fully grasp left a sour taste in his mouth. They weren't the nicest, he remember that much, at least.

When neither of them looked up or greeted Raven, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd taken. Something about them seemed off, but Raven couldn’t put his finger on how. Thought if it meant he didn't need to talk to them he was fine with letting the oddness slide. He would rather spend that time trying to blood flow back to his fingers anyway.

Just as the feeling returned to Raven's digits, Butters came back with a steaming mug in his hand. He pressed it into Raven’s grasp.

“Follow me,” He waved him towards the stairs. Halfway up, Butters leaned over the railing to call, “Raven is staying for a while. Maybe the whole night. We’ll be good though, so don’t worry.”

For the first time, Butters parents turned and looked at Raven. There was a subtle red haze around their eyes. Raven wasn't sure if they were really seeing him though or just acknowledging what their son had told them.

“Oh, welcome, Raven,” Mr. Stotch greeted. He sounded like prerecorded message. “You two have fun.”

Butters agreed, “We will, Dad.” He looked to Raven to ask, “Are you hungry? Mom can bring us some snacks if we ask.”

Raven nearly declined, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch hours ago. Instead, he just nodded. Butters then turned and called to his mother to bring something up for them to eat a little later. She said she would, then Butters led Raven up the stairs to his room.

He spun around as Raven entered.

“Well, what do you think of my ‘crypt’?” His eyes searched his face for positive affirmation of his decor choices.

Raven looked around. It was just a normal room, a bed, a dresser, a desk, a shelf, posters on the walls, and toys scattered about. Nothing really stood out as abnormal. save for some rubber bats hanging from the fishing wire by the windows, anyway. Sometimes Raven forgot Butters was suppose to be a dorky Vamp Kid until little bits of their subculture poked through like this.

Instead of commenting on the extreme dorkness of the bats, Raven walked around, pausing to look at all the knick-knacks and pictures on the shelf. When he passed the dresser, he stopped to peer into the cage settled there. Attached with clothespins, a note card with glitter and stickers on it labeled the creatures within as 'Evil Minion 1’ and 'Evil Minion 2’ and 'Miss Alice Cullen.’

A small brown and white hamster poked its head out from under a fake log. It eyed Raven for a moment then crawled back under after deeming him uninteresting. The other hamsters didn't even bother to come out from hiding to examine him.

“You can take a seat on the bed if you want, or the desk chair,” Butters offered when Raven stepped away from the cage.

Raven took a seat on the bed, sipping his cocoa. It was watery but hot, so he didn’t complain.

“Thanks, Butters.” Raven leaned scooted until his back rested against the wall. His arm brushed against the thick blackout curtains that covered the window. Butters claimed that, while direct sunlight didn’t hurt him, it made him itchy and tired.

“So, whatcha doing out in weather like this?” Butters hopped down on the bed. “The weather report said it was gonna be a snowstorm.”

Raven stared down into his drink a moment before muttering, “Got into a fight with my dad. I don’t want to head home, and didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Butters made a small sound of surprise before scooching to Raven’s side. He set a hand on his knee and offered a small, reassuring smile. Raven eyed his face a beat, then smiled back.

They stayed in silence. Raven greatly appreciated this. If it had been the other Goths, they would be biting at the bit to hear what happened, then proceed to bash his dad and his actions.

Any other time, Raven would be fine with that and feel validated, but not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to sit and warm up in the quiet of his thoughts.

The silence was broken sometime later when someone knocked on the door.

Mrs. Stotch peeked in.

“I made you boys some popcorn.” She pushed open the door. In her hands was a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn. Mrs. Stotch set the bowl on Butters’ desk then asked, “Do you want anything else? Have you have dinner yet, Raven?”

Her voice sounded a little too automated for Raven to reply with more than a shake of the head.

“I’ll cook you up something,” She said, then left.

As Butters went to retrieve the popcorn, Raven asked, “Ok, what is, like, up with your parents?”

Butters shrugged. “They’re being good parents. Caring, loving, respecting.” He turned back and his good eye flashed red. “Like I told them to be.”

He set the bowl in Raven’s lap before taking his seat again. Raven took a hand full and greedily shoved it into his mouth. He really had been hungry. No amount of angst and anger could cover that.

Around the popcorn, he said, “Oh, right. That persuade thing. I forget you can do that. You never do it around me, and you seem a little too nice to make someone do something they wouldn't want to anyway."

Butters pulled his legs up to cross them. He looked to the left like he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I don't like to use it. It's tiring and makes me feel kind of like a mean old bully if I use it on nice people. That's why Mom and Dad are the only ones I use that power on.” He smiled solemnly down at his hands. “It took becoming an unholy, blood-drinking monster to finally get my parents to respect me and treat me right. Kind of ironic, huh?”

There was a touch of sorrow in his laughter. Raven didn’t point it out. Of course Butters wouldn't use his power on normal, good people. His heart was too kind for that.

That sour taste filled his mouth again. A few more memories of Butters parents yelling and scolding their son in front of everyone rose up from the depths of Raven's mind, Butters wouldn't use his power on good people, but his parents weren't good people. They never had been.

“You’re not a monster, Butters,” Raven told him after swallowing down the taste. “You’re just different.”

Butters’ cheeks went pink, and he looked away. “Ah, shucks, Raven. It’s ok. I know I’m a monster. I accepted that a long time ago. Besides,” he grinned, “if I wasn’t, I wouldn't have become best friends with you again.”

Raven’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly remembered why he’d never taken Butters up on any of his sleepover offers.

Butters’ brow knit together.

“Raven, you ok? Your heart is beating like crazy. Is it because I called us ‘best friends’? I'm sorry if I offended you about it, but you are. You're my very favorite person.” He beamed at Raven and made Raven's heart beat even faster.

