#mythical creatures not really being well known but still a part of society?

[mae-i-scribble]

ruri dragon is a series yes. the author went into hiatus for two years and theyre finally out of hiatus! :D its very exciting

I had heard the author went into hiatus and just kinda assumed it would be one of those things that never got picked up again, but boy am I happy to be proven wrong. Immediately after finding out I went and read all the available chapters and they were lovely as expected. Super excited to keep up with it!! Cannot wait to see whatever batshit powers she gets XD That and I want to see her dad in a full color spread author please i am on my hands and knees

#ruri dragon #i am a lover of dragons so its always nice to find more good dragon manga #im also a big fan of how the author portrays teens and school life #the casualness of it all really helps sell the slice of life angle #and it already has vibes of like #mythical creatures not really being well known but still a part of society? #like ruri and her classmates dont thibk dragons are real #but also very quickly adjust when they have proof that dragons are in fact real #and one of em is ruri's dad #including the adults around her #its a nice spin on things where usually a lot of focus would have been put into the whole #'how do i hide this/how do people deal with the knowledge of the supernatural existing' #sort of thing that i was more expecting #which tbf the oneshot is also very casual (one of the reasons i loved it) so i suppose i shouldnt be too surprised #but im very happy nonetheless

[fallstreakfeathers]

[More] Obey Me Headcanons

[ I didn’t edit this at all, really, but I have around 30 headcanons so far that I’m using for my fic and would like several backups- so, I’m posting it here.) 

The ‘Devildom’ is a planet that is larger than ours. ‘Hell’ refers to a part of each territory the Avatar’s govern that is reserved for retaining and torturing human souls. These areas are actually quite small compared to the rest of the land. Each environment is unique, with its own native flora, fauna, land formations, climates, and dangers.

The Devildom resides on a tall, mountain-ringed plateau that towers over the lands around it. It is not the tallest point in the demon world.

Demons have elemental affinities that also define certain weaknesses. A demon that’s used to the heat and gasses of flowing magma would have difficulties in the colder parts of the world, or fighting against a demon or creature who uses a lot of freezing attacks.

There are many places in their realm that even Demons refrain from going, or simply cannot. One such area is a vast frozen land in the far northeast that drops to temperatures low enough that even demons that are developed for icy area’s cannot survive without magical assistance. However, this also makes the area a great place for criminals and the exiled to live should they be able to fight the cold. Demons and such that failed to pass the test of the cold are frequently found encased in the tall, pointed ice spires that jut from the ground- trapped in an unending preservation until the end of days.

There’s a massive crater in one part of the world, in the land Mammon governs, that’s referred to as the ‘Fear Pit’. It’s the aftermath of a massive battle between two demons, and the entire area is cursed with illusions that prey on your fears. It gets worse the closer you are to the bottom. Demons occasionally travel to test their own resolve, though few ever make it to the center- usually opting to turn back before their fear drives them mad.

Beelzebub dislikes thunder because it sounds similar to some sounds he heard in the war

Demon’s are immortal only in that time cannot destroy them, They can still die from wounds and even disease.

Not all demons can speak human languages. There’s plenty in the Devildom/Hell who’ve never set foot in the human realm and have never bothered to learn the realms languages.

On that note, there are more than a few specific demonic dialects spoken in the devildom. The Avatars and most high nobility are required to be fluent in the most common 3 demonic languages.

Demons who came to the Devildom by falling from the Celestial Realm are not considered ‘true demons’, and many have challenged the Avatars solely because of their origins

Demons may have pacts with multiple humans. If a demon who has more than one pact is ordered to do something by multiple pact holders, the demon will obey whoever has the strongest bond with them OR the orders will cancel each other out.

Many species found in the Devildom/Hell and the Celestial Realm are not exclusive to one or the other- dragons and unicorns are found in both, for example, but with different traits and personalities. Dragons in the Devildom are ugly things that spit an acidic venom, while those in the Celestial Realm are sleek and able to shoot blasts of fire from their throats. Some creatures remain the same in each realm, but are referred to by different names. Many mythic creatures from every human culture can be found in both the Devildom and Celestial realm

Though their human forms look rather perfect, everyone who fought in the Celestial War bears a great number of physical scars, some of which affect their human guise as well

Belphegor's right eye is completely blind in all his forms. He tends to hide it in his human appearance because it’s sometimes seen as a weakness by other demons who might try to challenge him. He has the most trouble with demon’s attempting to fight him because he’s often seen as the weakest Avatar due to his sleeping habits and general outward appearance. This is, of course, a massive mistake.

Belphegor frequently wraps his tail around himself (like a hug) for comfort- particularly when he’s alone

Belphegor’s horseshoe was broken during a fight with a demon who wanted to challenge his title/status.

Demons don't usually bury their dead because many simply disappear upon death. How they disappear depends on their primary sin (Wrath erupts in a blast of fire)

Leviathan changes the order of the smiley pins on his clothes depending on his mood (green for happy/content, yellow for neutral, red for angry/upset)

Satan dislikes chocolate

Demons are practically infertile. Children born naturally (human standard) are extremely rare. As such, all demon children are cherished and protected by modern demonic societies as a whole, and intending to harm one is punished harshly.

Lucifer may have birthed Satan from rage, but a demon can create another being from any emotion so long as it’s powerful enough (love, envy, etc). This is much more common than the physical way of creating children. The offspring will generally exhibit whatever emotion spawned them and will behave accordingly to whoever the emotion was directed at. After their birth, they grow very fast until they appear 10-15 years old, and their growth slows immensely.

A specific ritual is required for a demon( or angel) and human to crossbreed with each other, as they are completely different species. It would be like trying to cross a dog with a giraffe. These births are always extremely dangerous for the human mother. There are a few exceptions to this, such as Incubi/Succubi but successful crossbreeding is still extremely rare.

The older a demon is, the more horrific their true forms are. Anyone who has existed before the Celestial War is referred to as an ‘Ancient/Old World’ demon. Those born after and those who fell are considered ‘New Age/Modern’ demons. There are a handful of creatures referred to as ‘Primordials’. These beings are neither demons nor angels, but are immensely powerful and are very secretive. Not much is known about any of them, and they rarely show themselves. They also rarely partake in the social/political conflicts of the three realms. They did not have a presence in the Celestial War.

These titles have no bearing on how civilised someone may be.

There are technically four realms known. The Celestial, Devildom, and Human realms are commonly spoken about but the fourth realm is known as ‘Oblivion’ and isn’t so much a world as it is multitudes of platforms floating throughout a nebula. It’s useless overall but is used as a prison and punishment for the worst of demonkind. Few have ever made it out, but those that have come back a blubbering, maddened shell of who they were. Diavolo and Barbatos both are capable of opening a portal to it.

All demons/Fallen have the capability to return to a monstrous form, but Ancient demons have a particularly difficult time making themselves look human again (some Ancient’s are incapable of returning at all). New Age demons are able to transform much more freely, but if the transformation is brought on by strong negative emotion (rage, fear, or a physical reaction such as pain), it takes much longer to change back

The final stage of demonic courtship involves seeing each other's truest self. This display is a form of trust in the highest regard, the goal being total acceptance of each other. It should never be taken lightly. Not every couple goes through this, but those that do form a deeply personal and permanent bond.

A demon in full form is rare outside battle, though some choose to remain in their appearance as a way of showing off.

Some demons (nobility and such) have several forms outside of their human/humanoid guises

Demons are compelled to chew on things. There are several businesses specializing in ‘demon chew toys’. Gnawing on these can release both stress and anxiety and also helps maintain healthy teeth.

Demons shed their horns, scales, teeth and fur, and will often use these shed materials in their own clothing, jewelry, and other such items. Shedding season differs for every demon- it happens to some every half year, year, couple years, or even centuries. Being given an item made from a demon’s shed is considered a personal gift

Demons can tell the basic emotional state of any human they have a pact with. Whether they react to it or care is another story.

Despite the common opinion that the Devildom doesn’t have a sun, the sky brightens every 3 human world days thanks to the passing of a dwarf star. However, it would be a mistake to believe that the demon world is devoid of light without it! There are plenty of natural light sources that provide the lands with a way to see (for those without night vision), such as glowing crystals and mushrooms, magma, etc.

The Devildom’s planet’s core burns hotter than ours, which counteracts how cold it would be otherwise (though it’s still quite chilly in many parts of the planet)

When Diavolo ordered that no human be harmed in the Devildom again, he also banned all media portraying humans as prey. These books, videos, and movies are now sold on the black markets and hoarded by those who disagree with Diavolo

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #im thinking of making a map tbh #obey me belphegor #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #arkwrites #Arks obey me headcanons #dont @ me about the incorrect planet science im doing this for fun and idc lmao

[solomonish]

Ok, here me out, reaction headcanons with the Brothers finding out that supernatural beings are integrated into modern society through MC

For example, “And so I was really worried if I had to do any bloodwork right? So I go to this hospital and get an appointment to get tested- Oh how did I get tested? I booked an appointment with a Vampire doctor who could smell if I had a blood disease or not”

or

“Yeah, I have a huge respect for nurses. They were always so kind and attentive to me whenever I had to stay overnight. A few of the Nymph nurses even made sure any get-well flowers I got from my family stayed fresh and blooming!”

Heya nonnie! I hope these are alright! They're kinda short because I wasn't entirely sure what to put, haha!

Lucifer is almost always on some sort of business trip when he goes to the human realm, so he feels like he should've known. Despite being surprised, he pretends he knew all along and even makes up a story about how much of a pain it was to find a genuine human in the mix of magical applicants. 

Next time he goes to the human realm, he gets a coffee from a local hippie-ish shop and they send him off with some chipper farewell like "Have a magical day!" or "May you feel rejuvenated after every sip!" and nearly scares the batista to tears with the scrutinizing glare he gives her.

He doesn't care either way, but now he needs to be on alert so he can figure out who's who…

Mammon probably knows and has been tricked by every one of them. Despite this exposure, he still can't tell if somebody is a mythical creature or regular human and it drives him crazy.

If he's in the human realm with you, he does NOT want them tending to you. Nymph nurse? How does he know what's in that IV?? Someone tries to serve you food? He didn't see it prepared, no way!

They're so good at hiding amongst you without that weird instinct you humans have to help each other...why do you trust them?

Leviathan asks you a thousand times if you're sure you aren't part nymph yourself. Not even 1/32nd? 1/64th?

He's interested in your stories, but he doesn't really care that they're integrated in society. It's not like he goes up there much anyway.

Sometimes, if there's a certain creature that lives in both the Human Realm and, say, the Devildom, he gets jealous. He wants to be able to go to the human realm at will to see you, too….a-ah, he means to get exclusive merch! 

Satan is interested for sure and starts asking you questions, like how many human inventions do you owe to these creatures? What leaders weren't actually human to begin with? Ends up going down a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories like this. 

Probably knows a few of them but thought they were blending in. Maybe he met them before they were widely accepted? 

Starts asking you questions about how you reconcile medical differences and life spans and all of that until one day he stops asking. He claims he just wasn't interested anymore and doesn't tell you he just reminded himself of the difference between his lifespan and yours….

Asmodeus knows and knows this well. He's a social demon at heart, and he spends a decent amount of time in the human realm!

Definitely has a tier list of which type of creature is best at keeping him company. Don't worry, you're definitely at the top!

Isn't really fazed by it, but thinks it's cute if he's ever in the human realm with you and you marvel at somebody on the street….just don't take too long to redirect that attention to him, okay?

Beelzebub isn't particularly affected by this. Yeah, there are all types of creatures in the Devildom too. He was supposed to assume it wasn't like that in your world?

Wants to know if there are any human/creature sports matches and how they get around the strength differences. Team size? Point bonuses? You should take him to a game 🥺🥺

Overall is just interested the same way he was before. The human realm is new to him, so this is interesting information anyway!

Belphegor acts like he doesn't care, but he kinda does. He doesn't like it.

He has a complicated relationship with humans. He was fascinated with humans. Why muddy it up with so many different creatures in the mix?

There's something about humans having no magic save for a select few, being so weak and helpless and yet fighting so hard, all for nothing...he just is sort of a purist in that sense.

That's not to say he doesn't like them as individuals, but it certainly makes it easier to repress his regrowing appreciation for humans. When he looks out on a crowd, how can he tell that random act of kindness going on over there that's melting his heart isn't a nymph? Nice try though….

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mine

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

*****************

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

******************

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

****************

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

********************

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

#liam x riley #choices the royal romance #hana x rashad #leo x madeleine #maxwell x oc #olivia nevrakis #drake walker #trr dark au #vampire au

[poptod]

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them.  also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

+

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

#jack kline x reader #supernatural #spn #jack kline

[oh-take-this-longing]

Prompt 1: Foster

Koriah hadn’t ever seemed a part of the family. Not really. She seemed more mythical creature than Elezen noble to Adelaide. Even the circumstances of her birth, which Adelaide vaguely recalled her parents gossiping about when she was 3 years old, was outside the norm for the family and more like a supernatural gift,  like a fairy child being bestowed upon the family rather  than  the product of nature or love. Her parents would speak all the time about how imminent it was that her aunt and uncle would soon be the first Azmeriens to sever their ‘eternal bond’ and that they hadn’t so much as opened a door for one another or said a word in kindness to each other in the 2 years since they’d been wed.

Then one day her aunt and uncle showed up at her parents’ door holding hands. Holding -ungloved hands-. Holding ungloved hands with their skin touching for everyone to see. And they were smiling. And they were laughing. And they said such scandalous and, frankly, uncomfortable things as “I love you” right in front of everyone! That wasn’t a phrase Adelaide heard all that often outside of children’s tales. It wasn’t something her family ever said. Not in public, not in private, not even in jest, not ever. 

And then they did it. They kissed. Still in full view of the whole family! And this was not the usual polite kiss on the cheek or kiss on the back of (gloved!) hands for which Adelaide was so familiar. They kissed each other on the lips. They tilted their heads, smiling, and then put their lips together and 3 year old Adelaide saw it and -frankly- it was weird and she didn’t understand it at all. What was the point of that? She thought maybe it looked kind of gross. When she looked around at the rest of her immediate family with their jaws dropped and their eyes quickly darting away to look at something, anything!, else, her 3 year old thoughts were confirmed. That was definitely weird and gross. If it wasn’t her family wouldn’t react that way. Right?

And it was after that kiss that the announcement had been made. Her aunt was pregnant! And she and Adelaide’s uncle were -happy- about it. Oh, there was plenty of gossip about how the kid must have belonged to another man because she’d been having an affair and the whole lovey-dovey thing was just a public display to squash exactly the rumors that the lovey-dovey display had actually instigated instead. There were teams of couples who’d come over for weekly card, chess, or mahjong nights who would spend the evenings drinking expensive brandy with her parents and betting on who the actual father was. But to everyone’s great astonishment, when Koriah was born she already had a crop of bright red hair the exact same color as her father’s. As she grew up she shared the same striking green eyes as her father as well. Of course, by that point all the gossip had moved on to other couples and their possible infidelities and short-comings and the shock of Koriah’s arrival and the affection between her parents had completely been disregarded.

But not by Adelaide who carried that with her as one of her first memories and would continue to reflect on it as she grew older.

And as her cousin Koriah did not.

The sudden announcement of Koriah’s death when Adelaide was 25 and Koriah was 22 came as much as a surprise as the announcement of her arrival had.

Maybe it shouldn’t have. Koriah Azmerien had always been warm and sunny in personality (or what her detractors would call: ‘frivolous in demeanor’). She didn’t take anything too seriously. She wore what she wanted to. She went wherever she felt. And she genuinely did not care at all about what people said to or about her. When Adelaide would be stuck with insecurity regarding what she should say to someone (or -not- say to someone) at public events, Koriah never understood. She’d say, “If you introduce yourself and  they are unimpressed, they are the problem not you. So why worry about it?”

Well, Adelaide worried about it because her mother worried about it. And her sister worried about it. And two of her brothers worried about it. And she’d heard plenty of gossip that told her that she should worry about it. Why didn’t Koriah worry about it!? She’d one day be heading her family’s estate as well, shouldn’t she want to make the right impressions to the right people? Wasn’t she as stuck in this stifling, rules heavy society as Adelaide was?

That answer cleared itself up fairly quickly. At 19 Koriah said she was going off to see the world outside of Ishgard to learn what she could about other places. She longed to see other venues, other people, to taste other foods.

What she really wanted to do was see the Limsan ocean. She’d stared longingly at painted pictures of the ocean since she’d been so small she teetered and fell down more than she actually walked. The bubbly child would get quiet and listen with rapt attention to any story that featured dashing rogues and pirates by the seaside or that told tale of giant sea monsters or seductive sirens. Koriah’s parents eventually tired of buying their daughter stories about the ocean, perhaps wanting her to focus more on Coerthan tales of might and adventure instead, but the ocean had Koriah’s heart. So when her aunt and uncle stopped providing the books… Adelaide found a way to sneak books to her young cousin about high sea adventures instead.

And as Koriah grew older, her taste for the seafaring stories grew as well. Moving past the usual children’s tales, her book collection became… rather more ‘adult’ in nature-- much to Adelaide’s sheltered embarrassment who until her cousin had showed her the collection of erotic and romantic Limsan pirate and rogue stories had not even thought such a thing had existed. By that age, late teens, Adelaide had, of course, known that kissing was a thing. That touching was a thing. That the common folk would sometimes disappear into dark alleys and do… things. But she’d been raised by a very strict mother who had made it clear that such things were ‘crass’ and ‘unladylike’ and that as the future head of the Azmerien household, the future of the Azmerien name, she had best not ever think of such things.

Being told not to think of such things and then being shown books that wrote -exactly- of such things of course meant that Adelaide would rebel. She thought about ‘such things’ frequently. But she’d never -buy- such a book. She’d just borrow them. Where did Koriah even find those? Wasn’t she embarrassed to be seen with them?

No. The answer was no. She said someone had taken the time to write those things so someone might as well take the time to read them. She didn’t make it a point to read them in public and she hid them in her room so they weren’t immediately on display-- but she did not hide that she purchased them herself. “And if someone were to take time to read them, that someone ought to purchase them herself rather than sending out a servant to do it for her.”

So when Koriah said she was ‘off to see the world’, Adelaide knew that she was ‘off to see the ocean.’ And when she imagined Koriah out in Limsa Lominsa she imagined her capturing hearts and scandalous kisses the same way the heroines in her books did. She only wondered if it’d be a pirate or a rogue that she’d end up running away with in the end.

It was a rogue, apparently. Letters from Koriah came back regularly… until they didn’t. Koriah’s parents and younger brother received the boring letters that spoke of Limsan gossip and fashion. Adelaide received the letters that spoke of the things her cousin actually cared about. 

And the things she loved. 

And the boy she loved.

And that boy’s goofy little brother.

The boy was named Lysander Winsome and he was a key figure in some sort of thieving gang based in Limsa, but it wasn’t the life he wanted anymore. He wanted out. He wanted to save enough to buy a ship-- his dream was an airship because his heart belonged to the sky as much as Koriah’s belonged to the ocean-- and he wanted to get away with only what mattered most to him: his brother and Koriah. She thought it’d be easier to buy a ship they could sail on the ocean. That’d be a dream easier and quicker to reach and while they worked on the ship they could have adventures and save enough for the airship. But what if-- what if one day they had a ship that functioned as both? Wouldn’t that be amazing? Would Adelaide want to come to visit on a vessel that could both sail and fly?

Adelaide wrote that of course she would. But honestly, it was all a little hard to believe. Koriah’s letters sounded as much fiction as any of the books she’d left hidden in her bedroom. Maybe these letters were just fantasy. Maybe they were meant as fun reads when her reality was really just the boring letters about Limsan gossip, sales prices, and fashion that she sent to her immediate family. And she continued to think this until the letters became more sporadic and then stopped all together.

And until she met the goofy little brother.

Adelaide had assumed that ‘Winsome’ was a made up last name. No one was named that. That was an adjective, not a name. But when the 12 (or was it 13?) year old boy with chestnut colored hair, the oversized @dumb-hat swallowing up most of his face so that she could hardly see his amber eyes, looked up at her and then grinned so wide that what she saw of his eyes lit up, and told her that was his real last name… Adelaide knew that it was both an accurate adjective and a real last name.

Koriah’s last correspondence to her family was a letter that Evander clutched in his hands, written in her hand, beseeching them to care for him if he arrived without her and making clear that she gave him all rights to her property-- including her inheritance-- and that her final wish was that he be treated as the family that he was. She had married the boy’s brother in secret and in the absence of her and Lysander-- Evander Winsome was all that was left of her and should be treated with the same love and courtesy that she had been treated when she was there.