Raven felt his throat clench as he looked at Butters' soft, round face smiling right at him. Any solely platonic feelings he held evaporated away with the heat of his blush.

Butters, the kind, sweet, chatty ray of sunlight, thought Raven was his best friend, his very favorite person.

Did that mean Butters liked him back then? Could this be the foundation of something so much more?

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Raven made a snap decision.

“Do you have a quarter?” He blurted out. His volume took them both by surprise.

“Um, yes? I think so.” Butters rolled over to his bedside table and began to search the drawers. As he did, Raven swallowed down the rest of his cocoa then set the cup and bowl of popcorn carefully on the window sill.

The snow came down just as thickly as before, maybe even more so. It covered the road to the point it was impossible to tell where the sidewalk ended and the street began.

“Got one!” Butters announced as he held up the coin. Raven held his hand flat to take the quarter. Butters dropped it in his hand.

“Alright, just for tonight, I’m giving you a deal,” Raven said as he closed his fist around the coin. “Ninety-percent off the original price.”

Butters cocked his head to the side. Raven watched him do the calculations in his head for a few heartbeats before Raven’s offer clicked. His eyes grew wide.

“Raven, you...” His voice puttered out. He took a shaking breath, looking away, “Ha-ha, um, not to be rude, but a quarter wouldn't be ninety-nine off of fifteen.”

"It's not off of fifteen. It's off twenty-five."

Butters mouth opened into a large o-shape before he laughed again. "I don't think that's quite right either, math-mathemat...tical...ly...errr." His knuckles bumped against each other in front of him. He didn't turn his gaze up at Raven. He didn't look upset, only flustered.

“Either way, that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Raven pocketed his payment. He didn’t plan on giving it back, no matter what he chose.

“Take it! I take it!” Butters lunged forward, planting his hands on either side of Raven. Their faces were inches apart. From the end of his nose to the tips of his ears, every part of Butters' face was red. Raven's face wasn't much better.

As Butters moved in to press their lips together, Raven raised his hand and put it between them.

“I have one question.” He took a breath. “No matter what you say, we can still make out or whatever, I don’t care, but I have to know.”

“What is it?” Butters asked, falling to his knees.

“Do you like me? Like, not as a friend. Is that why you keep paying me for hugs and kisses? Or is it because I’m your only option?” He braced himself for the impending disappointment.

Butters’ lips twitched up before he snickered into his hand. “Well, of course, I like you more than a friend! I wouldn't pay for kisses if I didn’t. I just wasn't sure if you liked me back, you know? I mean, golly, Raven, you’re really handsome and down to earth, and you're the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, even to a nasty, old, cat killer like me. What isn’t there to like?”

A weight Raven hadn’t realized he was carrying fell from his shoulders. He lowered his hand a few inches, before slipping it around Butters’ head and pulling him close.

The kiss was different from every other they shared. This wasn’t a peck on the lips where they both held back their feelings. This had emotion behind their lips and Raven loved it. Butters lips were warm and soft and he never pushed himself too hard onto Raven. In fact, it was Raven who kept pulling him closer.

He found himself almost wanting to risk blacking out from loss of oxygen rather than end their deep, if somewhat clumsy, kissing.

Finally, he pushed Butters back by the shoulder, panting. In the end, his lungs won and he had to breathe again.

Butters seemed unaffected by the lack of air. His eyes sparkled and a goofy grin spread across his face. He wiped the saliva off his chin as Raven reached up to do the same to his own.

“Can we do that again? I have another quarter.” He started to twist around, but Raven shook his head.

“You don’t have to pay any more,” Raven told him.

“I don’t?” Butters practically shook with excitement. “That’s so great! So we can do that again, right? Can we kiss outside of my room? Like at school, or are we going to pretend we don’t know each other still?”

Raven thought on that a moment. A vamp kid like Butters and a hardcore Goth like Raven dating would cause a real stir amongst both their social circles. With any luck, he might be able to convince his friends that Butters was at least softcore Goth enough to be worthy of joining them.

As for what the vamp kids would say about it, well, Raven didn’t care. They can get along with drinking their Clamato juice and writing their Twilight fanfiction without Butters around.

“It’s whatever.” Raven raised a shoulder. “I don't care, and if I ask them, my friends — ” He winced, suddenly remembering his phone was dead. Now that he thought about it, his mom was probably worried too, and his dad was probably feeding her lies how Raven was overreacting and his dad wasn't being a complete ass.

“Butters, can I borrow a charger?” Raven pulled his phone out of his pocket. “My mom doesn’t know where I am. I don’t want her calling the police.”

Butters nodded, handing Raven his own phone, then took Raven’s from his hand. As Butters searched off the side of the bed for the charging cord, Raven dialed his mom’s number. It rang twice before she answered.

“Hey, Mom,” Raven said before she could speak.

“Raven! Oh, thank God, you’re ok!”

“Yeah, I’m at Butters’, um, the Stotch’s.” Raven crossed his legs. “It started snowing really hard, and Butters invited me in.” He caught Butters’ attention with a wave, making sure he knew the lie they were sticking to.

“So you’re alright? You’re not hurt?”

“No, Mom.” He took a breath. “Physically, I’m fine.”

From the other end of the line, Raven heard his mom shout the news. He heard his sister call him a ‘turd,’ but there was affection behind the muffled insult. He heard a few other voices he knew, like his Uncle Jimbo and Ned, but he didn't, however, hear his dad's through the din.

“Hey, is Dad there?” Raven asked.

“He is, in the living room, calling your friends. Do you want to talk to him?”

Raven wrinkled his nose up in disgust. “Hell no. I wanted to see if you could hold off telling him I’m safe. He deserves to feel horrible after all his bullshit.”

A heartbeat of silence then his mom questioned, “What did he do?”

Raven scoffed, “Same as always. He was a selfish prick.”

An exasperated sigh came through the phone. His mom knew how her husband acted all too well and didn’t need an elaboration more than that.

“I’ll talk to him,” She promised, though Raven knew nothing would change. “The storm is getting worse outside. Are the Stotches ok with you staying over tonight? Let me talk to an adult.”

Raven covered the phone with his hand. Butters simply nodded. He could hear the whole conversation as it happened. After shuffling off the bed, he darted to the door.

“Mooooooom,” He called, “can you come up here? Mrs. Marsh wants to talk to you on the phone.”

A few moments later, Mrs. Stotch stood in the door, Butters’ phone to her ear.

“Really, Sharon, it’s no trouble. No trouble at all,” She assured. “Raven can stay as long as he wants. I’m happy that Butters is spending time with a sweet boy like your son.”

“Ah, Mom,” Butters muttered, more to himself than to her. Raven wasn’t sure he would call ‘embarrassing your son’ good parenting. Maybe that was what Butters thought parenting entailed. Or maybe his powers didn’t go as far as Raven had thought.

Once their moms came to an agreement that Raven would stay until tomorrow when the storm was over, Mrs. Stotch passed the phone back to Raven. His own mom told him to behave, be safe, and that she loved him.

He told her he loved her too, refusing to meet Butters eyes as he did so, then hung up.

Mrs. Stotch clasped her hands in front of her. “I need to get back to the kitchen.” She began to leave, only to pause and look over her shoulder. The haze that hung in her eyes faded for just a moment, and in the most human, and authoritative, voice Raven had heard from her, she ordered, “You two keep your hands to yourselves, young men.”

With that, she left.

Butters actually looked surprised. “Huh.” He said. “She actually did some good parenting on her own. That’s unusual.” Butters pressed his side against Raven's, kissing under his ear. “Too bad I ain’t gonna listen.”

He paused, lips still pressed against Raven’s skin, before nervously asking, “If you’re alright with that.”

Raven turned his head then gave Butters a peck on the forehead. He wrapped an arm around his waist before resting his cheek against his hair.

Of course, this was all right with him. Might as well give his dad some real hickeys to flip shit over anyway.

~~~~

When Raven turned his phone back on a few hours later, he was bombarded with message after message, demanding to know where he was, if he was alive, and threatening him with violence if he was dead.

Ignoring the ones from his family, and flat out deleting those from his dad, Raven went to the Goth group chat.

“I’m alive. Fucking Dad was being an asshole and I left and my phone died. Sorry for worrying you.”

He didn’t think the last apology was all that Goth, but it seemed appropriate nonetheless.

Firkle was the first to reply.

“I’m getting you that replacement knife and stabbing you in the still beating heart.” His text held no emoji or indication he was joking. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t.

Michael and Henrietta’s messages came at the same time.

“what did ur dad do this time?” Asked Michael’s.

“Where are you now?” Was Henrietta’s.

Leaning against Butters, Raven replied, “He was a being a dick, as usual. And I’m at,” here, Raven paused in his typing to look at Butters. Butters was playing some point and click game with a cheerful anthropomorphic frog waving its arms in the corner. The game didn’t seem particularly hard, and Butters looked like he was enjoying himself.

“my boyfriend’s,” he finished, then sent the message.

That is what they were now. They both agreed on it a half hour ago. Raven Marsh and Butters Stotch were boyfriends. It still felt a little weird to wrap his head around, but he couldn't say he was displeased with this label on them.

At this point Pete joined the chat, being the first to see the message.

“Gross,” He sent, and Raven felt his heart sink until his second message came, “Who would want to date your sorry, flat ass? lmao”

Raven chuckled, earning a sideways look from Butters.

“Butters, you show up in selfies, right?” Raven asked.

Butters nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Yup!”

“Good.” Raven slipped his arm around Butters’ shoulders then held the phone at an angle above them. Butters flashed a smile while Raven’s lips turned up just a fraction.

“Are you gonna put fun filters on it? I know a site you can put a sparkly filter that makes everyone look like an anime character,” Butters suggested brightly.

Raven sent the selfie. Never breaking eye contact with Butters as he did so. Sparkly filters weren’t Goth, and a sparkle filter on a Vamp Kid would be a little too on the nose.

Everyone’s reply to the selfie came all at once, talking over each other as much as they could in a text-based conversation.

“WTF”

“You have fucking weird tastes, Rav.”

“is that a VAMP kid?”

“is he paying you?”

“Dude of all the people”

“That’s my brother’s friend”

“Why a douchy vampire wannabe?”

“who played that hello kitty game.”

Raven rested his head on Butters’ shoulders. “Butters isn’t that bad once you get to know him. I like him. He's cute and very nice. You'll like him too.”

He hoped his friends took the hint. He would be bringing Butters around regardless. Butters deserved better than those weirdos he hung around with now. At least his friends would talk to him and include him in their conversations. Raven would make sure that happened himself.

“Is this going to be a Romeo and Juliet thing? Are you two going to die at the end? I’ll supply the poison.” Henrietta sent.

“Can I stab Rav then?” Pete asked.

“i think hes supposed to stab himself,” Michael commented

“Do I die in this?” came Firkle’s reply. "Hope so.”

Raven relaxed. If they were wholly against the idea of Butters joining them, they weren’t going to make their feelings known in the chat.

“Butters, do you want to start sitting with me and my friends at lunch?” He asked offhandedly.

Butters looked up in surprise. “Golly, would they be ok with that? I don’t think they like me much...” His expression held more discontent than disappointment. Considering The Goths — Raven included — had often mocked both Butters and the Vamp Kids, Raven couldn’t say he found that too shocking.

“They’ll like you. I can see you have a Goth side in you. We just need to scrape off the bats and vampire shit.”

“You can’t get all of it, but you can sure try,” Butters said with a smile and laugh. He then added, “And, if you think they’ll like me there, sure! I’d love to sit with you! We can hold hands in the lunch line, and I can carry your tray for you!” His eyes sparkled.

Raven almost burst his bubble that, no, Butters would not be carrying his tray, when Butters continued with, “It’ll sure be swell to sit with people who actually want to talk to me for once.”

Raven let out a suppressed sigh through his nose, before nodding. Maybe having your boyfriend carry your tray for you was more of a preppy relationship mood than a Goth one, but he supposed he could allow it. He would just need to remember to bring a large book or something with him so it looked like his hands were too full to carry it himself.

More than satisfied, Butters when back to his game and Raven adjusted himself against his shoulder.

At least his worries were put to rest, for a few hours. Once he had to go home, his life would be a nightmare. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He didn’t want to admit he had a boyfriend to his whole family and answer all the questions that would bring. He really didn’t want to have his Dad mutter forced apologies that to he was expected to return. He would so much rather stay at Butters, doing nothing and enjoying each others company.

Instead of dwelling on that, Raven sent a message to the Goth chat that he would be going to bed then idly watched Butters play on his laptop.

The frog in this mini-game was playing a swamp themed version of Pong, and Butters was beating it with ease. Raven's eyes wandered down to Butters’ hands as they zipped lightning fast across the keyboard.

“You’re good at this,” Raven commented.

“Thanks!” Butters chirped. “You can try next if you want.”

He declined, “No, I’m actually tired. Today was...a day.”

All of a sudden, he realized just how exhausted he actually was. His whole body felt heavy and a haze of sleep clouded his thoughts. His eyelids started to droop.

Seeing this, Butters jumped into action. He closed his laptop then scooched over, careful to make sure Raven didn’t fall down. With a smile, Butters proudly swung out his arm to offer the bed.

Raven blinked tiredly a few times before asking, “Where are you going to sleep?”

Did Butters want to sleep together? Would that be weird? They only started dating a few hours ago. Wasn’t Butters the kind of person to hog the bed? Or was that Kyle? Raven couldn’t remember.

Butters shook his head. “I don’t need to, but you do. Go on. My bed’s really comfy, and I washed the sheets just yesterday.”

Raven didn’t protest that. Instead, he kicked his shoes off before crawling under the covers. Maybe it was just because he was dog tired, but Raven had to admit, Butters was right about how comfy the bed was.

“I’ll get the lights for you.” Butters walked backward a few steps to the switch.

“Thanks,” Raven muttered with his eyes slipping shut. All the stress of the day melted away under the warm blanket, taking his conscience with it.