She never said ‘alive’ or ‘dead’ in the letter. But everyone knew what it meant.

What Evander did not know and would not ever know, was that a week before he arrived to Ishgard without her cousin, Koriah had written Adelaide a letter too. That letter contained two notarized copies of a will that made legally official and binding that Evander was her heir and was to receive all her property and inheritance. It was sent to Adelaide to ensure that the one person in the family that Koriah trusted as much as herself would have it and could speak up for the young boy in the unfortunate possibility that Koriah’s family would pretend they had never received a letter of their own and tried to wash their hands of Evander. 

The letter also read:

“Adelaide,

The storms in Limsa have made the ocean more alive than ever. It thrashes and dances with such exuberance that it makes me want to dance as well. The white sea foam reminds me of the lace hems on the dresses you and I loved so much as children: the ones that would twirl when we’d spin. I wish you could see it.

Lysander and I plan to make our escape soon. I never told you before because I didn’t want to worry you, but the gang did not take it well when Lysander made it clear that he wanted to strike out on his own. In fact, while we don’t speak of it because we don’t want Evander to overhear it, we’re fairly certain they plan to retaliate. As of now we plan to board a trading vessel that will take us out of Limsa Lominsa-- maybe even out of La Noscea entirely. We’ll head somewhere new and see the ocean there. Lysander wants to try his hand at opening a jewelry shop. He thinks he’d like to be a goldsmith. But his dreams and ambitions change as much as the sea does- so when we get to the new place he might decide to do something else entirely! I look forward to it. We both do. 

But on the off-chance that we never see that dream come true and that the Limsan ocean is the last one we see, I will pay for Evander’s trip aboard another vessel with a few people I trust and see that  he gets to Ishgard. Please welcome him. I don’t know how long he’ll choose to stay-- but I hope he gets a chance to foster new relationships, experiences and a new family while there. 

And on the off-chance I never see you again: I love you. I know that’s not a thing the family says. But sometimes it has to be said.

The books belong to Evander now. But you let him know I said that you can keep borrowing them.

Koriah.”

Thank you to @dumb-hat​ for letting me use his character and his backstory NPCs here! This timeline is certainly not 100% correct, but rather than stressing myself out trying to work out the exact ages and whens and whats-- I’m reminding myself that this is just about getting some writing out there and that I can fix the details later!

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #Foster #Prompt 1 #ffxiv rp #Adelaide #Evander #Koriah #Lysander #Limsa #Ishgard

[crescairis]

I was wondering if you had another source that otherlinkers were explicitly excluded from the original definition of otherkind in 1990? The source on AnOtherWiki leads to a 2001 FAQ that doesn't mention anything like that. Also, otherlinkers aren't the same thing as KFF.

(just as a warning, this is going to be a LONG post, but i'd rather not put it under the cut for archival reasons, in the case that for some reason this blog disappears)

firstly, i'd like to apologize for phrasing things as if KFFs and otherlinkers were the same thing; a better phrased way to say things would be for me to say that i think many KFFs would be otherlinkers, were they to acknowledge that their experiences don't fit the definition of otherkin.

something else i'd also like to note that i've been thinking about (while it isn't exactly related to this question) is that perhaps people are misinterpreting the terms "voluntary" and "involuntary".

i feel that many people think "voluntary" simply means the initial decision to willingly take on an identity, which is, in part, true! however, voluntary identities are very likely to become involuntary, simply because it becomes too emotionally/mentally difficult to separate oneself from the identity that they've chosen.

being drawn to something, or someone, enough to take it on as an identity can often be a sign of something deeper! i would see this as a form of awakening in and of itself—like cracking open a geode, or perhaps like putting on training wheels before you experience the real thing.

but back to your first question: the way i initially phrased that post was also rushed, as we were trying very hard to write it during a single lunch break at work.

the term otherlinker is a very recent invention (coined in 2018 on the alt-h discord server, while copinglink was coined in 2015 by who-is-page), as being otherkin has always largely been considered a serious, personal experience. only recently have people NEEDED to specify that it's involuntary, so the only sources i can give you are ones that cite otherkinity as being intended as a serious identity, as well as those that state that otherkinity is not as shallow as a game or roleplay.

also important to note is that many of these pages were made and existed before fictionkin were a largely documented (let alone accepted) presence, thus they are scarcely mentioned, (and typically with skepticism or even scorn,) save for on their own, smaller pages. for our own personal comfort, we will not be listing sources that discredit fictionkinity completely.

firstly, here's a full timeline of otherkin history by orion scribner, to show the scope we're looking at

Otherkin Lexicon by Orion Scribner: "Otherkin are real, non-fictional people who identify as other than human. Otherkin identify as creatures from myth and legend, usually elves, faeries, and dragons. This is a sincere identity, not role-play. Many otherkin identify as other than human for spiritual reasons; that is, they classify their identity as otherkin as a personal spiritual belief. Being otherkin is a very individualistic thing: each otherkin reaches his own explanation for how and why he is an otherkin. Some of their common spiritual explanations include that they are other than human in spirit, or they were other than human in past incarnations.187 Although spiritual belief is often involved, “otherkin” isn’t a religion. As such, each person who identifies as otherkin practices whatever religion he individually wants. It has always been the case that most of the otherkin community practices Neo-Pagan religions, and so that religious perspective shapes the common views and ideas in the otherkin community. Some otherkin don’t use spiritual explanations. Some otherkin believe that they are physically other than human, or that their ancestors were."

A Field Guide to Otherkin by Lupa: "The definition for Otherkin I will be using for this book is: a person who believes that, through either a nonphysical or (much more rarely) physical means, s/he is not entirely human. This means that anyone who relates internally to a nonhuman species either through soul, mind, body, or energetic resonance, or who believes s/he hosts such a being in hir body/mind, is in my own definition of Otherkin. Some people do have more stringent standards. However, for the purposes of this book, I am including a wider range of people.

"This is not a roleplaying game. When a person says s/he is a dragon, or a wolf, or an elf, s/he is not referring to a character that s/he only becomes during a gaming session. That which is Other is a constant part of the person; s/he is the Other at all times. Grey, a wolf therian,says it marvelously: “Perhaps I should say that if a being is a color, or a sound, I am two items merged to form a different color/sound. The two are within each other. Sometimes plain to see, sometimes deeply mixed.”"

A Simple Introduction to Otherkin and Therianthropes by Orion Scribner: "Some real people think of themselves as kinds of creatures from mythology. These people call themselves “otherkin.” An otherkin has the belief that he is a creature from mythology, such as an elf. He says that elf is his true self. It is his identity. This is real to him. It isn’t a pretend person that he plays in a game."

The Otherkin Resource Center: "1 : one who identifies with various mythological archetype as vehicles of spiritual evolution and self-expression, similar to Native totemism only with a stronger level of self-identification.

"2 : someone who believes in reincarnation, and that not all of their reincarnations were as a human."

What are Otherkin? by Tirl Windtree: "By far the most common explanation from those who fit the definition (even if they don't claim this specific label) is that whilst their physical forms may be human, their essence, soul or equivalent term is not.

"Of those, the majority make their claim based on reincarnation - what they have been in a previous incarnation so strongly affects their current incarnation that they still identify with it. Obviously this requires a belief in reincarnation, and in the transmigration of souls. Both are reasonably common in a number of religions and spiritual beliefs across the world."

"The most frequent accusation is that all otherkin are lost in fantasy, they've played one too many D&D games and gone over the edge. Personal study seems to indicate this is actually one of the least frequent explanations. Most roleplayers know they are roleplaying, even if they are also otherkin, and roleplaying can be a very useful tool in self exploration."

The Lostkin Project by Gazer: "Otherkin are the supernatural among us. They are the elves, dragons, nymphs, and trolls that used to live more openly amoung humankind. Some are from other dimensions and other places. You may occasionally see them refered to as Otherkind. Otherkin is the more generally accepted term."

Otherkin Coalition by Kreyas: "What is Otherkin?

In a nutshell, Otherkin are a coalition of people who share in common the belief that some internal part of them is somehow incongruent with the rest of the human race. Beyond that, beliefs vary too widely to classify them into any one group.

Some of the most common beliefs are that the soul is somehow different from human. This may go in hand with a belief in reincarnation and “imprinting” (in which a past life as another species leaves an imprint on the soul which is then carried over into the next life), or the individual may believe that this is his/her first life and they are simply different.

Above all, Otherkin is a spiritual belief.

"Are Otherkin really a bunch of delusional, socially maladaptive kids like I read on that website?

NO. As with any group, not everyone fits the stereotype. Any community is going to have its bad apples which stand out in people’s minds better than the typical members. In my experience, Otherkin are usually levelheaded and able to question their beliefs and function in human society.

"Is it a Roleplaying thing?

NO. While some Otherkin may participate in roleplaying, strictly speaking the beliefs are separate from the roleplay - even if they are roleplaying as their identified “kintype”."

Otherkin FAQ v 4.0.1 by Arhuaine, Miaren Crowsdaughrer, Thistile Kachunk, Golden Syrpent, Knight of Ghosts and Shadows, Jarin Dreamsinger and The Crisses: "The Otherkin are those people who believe themselves to be spiritually and/or physically other than human. While mythological species (elves, satyrs, fairies, dragons, and so on) are widely accepted as being included under the term "Otherkin", many people in the community prefer to include aliens, vampires, furries, extraterrestrial humans, and other nonhuman races. A mythological or literary equivalent is not necessary to be included under "Otherkin"; there are types of otherkin that have not shown up in known legends or fiction (star-dragons, Elenari, etc.)."

What are Otherkin, Anyway? by Adnarel: "Otherkin is a term that is generally used to describe people who, In some way or another, physical bodies aside, do not feel that they are “human” in the conventional sense of the word. We (they) feel as though their spirits are not human, nor have they ever been, despite our physical bodies and outward appearance. Some otherkin have testified that they feel that this is their first time on this plane of existence, a.k.a. Earth. Others feel that they have been here numerous times to teach and to heal people. Maybe once they were here in their “true forms”. Otherkin use the term “true form” to describe what they feel to be the shape and nature of their true selves."

What Are Otherkin? by Arhuaine:

"Put simply, someone who is Otherkin feels that they have a soul (or souls) other than human. Usually this encompasses what are commonly regarded as mythical beings such as elves, dragons, fae, satyrs and so on. A broader view of otherkin might also include therianthropes (were-creatures) and those with animal souls (such people are sometimes known affectionately as "furries"), and also perhaps people who consider their souls are alien (often called star-born). The lines between Otherkin and Furries or Star-born are often blurred.

"Most Otherkin feel for most of their lives as though they don't belong. Human society seems alien and unfamiliar in many ways. They may feel isolated and unhappy, yet unable to explain these feelings at first. Then, perhaps they may begin to remember a life other than their own. Sometimes it is not easy to understand such memories, and sometimes the awakening to Otherkin-ness is a difficult and frightening process, especially if they are going through it alone. It is something not easy to share with others, for fear that they may consider you crazy.

"Being Otherkin is not something to crave, nor is it glamorous. It is a difficult and lonely path to tread, and sometimes it seems to bring only sorrow. Memories of loved ones long lost, a home that can no longer be reached, cause great pain. And yet, the life of the Otherkin is not all sadness. It is a life filled with wonder and magic, and a way of looking at the world that humans can never understand. Because magic is so much a part of an Otherkin's outlook, they may be drawn to Paganism or other New-age philosophies."

Are You 'Kin? by Gazer: "To really find out if you are otherkin takes searching. No, not on the internet, inside. You have to reach inside yourself and really look at yourself. This ,for the most part, is an inner journey. You have the answers, not me or anyone else. If you are otherkin then it is a PART of you, but you may be the only person able to find it.

The best others can do to help you is to provide pointers. Show you ways to search inside yourself, tell you how they found something inside themselves. We can hold a mirror up to you, but you won't see anything unless YOU do the looking, and what we see from our side of the mirror may not be the truth."

Otherkin Phenomena: "Otherkin are people who believe themselves to be something other than a human being on a spiritual, psychological, energetic and some even on a biological level, and choose to identify with that non-human fragment of themselves to the point where they count it as a permanent and ingrained part of their personal mythology and/or identity."

and there's plenty more! i'm just tired

i hope this helped answer your question, and perhaps gives others some insight as well!

#otherkin #alterhuman #asks #long post

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Uuh dunno if you would like this prompt : Anna and Elsa as a mythical creatures.

Would love too see what you will write them as ^^

@like-redhead-probably I sat thinking about this ask for a long time, because while I IMMEDIATELY thought of one for Elsa, Anna’s absolutely eluded me. And I know you were probably looking for a story, but I am unable to stop myself from first EXPLAINING my choices xD

I was already thinking about the myth of the Hulder (or huldra if we’re speaking of the creature in general instead of the specific Norwegian myth) for other story-related reasons, and as I did more research, I felt like the Hulder REALLY shared similarities with Elsa.

Generally speaking the huldra is a Scandinavian myth of a pale skinned, blonde or brown haired, attractive young woman who lives in the wilderness, often luring men away with song or dance to be killed or misled, stuck wandering forever. Sometimes she’s connected strongly to water, and instead of making men lost, she drowns them. Sometimes she is described as similar to an elf or fey-like creature, with characteristics related to other Huldufolk (we’ll get to them later) such as living in a parallel world, or a world Underground, and therefore preferring caves or appearing and disappearing suddenly. Sometimes she is depicted as having a hollow back, or a cow’s tail, which she hides out of embarrassment or to conceal her true identity. Which… how cute is that?

Before the 11th century, the myths were focussed more around the Huldufolk, which literally means “Hidden Folk”. There are lots of stories as to why and how the Huldufolk came to exist, but for the purpose of Elsa I think it most appropriate to look at the Christianization of the myths. Why?:

Frozen and Frozen 2 are modern movies made by an American company and Christianity is nigh untanglable with American culture, they take place in ~1840s Norway, F1 has a dedicated place of Christian congregation depicted in said movie, an official royal crowning overseen by a Christian faith leader, and the adaptation of Frozen generally comes from author Hans Christian Anderson and therefore should take his life and society into account, etc.

The Christianized myth says that one day Eve was washing her children (presumably after Cain, Abel, and Seth) in the river, when she heard God approaching. Ashamed that He would see her kids unclean, she hid the half she wasn’t done bathing, and when God asked, “Where are the other children?” Eve claimed that she had all of them present, indicating the clean ones. This gave God pause, but in the end He said, “Then let all that is Hidden, remain Hidden.” The children that Eve lied about became the Huldufolk, unable to live among humans. These people would eventually become characterized as dwarves, elves, fairies, etc., as time and interpretations rolled on, the huldra being just one of many mythical “species”.

So. Who is Elsa? She’s a:

fictional, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned young woman who led thousands of men wlw to wander helplessly into the dark caves and wildlands of social media with a power ballad and a jaw-dropping transformation sequence

Okay I’m joking… mostly…

In fact my interest in choosing the Hulder for Elsa lies purely outside of any romantic or sexual appeal, especially since Elsa as a character exhibits next to 0 romantic or sexual interest across two whole movies and an additional two shorts. Indeed, there’s a reason people headcanon her as either asexual, aromantic, or both! No, the reasons I chose the Hulder are:

Elsa’s name

Her upbringing

Her duty as queen, and

Her general behavior, specifically in regards to Frozen 1, as Frozen 2 Elsa is, at times, an almost completely different character

Elsa’s name was chosen very specifically by the filmmakers because it means “God is my Oath”. Oaths are binding, heavy, and invoke the maker’s or subject’s actions and personhood in the future. In Elsa’s case specifically, it invokes divine witness: perfect for a queen, someone born to rule. A promise to be fair, to uphold, to protect, to lead, to be a dignified and honorable face for the country. And Elsa was so ready to be that… except for the powers of course. Or at least, when they became something other than a magical gift of wonder and joy. When they became dangerous. Then there comes another oath, spoken to powerful creatures of magic, the Trolls, and born from parental fear: “She can learn to control it.”

Binding, heavy, invoking of Elsa’s future. As she grows, Elsa becomes closed off, quiet, hiding in her own home. She still takes her duties seriously, but now that she has been Other’d, taught to hide herself and her curse, she is just as much shadow as person. To young Anna, Elsa must have been almost ghostlike, disappearing right when Anna thought she’d cornered her, only to reappear sometime later down the hall, out of arm’s reach.

God promised Adam and Eve that their children would inherit the earth, even after leaving the Garden of Eden. Then suddenly that changed, due to Eve’s fear and shame of her unwashed children, and some would now inherit Underground, or somewhere else entirely. The lost children of Eve had become Other’d, needing to hide, disappear, and resort to inhuman tactics just to exist. Maybe they’re jealous, maybe they're just tricksters. But it’s not their fault. And it wasn’t Elsa’s either. Another reason they are similar.

Now, it’s not all doom and gloom for the Hulder, or for Elsa. While the Hulder is generally known for her more chaotic and negative attributes - just like our favorite snow queen, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. There are a few myths that say burning a charcoal fire -instead of a coal or gas one- is most pleasing to the Hulder, that she’ll even watch over it during the night, and wake the sleepers in case something happens. If a traveler leaves supplies behind with a note or offering for the Hulder, they will travel safely. In fact, some people leave caches for her, as though to cater to specific requests. Coming across the Hulder by chance can have a multitude of outcomes, but if an astute observer spots her cow tail and mentions it, she may become shy and run away. Don’t mention the empty back though, that’s almost certain death.

Basically my point is… trade out the word “traveler” for the name “Anna” and we can draw all the similarities we want. Anna did all of those things, in a way. Anna gave Elsa a little gift of their favorite snowman every Christmas. Anna knocked on Elsa’s door and spoke to her, treated her kindly despite the distance between them, literal and metaphorical. It’s not hard to imagine that Anna left little notes around the castle, hoping Elsa would find them, read them, and know that Anna still loved her, still missed her. And, well, hopefully Anna wasn’t setting any fires and falling asleep next to them - but Anna always kept a light on for Elsa, in her heart. And it flickered and wavered sometimes, but it was a strong fire most days. And we know Elsa was always drawn to it, drawn to Anna because she loved her right back. Loved her first, even. And because it was a warmth that pleased Elsa, she tended it, quietly, carefully, warmly. Like putting a blanket over an Anna that had fallen asleep in the painting room, refusing that slice of chocolate cake so Anna could have two desserts, and listening, for hours and hours, days and days, for the sound of Anna’s glorious bonfire-like soul outside her bedroom door. Even when her secret was revealed, Elsa believed that the best way to protect Anna’s life, her flame, was to distance herself, running to a secret, special place all her own - much like the Hulder might run away back to the Underground.

And this last part’s just me, but I’d like to think that if the Hulder was treated kindly, respected, and given dignity, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if someone came across her accidentally. That instead of being instantly drowned, or the Hulder becoming sheepish and attempting to run, it would feel recognized. It could be called by name. And instead of feeling the need to hide it’s Otherness, it could be treated as part of it, and cared for just the same. I don’t even need to be subtle here: Anna called Elsa by Name, really saw her, and reframed her darkness into light. Anna hasn’t fought God yet, but she did walk through hell and back for a sister that everyone else saw as a threat, monster, and sorcerer. A category 9 Other. Too bad for them, Anna’s got a Category 10 heart.

Speaking of. We finally got to Anna.

Anna was difficult to pin down because to me, Anna is so very, very human. That’s what makes her special! Yes, yes, you could throw any mythical creature at Anna and the fun part would be trying to make it work within her personality and characterization BUT since the question was Anna AS a mythical creature, that changes the game! The word ‘creature’ itself tends to conjure something distinctly INhuman. So I…. tried, and cheated maybe a little. Because I picked for Anna the Norse Valkyrie.

Most people know what Valkyries are so this one takes significantly less explaining. Valkyries are women that are warriors, shieldmaidens, and the hands of Odin, and they choose who lives and who dies during battle. Their chosen dead ride with them to Valhalla, while those they choose to live are usually granted honors in life. There are the darker sides of Valkyries that paint them as blood hungry maidens waiting on the sidelines before a war, singing the names of who will die with glee… but generally speaking the version of Valkyries that most people know and admire today are accurate! And thank goodness because attempting to depict Anna the other way would probably give me an ulcer.