~~~~

His mom nearly crushed him in her embrace the next morning with his sister standing close behind. His dad hadn’t come to the Stotch’s to pick him up and Raven was ok with that.

After taking a second to look around and deciding that it was safe, he raised his arms and hugged her back.

“Don’t you ever worry me like that again,” She ordered when she pulled back. His mom placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes.

“Sorry,” Raven muttered, but he didn’t go to move her hand. He let himself enjoy the maternal worry and affection he’d been avoiding for the last few years.

With a breath, he asked, “Did you talk to Dad? What did he say? This isn’t my fault.”

His mother sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, but his sister beat her to it.

“He said you were gay and that’s why you’re acting like,” Shelley gestured to him, “this.”

Raven’s face heated up. He took a step back, nearly bumping into Butters and Mrs. Stotch.

He grabbed for Butters’ hand, squeezing partly for support and partly as a point, before he stated flatly, “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t make me gay. Labels are stupid and for conformists anyway.”

A mild surprise crossed his mom’s face. She stood, shaking her head, as Shelley snorted into her hand and muttered, “Called it.”

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble, Linda,” His mom said to Mrs. Stotch.

“Oh, he was a perfect gentleman all night,” Mrs. Stotch waved her hand. “Wasn’t too loud and didn’t make a mess, unlike the last time Butters brought over any of his little vampire friends.”

“Mom, stop, please!” Butters hid his face in his hands. Raven could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“He was just wonderful,” she continued as if she didn’t hear her son whine. “There wasn’t one spilled glass of tomato juice anywhere.”

Raven tapped Butters’ side with their connected hands in a comforting display. Maybe Butters let his parents do this so he had someone to keep him humble, or maybe not. Raven would try to remember to ask later.

“Thank you again for letting him stay,” his mom replied. To Raven, she said, “Come on, honey. It’s time to go home.”

Raven nodded, disentangling his hands from Butters. He didn’t have mittens, but his mom had brought a coat with them. As he slipped the warm coat on, Shelley stepped closer.

She whispered, “He’s not going to try and break in through the window to suck your blood, is he?”

Raven nearly choked on air. His brain floundered for a reply until Shelley continued, “Eric told me when I was babysitting him, Butters did that to him once.”

Raven turned the sigh he let out into a dismissive snort halfway through. “Of course not, vampires aren’t real, Shelley. Get your head out of those trashy wastes of paper you read.”

Shelley put a hand on his shoulder and then shoved him roughly towards the door.

He stumbled but rolled his eyes in the end. This was still a step down from the fights they got into when they were younger.

As his family shuffled out with his mom yelling one more thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Stotch, Raven took a few steps off the porch. The snow came over his shoes and to his ankles. He could feel some of it fall into his shoes and melt on his socks.

He shuddered, trying to imagine what would have happened if he’d actually spent the night outside in that storm.

A few steps into the Stotch’s yard, the door opened again and Butters hurried out. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him.

He pulled Raven into a hug then kissed his cheek before turning back on his heels and headed back to the house. Over his shoulder, Butters chirped, “Text me when you get home!”

Raven placed his hand over his cheek, smiling softly. Shelley looked over his shoulder at his face then snorted.

“Wow, just went right head over heels, huh? Didn’t know you had a kink for short, dark, and dorky,” She taunted, earning a glare. Raven shoved his hands into his pockets and marched past her.

“Screw you, at least I have a boyfriend,” Raven grumbled. He heard the low, threatening rumble in Shelley’s throat and picked up his pace, only to find himself tripping over the sidewalk and falling face first into the snow.

~~~~

He knew it was stupid to think that, now that they were dating, feedings would be a less disgusting and uncomfortable chore, but he did it anyway.

It was Sunday. Usually, Sundays were off days, a side effect of Raven tasting, as Butters claimed, “too Holy and Churchy.”

Raven didn't know what that meant and didn't bother to ask.

But Raven had been too tired the day prior and church had been canceled the night before due to the weather, so they agreed it would be best for Butters to just come over on Sunday night.

The moment Butters snuck through his window, Raven made a vow to somehow get revenge on his sister for how correct her joking prediction had been.

Raven leaned slight back against Butters. Butters wasn’t all that warm from his trip between their house, but he was soft. Reciprocating the affection, Butters tighten his grip around Raven’s middle.

Raven then eyes rolled over to his door. He locked it the moment Butters came tapping against the glass, as he didn’t want his dad trying to have a ‘bonding moment’ by bursting in when Raven was supposed to be in bed.

He nearly winced thinking about his dad. When he returned home Saturday, his dad offered a begrudging apology, and Raven accepted it just as begrudgingly. He knew full well that his dad wouldn’t stop whining about him being Goth, but at least the current familial drama had subsided.

Until next time...

Before Raven could dwell on that thought, Butters pulled back.

He licked his lips. “Ah, that’s good stuff.”

Raven grunted, scooting back farther between Butters’ legs until his back was pressed against his front. Butters snuggled against him, slightly too warm breath on Raven’s shoulders.

Nonetheless, this was peaceful. Raven shut his eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall, the wind outside, and his own breathing.

He tried to hold tight to the feeling of ease and store it away. School, he knew, would be more of a nightmare than usual. While Raven wasn't one of those preppy, conformist popular kids, a shake-up of the status quo between the Goths and the Vamps would definitely cause waves that would spread throughout the school.

Not that he cared about what everyone else would think. He was way to Goth for that.

The only problem he should be focusing on would be giving Butters a list of every topic he wasn’t allowed to talk about, now that Raven decided to turn him from a wannabe to an actual, independent, nonconformist Goth — like him and his friends.

But that could wait until the morning — all the repercussions and preparations could wait until the morning. For now, Raven wanted to just enjoy the moment of peace with his boyfriend.

~~~

I hope everyone enjoyed! This was a lot of fun to write. I really loved the artist's work and how Raven looked just 100% done and begrudging in their art! =D

Feel free to follow me here or on Ao3 (UAs_fics) for more of my written works if you enjoyed. :)

#sp stutters #stan marsh #Butters Stotch #fanfiction #goth!stan #raven marsh #multi-chapter #vampire butters

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albion19 · 5 years

Text

Bonkai wip

So I’m going to post stuff that’s been in a folder for too long. It’s all unfinished and some posts will be longer than others. Enjoy!

Shadows and whispers follow her through the empty house, a house that she cannot stand to be in any longer. She is going to sell it and think about where to go next. Not Virginia but somewhere South. Maybe New Orleans…

No, that’s where Kai is.

Kai Parker. Her arch nemesis, not that he viewed her as such. She had locked him up in a Prison World, a looping cold day in February. Just after Valentine’s day. He liked to sing her sad love songs when she visited him…She should have killed him, as Ric wanted but he had answers. Elena remained asleep for months after Stefan died and in that time Kai had toyed with Bonnie, offering the answers to all her problems…

Lights flashed in the dark. Red, green, blue, white. Again and again. Music played, a song that had been playing for months on end, never abating. It was a form of torture and some nights in the silence of her empty room she thought she could hear it. Kai was desiccated and she wondered as she forced the straw between his lips if he could hear Two Princes even unconscious. It likely followed him into his nightmares. She lowered the volume a little and tried not to let it show how much it annoyed her too.

He took some time to get his bearings as she squeezed the last of the blood into his mouth and stepped back. He lifted a woozy, pale face and groaned.

“No…turn – turn it off.”

“I’ll turn the sound down if you answer my question.”

He looked away from the jukebox and landed his unfocused eyes on her. She saw the moment he realised who she was, that she was real. He smiled and she could not help but feel a vindictive pride. He had boasted that Katherine would make them suffer but Bonnie had stopped her, had literally stopped hell in its tracks.

“…I take it back.”

“What?” she stepped closer as Kai shifted in his chair, the chains clinking. He looked more like his usual self-possessed self, his colour returning. Infuriating.

“You’re the baddest bitch.”

Bonnie looked down to hide her smirk, half in shadow but Kai saw and grinned. Bonnie looked back up with a stern face. “You don’t seem surprised. I thought you lost a bet?”

“I did because I thought you’d figure who was in the casket. Am I surprised you beat Katherine? No, I was counting on it,” he admitted and Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “I wanted hell gone, Cade or no Cade. I told Kathy that you were weak, that you were no threat so she’d leave you alone. I didn’t care that hell was in better hands, I never intended to go back there. She could burn forever for all I cared, though she’d likely try to drag me along with her when she realised I fucked her over. You sticking me in here was actually a good thing,” he mused, looking around the bar.