Anna, much like the Valkyries, is a woman of valor and strength, who is perceptive, guides others, sees into people’s hearts and reveals their goodness. Valkyries are also warriors of prowess themselves, and Anna in Frozen 2 with that ice sword? We all know she was ready to use that for real. She also exemplifies traits that Valkyries both look for and have! Bravery in the face of danger: hello Marshmallow, Elsa’s own blizzard, Hans’ lethal sword strike, LIVING MOUNTAINS, and a damn collapsing.... dam. She also defends those who cannot do it themselves: saying publicly that, “My sister is not a monster… she was scared, she didn’t mean any of this,” even if that cast suspicion or doubt on herself, and the crown, as a whole. Anna knew and believed in Elsa, despite all the years and heartbreak and anger. Despite the impossible magic that literally just happened before her very eyes. Belief in character, despite appearances. And once they were reunited, Anna made every effort to stay by Elsa’s side because she STILL had that faith in her. Anna’s name means “Grace” or “of Grace”, and damn if she didn’t extend that to the person others found most unworthy, even to Elsa herself. Valkyries see what others don’t, and their decisions are final.

[Deep breath] SO! You asked for Anna and Elsa as mythical creatures. You got… a small academic paper, by social media standards xD. I intend to write a little piece about a Valkyrie who encounters the Hulder on the edges of a battlefield and… realizes she never made a choice about this particular woman. And wonders why she can’t ;). BUT I didn’t wanna leave you hanging any longer. Hope you like my choices!

Oh also, nobody asked, but Kristoff is a werebear. No research required

#there's almost 2k words to this uhhh..... eyup that's all I have to say about that #the inner academic kinda popped out #begging to be utilized after a few dusty years xD #I have links to all this stuff btw if people want them #but now I should REALLY go to bed #or I'll be slowly flame-broiled by a certain someone who is about to find out I'm awake in the worst way possible #like-redhead-probably #mythical creature au #Hulder!Elsa #Valkyrie!Anna #mythology #also yes I know I didn't stray far from Scandinavian territories for the mythical choices I couldn't help it #once I got digging into the huldra I had a hard time looking anywhere else #still I think Valkyrie fits so nicely for anna #she might as well be on irl tbh #Elsa #Anna #my writing #and yeah I'll get to a little short story bc they're so CUTE like this!!

[nigahamyeon]

hearts awakened

i. a man's heart

Yisoo woke with the first rays at the break of dawn. Her eyes still closed, she could feel the beginning warmth of the sun on her face. Slowly, she raised her head, opening her eyes and blinking a few times. The window of her small room was facing east, and her bed was standing right in front of it, so she could feel the first sunbeams on her, everyday.

After a few moments of just looking outside, she raised her shoulders, sat up, and extended her front legs into a long stretch that she could feel through her entire body. Then she rolled onto her back, then onto her legs again and jumped out of bed.

Yisoo was a Gumiho, in Korean legends known as the nine-tailed fox, a kind of shifter. And she always slept as a fox. She could never really figure it out how to sleep in her human form, every position felt awkward, she never really knew what to do with her legs in relation to her torso – she had read about different sleeping positions, of course, but it all just felt so unnatural, and she was never able to relax. As a fox, however, sleeping was intuitive. Just curl up into a ball, tails around you, head on your hind legs. Easy. Sleep guaranteed.

It took a few moments until Yisoo fully transformed into her human form. Right after waking up she had difficulties getting her ears and tails to fully vanquish, especially since she felt herself weaken again. But she had already taken care of that, tonight she'd get stronger again. When her body turned into a slender figure of average height, she stretched out her human arms while standing on tiptoes.

First the fluff brush – she used it every morning to get rid of all her fur that she left behind on her bed when sleeping as a fox. Second, washing up, brushing the hair and styling it into a loose braid. Then clothes, and lastly, putting on make-up. Objectively, she wasn't in need of any kind of make-up as Yisoo was more beautiful than the common Korean girl, but she just loved the way a winged eyeliner made her slanted eyes look, and she could make her face look a little bit less fox-like.

She put on her necklace, a simple golden one with a blue-shimmering bead pendant, also known as yeowoo guseul – just that it didn't hold her powers and intelligence, like in the legends, but her very soul. It was the most important part of her, and if she was separated from it too long, she would die. Well, not instantly, but she’d get gradually weaker until she couldn’t keep up her human form anymore. And if someone were to destroy it… well, she didn’t actually know what would happen then. But she’d probably die as well.

By the time she was finished with her morning routine it was already half past 7, and she had barely time to eat something for breakfast.

“Good morning,” Jongho greeted her as she was rushing into the pathetic excuse of a kitchen that was part of the apartment. He had a cup of coffee in hand, handing it over to her to take a few sips.

“Thanks,” Yisoo mumbled and opened the fridge, just to see that it was almost empty. Not even the yoghurt that she had saved was there any more, one of her many roommates must've eaten it. She hated most of them. Except Jongho.

“I heard Outside Conformist are playing tonight at the Flask tonight, you wanna come?” he asked her, trying to lean casually against the counter.

“I can't, tonight is the night, you know? I already prepared everything,” Yisoo looked apologetically at him.

She really liked Jongho, even though he was a werewolf. Generally, Yisoo disliked all kinds of canines, even though she was, technically, also one. Never, in her whole life (and she had lived for a long, long time), had she had any good experiences with any kinds of wolves, dogs and the kind. But Jongho was different, maybe it was because he wasn't part of a pack (he used to be, but was shunned by them for a reason he never told her) or maybe because he was generally just different. Either way, Yisoo wasn't blind nor stupid, she had picked up on the fact that he showed signs of romantic interest in her. She could smell the pheromones he produced, and she could read the body language. It was more than obvious.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, “does it have to be tonight, though? The hunters have been really active lately.”

“Yeah, they've been onto me for a while now,” Yisoo sighed, “but it has to be tonight. Can't throw away weeks of preparation, you know.”

“Yeah, I'm just worried is all,” he looked at the bottom of his cup.

“Let's go out tomorrow night, all right? Outside Conformist may not be playing, but we'll find something else to do,” she said and his face instantly lit up. With a look at the clock, she said her goodbyes and see you laters, took her coat and bag and made her way to the subway station.

It was a very usual morning, a lot of traffic and Yisoo made it just in time to catch the subway. It was crowded and it stank after sweat and kimchi. With her nose and ears being more sensitive than those of a human, she had always a hard time riding the subway, or the bus, or actually any kind of public transportation. But she did her best to live a life as ordinarily human as possible. Even enrolled into university and studied some random subject that she found vaguely interesting.

When she arrived at university, she still had enough time to get a cappuccino from the campus coffee shop and got into the lecture hall at the same time as her professor did. He smiled painfully obvious towards her, and she feigned a cheeky smile back at him. Some harmless flirting, but it'd make sure to help her grade a bit. Yisoo scanned the room for an empty seat, and sat somewhere in the middle next to a girl that she already knew. Kind of. They saw each other frequently and maybe they had talked, once or twice. She was a nice girl, very fun to be around and it seemed like she had a lot of friends. Yisoo sometimes imagined being friends with her, with a human. What it would be like, she wondered. During all her years, she had ever really been close to mythical creatures, like herself.

For lunch she went to a ramen shop near the university that was run by a Fae. Yisoo could only wonder why no one ever picked up on the fact that he was so painfully obviously not human. It was nothing she thought about too often, much rather she'd eat up her bowl of noodles and not think about anything.

After that, more university and then she'd go to her own part-time job – an employee at a gas station in a rather shady part of Seoul. She could've gotten a better job, at a better location that paid her better, but Yisoo chose this gas station for a reason. It was in a district that was rather problematic, a lot of humans, almost no otherworldly creatures. Many of the people that lived here were social outcasts, criminals of all sorts and really just the scum of society.

It was perfect.

She did meet a lot of drunks here, sex offenders and abusers. Yisoo was not afraid of them, there really was no human who could ever meet eye-to-eye with her when it came to fighting. But, as she still was a Gumiho, she had to consume a human heart every so often – and she stopped killing just about anyone, no. With the hunters being as active as they were, and Gumihos being classified as dangerous and therefore being actively hunted by them, she couldn't murder blatantly obvious. Also, she just didn't want to. Since she developed consciousness, Yisoo started to just look for her prey in men that she considered the scum of the earth. So, actually, she was doing the world a favour in eating their heart. And, of course, with these types of people it took a long time before someone found out they're missing and start looking for them. Win-win.

Her shift was over at 10pm and her date, or rather dinner, for the night was already waiting for her. He looked like he didn’t even really try, wearing the clothes he usually wore when he went to buy liquor late at night. One might’ve thought that he wanted to impress her in some way, but it didn’t look like it. For him, it was an easy way to get laid, since she planted the seeds for some daddy issues and other things that could make girls potentially go for pathetic older guys. They walked from the gas station to - what he thought - was in the direction of her apartment. In reality, though, Yisoo was luring him into the forest where no one would be at night to hear him scream. 

They were walking at a rather slow pace, he was telling her about his time in the Korean army, she pretended to care and laughed from time to time. He didn’t even notice that they were walking past trees and trees and even more trees, slowly deviating from the path. It was pitch black, and he only realised it when Yisoo suddenly stopped. Manipulating men was just too fucking easy. And yet, even though she was extraordinarily careful in choosing her prey, she still felt bad for him. A little. He was talking to her, and Yisoo felt his pulse rising, his heart pumping faster and faster. Funny, she didn’t take him for someone who was scared so easily. Just a bit of darkness and a mysterious lady inside a forest were enough to trigger his flight instinct. A shame, really, Yisoo thought as she felt her hands slowly turn into claws and her animalistic instincts growing louder and louder. She did like it when they tried to fight her. 

It was over before it even started. With the swift motion of her claws she pierced through his chest, an agonising cry of pain leaving his mouth but before he could finish it she ripped his ribcage open. The heart was still beating for a few moments, and Yisoo transformed fully into a nine-tailed fox before feasting on his heart. She knew of some Gumihos who actually ate the heart in their human forms, and she could never understand why. Human teeth weren’t made for chewing the strong muscle of a raw heart. 

By the time she was finished it was probably around 10:45pm, she thought. Maybe she even got home in time for the new episode of one of the dramas she watched at the moment. And maybe was Jongho also home already, and they could watch it together. Still a fox she was digging a whole with her fore-paws. It was just faster that way. Plus, it was necessary, just because no one was looking for him didn’t mean that no one could find him. Leaving the corpse of a man out with just his heart missing? Not such a good idea. Yisoo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the hole, covering it up with the dirt and some leaves. Should do well enough.

That’s when she heard the snapping of a twig - followed by the sound of an arrow piercing through the sky. But it was too late - by the time she could react she already felt the sharp pain of the bolt in her thigh - it had gone right through. Yisoo yelped, bit the arrow head and pulled the whole thing out before running for her life. Her leg was throbbing, she felt the blood drooling out and the pain was so strong she could barely put her paw on the ground. As she was speeding through the forest and had almost reached the city, she felt the pain pass and her leg getting stronger again. Once she turned into a side street and hid behind a giant trash container, she quickly turned into her human shape again, hoping they wouldn’t recognise her this way and giving herself a bit more time. For a few moments, she just stood there, back pressed against the cold stone wall, and listened. Nothing.

The hunters were onto her. Never had it been this close before. How could this have happened, she had been so careful all this time. Yisoo felt her heart beating frantically in her chest. Her fingers were closing tightly around her yeowoo guseul - and she took the pendant and put it deep in her cheek pouch. Yisoo felt the cool surface against her teeth and mucous, and the magic of her very own soul pulsating in her mouth. For just a second she wondered what would happen if she would just… swallow it. It would still be with her - inside her gastrointestinal tract, to be precise. But she didn’t swallow it. Once again she listened closely but she couldn’t make out any sounds that might belong to the hunter. Cautiously, but as casually as possible, she started walking out of the side street and nearer and nearer towards the main road. Yisoo scanned every person that she saw and kept her ears on high alert for any alarming sounds. Her heart was still pounding in her chest.

She crossed the street and was now only one block away from the well lit main road. Two guys, all in black, were suddenly just a few feet away, right in front of her. Yisoo could smell blood, and a distinct smell that she never smelled before, but was told of. The smell of not one, but two hunters. It was a gamble. Would they know that she was the Gumiho that they were looking for? Or would they only be alarmed if she changed her behaviour now? One step, two steps. Her eyes followed the guy who was next to her. Time seemed to stand still for the moment that they were passing each other. Yisoo could feel her blood hammering inside of her. In the corner of her eye she saw him moving his arm inhumanly fast, and a sword appearing out of nowhere. Yisoo was faster and leaped away. Right into the arms of the second hunter, who was suddenly behind her, his fingers clawed into her shoulder. 

Then she felt the sharp edge piercing through her flesh. And her heart. A deep grunt escaped her throat, her knees giving up under her, her body hitting the concrete ground. Even through the pain, she kept her jaw shut tightly. When he removed the sword, she grunted again. The blood was pooling out of her. And then it stopped.

“What. the. fuck.”

#ateez #ateez writing #ateez au #ree

[megumis-lashes]

Love Bites

Vampire! Han Jisung x Reader Part 1

**Contains**: mentions of blood/blood drinking, parental abuse, bullying, fighting, slight swearing, emotional abuse, friends to lovers, werewolf Hyunjin, western high school standards, female reader

Flashback =

> Hello

Narrators POV

In today’s society, supernatural beings like vampires and werewolves are believed to be mythical creatures. Few people believe in their existence and have many false stereotypes surround these creatures’ existence. In reality they do exist. Supernaturals or whatever you like to call them, live a life hidden from society. They play the role of innocent humans is a world where they aren’t accepted.

Name’s POV

After a long, stressful week of school I was finally home to relax, or at least that’s what I wish I was doing right now. Throughout my whole life, I always had an immense amount of pressure put on me by my parents. They wanted a perfect daughter. Not perfect in the sense of a loving child, oh no they had their own definition for the word. To be a perfect child by their standards was practically impossible. I would need to have prefect grades, perfect manners, a perfect record, but despite having all those things I was still a disappointment. I wasn’t ever allowed to have friends, they would simply distract me from school. Defying this logic I was required to participate in at least one sport for college credit. I chose volleyball on a whim. I was practically exhausted every day. I had school each day, followed by practice and then hours of homework. Despite the amount of stress I am constantly facing, my parents only ever cared about results, positive results that is.

You see I’m currently in a very dangerous situation. This week I had been so overwhelmed by homework that I fell asleep before I finished studying for an exam. It was understandable. I hadn’t gotten proper sleep in days and staying up till 3am every night doing homework was clearly taking a toll on my health. My parents could care less though. I had scored a 73 on the exam which was just barely passing in my school’s standards. My parents were furious, and I was scared of their reaction to say the least. I had an idea of what was coming.

I got kicked out?

“No fucking way.” I breathed out as I stood with my hands full in front of my house. This is probably the last thing I would’ve expected but they sure did it. Typically their punishments weren’t this bad. They would just yell at me for a while, threaten to take things from me, maybe hit me if they were really mad, and then tell me how much of a disappoint I was. This wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to so I barely had a reaction to it anymore. This lack of reaction seemed to trigger something new in them. If I wasn’t affected by their typical punishments they would have to step up. So they kicked their barely 17 year old daughter out of their house on a bone-chilling Friday in October.

It was nearing 6:00 PM and I had no idea what to do. They had given me barely five minutes to grab whatever items I would need to survive for however long I would be homeless. I had managed to scrap together the bare necessities. I was still dressed in my school uniform but luckily brought a change of clothes. The first thing I did was change. I couldn’t be a bad representation of my school could I? I didn’t have much. I had just enough time to stuff my school bag with clothes, my wallet, laptop, phone, chargers and snacks but I was still frozen to the bone.

My first thought was to check into a small hotel, but I quickly dismissed the idea when I saw the price. I walked around the city area, contemplating who I could ask to stay with but oh, I don’t have any friends. After wandering around for a while I had subconsciously returned home. Maybe they would let me in? Nope. All the doors and windows were locked and a small note was taped to the door.

‘Left on vacation. Be back soon. Name, if you break in we’ll disown you.’ I sighed. Of course they left. I’m even more desperate for somewhere to stay now.

As time passed and I continued to walk around, the night grew darker and darker. I had walked in what seemed like circles for hours and I was even more exhausted than usual. As I was walking in the city, I heard soft growls behind me. Now that I thought about it there were barely any people here. As I glanced back behind me, my blood ran cold. What is that thing?

From the shadows I could barely make out what I assumed to be its face. Despite this a few startling details stood out to me the most. It had beady red eyes that seemingly glowed under the moonlight. It looked to be an animal, having a pure black fur coat that seemingly stood up on edge. The last thing I saw were its insanely sharp teeth that dripped with saliva as it growled. Despite this sudden shock, it didn’t take long for me to realize I was in danger and book it in the opposite direction. I heard louder growls behind me and I could almost feel its hot breath on my legs. It was right at my heels biting at my ankles in hopes to slow me down. With my low energy I knew I wouldn’t last long at this speed. I had to do something to help me escape. Out of pure adrenaline rush, I made a quick turn and with a sharp motion I slammed my bag across its face. As it whimpered in pain I quickly tore open my pack and grabbed out the heaviest school book I had and threw it as hard as I possibly could at its face. This seemed to shock the animal at it rolled over on the ground in pain. I took this as an opportunity to escape and bolted away as fast as I could.

I had been running for what seemed like forever and finally, my body gave out. Once I figured I was far enough away from it I stopped pushing myself and collapsed on my knees in a fit of coughs and strangled breathing. I escaped at least. My only price to pay was the harsh burning sensation that was bubbling up in my lungs and some slight scratches. I was alive at least. The only downside to my escape is that I had No. Idea. Where. I. Was. As I ran, my surroundings seemed to have blended together. The city streets were long forgotten and I was surrounded by lush forest. A forest I had never seen in my life.

Despite my current distress, I knew I still had to find somewhere to sleep. It was pitch black out now. I assumed it was nearing midnight but I wasn’t sure as my phone had died a couple hours before. I was as lost as lost could be and instead of wandering around aimlessly for the rest of the night, I figured I’d just sleep near a sheltered tree. I sure as hell needed plenty of sleep. I laid there on the cold, wet ground for what I could only assume was a couple hours. I was still terrified. I was extremely shaken by my experience from earlier. I was also freezing. The little warmth my clothes had given me was quickly lost due to the freezing water that had seeped into them upon contact with the ground. At some point I must’ve passed out as that is the remainder of the memories I have from that night.

“Hello? Hello? Excuse me miss are you alright? Are you alive? Wow Jisung that’s a smart questions to ask.” I heard distant talking from what seemed to be above me.

I rubbed my eyes in confusion, slowly blinking them open. As my vision cleared I saw a boy. The boy had slightly grown out dirty blonde hair, golden eyes, a relatively short stature and was dressed in sweats. The most shocking detail of all was how familiar he looked, almost too familiar.

The boy blinked in surprise. “Oh! I see you’ve awoken... finally.” He slightly mumbled. “Sorry to wake you its just I don’t see people casually sleeping in the forest everyday you know.” He shuffled and rubbed his neck as he spoke.

I clambered around and began to sit upright as I continued to stare at him. I definitely knew him from somewhere. He seemed to somewhat recognize me as well.

“Ah that sweater! You must be from Maple High as well then, that’s why you seem so familiar!” He explained “Wait what’s your name... ah wait don’t tell me I know it...... is it Name by any chance?” He questioned. Now I knew exactly who he was.

“You’re correct. And you’re Han Jisung right? We’ve been in chemistry, music, and language arts classes together for the past two years. Now I’m embarrassed I didn’t recognize you sooner.” I mumbled out of embarrassment.

“No no its fine! Plus it took me a while to remember your name.” He chided as he rubbed his neck once again. “Do you mind letting me know why you’re stranded out here in the forest? If you’re camping or something then that’s understandable but this area is known for being very unsafe, plus you look dangerously unprepared.” He questioned.

“Ah about that... you see I got lost last night. I was in the city and some animal chased me and I wound up here somehow.” I awkwardly chuckled. I mean I wasn’t being completely honest but only certain people would fully understand my situation.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the way out of this hell hole would you?” I pleaded.

“Now I see what happened!” He chuckled as he seemingly put the pieces together. “I can show you the way out! This forest is practically my second home haha.” he laughed

Jisung had helped me grabbed my things and started to lead me out of the forest.

“Hey Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you know this forest so well? And how did you even find me? I mean its a pretty random location?” I questioned.

“Oh, I come here to hunt.” He blurted out.

“Hunt? Like animals? Isn’t that like really outdated?” I questioned.

“Oh..uh..yeah I hunt like deer...and stuff. I guess my family is just kinda outdated. Hunting is a... hobby of mine I guess....” He trailed off. I found his answer rather odd... I mean he seemed nervous? No unsure? Whatever it was probably nothing.

As he led me out of the forest I managed to slip up and mention that I had to figure out a place to stay. Out of what I could only assume was a mixture of kindness and pity, he offered to let me stay at his house. At first I immediately declined. It was such a huge offer to just give to someone you barely know. Plus I would feel guilty as I had little to offer him in thanks. Eventually he persuaded me to stay with him. My payment could be in the form of chores as he was home alone, his parents away on business. He lent me clothes and let me stay in one of his many guest rooms. I took a shower and once again took a nap.

#Han Jisung #Han #Jisung #straykids #Kpop #kpop fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #Han Jisung x reader #x reader #straykids x reader #vampire AU #Halloween #han x reader #kpop writing #anime #manga #hwang hyunjin #skz #Jisung vampire AU

[marewriteblr]

Traits And Quirks For Characters In Fantasy (list)

idk if I’m the only one, but when creating characters for my wips, I like to google lists of traits and quirks to give a bit more depth to them. and since I mostly write fantasy, I thought my characters deserved some more fantasy-related traits and quirks, so here’s a list of 150+ traits and quirks for characters in a fantasy setting!! hope it helps some of you too

has tattoos that keep changing

bad vision—takes magical potion to see clearly

addicted to magical food or drink

weird things happen when they laugh, sneeze, cough…

sees things that aren‘t there—or are they?

speaks in rhymes

has a wandering scar

has a wound that never stops bleeding

shows symptoms of a curse but pretends to not know how they got it

physical signs when lying, eg hair growing unnaturally fast

can summon any mythical creature easily

has a mythical creature for a pet

brings a slight breeze with them whenever they enter a room

was dead once

refuses to eat certain type of food for no specific reason as though it were amoral or inethical

obsession with a particular period in history

obsession with a magical creature/species

doesn‘t dance or make music because weird things happen

haunted by a ghost, their best companion

always has a candle lit (eg for their ghost companion)

can speak a mystery language only very few people understand

can turn the light of single stars on and off as they please

used to be part of a secret society

wears shoes with wings, no one knows if they actually work

can predict the future correctly for a ridiculous/bizarre reason

lives at court, no one knows why or where they came from but they let them stay

can only talk in questions or riddles

always seen reading spell books though they can‘t do magic

always seen reading books though they can‘t read. bonus if the reason for this is magical

tells everyone about the time they did something they‘ve certainly never done

tells everyone they used to be a dragon, is obviously lying

is actually blind, no one has noticed

never speaks, only talks to people telepathically, they’re used to it by now

has blood of unnatural colour, tells the weirdest stories of why that is—story changes every time

sacrificed 7 years of their life to magical creature who might claim them any minute

sacrificed a body part, determined to get it back

sacrificed their good looks

always learning spells by heart and seen using them the next day as though they’d prepared it for the occasion

has a secret identity, eg can do a certain type of magic and sneaks out to commit crimes/perform on stage/meet their companions…

keeps getting into trouble because people are convinced they have magic, but they don’t

belongs to a human/non-magical species but was kidnapped years ago and never went back

is actually a ghost

is immortal but doesn‘t know anything about history—can tell you all about the migration of dwarf antelopes on their continent throughout the centuries though

always corrects people on history/mythology facts with things they can‘t possibly know if they weren‘t there themselves

allergic to magic. bonus if they‘re a powerful wizard or deity

obsessed with knives and swords. you can fight them but they‘re more interested in the crafting of your blade

allergic to a certain spell and only that spell for no apparent reason

always has a certain item or food in their pocket in case they need to bribe a magical creature today

miscorrects others‘ pronunciation of spells and pronounces them wrong themselves (eg emphasis on wrong syllable)

talks in a fake elf accent to piss off elves

pretends to be a species they clearly aren’t judging by their appearance, and gets defensive when told so, calling people racist

gets themselves into trouble by trying to seduce nymphs when drunk. also an alcoholic

is cursed to never remember any names—has forgotten their real name a long time ago so no one can ever have that power over them

introduces themselves with a different name every time they meet someone

heavily worships an evil trickster god

ominously refers to themselves in third person

doesn‘t walk but jumps from roof to roof instead

predicts the future but is always horribly wrong

challenges people to a quest all the time

seems to know every person in the entire kingdom

seems to be enemies with every person in the entire kingdom

spends a lot of time in dimly-lit taverns seeking opponents for a strange board game

likes to look for bizarre monsters deep in the forest

talks to their dagger

talks too much during sword fights

gets involved in sword fights but only ever carries a paper sword with them

makes up crazy and hardly believable stories when asked about their past to hide their guilt

collects a particular type of item that can only be found on adventurous quests to dangerous places

has large horns on their head despite their species having no such thing, refuses to tell anyone why

never seen eating

never seen sleeping

takes every time anyone mentions something being hard or dangerous to do as a challenge to try it

wears an eyepatch solely for the looks of it

collects dangerous enchanted jewellery

random hissing

an excellent storyteller, like unnaturally excellent

politically involved and fights for giants‘ rights

has a finger that‘s mysteriously shorter than the others

is best friends with a demon

is nocturnal but loves sunlight

pretends to be completely resistant to pain

always sneaking around

has a tattoo that keeps dis- and reappearing

enchants people with their acting

has a wooden prosthesis

doesn‘t wear shoes

changes eye colour every day

wears gloves all the time and tells people it‘s for their safety

hears the trees talk to them

believes the apocalypse is near

pretends to be immortal

breaks into people‘s homes to steal food. no jewellery. only food

pins pressed flowers to their walls

believes that flowers grant wishes

has random visions of other people‘s pasts that aren‘t necessarily true but always get them into trouble

strongly believes in reincarnation

talks in a different accent every day

is convinced they are cursed

sees every minor conflict as a challenge to a sword fight

fights their battles using nothing but darts

is an archer and also blind or missing an arm

accidentally stabs themselves. a lot.

always carrying poison around „just in case“

is at fault for the fall of a mighty god

knows all about mythology

always up to date regarding drama and gossip between the gods

immediately scared they’re about to be cursed whenever someone raises their voice

still mourns over the death of a friend

whatever they touch breaks instantly

chews on their wand (definitely not a good idea)

always wears their hair tied up into a bun, is longer than rapunzel‘s when worn loose

brags they were good at picking locks but actually just hit it really hard until it breaks

accidental shapeshifting

still waiting for an ominous prophecy to foretell their destiny

makes weird/seemingly unnecessary bargains with strangers

has something slightly off about their appearance that makes people stop in their tracks to watch them

unhealthy obsession with cloaks

is a great fan of wizards. collects wands and hats like action figures

horses don‘t like them, they ride a wolf instead

sings the spells they use

constantly mumbling to themselves or someone others can‘t see

can duplicate themselves but can‘t do math so they‘re always a bit confused

has a leaf sticking to the back of their hand. don‘t ask them why

is a painter, travels very far to obtain a particular kind of paint

sketches their dreams in a book after they come to them at night

always seems to be charged with electricity

freckles on their cheeks dance when laughing or when light hits them

makes up prophecies and tells strangers about them

grows wings when high up due to fear of falling

gets arrested regularly for pranking nature spirits and deities

sneezes when using magic

insomniac, needs a particular spell or magical food/herb to fall asleep

magic makes them fall asleep (when they use it or when others use it nearby)

mixes the weirdest potions all day

can‘t eat spicy food, literally breathes fire

necromancy but only to revive their dead cat

turns the same colour of any food they eat

dreams of becoming a knight

horrible short term memory but can easily recite anything they read two centuries ago

makes their eye colour look white just to mess with people

can‘t remember spells for shit. says them incorrectly which always goes horribly wrong

terrible handwriting. bonus if they’re a messenger who has to send important letters on a daily, causing things to go very wrong

can correctly guess anyone‘s magical power on a scale from 1-10. is stupid enough to point it out aloud, too

wears cloaks that are way too long

carries a fake sword on their hip

carries way more weapons on them than necessary

uses their dagger as a toothpick

plays with dagger when thinking

supernaturally heavy sleeper

gets the different species mixed up a lot

tells everyone how many people they‘ve killed in their life

a die hard fan of a well-known assassin

a die hard fan of shakespeare‘s puck

desperately wants to be abducted by the fae

heavily affected by the phase of the moon

#this list will definitely be updated #but i thought i'd post it #since some might wanna use these #i certainly have already skskskk #writing resources #traits and quirks #characters #character development #worldbuilding #fantasy #top posts

[starstruck-thirst]