Bonnie smirked. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying I never underestimated you Bonster.”

Bonnie nodded, looking at the ground and did not answer. He might be lying but he sounded sincere. She moved closer and caught his gaze, which was a bright blue in the spotlight. “Wake up Elena.”

“Oh is she still snoozing? Tried true love’s kiss? Damn I should have done that instead. Just to see Damon’s face when it doesn’t work.”

“Stop playing games. I died for a minute, I saw her in some limbo place but she’s still sleeping. You said if one of us died she would wake up.”

“Well, she did wake up for that minute you were dead. That limbo place is where I trapped her soul but she could have crossed over with you taking her place. You came back.”

Bonnie shook her head, remembering how Enzo had pushed her out of that dreamy world and back to the land of the living. Bonnie shook the empty blood bag at Kai.

“If you ever want free from those chains you have to tell me about the spell!”

“Sure but it wouldn’t make any difference. I’m the one that cast it, so I’m the only one that can undo it.”

“Then undo it.”

“You’ll let me out?” he asked, smirk on his mouth. He knew the answer to that.

“Of those chains, yes. You’ll be free to walk away and never hear that song again,” Bonnie said and Kai looked hatefully at the jukebox. He sighed, looking back at her.

“I said my death made the spell I put on Elena permanent. So if we reverse that, make me a shiny new living breathing witch again, she’ll wake.”

“Bring you back to life? Sure I’ll just get on that Lazarus.”

He stared fixedly, eyes drilling into hers. “Come on, you know what to do,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm.

“Sorry but the cure is off the table.”

“Pretty sure it’s all room temperature and housed in a soon to be rapidly ageing Salvatore.”

He grinned and Bonnie’s stomach plummeted. “If you drink the cure Damon will die.”

Kai pouted. “My heart bleeds for him Bon, truly, but that’s the condition. I can’t wake up Elena while I’m kinda-sorta dead. If Damon loves Elena then he should be willing to sacrifice everything for her, right? I find them utterly gross but that would even give me warm fuzzies.”

Bonnie threw up her hands. “You’re full of shit. If he does that he and Elena will never be together.”

“And if he doesn’t he’ll grow old without her. Or more likely die of liver failure in a year or two. So either way he’s screwed,” he tried hard not to grin and failed.

“Or I could die.”

The smile on Kai’s face dimmed and then vanished at her quiet, considering words. “No, you won’t. You die and this place collapses because you helped make it. You’d be letting me out. You can guess what’ll happen then.” His smirk returned but there was a dark desperation there. With the twins alive it was unlikely the prison would collapse, just become unstable.

Bonnie was lying, she would not risk her life to wake Elena. She had promised Enzo that she would live every moment of her life with no regrets and she was not going to break that promise.

“So you get the cure and Elena wakes?”

“The retro Gemini version of me destroys the binding agent for the spell and then Elena wakes, yes.”

“What’s the binding agent?”

“Damon,” he said and shrugged at her appalled face. “I didn’t know he was gonna become human and solve my heretic dilemma. I actually brought the cure with me from 1903 but someone burned my body. It was in my pocket the whole time.”

He stared at her in accusation and all Bonnie could do was gawp. After the wedding massacre she had gone back to the barn and set his headless body on fire. She had no clue he had the cure to vampirism. Bonnie cupped her face, shaking her head.

“You’re so exhausting. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Do a spell on me. I’m not lying. I’ll become human and wake Elena. Waking her will also break the link between you. For what it’s worth, I probably shouldn’t have done that. I was hurt,” he said with something like remorse, a winching thing.

“Bo fucking ho. I swear if you’re lying I will never come back. Do you get it? You’ll be alone forever.”

Kai’s eyes flashed with fear before he smiled gently. “Nah. We’re gonna grow old together Bon.”

He was right. Damon had trashed the mansion, gotten drunk for about a month and then agreed. He never deserved Elena, the one man who did was now dead and if Damon could make up for that sacrifice by giving Elena the chance to live her life then he would do it.

Kai had been grinning from ear to ear, though he did try at times to look sombre but that just pissed Damon off more. As Damon laid Elena down on the pool table Bonnie had switched off the jukebox, which made Kai a little teary eyed before he motioned at his chains.

“Can’t do this with my hands tied.”

With a strong feeling of dajavu Bonnie released Kai, who stretched for five minutes before getting off the stage. Then he picked up the chair he had been sitting in and threw it at the jukebox. He sighed as the glass shattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months. Okay, let’s do this.”

He drank Damon’s blood after giving a toast, which had been poured into a shot glass. He then asked them to take Elena’s hands. Bonnie sneered as Kai’s long, slim fingers laced through hers, while he took Damon’s wrist. He chanted, eyes closed and Bonnie watched as he wavered, his breathing becoming laboured as sweat dripped down his face. The cold snap she usually felt when touching a vampire started to fade, though with a heretic her magic recoiled at the wrongness of his nature. It was slowly replaced with the familiar warm vibration of a human witch. The magic within her became coaxed, sensing a power equal to her own but before she could delve into it Elena opened her eyes.

Kai stepped back, releasing them and gave Bonnie and Damon space as they cried and hugged a disorientated Elena. The crying became hard and he shied away, looking uncomfortable. Bonnie, after kissing her friend, quickly caught Kai as he left.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside? All that wailing and hair rending is giving me a headache. God, can you feel that?” he asked as they stepped out onto the empty street. Dusk light cast long shadows behind them as Kai dragged in a great lungful of air.

“Feel what?”

“Nature. All the little night creatures are waking up and there’s a smell of spring in the air. I’ve missed this.”