Chrollo Lucilfer: A Great Heist Part 1

Warnings: Sexual descriptions, Theft

This is a thing I have been toying with that is part of a writer collaboration. The second part will be posted by another writer in the future. And when it is I will reblog it here. But please, as always, enjoy and let me know what you all think of it. Hopefully it will make up for the hiatus a little bit.

~~~~~~

Your heart was beating with a steady pace, but it felt like it shook your entire body.

It took a conscious effort to keep it calm. “Don’t get in over your head,” you warned yourself mentally.

Don’t let your adrenaline make you do something stupid.

The glass square in front of you seemed almost transparent, the artfully arranged lights that illuminated the item inside had been placed specifically for that effect. Idly, the thought crossed your mind to reach out and run your fingers over the cold surface of the ceramic. This insatiable desire to snatch something from a museum wasn’t new to you, but the fact it was a tea set did strike you as odd when you thought about it logically.

Jewels, expensive paintings, national treasures. These all made sense to drool over. But a fucking tea set? If you couldn’t clearly see the glowing air around it that marked it as a special nen object, you would have been concerned that your taste was starting to slip.

“The Bolama Tea Set has traveled the world and the origins are unknown. The clay used in the making of the tea set is not native to any known developed land. It has a dark color naturally which can be seen inside the pot and cups, while the outside has been glazed to a brilliant blue.

Legend says that whoever uses the teacup marked with a bird will gain the life energy of the person who uses the teacup marked with a rodent.”

The animals were both red on the bottoms of the cups that were tilted on an angle so that the viewer could clearly see them. Against the dark color of the clay that practically glowed.

Stories accompanying objects were a dime a dozen, especially if they could be confirmed to be over two hundred years old, but since the set was covered in nen energy, there could be some truth to the legend. And you wanted to find out so bad. The potential mystery in front of you only made you want the set more.

The cold glass surface became obscured as a man stepped up next to you, standing a bit more closely than the mostly empty art museum hall really required. His pale face reflected right in front of the teacups, dark tousled hair showcasing how pale he was even in his almost transparent reflection.

“Do you think the legend is true?” he asked. The friendly quality of his voice took you by surprise and made you look at him directly. He continued to look at the display case and you noticed he wore a headband, which was curious. Clothing could tell a lot about a person, this was a fact you used to your advantage when scoping out potential targets, and in your experience the only people that wore headbands like that were usually sports enthusiasts, people that wanted other people to think they were sports enthusiasts, and hunters. But you didn’t sense any nen from him. And he wore far too much black for a sports enthusiast.

He could just be a weirdo. There were also plenty of those in the world.

But most likely he was using zetsu to make it seem as if he couldn’t use nen.

Then again, maybe you were giving a stranger too much credit.

“Of course not,” you said with a small laugh and light hearted lit to your voice, “Legends are just silly stories right?”

His eyes slid to you and slight goosebumps rose on your flesh as his dark irises looked directly into you. There was a coldness behind that warm voice, you hadn’t noticed it before but now even as he smiled you felt it. Had you been too distracted with your lust for the Bolama set?

“Hmm? You think so?” His voice still sounded so pleasant, so normal and welcoming to conversation. But now you couldn’t shake the feeling of a looming darkness standing next to you. He hadn’t given you any reason to feel on edge, but your instincts were never wrong. “Most legends come from a level of truth to them. Perhaps someone poisoned the rodent cup, and the legend started. Meaning it isn’t anything mythical so much as… sinister?”

Your fingers started to tingle, in the way they did right before you were about to steal something you had been coveting. A slow smile spread across your lips as your carefully maintained heartbeat picked up just a little. “For some people the art of malevolent intent is mythical. It makes it easier to say a demon made you do something horrible than it is to admit you did it yourself. And society likes to accept that answer. Surely no one that corrupt could actually exist? Demons make much more sense. They are absolved of guilt or guilt by association if they just accept the existence of creatures they cannot control.”

The man looked shocked for a moment as he looked back at you. A warm sense of pride at his reaction filled you as your grin only grew. Shutting down men that thought they were deep was in your top 3 favorite things list.

But to your surprise he didn’t get angry or frustrated. Instead he smiled and laughed. Not the irritated laugh you had heard from others before that laughed so they could quell a growing anger at being shown up by a woman, but a sincerely entertained laugh. “I think you’re right. Is it not why Satan exists? If you can say that you were led into temptation by a force that is greater than yourself then you cannot possibly be responsible for the guilt that you have earned. But then, are people no better than children unable to think for themselves? When children are young we excuse much of their follies with the fact they don’t yet comprehend the world in the way adults do. Exonerating them of any sin they could have brought upon themselves. So by using the contingent presence of evil entities are we not just allowing our growth to be stunted?”

Is this what people called a ‘nerd fight’? “Are you saying we are all just ignorant children refusing to grow up and take responsibility for our actions?”

“Well… some of us more than others perhaps,” he said continuing to hold a smile as he looked back to the tea set.

“Do you take responsibility for your choices that others might perceive as malicious?”

He paused, and the once simple and pleased smile twisted into a grin as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket. “I’d like to think so.”

“Why? Because you are an adult, or you like to be identified as a malevolent demon?”

A small chuckle this time and he did a quarter turn to fully face you. Automatically you turned to face him as well, only now noticing in the break of your back and forth banter that you were enjoying yourself. Playing a game of verbal tennis with a total stranger- a stranger that was starting to seem more attractive by the moment if you were completely honest- was pretty fun.

He had to be a hunter.

“Do you have time for dinner?” he asked, dark eyes holding you in place with their intensity. His warm voice had lowered into a more predatory dark tone. It made a lightning strike of excitement run up your spine.

Admittedly, you were taken by surprise for the second time at the sudden offer. “Depends,” you replied leaning casually on one leg as you looked the man up and down to decide for yourself if a dinner treat before a job would help you feel motivated, “are you buying?”

~*~*~

The walls were real wood, dark and sealed to preserve the natural color that helped the room feel warm and inviting, spite the icy cold people that occupied it. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling offered enough light to fill the room but small lamps on tables and mounted on the side panels gave each table its own individual glow. Tall bay windows provided a screen into the outside world in the form of darkness and blinking lights, like artificial stars. The diners that sat closest to them naturally ignored the view, they had paid good money to look snobby and they wouldn’t be denied a chance to show off to the other snobs just how much more contemptuous they were than everyone else.

It was the kind of restaurant you visited when you wanted to relish in the fact that everyone around you thought they were safe, as you sipped wine knowing with a smug sense of superiority that you had robbed one of their own and now dined on their dollars. It was in your top 4 favorite things.

Tonight was somewhat different though.

You had been given an address and a time to meet from the man in the dark clothes, but you hadn’t been quite expecting this. Luckily you had dressed for the part. A long dress with a plunging neckline that you kept specifically for occasions such as these.

After the conversation at the museum you had guessed that the stranger would take you somewhere he could show off more, and you had pinned it exactly right. Though, to be fair, you were even a little surprised by the level of showmanship.

Mentally you praised yourself for confirming who was paying for dinner beforehand.

“Shall we?” he asked next to you, holding an arm out for you to take. The maître d was gesturing for you to follow a member of the waitstaff as he led the way into the large dining room where quiet conversations and the clinking of dinner wear could be heard.

With a nod you took his arm and followed, realizing for possibly the first time that your greed had gotten the better of you again. The thought of getting a nice meal with a handsome stranger had blinded you to potential dangers. He could have not shown up. He could have shown up just to kill you.

The second thought was definitely the more titillating of the two. Which would have been worrying if you hadn’t decided a long time ago that therapy was boring and stealing things was much more entertaining. It was the thrill of it all, and this was just another job. Stealing a meal from this handsome stranger before disappearing.

Maybe if you played your cards right, you could get away with more.

“Your table,” the waitperson said stopping next to a bay window. Before they could pull a chair for you, the man slipped from your grip and did it himself. You smiled and sat as he pushed the chair gently under you.

He was good.

As he moved to his own chair you admired the way he looked. A black tailcoat with a high breast. Very cutting on his form, and you had always liked that look more than the long-breasted coats. It made men’s waists tempting to touch. A midnight blue cravat was tied around his neck and it complimented his odd earrings perfectly. Black hair was slicked back, and you decided it looked nice in this environment, but the down and tousled look was definitely preferable. Admittedly, he looked intoxicating.

Maybe you would have to stay for dessert.

“May I suggest our newest wine? It is an import from Azia and pairs well with tonight’s dinner.”

“That will be fine, thank you.”

“This is quite the elaborate place,” you commented, sitting back in your chair to look around at the other diners casually. A few looked at you from the sides of their eyes, obviously judging as in polite company one didn’t simply look around and observe others so blatantly. But you just smirked and looked back to your dining partner. “Maybe I should have dressed up more.”

“You look lovely,” he commented, and it made you smile. Who could tell how sincere it was, but it made you feel good.

“Thank you. Luckily, I think that you look handsome enough for us both anyway.”

His lids lowered a little, giving his face a much more serious look than he had in the museum. “Handsome for a malevolent demon?”

“An alleged malevolent demon,” you corrected, holding up one finger. “You didn’t confirm nor deny.”

“I suppose you are correct. I didn’t.”

“You also didn’t grant me your name. Somewhat cruel for a gentleman, be he demon or man. Especially when you so brazenly invited me to dinner.”

“Usually you have to already know a demon’s name to summon him.”

“Unless you happen upon one and then you must learn his name so you can summon him again, if you so desire.”

Another chuckle.

You couldn’t help but to notice that since arriving to the restaurant that your companion hadn’t been behaving quite as every-man cheery has he had previously. In the shroud of the night he was much darker by nature. His voice lower, and the way he looked at you as if he was going to pluck you from a museum like a trained thief.

“You interest me,” he said as he leaned over the table toward you.

“Hmm? Before you try to steal my innocence, sir, I should warn you I don’t have much left.” You leaned in towards him just a few inches, enough to make your flirtations clear without giving too much away. Your index finger toyed idly with a strand of hair that fell in front of your ear as you looked up into his eyes.

“I suspect not,” he said with a smoky voice that made your fingertips tingle.

That was when you realized it was a race. A race to see who could snatch the other first.

Half of your mind told you to get out while the going was good, but the other half was on a high of curiosity. Who was this man? If you probed deeper what would you find?

What could you take from him?

The waitperson arrived, but neither of you moved. “Your soup course. Tonight we have vichyssoise,” they said as small bowls were placed upon the central plate. They poured you each a glass of wine in silence, obviously not minding the fact that the two of you were staring at each other waiting to see who would look away first.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t let the person leave without recognition. Service people had it hard enough without being ignored, even though most people did so. Without moving the rest of your body, you turned your head to smile at them warmly, “Thank you so much. It looks delicious.”

Since you had broken first, your partner turned and also thanked them as his wineglass was placed back into position on the table.

Resuming a proper position on your chair you stared into the soup bowl. Chopped leak floated on top of the cool white broth and collecting a few pieces into the spoon proved easy seeing as it was a chilled soup. The taste had a surprising underlying sweetness to it, and you sipped at the spoon enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid running down your throat. “It is very good,” you commented as you gathered another spoonful to sip.

Carefully you slid your foot forward slowly until it gracefully touched his own, he didn’t look up from his own bowl but you could see the corner of his lips quirk into the slightest of smiles before bringing the spoon to his lips. “Delectably creamy,” you added licking the side of the spoon to catch a drop before it fell into your lap.

The soup was gone quickly. The rich creamy broth dictated it would be a small portion so that the consumer would have room for the next course. How many there were you couldn’t be totally sure, at minimum four since the service started with soup. But it could be up to seven.

Oh the silly knowledge you had gained over the years of tricking rich fools.

As the bowls were whisked away, the man ran a hand over the side of his head, making sure his hair was in place before he leaned on the table an acceptable amount. “I would like to ask you something more direct.” It wasn’t really a question, or a form of seeking permission. He had said it in such a way that you couldn’t really say no without seeming rude, not that you would have minded coming off rude to a man that dared to command you after knowing you for at maximum an hour.

Taking the wine glass into hand you sipped it, smirking at the light lip print that was left behind. Deliberately you moved your leg so it touched his softly, like a whisper, and looked at him to show you were listening.

“How were you planning on stealing it?”

Uncertain if it was the soup or the icicle of potentially being caught in your mind, your blood ran cold for a few seconds. You controlled your face to not display this sudden change in your temperature. “Known each other less than a day and you’re calling me a thief? Perhaps you are mistaking my intentions?” It was a statement that could blanket many things and didn’t give away that you knew he knew.

But he did know.

The way he looked into your eyes directly, his hand resting on the table casually so that if he had to grab the silverware it was within reach, the knowing smirk. It all gave away that he very much knew.

“If demons did exist in this world, do you think they would know each other immediately? Or do you think it is possible for them to fool each other? Perhaps, they could even fool themselves?”

His leg moved closer to your own and now they were touching with force. You managed to continue to keep your cool as you responded, “Hm, this is a difficult topic.”

“Because demons aren’t real?”

“Because it depends on your perception of demons.”

He nodded to encourage you to continue before sipping his own wine. Idly you ran a finger around the rim of your water glass as you thought aloud. “In many mythologies demons have a natural order, levels if you would. So higher level demons are more apt at deceiving man and beast alike. They can appear normal to any untrained eye. But also, they can spot weaker kin instantly. Often, they can recognize fellow high-level demons in a way that even lower tiers can’t say they feel from their own kind. A type of respectable feeling of knowing someone before properly meeting them.

But are we to assume that in this world they follow those rules? And I suppose more importantly how is one to know said rules?”

“Then you believe it is possible?” he asked sitting back, the mischievous grin on his face only growing.

“Who knows? Maybe only a demon would,” you replied before a fresh sip of wine as the waitperson returned with two beautifully crafted salads.

“Salad course is a bibb lettuce salad with lemon dill vinaigrette,” they said as the plates lightly clacked against each other. The salad was piled so nicely that it almost looked like a flower, petals glistening with the vinaigrette like morning dew. Eating decadently was nice from time to time, but admittedly it also seemed like a shame to make something you were going to eat look so pretty.

Mercilessly you picked up the salad fork and took up a small bite of the dish to taste, ruining its beauty. The lemon after a creamy soup course was a nice pick up. The service felt like it was ramping up to the entrée with each crisp crunch of the leaves.

“I think that the ability to recognize a soul that is similar to yours is an acquired ability as opposed to an inherited one. One develops it as a way to know who is friend and who is foe.” The smooth cadence of his voice was so natural, and how he effortlessly brought the conversation back to a point that was beneficial for him was artful.

You nodded putting the salad fork down. “I suppose you are correct. And I would also think that in the case of meeting a similar soul, trying to hide would seem rather silly wouldn’t it?” Elegantly you patted your lips free of the vinaigrette.

“It would be foolish to try and hide once spotted, yes.” He was staring at you. You could feel it, the power of his knowing eyes on you.

So, this had been what you were sensing before at the museum. He wasn’t a hunter, or at least if he was he wasn’t a traditional one. He was a thief. And he had figured you out before you had figured him out. Not that you could let on to that fact. Pretending that you were on his level could possibly be the only way that you would be able to make your way out of this situation.

That, and you had wanted that damn tea set first. No man, no matter how attractive, would swipe something you had been yearning for, for a week,  from under you. Moments passed while you sipped some wine to wash your palate clean and your salad plates were taken away. Soon the entrée would arrive. The meat of the meal.

Finally, you looked up to meet his eyes, knowing full well he had watched your every movement up to that point. His face was serious, chin resting on his hand to steady his gaze as he waited for you to acknowledge him. You had to hand it to him, he had been quite patient. Below the table his leg was still pressing into yours and you hadn’t moved away from him at all. “I suppose it would also be foolish to hope that we had different targets, just at the same location?”

He smiled. “I think something could be worked out,” he said with amusement.

This probably meant he had several targets, or would be willing to split the prize after the object had been hawked. But you still wanted to find a way to try the cups. What was the fun of acquiring a mystery if you couldn’t try to solve it? But once it was out of the museum, who was to say what wasn’t possible?

Coyly, you slipped your other leg forward so that you gripped his between your two. “You sure know how to surprise a lady with a good time,” you practically purred.

He reacted positively, hooking one of your ankles with his foot to forcefully slide your legs closer to him. “I believe in taking what one desires.”

“I guess that means I never had a choice then,” you pointed out, worried only momentarily that he would pull you from your chair entirely. “I suppose this also answers the question I asked earlier.”

“Oh?” he asked, shifting his leg slightly against yours and making a small shiver run up your spine.

“I asked if you perceive yourself as an adult or as a malevolent demon.”

The waitperson stopped by the table and he sat up so that the entree could be placed in front of him. “The entree tonight is seared dry rub salmon with fruit salsa on top. Sauteed vegetables and long grain rice as a side. And naturally, bread.”

This time neither of you could look away from the other but you made sure to mutter an appreciation, positive that they could feel the tension that was growing between you two and didn’t really want to interfere with that anyway. Which was confirmed with how quickly they left the table again.

“I take it you have come to your own conclusion.”

“I have,” you replied lifting a leg and running it up the side of his, making a more brazen move since the seal had been broken on this strangely intense conversation.

“Well?” he inquired seeing you weren’t going to be forthcoming on your own.

“A malevolent demon to be sure,” you said with a quiet laugh which abruptly stopped when his hand caught your ankle under the table.

His tight grip made you clutch your dinner fork. To defend yourself? Just to have a grip on something? Even you weren’t sure. But as he brushed his thumb over your skin he shifted forward on his chair enough that he could touch your leg and look relatively natural while doing so. “And you? Are you a demon or a human that is merely influenced by demons?”

You slid the dinner fork through the salmon, making sure to get some of the salsa from the top to go with the bite. Like everything it was delicious. The spices in the dry rub mixed with the sweet and spicy salsa. His hand slid from your ankle to your calf, gripping almost painfully as he went so as to get your attention.

“The guard rotation around the tea set walks by every 3 hours at night. The glass can be removed with a special tool I have a replica of,” you looked into his eyes again, wondering if he would be audacious enough to actually pull you from your chair or upset the table in a way that would draw attention.

“And the cameras?”

“I have my own way of dealing with those,” you stated before taking another bite of salmon.

At long last he lifted his own fork with his spare hand and took a bite of his dinner and you felt a little calm permeate the air. The tension was more noticeable once it had regressed some. The hand on your leg was still very warm and present. He was keeping control of you physically in a subtle enough way that none of the other diners would notice if they had the gall to look. “You’ll have to tell me later then,” he said with an expectant tone in his voice

You nodded, feeling compelled to follow his direction. Not sure how much of a choice you had, or maybe that was an excuse?

“Chrollo,” he stated plainly.

The fork stopped shy of your mouth. “Chrollo?”

His smirk was back, the one that seemed dark and yet sincere. “That is my name. I look forward to working with you.”

~*~*~

At some point the streetlights had stopped going by the car window. Almost total darkness stared back at you through the tinted glass as the trees on the side of the road obscured the distant, blinking city lights. The driver hadn’t said a word from the moment Chrollo helped you into the car, and he hadn’t given any directions to the very still form in the front seat. The quiet felt stifling after being in a restaurant surrounded by noise and a constant flow of conversation. It created a sense of foreboding which floated around the small space as the car took you even further from civilization.

A temperate hand covered yours, which dragged your attention away from the window. Chrollo was looking at you with some of the warmth that his face had held during the museum trip and it was hard to tell if it helped you relax or only made you more tense. “Don’t tell me a thief is afraid of the dark.”

A soft chuckle came from you at the mere idea. “Do I seem like I’m on edge or something?” you asked, noticing you might have let some of your cool mask slip.

While you knew hand to hand combat, you didn’t have any physical weapons on you in the moment, and Chrollo had all the control. You were going somewhere with him where he would have the advantage, possibly allies. But he hadn’t given you much choice when he told you that he was going to bring you with him. To talk about the plan.

He didn’t know you well enough yet to trust you not to do something brash, or stupid, after separating at dinner. It only made sense he’d keep you nearby. So, there was an unspoken threat about not doing as he wished. And it was never good to bring attention to yourself with a fight in a fancy restaurant before a job.

And it would be a lie to say that part of you wasn’t finding thrill in this turn of events, even though as you had sat in the car it sank in just how potentially over your head you really were.

The leather seat didn’t even squeak as Chrollo shifted so that his body was turned towards you as his hand cupped your face. “What does a demon have to fear from the night?”

Now you actually laughed, some of the weight lifting from your shoulders with the release of the tension. It had been a little corny, and the smile on Chrollo’s face didn’t give away if that had been the intention or if he just hadn’t cared how you reacted.

When your laughter stopped, he pulled you closer to him on the back seat until he could easily lean down and brush his lips over your own. The movement had caught you by surprise, and you could feel your cheeks warm.

Which was quite rude of your body to betray you, since you had been doing so well at playing the little flirtatious game at dinner. Even throughout dessert- which might have been a somewhat rushed in hindsight- the back and forth banter and casual touches had remained constant. It was almost too distracting for you to enjoy the apple tartlet and on location made vanilla ice cream.

Almost. That tartlet had been amazing.

“What brought that on?” you asked while attempting to read his expression before he turned to face forward with that smirk on his lips again.

“I just wanted to. No real reason.” It looked like a thought crossed his mind as his eyes wandered from the driver to the window and back to you. Gently he put his finger under your chin to run his thumb over your lip, “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” you said with a small shake of your head, and he pulled you to him again, making you stretch to meet his lips. The kiss was surprisingly chaste, but firm.

The car stopped, and he broke the kiss with a chuckle. “Maybe we’ll continue this later?”

“Maybe,” you confirmed as he released you and you sat back comfortably in your seat.

Chrollo accepted that for now with a nod, swinging the car door open to slip out. Was it just the trait of a thief that they seemed to move with such deliberate ease? Did you look like that?

You took his offered hand to slide out of the car, using his balance to steady yourself as you did so. Secretly you hoped you looked half as graceful.

The building the car had stopped at appeared to be an abandoned apartment building, easily seven floors tall and you wondered where Chrollo kept his lovely tailcoat when he wasn’t using it. Or maybe he had stolen it just for dinner tonight. That was kind of an attractive thought.

Behind you the car was turned off but the driver didn’t move to get out. “Come with me,” Chrollo said as he moved to the front door and held it open.

Inside the building looked worn, but not like it was a complete safety violation just yet. Old wallpaper peeled in places, dirty with age, but some light glowed from an apartment door that had been left open on the right side of the hallway.

Without thinking much about it, you moved towards the light spurred on by curiosity. A plain living room was visible beyond the door frame, a lamp on the coffee table the only light. You almost walked into the room automatically but stopped when you noticed fine threads spread over the doorway like a spider’s web.

But it was apparent to anyone with nen that these were not normal.

“What’s wrong?” Chrollo asked behind you.

You pointed at the threads and looked back at him, “I suspect you should enter before me.”

He smirked, putting one hand into his pants pocket leisurely. “Machi, let down the threads.” A pause. Then the threads were quickly tugged away from the door without a single sound. “After you.”

Walking into a previously trapped door seemed like a horrible idea, but at this point you had to accept you were in this deep. Might as well dive in.

The apartment furniture was mostly intact, just old. A musty smell circulated the room and particles floated lazily in the lamp light around a woman with pink hair sitting on the sofa, one leg curled up to her chest. Her blue eyes watched your every move as you entered the room and stood to one side for Chrollo to come in.

“Where is Pakunoda?” The air about him had shifted somewhat. If this was how he truly was it seemed the Chrollo from dinner was the closest you had gotten to his true self so far because he was relaxed, but in control. His shoulders were back but slumped somewhat as he looked at the pink haired woman.

“On her way. She’ll be here soon,” the woman responded, her eyes flicking to your face and narrowing in distrust before going back to Chrollo’s. “She said everything should be ready for tomorrow on her end.”

Admittedly since you had done dinner it had gotten somewhat late, but you had still been hoping that the heist would happen tonight. It was a bit disappointing.

“Good. Let’s go over the plan tomorrow. Would you like to rest?”

It took a moment to register that he was addressing you with the question as you were distracted with the aura of malice that was radiating your way. “Hm? Oh. Sure,” you replied. Mostly you wanted some time away from the woman you presumed was ‘Machi’ and have a moment to think of what your own plan was going to be.

“I’ll be back momentarily. If Pakunoda comes back have her wait with you until I get back.”

Machi nodded and Chrollo gave you a simple smile before turning to lead you out of the apartment. Meanwhile Machi was watching you directly again and it wasn’t in your nature to not say something about that. “Nice not meeting you,” you half joked with a wave before you left to catch up with the person that had gotten you into all of this. Machi didn’t seem to react but you were curious how much she wanted to murder you.

“She seems nice,” you told Chrollo as he opened a door across the hallway.

He laughed as he went through, “She is.”

If that was nice then you wouldn’t want to see her angry. Or Chrollo for that matter.

This apartment was a mirror of the last in set up, but the living room was occupied by a different sofa. Where had the people gone and why hadn’t they done something with their furniture? The thought only persisted further as Chrollo led you to a bedroom that still had a half decent bed with a pillow and a blanket. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the thought of how long those items had been here, but truthfully you had slept in worse.

“I was surprised to hear that we wouldn’t be getting to work tonight,” you confessed as Chrollo stopped in the room, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

“It’ll make more sense tomorrow when we discuss the details,” he said leaning against the nearest wall, watching you.

That was the problem with thieves, they were always watching. “Do you plan to rob half the museum?” you asked moving in close to him.

“I plan on taking what I want.”

“So you’ve said. If you have help, why ask for mine?”

“You seem to have a good understanding of the museum, we share a goal,” he ran a hand down your exposed arm, “and- as I said before- you interest me. Thus, what is to stop me from taking you just like I take everything else I want?”

“I can’t argue that.” Instinctively you leaned in towards him so that your body was almost touching his, threatening to pin him to the wall with one more step. “What would you have done if I had said no to dinner then?”

His hands gripped your wrists and pulled, making you crash into him and you were surprised at how comfortable he was to lean against despite the hard muscle you could feel under his dress clothes. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

You opened your mouth to say something snarky back, but the chance was taken from you as Chrollo kissed you again. His fingers around your wrists tightened to a painful level which made you wince. When he freed your lips you quietly hissed a noise of pain at how hard his grip was. He didn’t seem bothered, if anything you could feel his grip tighten just a little more on one wrist before he turned you in one swift movement to pin you to the wall.

Due to the speed at which it had happened, the force of being slammed into the wall was painful and you clenched your teeth to keep from making any noises of pain. Chrollo’s free hand grabbed your chin and forced your head up and to the side so that he could easily bite at your neck and nip your throat.

Everything had progressed so quickly that you only now noticed your heart was pounding, and surely he could feel that heavy throbbing in his teeth as he bit down on your sensitive nerves.

You were completely in his control, in a place far from the rest of the civilized world, with the only people nearby to hear you scream being his associates. Saying you had dived too deep into the pool would be under exaggerating. For the first time you felt actual fear well up inside of you, making you feel cold everywhere but the places Chrollo touched you.

Swimming in thoughts of lust and fear you accidentally let a moan escape when he bit down on your shoulder and sucked. Your hand struggled against his strength, but he had firmly pinned it to the wall at your side, so your other hand went to his shoulder gripping the soft suit fabric tightly in your fingers as you struggled to know if you wanted to push him away or bring him closer.

He stood straight to take in your expression, and you knew you looked flushed already. Your heart was just beating too hard, and maybe you had held your breath to keep from moaning at each touch. Like some school girl that was being touched for the first time. Passively you assured yourself it was just because it had been a little while. That was all.

Taking your hand from his shoulder he brought both of your hands over your head, holding them with only one of his own. “So that’s the face that lives under your mask,” his voice was boastful and soft, secretly you loved hearing him talk.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you were trying to sound coy and confident, but even you could hear the low tremble in your words.

The back of his fingers ran from your temple to your cheek as his dark eyes drank in your attempt of a cock-sure smile. “I could see just a peek of that mask slip at dinner. And I wanted to take it from you right there in front of everyone.” You shivered and his hand slid down your neck to your shoulder. “This look suits you. It’s honest and greedy.” His fingers danced their way under your arm to your back and easily found the zipper on your dress. “Your eyes practically beg for me to feed that greed because you can’t take it for yourself. Not while you are held like this you can’t anyway.”

The comfortable fabric of the dress loosened in a waterfall around your body as he dragged the zipper down, leaving you standing naked save for your panties and shoes- as the dress hadn’t allowed you to wear a bra. That was the upside, and downside, of such clothing: once it was gone you were horribly exposed. Subconsciously, you rubbed your thighs together before you caught yourself and steadied your legs.

Chrollo was smiling again, and gods you enjoyed the way that little smile accompanied the look in his eyes. He put his hand to your lower back and you could feel the skin warm instantly at his touch. “Maybe my plan to take what I want is to seduce you into just giving it to me,” you managed finally as the warmth spread to your butt with his movement.

“Not a bad plan,” he praised, fingers sliding under the curve of your bottom to tease your vaginal lips. You let out a sigh, spreading your legs just enough for his fingers to have room to move teasingly against you. “But what if I stopped right now? You wouldn’t get what you wanted.” His fingers stopped moving completely.

You licked your lower lip, hiding your disappointment. “Then you wouldn’t get what you wanted either, right? So where would that leave either of us?”

“Perhaps all I wanted was this. Having you exposed and craving my touch. So I would win.”

Being careful to not move quickly enough to accidentally harm him, you lifted a leg and moved your thigh against his groin, feeling his dick react with a twitch which made you giggle. “Seems a lame victory. Like stealing the glass of the display case and leaving the jewels.”

Gently at first you rubbed your thigh against him before pushing harder, knowing you were also rubbing his balls with each movement. His lips parted absentmindedly, a sign he was enjoying it. The growing firmness against your thigh helped prove that. “Come on, boss. Don’t you want to take something that isn’t yours and mark it up?”

His hesitance had actually played in your favor, giving you a moment to take initiative and gain a little ground of your own. Some of that initial fear had converted into adrenaline that was feeding you to be sassy. But Chrollo’s ego wouldn’t allow it long you realized, because with another fluid motion you were falling onto the bed. His dark silhouette loomed as you started to get onto your elbows out of a natural reaction. “No. Stay as you were,” he said, tone dark with a sense of order that was used to being heeded.

The ground you had just gained was crumbling as you laid on the bed looking up at him as he loosened his cravat, eyes never moving from your body. It seemed like a good time to remove your shoes, so you toed them off, hearing them hit the floor with a soft thud. “Nothing bad is going to happen,” you told yourself as he dropped the flowing fabric from his neck and began to remove his coat. “You can handle this. This is just a bit of fun before a job.”

Every movement he made as he undressed made the adrenaline within you increase. Your legs were almost trembling with need, as well as from an understandable fight or flight reaction. Chrollo draped the coat over a nearby chair and you ran a hand down your chest watching him take the time to remove his shoes. His eyes watched as you cupped one breast and pinched the nipple between two fingers, hips shifting against the bed in anticipation.

You enjoyed him watching you. Knowing that he would notice each little movement made your skin raise in goosebumps and your other hand caressed your hip as he moved towards the bed. He stopped next to the bed and continued to observe you as he removed the cuff-links from his shirt. The pause gave you a chance to regain that crumbling level field again, so you slowly lifted yourself up to your elbows. This time he he said nothing. Testing the line of his order, you sat up and shifted your knees underneath yourself so you could rise upon you knees to match his height the best you could with the slight height disadvantage the bed created. His face didn’t give away anything, and it was starting to irritate you. The least he could do was give you a bit of reaction for your performance.

Teasingly, you ran your hands down his chest as he put the cuff-links into a pants pocket. Even through his clothes you could feel the defined muscles and you bit your lower lip imagining what he would look like naked. Using just the tips of your fingers, you caressed his neck. Drawing lines from the pale flesh down to the top button of his shirt. Purposely looking at his shirt buttons and not his face, you popped the button free and with a leisurely pace moved to the next. The building joy you felt as you did so was comparable to opening a gift, it didn’t matter that you had a good guess what was under the paper. A new toy was a new toy.

Chrollo ran his hands through your hair, moving a few strands out of the way of his view of your face. This little tell made it apparent that he did enjoy your show, so much so he wanted to watch every part of it as you moved your fingers down his front.

Unable to contain yourself from taking a bit more, you leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck as your fingers continued their dexterous dance on his buttons. Your trained fingers could open locks, nick wallets unnoticed, and coerce men to do your bidding with just the barest of touch. But still you enjoyed the action of slowly popping each button free and revealing the undershirt that hugged his torso underneath. Chrollo’s long fingers moving through your hair only added to the experience, definitely helping you feel inspired to continue doing whatever came to mind and you straightened out enough to run your tongue over the soft curve of his ear.

The last button came free and your hands moved past the stiff cotton to the softer undershirt to caress his chest. His skin was so pale, probably from thieving at night and hiding out for most of the day. You wanted to ruin that beauty.  Each little kiss back down to the nape of his neck was just as teasing to you as it was to him with that thought in your head.

While your hands continued their adventure of his body, he freed his hands of your hair and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. Moving in such a way as to not disturb your actions, he pulled the shirt free of his pants and tossed it join the tailcoat on the chair. He was obviously distracted by this menial task, so as his hands met your hips you bit his neck- hard enough to leave a bruise to be sure- and he hissed. His muscles tightened under your touch and the fact that he made it so apparent that he had been caught off guard made pride swell up in you, even as he grabbed your shoulders to pull you back. “Bold, aren’t you?” he questioned, almost sounding a little irritated. Already you could see the beautiful purple blemishing his skin.

“I can get a little needy,” you admitted, reaching for the button on his pants as you spoke. You were too involved now, so even his slight disapproval couldn’t stop you now.

Chrollo resumed removing his much more complicated outfit as your fingers worked the front of his pants. Easily he slid the suspenders from his shoulders and threw off his undershirt with haste. Somehow even rushed, it was really attractive to watch a man undress from a good outfit. And the increasing speed at which Chrollo was becoming naked let you know he was getting excited.

His dick was pressing against his underwear, bulging out from the open front of his pants, trying to become completely free. You took it into both hands, rubbing your thumbs against the underside as your fingers laced around his girth, the silky fabric of his underwear adding to the sensation for you both.

“Take me into your mouth,” he said in that same commanding tone as before. You licked your lips and looked into his face finally. His eyes had a shine to them that hadn’t been there before and his lips were in a perpetual tiny, almost unnoticeable, smile. To encourage you further, he put a hand on top of your head and leaned in towards you.

“Of course, boss,” you replied, really hoping the playful use of the title made him feel a little less in control of your actions. But if it did he didn’t let on as you slid his underwear down to free his dick at last.

He was already hard, but as you wrapped your hand around it you could tell there was room to grow. Rubbing the side of the head you ran your tongue over his balls and up the underside to the head. The veins in his sensitive flesh were protruding a little and you could feel them on your tongue as you repeated the motion but taking your time to let the tip of your tongue explore. Something told you that Chrollo wasn’t the type to be loud, but that only made you want to really earn a reaction.

You loosened your grip and started to rub your fingers up and down the shaft of his dick, keeping it teasing at first. Any piece of flesh you left exposed became a target for your lips and tongue to flick against, providing some lubrication to your fingers as well. He still hadn’t made a noise yet, but his dick grew so that now your grip was tighter purely because his size demanded it.

Shifting you positioned your mouth over the head, running your tongue around the ridge of flesh as your hand’s speed remained constant. Despite the fact he still wore his dress pants, you could see his thigh muscles tighten as you took him into your mouth, carefully brushing your teeth over the sensitive, wet surface. You couldn’t be sure over the sound of your mouth working, but you swore you could hear his breath catch from that move.

You chanced a glance up as you worked your tongue out under him and sucked. For a brief moment his eyes closed and a fresh sense of pride egged you on. Your free hand gripped his thigh for support as you gripped the base of his cock to hold him steady for your mouth. Carefully, you backed him out of your mouth and then brought him in, taking his length deeper into your throat before pulling away again. The pace was slow and deliberate and each time you came back you managed to fit more down towards your throat.  It was a delicate balance of pace and stamina as you tried to be careful so as not to not over do it and make yourself gag. Each time you carefully touched your teeth to just the ridge of the head his thigh muscles would tense again and you knew that he liked the slight thrill.

You managed to take him entirely in, gagging only a little as his dick rubbed against your throat, but not enough to be ashamed of. Now you picked up the pace. Finger and thumb creating a ring around his base, you quickly sucked and backed him out of your throat just a few inches before going back. His hand on your head gripped your hair tight and you wished you could look up into his face again, but that would distract from your careful rhythm.

Somewhat unfortunately, Chrollo finally gave you a reaction. Both hands buried themselves into your hair and he forced your head to move faster. Both of your hands gripped his thighs for stabilization as he brought your mouth too fast back onto his cock and you gagged a little as he did it again. To the best of your ability you breathed in through your nose and tried to work your tongue around his dick as he kept up his  harsh pace. A single tear ran down your cheek as you wondered how much longer you could take the abuse. You hoped that your fingers were leaving bruises on his thighs as you clung to him for dear life.

Just as you started to wonder if you’d pass out from not being able to get in enough air for how fast Chrollo was going, he finally released the pressure on your head so you could pull away enough to recover. He hadn’t come but he was definitely at full erection now, a little pre-cum sitting on your tongue as you coughed and took in a full breath. His hands hands slipped out of the strands of your hair and you sat back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you gave him a low glare. It took a moment for you to regulate your breath, but he was of course not paying attention to you now.

Instead he was slipping his pants and underwear off, taking the suspenders off of the pants with particular care. “That was a bit rude,” you said after recovering more thoroughly, sounding only a little breathy.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

Admittedly you didn’t. But if you said yes, would he? He had already made it very clear that he planned to take what he wanted. “No.”

He smiled facing you again, suspenders taut in his hands. “No, what?”

You swallowed as your heart slammed in your chest. “No… boss?”

He laughed and pushed you onto the bed as he followed. Had he seriously thought that little name to be sexy? Or was he just messing with you? You couldn’t tell as he knelt on the bed and turned you onto your stomach with one hand. 

With a skilled and fast hand, Chrollo easily tied your wrists behind your back with the suspenders, your hammering heart still echoing in your ears as you tested the strength of the accessory. They gave enough so it was comfortable, but he had tied them in such a way it would be hard to escape.

“You know I saw you the first day you looked at the tea set.” You turned your head in an attempt to be able to see him over your shoulder. It was difficult but you could see his face as he watched his hand rub your naked back. “I’m not sure how long you were in town before that. But I knew what you were when your eyes lit up.”

You didn’t get to ask any questions as his hand left your back and came across your ass. It didn’t hurt much, the action had been playful. “I knew that shine instantly. A demon cannot hide what it is from another demon, right?” When you didn’t respond he smacked you again and your fingers curled into your palms. “That was what you said right?”

“That is what I said,” you agreed.

He made a low noise of pleasure, somewhere between a chuckle and a ‘hn’. “I didn’t lie when I said you looked nice in your dress, but you looked gorgeous in that moment. Your fingers moved like they wanted to work a piano or a lock,” he was rubbing the place he had spanked you before, which made your skin burn. “And it was then that I knew I wanted to take you.”

The way in which he said the sentence made cold creep up your spine again. Shifting slightly, you attempted to turn so you could more clearly look at him, but a solid slap against your butt stopped you. “Not yet,” he commanded and you laid still. “I want to know: did you notice me that day?”

Had you? It was hard to remember. When something caught your attention that was all you focused on in those moments. A harder smack came down and the noise was much louder than the other ones. You grumbled out an ‘ouch’, pulling against your restraints.

“Well? Did you?”

The museum had been quiet, but there were several tourists and even some locals. Their clothing gave away which party they belonged to. Had anyone caught your attention specifically?

He spanked you again, just as hard as the last time.

You closed your eyes remembering the museum. Remembering who you looked at and who you had intentionally avoided.

With his next strike you cried, “Yes! I saw you.”

“Oh? Are you lying?”

“No,” you sighed, feeling the stinging continue. “I tried to avoid you when I came into the museum. You were looking at the statue outside of the Azian exhibit as I left.”

He kissed the cheek he had created a fire on. “I knew that you were a true thief,” he said with a light voice of praise.

You took a breath in through your nose and out your mouth in relief before Chrollo turned you on your back again. Your arms being pinned under you wasn’t the most comfortable, but you didn’t have time to think about it as he positioned himself between your legs and began tracing a path up your inner thigh with just the lightest touch of his fingers. “Did you know when you saw me then that this would happen?”

Everything in you wished you could lie and say you did, but it was too obvious of a lie. “I knew when I saw you today.” This caught his attention.

He looked you in the eyes as one finger traced your panty line. “Did you?”

“When you didn’t walk away after I replied to you,” it was a stretch of the truth, but a convenient one.

One finger found its way under your underwear and touched your slit. Now you were aware just how wet you were as he slid his finger up and down and you looked to the darkened ceiling with a soft gasp. “Did you think you’d end up just like this?”

You smiled. “Oh yeah. It is obvious you’re the kind of guy that likes to tie a girl up.” Roughly he shoved a finger into you and you gasped louder, thighs clamping around his body.

To his credit, now he shut up. Focusing just on moving his fingers in and out of you, curling them against your insides in a way that made you moan. It became obvious that he was intentionally not touching your clit, and that was maddening as the warm sensation of a building orgasm started to build inside of you. You managed to focus enough to twist your hands under your back, pulling at the suspenders and using their sight elasticity to work them around your wrists.

“Chrollo,” you breathed and he ‘hm’ed in response. “Stop teasing me.”

He thrust his fingers into you deeper, but you didn’t make a noise- even though you really wanted to. He frowned as each of your noises and tells slowly stopped coming as simply. You looked down at him with cold eyes, “I told you. Teasing me isn’t going to work forever.”

You pulled your hands out from under your back, holding the suspenders in one hand with a pleased grin that you had managed to slip out of them. Taking the suspenders into both hands you shifted yourself so you could lift your hips to gently rub his dick with your pussy, keeping the teasing grin on your face the entire time. “Did I surprise you… Boss?” Playfully you whipped his chest with the suspender strap. “You said yourself that I was a thief. Did you think your little trick would hold me long?”

“Interesting,” he muttered, leaning over you to intimidate you with his position. “I didn’t think you’d get free so quickly.”

It was a small praise, but you lapped it up. You slid the suspenders around the back of his neck and pulled him down to your level. “Tell me more about how impressive I am.”

“You’re more than bold. You’re outright audacious.” You started to laugh but he pressed his mouth to yours so that he could kiss you silent.

If asked, you would be forced to admit that Chrollo was good with his mouth in a few ways, and you wish you could have known if it was any good in more. As he kissed you with rough vigor he also took the opportunity of your distraction to swiftly slip inside of you. All at once you were flooded with feelings: his lips still pressing into yours, his dick sliding in and out of you, his hand digging into your hip as he helped lift you to his rhythm. 

Chrollo reached out with his free hand and took the suspenders from you and discarded them, though you weren’t sure to where- you didn’t really care either. But with the object occupying your hands gone they started to wander for a place to belong. Naturally they ended up his hair, each finger breaking up that perfect slicked back look as you pulled his face from yours to breath in as his pace picked up and made you gasp.

You watched his hair become disheveled through hazy eyes. You had been right, he was much more attractive this way, and that only added to the pleasure.

He brought his hips up with an especially hard snap and you moaned loudly, forgetting for the moment that there were potentially other people around to hear you.

“God,” you muttered with a breathy voice and Chrollo laughed.

“He has nothing to do with this,” he replied. “Give credit where it is due.”

A small chuckle was cut off from your lips as he shoved his way into you particularly hard. On some level you were worried you would pull his hair too hard as your fingers tightened their grip on their own accord. Releasing his dark strands you gathered the blanket underneath you in two clenched fists, watching Chrollo’s face as he fucked you.

“Chrollo, don’t stop,” you moaned, “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

His lips had parted again, one of his only tells so far of how much he was enjoying this. At one point he slowed, and his eyes closed before he picked up his pace and you felt washed over with sensation again. You were so close to an orgasm and his face said he was too.

You released the blanket to reach down and rub your clit, touching your finger against his dick as it came into you and you could feel him shudder as your nail brushed against him.

The build up within you gave out, like a dam. You clamped down on Chrollo as you orgasmed. Your hand let go of the blanket and gripped his forearm as a small cry came with the rush of pleasure. The extra pressure of you clamping onto him was enough to finish him off as well and you could hear his voice catch in his throat as he came.

Feeling satisfied and somewhat spent you turned your face into the bed, noticing only now that the sheet below you smelled somewhat clean. How far ahead had he planned all of this? Not that you would complain. Fucking on a clean bed was much better than what you had thought was happening at the start, not that it had stopped you obviously.

Chrollo brought a hand down your body one last time before standing, an air of fulfillment still hanging about him as well. You watched him move- wrapping yourself in the blanket for covering and warmth- as he redressed, keeping the tailcoat and cravat off.

“The water works,” he informed you as he ran his hands through his hair to fix it, which made you frown. You had done good work messing that up. “There are clothes in the bathroom for you.”

“You sure think of everything don’t you?” He tucked his shirt into his pants with a smirk.

Keeping the cover wrapped securely you sat up, drawing his attention. “Rest in here as long as you like. We’ll go over the plan tomorrow and move into position in the afternoon.”

“Yes, boss,” you teased.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but it didn’t sound too serious. Something about your teasing smile must have brought a thought to his mind, because after fastening his top button he leaned over and gave you a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you later for briefing.”

It wasn’t just a casual throw away line. It was a statement of certainty. In a simple way he had just told you what he expected, and you wondered what he would do if you didn’t. If you slipped away into the night.

He left you alone and you fell back into the bed, cuddling up to the pillow. Happily you found it too smelled clean.

You didn’t intend to leave before the job was done though. No. You had pushed things this far, and now you had gotten a taste for Chrollo. It was easy to see he thought you capable, but something told you he still underestimated you.

The swirling ideas of a plan started to form in your mind as you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

~*~*~

 “This plan still doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Is that your intuition, Machi?”

“… yes.”

“Hm. We’ll tread carefully. We can still use her for the end of the plan. We just have to be careful with how we proceed up to that point. Pakunoda will be with her the entire time. I trust her, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then we’ll continue on with our plan for now.”

“Fine.”

Across the hall the shower water turned on.

“Hope she is as good as you think she is, boss.”

~*~*~

 Showered and changed into fresh, dark clothes you joined the other apartment once more. The door was clear of traps this time so it was a better start than before.

Two women were in the room: Machi sat in her same position on the couch and who you presumed was Pakunoda leaned against a wall that led to the kitchen. Chrollo sat on the kitchen counter, using the natural sunlight from the nearby window to read a book. All eyes but Chrollo’s flew to you as you entered the room.