Bonnie gazed at him. Kai was awful, he was a killer and ruined so many lives. She never forgot he was a witch but that connection to nature that she felt in her bones was not something she associated with Kai.

“I never took you for a nature lover.”

“I’m a witch, it’s just instinctive. Fuck I hated being a heretic, the two natures did not get on at all. I had to really depend on siphoning my vampirism more than nature. It thought I was icky,” he sighed and leaned against the wall of the bar. He motioned behind them. “The looping of time in this world should slow his ageing a little but he’ll still die. Are you gonna stay here until then?”

Bonnie nodded. “I am…but they need space to say goodbye. You can’t be here to ruin that.”

Kai smirked. “Gonna chain me up again? Bonnie you’ve got this whole freaky side to you I never knew existed.”

“You wish.”

“Seriously, it’s hot,” he laughed, biting his lip and she turned away. He grabbed her arm and she hissed.

“Don’t touch me,” she shoved him back and he grinned, flicking his fingers at the necklace she wore.

“Vampire blood? Elmo’s?”

“Enzo!”

“That’s what I said. It looks like one of those life buoy thingies, you know for people who need saving?” his expression soured. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Yeah like I’ll take fashion advice from a guy literally stuck in the 90’s,” she pushed him away and turned as he laughed.

“Whatever, plaid’s eternal. You rocked that grunge look and I always look good no matter what.”

“Christ, I’m going. If I see you within five feet of me again I’ll set you on fire.”

She walked back into the bar, waiting with bated breath for him to follow but after a few minutes she looked back out to find a deserted street. He was gone.

After Damon died, Elena and Bonnie grieved. She had been content to let Kai rot. She had given him the cure and he could now walk around his prison world. It was a mercy. There was no way out without her, no one else knew he was there except for her inner circle of friends. As far as she was concerned the last time she ever saw him was at Damon’s death bed.

She should have known better.

A siphoner was a rare and dying breed. For all the name calling and shunning there was a lot of good that a witch with such an ability could do. The Original family had thought so and learning that the most powerful siphoner and previous coven leader was alive but trapped had done nothing but spur them into action.

The ascendant Bonnie kept tucked into her mattress had disappeared. Before going to bed at night she checked that spinning contraption and usually awoke most mornings with her fingers around it. It might have been her imagination but touching it caused her to sense Kai, to dream of him and that morning she woke with a very clear image:

Klaus Mikaelson treating Kai Parker to a gourmet meal on a lively New Orleans street.

He had stolen her blood and her prisoner.

She had turned up in New Orleans with only one purpose and that was to drag Kai Parker back into his cold February jail cell. Why the Mikealson’s wanted Kai could only be for nefarious purposes so she was likely doing the world a favour by thwarting their plans.

She had not counted on a little red headed girl meeting her at the bus station.

“Hi. My name’s Hope. I know why you’re here.”

Bonnie had smiled in bemusement, lowering her backpack. “You do?”

“You want Kai. He said you’d be coming,” she leaned forward and spoke quietly, cupping her mouth. “He never stops talking about you. Actually he never stops talking. He’s weird.”

Bonnie frowned at the girl as she offered her hand, looking around. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yeah but it’s okay, I know my way back. Just don’t tell my mom and dad okay?”

“…Okay,” Bonnie, feeling deeply bewildered, took Hope Mikaelson’s hand and stiffened. The nine year old girl was immensely powerful, a true prodigy and the daughter of the oldest vampire in the world. Hope explained how Kai came into her life as they walked through the quarter.

“I was sick. This thing, this monster was attacking kids, witches like me. It was draining us and nothing could stop it because it was too powerful. It wasn’t alive so it couldn’t be killed, it exists outside this world…” she shuddered as they waited at a crossing. Bonnie watched the crowd for any sign of an Original or Kai. The little girl looked up at her. “I dreamed of you, of the spinning key you keep under your pillow.”

“The ascendant?”

“Right. I didn’t really know what it was, I just knew that it opened the door to the person that could save us. Auntie Freya did a location spell and got the key from you.”

“And she let Kai out,” Bonnie stopped at a street corner, shaking her head. “It wasn’t anyone’s to steal.”

Guilt flashed over the girl’s face but then she lifted her chin. “It’s not stealing if you give it back. It’s borrowing.”

Bonnie smiled despite herself. “I suppose that makes sense. Can I have it back?” she offered her hand but Hope shook her head.

“Kai has it.”

“Of course he does. You know he was in there for a reason? He’s not a good person.”

“People say that about my dad but they’re wrong. Mostly. Kai thinks you’ll never forgive him but I told him he should wait and see.”

“He said that?”

“No, he doesn’t have to. He’s all messed up inside, his dreams are terrible,” she said and from the haunted look in her eyes Bonnie assumed the poor girl had got a glimpse of them. Kai had endured 18 years of isolation and then years being tortured in hell. He had suffered but it was easier to believe he felt nothing.

“He has nightmares about me?” she gave a small smirk.

“No, you’re the good ones but they kinda hurt the most. I try not to absorb what other people feel but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m like a sponge.”

Bonnie nodded, feeling pity. The girl was young but there was a weight to her and not just because of the family she was born into. In the distance she felt a vibration, a witch approaching.

“Why is Kai here? What did he do?”

“He siphoned the monster and trapped it into his prison dimension. He siphoned me and other kids, healing so many of us. We’d be dead without him.”

“And your family is grateful,” Bonnie sighed, watching as Klaus Mikaelson approached with a witch, an intense man she did not know.

“You should take that off,” Hope said suddenly and Bonnie looked down. The girl was staring at the blood necklace. Bonnie griped it and smiled.

“Why? Do you think it’s ugly too? Maybe I should get a new setting for it.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s like there’s something tied to it. It’s pulling so hard. Can’t you feel it?”