The atmosphere was tense. This was why you liked working alone. Other people could cause such drama.

“Good morning to you too,” you said to the women as you stopped in the living room. Admittedly it was already afternoon. You had hid in the other apartment for a few hours, using the alone time to your advantage and avoiding this very meeting.

“Good morning,” Pakunoda said. You thought her voice was pleasant. Neither rude or overly pleasant. Just natural. Which wasn’t what you had expected

You waited for Chrollo to address the room, wishing he would put the book down and get to it already. You were itching to start, especially since your own original plan was to act last night, now you were already 16 hours off of your own plan.

With a resounding snap, he closed his book and looked up at you. His face was passively neutral and he had changed clothes at some point. No longer was he in the dress slacks and button up, but instead in black pants with white detail, and a black coat. It would look gaudy on most anyone else, but it suited Chrollo. The tattoo on his forehead was new though. It hadn’t been there last night at dinner and at the museum he had worn a headband. Maybe he had covered it with makeup to go out last night? Somehow you already felt it suited him just as much as his clothing did.

“We’ll talk on the way,” he stated standing up from the counter. In unison the two women stood and waited for Chrollo to lead the way.

They obviously worked together a lot.

As he left the apartment the women waited for you to go before them, and you managed not to sigh as you did so. If you were going to disappear you would have done it by now. It occurred to you that perhaps they were more worried about you attacking them. But for what reason?

The car from last night was still outside, and you wondered if they had at least moved it overnight so that no potential passerby would see it.

“First we will go back into the city. It is Friday, so as evening settles in downtown will be lively with foot traffic. We’ll blend in with the crowds and meet on the South side of the building at 9:30 pm,” Chrollo informed you all as he held the door open.

Without hesitation Machi and Pakunoda got in before you and Chrollo motioned for you to go in before himself. The other two women sat across the car from you and Machi reached up and tapped on the top of the car twice. Automatically the driver started the car and began driving back the long way to the city.

“At dusk we will enter through a door on the roof. Machi will be getting us through that door. Once inside you and Pakunoda will go to the first floor. She knows what objects to take from that floor. Machi and I will go the basement and meet you at the door to the East side of the building that lets out onto the street. At that time we will rejoin with the car. Any questions?”

“What time are we meeting at the East entrance?” you asked.

Chrollo looked at you next to him and smirked. “It should end up being around 11:00 pm. The weekend crowds will still be around to provide us cover as we rejoin the traffic on the street.”

This was a fast plan. But if the cases could be removed and objects taken quickly, you could definitely get the tea set within the guard’s rotation break. But what other items were on the list? Was Pakunoda fast at such work? She had to be if you were both to take the main floor.

“Okay,” you replied, though you weren’t feeling very informed or confident.

Machi and Pakunoda had nothing to ask, which wasn’t surprising. Surely they had known the plan and the finer details before now.

“Can you still take care of the cameras?” Chrollo asked you and you nodded. “Good. You will take point on the way into the museum and Pakunoda will provide directions as needed.” You noticed he didn’t ask how. Something told you he wanted to watch you do it instead of asking.

If you had thought the drive out of the city had been awkward, the drive back in was definitely worse. The car was quiet as the grave and the lack of slight flirtatious energy made it feel longer when compared to last night.

You distracted yourself by looking out the window, watching the scenery fly by that had just been so much darkness the last time you saw it. There were other buildings scattered around, it had to have been a suburb that had been mostly abandoned over time while people moved closer to the city. After a few miles the signs of people still living buildings could be seen. Lawn decorations, cars in the driveway, and toys left in yards.

What would life have been like for you if you hadn’t decided you wanted to be a miscreant? Would you have settled down in a small suburb and found a boring job to work five days a week?

This was too much introspection. How did the other three stand being in this situation? You felt like you would go crazy. You wished you had a cellphone for once. But they hadn’t been worth the hassle so far so you had never gotten one.

The memory of Chrollo’s shocked face when you had turned the tables on him last night came into your mind and you didn’t stop the cat like grin that appeared. You couldn’t wait to see it again.

It felt like an eternity, but finally the busy city traffic enclosed the car. Pedestrians filled the sidewalks as the dying light made the concrete glow orange. The small clutch purse you had taken with you to the restaurant was still in the car and you were glad for that because you had left it behind like an idiot last night. You could feel it against your ankle as the car took a turn towards the museum.

Fishing down for it you pulled it into your lap, seeing Machi watch your movements with curiosity. As if to reassure her, and maybe yourself, you pulled from the small bag a tool and waved it at her. It was your entry key into the museum displays. She looked away as if she didn’t care and you rolled your eyes replacing the item into your bag.

This was already a fun filled trip with friends, you could tell.

The car stopped on a side street and automatically Chrollo opened the door and motioned for you to join him. This time you didn’t have him help you, probably because of pride, and you got out on your own. The car drove away once the door was shut to drop the other too off a few blocks away to blend in with the crowd as was the plan.

Watching it go you couldn’t help but to wonder: who was the driver? How much did they know about this plan? It all seemed like a lot of variables to consider, but no one seemed bothered. Just another testament of how often they all worked together.

Refusing to walk behind Chrollo, you walked by his side and he looked at you from the corner of his eye for a brief moment. You didn’t particularly care what he thought about it, but you weren’t going to be forced to walk behind him like a puppy. He didn’t say anything as you turned a corner together and made your way through the crowded downtown streets.

No one really paid attention to you as you carefully side stepped anyone that was too distracted to not run into you themselves. That was the beauty of large cities, no one cared what you were doing as long as you didn’t bother them. Even if you were dressed for a night out at a club that you had no intentions of visiting.

Chrollo ducked into an alleyway, and you matched his pace and direction easily. Out of sight of the main street you did feel better, even if no one was paying attention before. Now you were unseen by most eyes.

Several twists and turns later the team arrived to the back of the building at last. The last lights of the day had disappeared over the horizon and the noise of night life rose in the form of music and voices from every nearby major street.

Machi  and Pakunoda had been waiting, casually leaning against the back wall of the museum. Their forms were barely visible in the darkened alleyway but you already were familiar enough to know it was them at a distance.

Standing straight, Machi threw her barely visible threads to the rooftop and pulled them to test their grip. Methodically she handed one to Chrollo and you first. You wrapped the silky strand around your hand and Machi tugged the strings with a full body movement which sent you flying towards the roof.

The way she did it so seemingly easy was somewhat shocking. You gripped the roof edge and pulled yourself the rest of the way up, releasing her thread as you did so. “That’s pretty impressive,” you confessed, rubbing your hand from where the thread had bitten into it.

Chrollo had a smug look of pride when you looked at him, but he shrugged, nonchalant. “They are very good at what they do.”

“I guess that is why you’re willing to work with others,” you commented as Machi and Pakunoda pulled themselves onto the roof with grace.

“One of the reasons.”

Machi passed by you to the roof door, pulling a straight pin from the cushion on her left hand as she went.

The door popped open easily and without a word you all entered into the building. Now this was the part you had been excited for, the actual fun.

This was your number one favorite thing.

Once you reached the door for the first floor you motioned for the others to stand back. Being careful to move as slowly as possible, you opened the door the slightest crack and peeked out. The guard wasn’t on this side of the exhibits just yet, and you knew from your long walks that the stairwells weren’t alarmed as the guards used it to go between floors sometimes. It also saved on tech cost to keep the rest of the building on high alert comparatively.

With a deep breath you brought forth your nen into your right hand. Carefully you reached out and touched the outside wall. Emitting your nen across the wall you moved it based on a sensation you couldn’t quite describe. Electricity had a specific, familiar prickling sensation, and once you found it you could tap into it and follow it to your primary target: the cameras. Using the electrical signals, the cameras were manipulatable with your nen. They could flicker, freeze the last visual data they had received, or turn off. The more cameras, the more nen you’d have to use. There were only three in this first area. Easy enough.

“Let’s go,” you said confidently, opening the door and leading the way into the museum. Each camera flickered several times, so as to disguise that there was a sequence that hid you and your companions movements through their areas to the next dark zone.

They stuck to you as closely as they could, never asking a question or seeming to double check your work. It seemed they blindly trusted you, or they really did take Chrollo’s word. Either way there was no chance you were going to be left alone at any point.

Area by area you made your way to the stairs that would allow Chrollo and Machi access to the basement, Pakunoda giving you specific floor plan details along the way. Which was helpful for the places you hadn’t memorized since they hadn’t been integral to your own needs before. But her knowledge was so exact you were curious how she knew it all.

At the door to the stairs you managed to rest a little, only one camera pointed in this direction and freezing it alone was easy enough. Now you didn’t feel so silly for resting extra today since you were expending much more energy than you had intended.

“Nice work,” Chrollo complimented, both hands in his coat pocket. He seemed completely relaxed.

“How will you get to the East entrance?” you asked.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be there,” he said with a smirk. Behind him Machi opened the stairwell that led to the basement and Chrollo gave you a last look over his shoulder as he turned to leave, “Make sure you’re there as well.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you teased, hearing Pakunoda at your back shift.

The two of you continued your path to the section on unidentified artifacts. But first, Pakunoda directed you to the Azia exhibit and you realized that your leading target would probably be that area. It was frustrating, you’d prefer to get your tea set and shrug the woman off, but it was still too early. You wanted Chrollo and Machi to be deeply stuck in the basement first.

The patrol guard was just leaving the exhibit hall as you arrived. “Yeah they have been doing that all week. There is a special electrician coming to check it out,” he said into his walkie talkie as he passed by the alcove in which the two of you hid. Pakunoda looked at you upon hearing this and you merely smiled.

 “I’ll go down there just to be sure as always though. I bet they’re just old. You gotta replace technology every six months these days you know? That’s what the kids all say." The guard continued rambling on about cameras and technology as he made way towards the part of the museum you had come from.

You shrugged at Pakunoda with false ignorance before turning into the exhibit hall.

Again you froze the camera in this hallway, it was easier than making it flicker forever. It took more energy but as long as you only had to do this a few times you’d still have plenty of power. “So you’re an emitter,” Pakunoda said as she stopped at a display case of masks and pointed.

“Guess so,” you replied, pulling your tool from your clutch bag. “I always thought being a manipulator would be easier, but you work with what you get.”

Easily you took each screw out of the case quickly and when you lifted the glass Pakunoda took the masks so you could quietly replace the glass. She wrapped them in cloth and placed them in a bag she had brought with her.

Three more displays of ancient artifacts were taken much the same way, each time you got faster with the strange screws and tool. You noticed Pakunoda’s bag was quite full already and too much more could leave too much room for weight error.

“Let’s move on,” she said and you nodded with relief.

The unidentified artifacts exhibit was small. Only one camera inside, part of the draw for you personally.

But this time as you took the last screw out you pointed to Pakunoda to lift the glass. She looked at you with distrust but you remained firm. “This is the one thing I have to grab with my own hands. Chrollo promised me that right.”

He hadn’t, but maybe she’d fall for that lie anyway.

With a soft sigh she lifted the glass and you could feel your fingers start to tingle with excitement. You pulled from your clutch a folded up object and with a flick of the wrist it folded out into a container. Pakunoda’s eyes widened with surprise as you gently lifted the tea set from its current home into the container. With practiced speed, you folded up the top after dropping all of the soft foam that had taken up the rest of the clutch bag. It would help cushion the tea set so that it would clatter around in the box.

“Thanks,” you told her with a smile. Slowly she started to set the glass down and you backed away silently, dropping your nen from the nearby camera.

“Let’s go,” she said and you nodded innocently.

“Which way? I don’t know the way to the door on the East. I always came in and out from the North.”

She pointed and you nodded turning, resuming your camera manipulations with your nen. She followed too closely for you to try and bring the cameras back up to catch only her, but that didn’t matter. You had gotten her once.

You checked the clock on the wall as you passed by. 10:20 pm. It hadn’t taken you as long as you had thought it would. Maybe you had thought that because you expected that Chrollo had more targets on the first floor. But if they had guessed 11 there was a reason. He and Machi would still be busy in the basement.

The container in your hand was heavy, but you felt so light carrying it. Actually you felt positively giddy. You got what you wanted and in just a few moments you’d be free of your babysitter.

The door to the East exit was just ahead but Pakunoda grabbed you and pulled you to the side behind a large sign that was boasting about a new exhibit. “This should be a camera blind spot. We’ll wait here until Chrollo returns.”

All too happy to drop your nen you nodded. If you had to, you could keep it up for longer, but you were admittedly getting a bit tired and the night wasn’t over yet.

You could hear footsteps running down the tile floor in your direction and managed not to smile. Chrollo and Machi would be too smart to make so much noise, it had to be the guard.

He stopped at the end of the hall and you peeked out from your hiding spot to see him raise his gun. “I know you’re back there. Come out or I will be forced to fire!”

Pakunoda looked at you pointedly and you stared back at her with confusion. “Maybe he saw the cases empty?” you asked shifting more behind the signage.

She frowned and gripped the arm that held the tea set, looking into your eyes with a gaze that could kill. “Then how does he know which exit we are at?”

“It is his job,” you snapped. “How should I know?”

But Pakunoda’s hand on your arm was crushing. The muscles under her grip screamed and your free hand flew to hers to pull back her thumb and force her to relieve some of the pressure. “Let go, you’re hurting me,” you snarled as the emotionless face continued to stare at you.

“You brought the camera back up on me,” she said plainly. “Why?”

A sliver of panic stabbed into your heart. There was no way she should know that. “Never trust a thief,” you told her simply as the guard down the hallway yelled again. “I knew you were going to ditch me. I heard them talking about it earlier.”

She nodded, “I can see that. But maybe you’re jumping to conclusions? You don’t know what was what was going to happen.”

A bullet hit the wall to the side of the two of you, it was just a warning shot. “Never take unnecessary chances. Besides I know the wine, dine, and leave behind trick.” Chrollo had been very charming, there were times in the game that you had slipped and enjoyed yourself a bit too much. But you knew it was all business.

Loud clattering rang against the museum walls, the second floor guard had arrived as back-up. There were at least two more within the building. Time was running out.

“It’s too bad. You had some potential,” Pakunoda said as she shoved you harshly into the hallway.

You bit back a curse, catching yourself before you completely lost footing and fell to the ground. “Put your hands up!” one guard cried.

Pakunoda watched you from behind the sign, her gun raised at you as well. She was aiming purposefully low, intending to wound you so you couldn’t run and would be caught. “You’re right, it is too bad, Paku,” you muttered quietly enough the guards wouldn’t hear a thing. “We could have been friends under different circumstances. Maybe.”

She didn’t react to you, merely watched with a quiet coldness as you slowly knelt and put the box on the ground while the guards barked orders at you and into their walkie talkies. As you slowly lifted your hands over your head, you could see her pull her phone out of her pocket from the corner of your eye. She was telling Machi and Chrollo what had happened, now time was even more limited.

But it was the perfect opportunity. Her attention was split between aiming at you and using her phone, so you dropped low, swinging your leg out to knock over the exhibit sign that she was still taking refuge behind.

Making a quick decision she dropped the phone, gripped her gun with both hands and fired. A bullet from the front whizzed by you when you had dropped down, but you had always been focused on Pakunoda’s gun. She was closer, so she was a bigger threat.

With seconds to spare you angled your supporting foot to launch you away from her target area and then back at her, successfully dodging her shot. Her reaction time was fast and the gun swung around to point at you again and you muttered a mental prayer to whoever would take it that you could be just a little faster as you knocked the hand with the gun away. Someone must have been listening, because the shot missed and you landed on Pakunoda with your entire weight.

There was no time to revel in your victory, using all of your strength you pushed her out into the center of the floor, keeping your feet under you as did so. With one hard push you lept to your box and snatched it up before dashing to the door.

Down the hall, the guards couldn’t clearly see what was happening as the two of you were silhouetted by the lights outside of the exit and it was the only source of light they had to operate off of. This made them slow to react as one shot at you and the other raced down the hallway towards Pakunoda who scrambled for her gun and fired. But you didn’t have time to look back and see what was going on past that. Only the sound of a body hitting the ground gave away any clue.

For fire safety the doors could be pushed open from inside even when locked, so escaping out onto the street was easy.

Your heart was pounding so hard that you had to fight the natural urge to gasp for air as you quickly hustled down the stairs and into the crowd that filled the street on a busy weekend night. It took a second to compose yourself enough to look up and pose yourself to appear natural so as to blend into the people who hadn’t just been shot at several times.

Moments after the door to the museum opened and an angry Pakunoda emerged into the night air. Without a doubt you were sure that both guards were dead, but had she recovered the cell phone in time to also follow you?

Time was actually up now.

You didn’t turn to look at her as you weaved your way through the crowd and turned a corner.

Once out of her line of sight you ducked into the busy bar immediately down the street. The bodies packed inside were unforgiving but you managed to slip around them easily with a practiced dance that required you to twist and turn your body, keeping your prize close to your chest.

It was too dangerous to look around for your tail, because that would make you too obvious, but you hoped she hadn’t seen you as you ducked low enough in the crowd so that you couldn’t be seen. Using the cover of other bodies as a camouflage as you snuck around to the door that lead to the back room. The bartenders had been so busy with orders they didn’t notice you push your way into the kitchen.

The pair preparing simple bar food and closing up for the night didn’t seem to particularly care when you entered the kitchen and immediately went out the back door to the alleyway where everything had started. You couldn’t blame them, it was a busy weekend night and surely they were exhausted.

It was a simple turn around, but you didn’t see any sign of Pakunoda as you reemerged onto the street and hailed a taxi. Not a second could be wasted or stalled so you slipped into the back of the cab without a second cursory look around. As you sank into the seat you could hear the noise of sirens in the distance already coming your way. They sure worked quick in this city.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

You looked closely at him to make sure that he didn’t seem familiar before responding, “Train station.”

The taxi slid away from the sidewalk and into the busy traffic. By the time you hit the first stop light down the street the telling blue and red of the police were already surrounding the museum and you decided to chance a glance, turning to see if you would catch a glimpse of any more action.

“Woah. That is sudden isn’t it?” the driver commented as he looked back in his mirror.

“Yeah. I wonder what happened. I hope it isn’t a fire,” you said with a morose tone.

“Oh that would be awful. I’ve been to that museum a lot. There are a lot of really pretty pieces in there."

“I had hoped to go but I didn’t have time. I was visiting my grandmother for a few days. I did find a nice gift for my husband down town though,” you said lifting the box for him to see. “He loves sweets so I got him a cake from that bakery down the street.”

“Oh! Simple Sweets? I love that place!” The car started to move as police rushed into the museum. “Did you try their pastries? They are so flaky you’ll never want any other pastries in the world.”

You smiled as the driver prattled on for the rest of the drive, caressing the top of your prize like a cat as you barely listened and made the appropriate “oh” and “really?” replies.

Admittedly you’d miss the dress you had left behind. But sacrifices had to be made for good product you decided as you tipped the driver from the clutch bag you had managed to keep track of the entire time. “Thanks for the ride and suggestions! I’ll be sure to try it all next time I visit!”

The driver chuckled and waved goodbye as he got out to help a woman load her bag into the trunk.

Even though you had just been in a pleasant car ride, your heart was still beating heavy in your chest as you bought a ticket and navigated your way through the station toward your platform. With how well trained Chrollo’s team was you knew you’d have to get off early and fly to the next city where you would try to lay low for a bit. There would be a bit of extra footwork this time, but at least the cops wouldn’t be looking for you when they had other perfectly viable suspects.

You bought a ticket for the next train leaving so as soon as you stepped on the platform you were able to board. The entire time the phantom sensation of a weight on your back made your shoulders tense as you navigated the train car to a seat closest to the aisle and away from the large window. The train was pretty empty, both a blessing and a curse. But it gave you a chance to be familiar with everyone that entered and took seats. No one seemed particularly suspicious.

Outside the whistle blew and you sighed hoping that there had been too little time for anyone to make their way here from the museum, what with all the cops and traffic.

Your right side felt icy cold as the train doors slid shut. It was too tempting to ignore, so slowly your eyes slid from the seat in front of you, across the aisle, and out the opposite window.

Standing with his hands casually in his pockets amongst the crowd you could see Chrollo looking right at you. His face seemed passive, neither angry or unconcerned as the train started to move away from the platform. Machi and Pakunoda weren’t in sight, so they were either still busy, or on the train.

But spite that concern you stood and went to the window to watch Chrollo’s dark form slip away, offering a smile and a wave goodbye as the train picked up speed. Before long, even his black silhouette was too far away to make out from the rest of the human forms that waited for their train.

#Chrollo Lucilfer// #Hunter X Hunter// #star fic #hello friends i am not dead

[let-sanji-say-fuck]

Monster Trio with a girlfriend who is a dragon with ability to take on human form, she isn't a DF user.

This ask is pretty interesting, but I’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you were looking for! I’m still pretty happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

Before starting with the boys, have some headcanons on the girl’s background, if you don’t mind my take on it!

Since she is originally a dragon who can take the shape of a human, let’s say that it serves as some kind of defense mechanism for the times when she wants to avoid confrontation with humans who dock on the island where she lives, or an easy way to lull human preys into her den.

Pirates who find her half naked in the middle of nothing often intend to take her with them, so she ends up returning to her original body and devouring them.

Has little to no knowledge on human language and basic society rules, given the brief time spent among humans. She only started covering her human body (although scarcely) after she noticed that the people who came onto the island wore clothes, and has only learned some interjections, words and simple body language, just enough to make her act feel more realistic and less like a trap.

In any case, Chopper is going to be of great help when it comes to communicating with her, because dragons are basically reptiles. He plays a very important role in her development as a civilized human being.

Monkey D. Luffy

We already know how their fist meeting goes. Before Luffy finds out that the dragon can turn into a human person he’s going to want to beat it, then eat it. He’s got both, a powerful enemy and the possibility of tasty meat before his eyes, and added to the fact that, well, he’s Luffy, of course he’s in for delivering a beating!

Is honestly a tiny bit disappointed when the dragon turns into a girl, but the feeling subsides quickly when realization hits him like a brick: a dragon just turned into a girl. How cool is that? A lot for awestruck Luffy, he wants her in his crew. It’s a little complicated to get a positive reaction from her when she can barely understand what he’s saying, though.

The only reason why she lets him drag her onto the ship is because Luffy already defeated her once, and she’s kind of badly hurt. He’s going to feel pretty bad because he actually beat an “innocent” person, and Sanji is going to kick him into apologizing to her.

Given the lack of knowledge on almost anything aside from a lifetime of experiences on how to survive in the wilderness, she’s going to be like a little baby. Luffy taking care of babies tends to not end up going well, so he will need the help of his crew to make sure she ends up becoming a decent human being.

They grew pretty close after this particular time she turned into a dragon and took off… with her Captain perched on her head while she started to fly off to who-knows-where. They came back hours later with a nice Sea King specimen meant to be cooked for dinner, and seemingly closer than before, if Luffy was laughing and patting her head was anything to go by.

Luffy believes in food being the universal language than anyone can speak, so when words don’t work good between both of them, he’s going to invite her to stuff her face in meat with him. He still won’t let her have some of his share, but he’s more than happy when he notices how eager she always is to grab a bite or two or more.

This boy literally can’t go one day without a thrilling flight on her back or head. No matter how often he does it, there’s no way he’s growing sick of it. It’s his favorite kind of “date” with her, and if they end up hunting some tasty big fish to eat that night the experience becomes impossibly better.