Bonnie did not have time to answer as Klaus appeared. He exhaled with relief at the sight of Hope, who ran into his arms. Behind them Kai stood, hands in his pockets and after a pause gave Bonnie a sheepish wave.

Kai was treated with respect and gratitude. He was offered a place in New Orleans, a fresh start and support from a community of witches who did not know of his past, only the heroic deeds of his present. He was the man who saved their children and defeated the monster. Those who did know of his past had let it lie undisturbed. He was in the company of sinners seeking absolution, one she thought Kai never asked for. Still, he stayed.

She had to leave, if only to stop the vindictive pull that wanted to topple his happy little world. The Prison World was now home to some eldritch nightmare from the dawn of time, a thing that Kai had lovingly dubbed Pennywise.

“You can have the ascendant back if you want? I heard you kept it under your pillow.”

“Yeah, no. I can imagine the sweet dreams.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes as she sat back, her belly full. They were sat on a balcony overlooking the quarter. Wisteria grew along the railing, framing them. It was romantic but her companion uninvited. She had just wanted a nice meal alone with a glass of wine before she left. She had been in the city for three days and tomorrow she was leaving. She had met Kai only briefly, just to hear his part in the tale. It all seemed to correlate with what Hope and Klaus told her. She had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with Kai and while he seemed committed to starting afresh he could not let her leave without seeing her one last time.

“So you’re going back to Mystic Falls?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but no. I’ve got this house I need to sell.”

“The one in Upstate New York?” he asked, taking a sip of wine. Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh, well when I got out of hell I kinda followed you for a few days.”

“Like a creeper.”

“Yes, like a creeper,” he smirked at her before growing serious. “When the bell rang and a door out of hell appeared I saw Mystic Falls…I saw you.”

“Me?”

“You were wearing jogging clothes. You were driving passed the Grill. I went for it and ended up in there. Just missed you,” he held his thumb and index finger apart.

Bonnie snorted. “So you could have suddenly appeared in my car? I would have crashed.”

“Surprise! Smoking suit and everything,” he laughed and sighed. “After that I went to your house. Saw you with him. Elmo,” his jaw clenched and his eyes flicked to the blood necklace. “That’s super creepy you know that?” he said and she rolled her eyes, preparing to leave.

“Says the stalker. You know if you put a foot out of line I can rip down everything you have?”

“I’m sure you think I deserve it, despite what I’ve done here,” he said with a muted smile as she got to her feet.

“They think you’re a hero but I know the truth. You don’t do shit for anyone unless you get something out of it.”

“Right, sure, believe what you want.”

“I will,” she put her purse over her shoulder, standing there. She should walk away but his eyes fixed on hers kept her still. “You saved those kids because the alternative was going back to the prison world. You’d do anything to avoid that.”

He sat back, food forgotten. “You’re right I would do anything to avoid that. Can you, who actually knows what it’s like, blame me?” he asked, jaw clenching as he leaned forward. “We both know if I wanted to I could have disappeared the moment they got me out. You know why I didn’t?”

“No.”

“You.”

“What do I have to do with this?”

“Everything. You remember the last thing Damon said to me before he died?” he asked suddenly, making her blink.

“…He said that it was possible. I didn’t understand what he meant.” Damon, old and grey, had looked between her and Kai before they had left him to die with Elena. He had made a grudging sort of peace with the Gemini witch.

“He thought I could be redeemed by doing good, that it was possible to be forgiven. He was a fucking idiot thinking I ever wanted his. He got that at the end.”

Bonnie stared at Kai’s intense eyes, noting the tension in his shoulders and arms before she scoffed. “You want my forgiveness? Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you played that trick on me?”

Kai looked aside, nostrils flaring, before glaring at her. “I’m not looking for another knife in the back. It wasn’t a trick then and it’s not now. You never gave me a chance,” his hard gaze softened into regret.

“I don’t owe you anything. You want to prove yourself? Do it but don’t look to me for a reward,” she stepped back and he growled in frustration, getting to his feet.

“I don’t care about goody points Bonnie. I’ve been given so many chances, I should be dead right now but I’m here. You could have killed me but instead you stuck me in a prison world.”

Bonnie spun around. “Because you were the only one who could wake Elena!”

“Which I did! My purpose to you was spent, right? You could have destroyed the ascendant after that, made it impossible for anyone to get me out…but you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“You hold onto things Bonnie, you can’t let go and for some messed up reason I’m one of those things.”

Bonnie laughed, fingers touching the blood pendant. “I keep this because I loved him. I kept the ascendant because I hate you. Actually I don’t even feel that because that would be a waste of energy. You mean nothing to me.”

He shook his head. “If that were true you’d have forgotten about it. Whatever you feel it’s not indifference. Take it from a former sociopath,” he gave a weak half smile but it faded. Bonnie said nothing for some time, just continued to stare at him until he looked aside.

“I want this to be clear okay? I don’t like you. At all. Stay here, start a new life and if you honestly want to turn over a new leaf then do it…but don’t expect me to care. I’m leaving. We’re strangers from this point on. You no longer exist.”

Kai gazed at her, a penetrating, drinking stare that made her heartbeat race before he smirked and sat back down at the table. He picked up his knife and fork and continued eating, looking at his plate. Bonnie stood still until he looked back up, his eyebrows rising.

“Oh you’re still here? Wait can you even see me? I don’t exist so you better go ignore me over there. You’re kinda ruining your super serious moment.”

“Screw you.”

“Oops, talking to a person who’s not really here, not a good sign.”

“Choke on your $100 fillet,” she grumbled as she finally walked away.

“By Bonnie. See you soon.”

#bonkai #my fics

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