He might be a little confused to find out that her ability doesn’t come from having eaten a Devil Fruit, but honestly it just thrills him all the more! Knowing that such a thing as real dragons exists his adventurous curiosity just grows stronger. And of course he’s going to think she’s really powerful and cool! (But he’s still a little upset because he didn’t get the chance to try dragon meat yet).

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro hasn’t had that much experience with dragons, but that ain’t going to stop him from trying to take one on. How sturdy is the body of a dragon again? Oh, he’s very much about to find out. Pretty merciless on his approach, and is honestly expecting a good fight from a creature known to be so fearsome.

So imagine how puzzled he’s going to be when, after defeating it (pretty easily), there’s a kind of “poof”, mist all around and a naked woman falling on top of him, weakly and monotonously repeating “no more” or “please stop”. Hold Sanji, because he’s going to be so jealous and angry.

When he pushes her off and she tries to run away, he’s probably going to stay on the floor for a couple of seconds processing the information. If it hadn’t been for Chopper demanding he went to carry her to the infirmary (of course he’s going to take responsibility, he cut her) he’d have probably let her escape into the forest where she came from.

He thinks it’s pretty annoying that they have to take care of her. Why appear as a menacing, bloodthirsty dragon in the first place if she will need treatment afterwards? He’s even more annoyed by the fact that everyone is giving him dirty looks for doing that to the poor girl. He’s going to have it rough, the boy…

This is the return of Papa Zoro, because that’s what he’s going to be when this girl can’t talk nor understand what he scolds her about, is naïve and literally just follows him around only to flinch shyly when he turns to tell her to cut it off. Oh god, if he had known that defeating a dragon would give him such an infuriating admirer he would have thought twice before drawing his swords.

He will probably start liking her when she starts acting more like a human being and less like a feral beast. Probably starts to see the potential in her ability around this time as well, and might even look forward to docking in deserted islands where he can happily spar against her strong body if she feels up for the challenge.

Not the hardest fan of flying, so he won’t really go with her when she sets off for her daily flight. Zoro would rather die than admit it, but he grows pretty worried if she doesn’t appear in the horizon after a couple of hours. Everyone knows, though, because he’s the one who greets her first, with a good scolding, whenever she takes too long to return.

Is pretty curious about her species, so he’s going to ask her about them when she has some notions on basic language. He wants to know about all kind of dragons she is aware of, how powerful they are, if they can also turn into little pests that he ends up growing fond of… (he hopes not). Quite enjoys these talks with her, even if her struggling with the language kind of ticks him off.

Sanji

He’s the one that’s going to be lulled into her den. Seeing a beautiful young girl scarcely covered running through the forest? Hell, he would have expected her to be a Nymph instead of a dragon, and he’s totally going to try to chase after and find her (once he wakes up from passing out from blood loss).

When he’s on his way he’s going to react a little harshly towards the dragon that just tried to bite his head off though. It’ll totally catch him off guard and he’s going to yelp a little in surprise because he was a little absent, looking for the darling, but he’s definitely going to deliver a good kicking to the dragon for scaring the heck out of him. He doesn’t care that it’s an extremely rare mythical creature, and even wonders if it he can pull a good dish out of its meat. Sanji’s eager to find out.

What he ends up finding out about is that the dragon and the girl are one and the same and he can’t feel more broken inside. His soul is probably going to need to reincarnate through several lives to even come close to consider itself cleansed and worthy of forgiveness after realizing that he kicked a lady. Several times. Unknowingly, but that’s not a valid excuse.

Probably sulks a lot before offering himself to take care of her. He will leave the physical damage treatment part to Chopper (every time he sees the bruises that he caused he wants to curl up in a corner and die), but he’s the one who’s going to spend time with her while she recovers and bring her simple dishes that are easy on the stomach.

The second he finds out that she never had a taste of decent food (raw meat and a couple of berries here and there aren’t decent food) he’s going to be ecstactic and look forward to making her one filling, mouthwatering dish. He wishes he had a camera to capture her delighted expression and excited yelp upon the very first spoonful (that he offered to give her because she doesn’t seem acquainted with these utensils).

He thinks it’s endearing that she depends on him so much when she faces the new world ahead of her, fully as a human. Sanji feels like the prince who helps the sweet little mermaid (dragon) to get used to human society, and the fact that she can’t talk makes him wonder if confessing his love would magically bring a voice of her own. So far he hasn’t had a chance to advance because every time he tries to smooch her, she almost bites his lips off his face (and he’s delighted).

Of course he loves her human body the most, he can just admire it for days on end and won’t ever grow tired of every curve and mole… but he comes to find her original shape absolutely majestic and powerful. He loves that this dragon is the same innocent girl who showed difficulties regarding the use of a knife and a fork and a spoon, but he’s totally going to be at her beck and call whenever she needs him, no matter how many heads she can actually tear off in one bite.

Wants to be by her side when she finally gets a solid hang of the talking thing, like an excited young father. Might even cry a little because when he feels that she’s got better at communication he’s going to start apologizing again for what he did to her, and if the first thing she says to him isn’t that she absolutely forgives him he might as well just throw himself overboard. He’s never letting himself live this one down.

#Monkey D Luffy #Roronoa Zoro #Sanji #Female Pronouns #Headcanons #One Piece #Anonymous

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 25: The Cave (Transcript) - 11th January 2016

tw: body horror, cults, death, kidnapping

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

During his historic journey aboard the HMS Beagle, Charles Darwin spent over a month on an island off the coast of Chile known as Chiloé. It wasn’t his final destination, but he still managed to work and collect information and specimens, including a small, endangered fox known now as “Darwin’s zorro”. He also witnessed the after effects of an earthquake and made note of a rainbow that transitioned from the typical semi-circle to a full circle, right before his eyes - but it was the people he encountered that seemed to impact him most. He later wrote: “They are a humble, quiet, industrious set of men. Although with plenty to eat, the people are very poor, and the lower orders cannot scrape together money sufficient to purchase even the smallest luxuries”. He also noted seeing a pair of black-necked swans, but thankfully Darwin didn’t have the same view of birds that the local people did, and still do, actually. One local historian recalls how, when he was a boy, a hunch-backed heron flew low over his fishing boat. When he told his father, the older man grabbed his shotgun and waited for the bird to return. Why? Because for as long as anyone could remember, the people of Chiloé have believed that some birds are more than they appear. Some people, it seems, believe they are warlocks. Seeing one was a bad omen, hinting that someone close to you would die. All of us are ruled by authority to some degree, whether it’s through our government, our religion or our family ties. Often, it’s all three. But there’s another governing body, one that’s as old as time itself, and on Chiloé, it controlled people for centuries. Sometimes, you see, people are ruled by fear. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The Incas called it “The Place of the Seagulls”. They stayed away from the area, believing it was the border between their empire of prosperity and safety, and the cold, dark wilderness to the south. Chiloé isn’t a large island, perhaps less than 100 miles from north to south, but it’s certainly the largest in the collection of small islands there off the coast of Chile, and to visit it is to go back in time: green hills, mountains in the distance, dark waves of the south Pacific lapping on the shore where colourful houses are built on stilts to stay above the mud and the rocks. Darwin described it as beautiful in 1835. He wrote of the mixture of evergreen trees and tropical vegetation, with the rolling hills and thick forest – and all that green, Darwin postulated, was due to the enormous amount of rainfall. Grey skies and wet soil are a constant of life in Chiloé, then as it is now, and while most people have never heard of the place, the unique churches there have an architectural style that’s earned them classification as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. There are churches, of course, because Jesuit missionaries built them shortly after arriving at the beginning of the 17th century. But don’t let these European artefacts fool you; the culture the Jesuits encountered when they arrived was far outside their realm of experience. The Chiloé of old was home to a vast collection of myths and legends that informed almost every aspect of life, and because much of the economy and culture of the island was built around the fishing industry just as it is today, many of those stories have elements of the sea in them. One example is the legend of the ghost ship known as the Caleuche. According to the stories, the Caleuche patrols the waters off the coast of the island, moving both above the water and below. The ship itself is a sentient being and has the ability to sense when someone from the island has drowned. After they die, these people are brought onto the ship by two sisters and their brother, where their new life can begin. That life consisted of both an eternal party aboard the ship, as well as working as sailors in the transport and unloading of illegal cargo for the island’s merchants. Even today, there are many in Chiloé who claim to have seen the ship, still patrolling the cold waters offshore.

There are other legends that haunt the island as well. Stories speak of the Trauco, a sort of forest troll or little person who lives in hollow trees, deep in the forest. Their task is to protect the trees, but they have also become a convenient scapegoat for unwed mothers. The Trauco, so they say, is irresistible to virgins who wonder into the forest, and those women frequently return home pregnant. La Pincoya is said to be a woman who appears to fishermen along the coast. She is described as young and beautiful, but her hair is covered in wet kelp, and the locals consider her to be an omen, although the outcome depends on the circumstances. If she appears facing the sea, your fishing nets will overflow; if she’s facing you, though, those nets will be empty; and in the rare instances when she appears right in front of a person, legend says it is best to close your eyes and run as fast as you can, lest she seduce you and lead you down into the sea. And one more legend is that of the basilisk, a creature that appears elsewhere around the globe. In Chiloé, though, the basilisk is more than just an enormous snake. Here, it also has the head of a rooster, and hatches from an egg. Some stories tell of how the basilisk will nest beneath a person’s house. During the night, it will slither out and suck the air from the lungs of the people sleeping inside. For as frightening as some of these creatures and stories might be, though, none of them compare to the legends of the Brujo de Chiloé – the warlocks of the island. They have struck fear into the hearts of the locals for centuries. They have shaped many aspects of their culture. They have been blamed for tragedy, for loss, and even for illness and death. Most frightening of all is the simple fact that, unlike all the other legends found on the island, the Brujo were real.

We know the Brujo were real because they were brought to trial in 1880. Almost overnight, what was once little more than a whispered legend - as sort of Chilean bogeyman, if you will – took on flesh and bone, and what the investigation uncovered was truly shocking. Let’s step back, though. It’s important to understand where the warlocks came from, and the short answer is that we don’t really know, but there are ideas, and many of them hold promise and truth. The most common theory is that something powerful was formed as a result of the collision between the indigenous culture and the Catholic faith of the Spanish when they first arrived. The ingredients for this new breed of legend had been there for a very, very long time, though. On one side, we have the machi – these were the traditional shaman of the Chilean culture, the healers, the wise people. Their realm was that of revelations, interpretations of dreams and serving as the oracle for their community. On the other side, there was the kalku – these were the practitioners of black magic, considered to be the witches and warlocks by most people. Unlike the machi, who sat at the centre of their society and were documented religious figures, the kalku were more mythical, spoken of in stories and whispered about at night. The kalku are described as machi gone bad, those who became more interested in selfish gain than serving the community. I know this will be a gross over-simplification, but think of the machi as the Jedi and the kalku as the Sith, the light side and the dark, and as Han Solo recently said, “It’s true. All of it.”

Enter the Spanish conquistadors. They arrived in 1567 and brought countless stories with them of European witches, but the culture in Chiloé has always been very male-driven, and so the idea of a female witch was converted to the male warlock in the public narrative. This melding of religions has actually happened in many countries across the centuries, where the Catholic faith would meet ancient beliefs and rather than wipe it out, would blend with it, unintentionally becoming something new. And that’s how the Brujo were born… maybe. Some scholars make reference to a story from the 17th century of a Spaniard named José de Moraleda, who met them machi and wanted desperately to impress them. He challenged them to a magical duel, and after they brought in one of their best machi, Moraleda was defeated. As a prize, the Spaniard handed over to them a book of spells that he claimed had been gathered from around the world. It was with that book of spells, the legend says, that the Brujo built their cult. Some still refer to it by its original name – the Recta Provincia, “The Righteous Province” – and according to them, this secret group manipulated the culture on the island for two centuries. Initiation into the group was complex and drenched with the occult. The first step was to wash away any remnant of Christian baptism, and they did this by bathing in one of the local rivers for 15 nights in a row. Some of them were instructed to murder a relative or a close friend, and then, when all of that was completed, they had to run around the island naked while invoking the devil’s name. The Brujo maintained their power over the people of Chiloé through an odd mixture of supernatural rumour and mafia-like control. They would most commonly force local farmers to give them produce or money, but they were also known to bribe local authorities and even created a shadow government that ruled in the places where the Spanish didn’t reach, and rather than use violence or traditional weapons to enforce their policies, they used the threat of a curse. Ultimately, it was this game of blackmail and protection rackets that brought an end to their reign over the people of Chiloé, and so in 1880, over 100 members of the cult were arrested and interrogated. Many were released when they turned out to be nothing more than machi looking for nothing more than a community to belong to, but some were held for trial on the charge of murder. The darkest revelations from the trial, though, were never believed. The supernatural creatures, the book of spells, the secret, hidden cave where the cult maintained their seat of power – all of this was passed off as folklore and superstition. However, eye-witness testimony says otherwise.

The trials revealed many new details about the Brujo and their beliefs, practices and inner workings. Some almost sound like they were pulled right out of a children’s book, they’re so simple and benign, while others are downright chilling. For example, one of the men on trial in 1880 revealed that each warlock carried a pet lizard with him. This lizard, according to the man, would be tied to the warlock’s forehead and, because it was magical, of course, it gifted him with powers. These warlocks were even said to communicate and interact with the ghost sailors aboard the Caleuche, using seahorses as aquatic carrier pigeons to pass messages back and forth. Other stories spoke of how the warlocks recruited new spies for their sect. According to the legend, these warlocks would kidnap young women and would give them a special elixir to drink. Once ingested, these girls would vomit until their stomachs and intestines lay on the ground at their feet. Then, lightened of their load, they would transform into birds and do the bidding of their master. None of this, though, compares to what the Brujo were said to have kept in their cave. One of the men on trial in 1880, an elderly man named Mateo, claimed that in the 1860s, he had been asked to visit the cave to feed the creatures kept there, and although his testimony was rejected by the court as fantasy, some have been left wondering. The cave, it is said, was difficult to locate, and rightly so. It contained multiple magical items, including the books of spells the group had received from the Spaniard Moraleda, as well as a bowl that was said to show the future to those who looked into it, and because these were objects of power for the warlocks, they needed to be carefully guarded. The entrance was a door hidden beneath the grass and soil in a rocky canyon near the coast and, with it, a metal key. Mateo told the court that he opened the entrance to the cave only to find two creatures inside that nearly defied description. One was called the chivito, a humanoid creature that was briefly described as “goat-like” and walking on four legs, but it was the other thing in the cave that Mateo had no trouble describing because, at first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a bearded man. This man, though, was deformed – not mildly or by birth, but intentionally and drastically. He was called the imbunche, and although the one that Mateo witnessed appeared to be old, he said that they typically began as infants.

Now, this next part isn’t for the faint of heart, but it’s necessary to understand the level of cruelty and barbarism that this cult practiced. According to writer Bruce Chatwin, who visited the island in 1975, the locals still maintain a good amount of folklore around the creation of the imbunche. The warlocks would kidnap a male, six-month-old child, Chatwin recorded, and then deliver it to the one known as “the deformer”, who lived inside the cave. This man’s job was to shape and disfigure the infant’s body. Its head would be twisted daily until, after many months, it faced backwards. Limbs and fingers would be disjointed, and even its ears and mouth would malformed by the deformer. The final characteristic, according to Chatwin, is the right arm. It would be bent backwards and the hand slipped in to an incision made on the right shoulder blade, and the wound would be sewn up, leaving the arm permanently affixed to the child’s back. Why this was done is something that history has forgotten over the years, but the impact is just as powerful today. Left to guard and inhabit the secret cave of the warlocks, the imbunche was seen less as an act of torture and more as the creation of an essential part of the cult’s society. When one imbunche died, another would be created to take its place. This is the level of darkness these real-life warlocks were capable of, this is what powered the fear they used to enslave and control the people of the island, and this is what many of them confessed to on the stand, that spring in 1880. As a result, many of the accused were sentenced to long prison terms. These were men who had killed, who had cursed neighbours and blackmailed businesses for protection money, and yet the courts couldn’t make their rulings stick. Just one year later, nearly all the warlocks were released. The reason? It was impossible to prove they had belonged to a secret society of black magic, as horrible as the stories had sounded. No one, they thought, could be that evil.

In a world where authority often falls to those with the most wealth, the most weapons or the most connections, it’s unusual to find cases where some other power allows people to rule. But if the story of Chiloé teaches us anything, it’s that fear can be just as powerful as any government official - fear of death, fear of poverty, fear of the unknown. Those who called themselves part of the Brujo in 1880 were card-carrying members of a cult that wielded fear like a weapon. Thankfully, the trial helped to put real faces to the shadows that had plagued the people of Chiloé for centuries. Whether or not they received punishment for their crimes was secondary – the warlocks had been exposed, shattering their illusion of fear. But while many saw the trial as the end of that nightmare, there are some who aren’t so sure. In 2006, the local court there in Chiloé issued a restraining order against Manuel Cardeneus and his brother-in-law. Due to a physical altercation they had had with the 66-year-old farmer named José Marquez, they were prohibited from coming within 10 meters of the old man. When asked why he attacked the farmer, Cardeneus said it was because of an illness his father had been suffering through. Pain had become a constant part of the man’s life, and it had gone on long enough. Cardeneus claimed that his father’s illness had begun after an encounter with Marquez all the way back in 1992. The pain hadn’t stopped since then, and after consulting with a local shaman, they were told why. According to the machi¸ the farmer had cursed their father with black magic, which begs the question: did the trial of 1880 really wipe out the cult of the warlocks, or did some of them slip through the government’s net, living on to spread and grow their sect into the 20th century and beyond? After all, neither the cave nor its occupants were ever found.

[Closing Statements]

#lore podcast #aaron mahnke #podcast transcripts #folklore #cults #dark history #chile #south america #25

[ryanmeyerart]

Grace Hartigan’s “Barbie”

This essay was written in 2012

Opinion alert — Jackson Pollock is the most famous Abstract Expressionist painter. Fact alert — it was in New York City that Pollock and the other artists associated with this new movement blossomed. The “Irascibles,’ as they were dubbed, began to shake up the art world with their new philosophy and aesthetic. The novelty of Abstract Expressionism was powerful enough from the beginning to draw in a younger group of artists. Helen Frankenthaler, Joan Mitchell, Sam Francis, and Grace Hartigan are a few of the artists known as the second generation New York School. Despite her young age, Hartigan was deep in the Cedar Tavern circle and was considered a friend by Pollock, de Kooning, Rothko, Kline, etc. Curious and observant, Hartigan looked outward at her surrounding physical, social, and political world for inspiration. She began to paint a combination of what she saw and what she felt. Her commentary on daily life is the leading characteristic of her work. Her paintings such as Barbie have been interpreted as feminist precursors to pop art, but in reality, Hartigan did not ally herself with either feminism or pop art. For Barbie the output is a statement about the contemporary ‘60’s society. This painting and the great majority of her other works are musings on life and should be viewed the same way one reads poetry. A complete interpretation can only be accurately made by considering her own words as well as clues from her life’s story.

Hartigan was born on March 28, 1922 in New Jersey. She was greatly influenced by her aunt, an english schoolteacher who piqued her interest in writing and theatre which lasted all through high school. She married at age 18 and ended up in California after she and her husband ran out of money on their way to Alaska. They lived there several years with their newborn son until World War II broke out. They decided to move back east where he was then drafted. She began to take night classes to learn drawing and painting and got a job as a draftsman. She fell in love with Matisse after being introduced to book of his work and immediately began seeking out a way to paint like him. She then began to study under Ike Muse and moved to New York with him after she and her husband split. Not much time passed before she and Muse split also and she began to support herself with a “life of total poverty but meeting all marvelous, exciting people.”1 This is a reference to the collection of artists and writers who patronized the Cedar Tavern in the 40’s and 50’s. She visited Pollock’s and de Kooning’s studios and began the journey headfirst into pure Abstract Expressionism which solidified her status in the group as well as Clement Greenberg’s approval. Her first few works in ’49 and ’50 were very gestural and resembled the flat, all over composition of Pollock’s work. This only lasted a couple years before she began to slowly introduce representational elements that are very similar to the figures in de Kooning’s Woman paintings. A key factor in this change was her growing relationship with the poet Frank O’Hara. Hartigan’s childhood love for literature re-blossomed vicariously through O’Hara who dedicated several poems to her. In 1952 O’Hara gave a series of twelve poems called Oranges, Sweet, a Dozen to Hartigan who then turned them into her Orange paintings. This rebellion against Greenberg allowed her to extend her boundaries and begin to develop her own identity as a painter. Her first step was to look back at the Masters like Velasquez, Goya, and Rubens all the while keeping Matisse and the Abstract Expressionist aesthetic in mind. She then began to look outward in the exploration of her world, New York City. For several decades she painted shopping malls, billboards, vendors, shop windows, and anything else that caught her eye and stimulated her mind. Hartigan was overflowing with material that she felt compelled to paint. Throughout the ‘60’s she pulled out all the stops and painted everything from mythical creatures and gods, Marilyn Monroe, lily ponds, human emotions, and Barbie dolls. The only reoccurring visual elements are the gestural forms that came from her Abstract Expressionist background and the bold use of color drawn from her love for Fauvism. This inconsistency of subject matter is the first clue as to Hartigan’s thought processes.

The mistake that critics and historians too often make is the lack of attention paid to Hartigan’s body of work as a whole. When they step back and get the big picture view, they consider it for a couple of minutes and quickly conclude that, “She has reached for new ideas so often that she has no signature style.”2 Naturally at this conclusion, they are forced to focus on individual paintings or small series of them. Unsurprisingly, the interpretations of Hartigan’s Barbie paintings are straightforward and superficial.

The Barbie doll made her debut in 1959 and it was not long before Mattel, Inc. began receiving criticism for the doll’s negative body image. The doll has often been used as a symbol for the unacceptable image of women portrayed in pop-culture. When Hartigan painted Barbie in the heat of the controversy, many people, both feminists and non-feminists, assumed that she was making a feminist statement. The well-informed researcher might also argue his/her point with evidence that Hartigan originally signed her paintings as “George Hartigan” for her first few shows. This has been taken as a statement of the difficulty for women artists to succeed in the world of Abstract Expressionism. However, both of these arguments can be easily refuted by Hartigan’s own words. She has repeatedly denied having any feminist sentiments and even supported Pollock by saying, “The myth I find most infuriating is the one of Jackson Pollock as brawling, woman-hating, drunk and macho. The man was tender, suffering- an inarticulate, shy genius, but people don’t want to hear that about Jackson.”3 When asked why she signed her work “George Hartigan” she replied, “Because I identified with George Sand and George Eliot — they were my heroes. The real story is I had gay friends who all had female names amongst themselves and I thought it would be fun to have a man’s name.”4

The argument that Hartigan’s work is a precursor to Pop art has greater merit, but still doesn’t go much deeper than the paint on the canvas. Nevertheless, Hartigan did paint an abstract work titled, Billboard which can be compared to James Rosenquist’s work, and a couple of paintings of Marilyn Monroe which invariably conjures Warhol’s ghost. These images in addition to the Barbie doll are unquestionable pop culture icons. One can easily imagine Barbie as the subject of a Warhol painting and should not be surprised that he did indeed use the child’s toy in a series of prints. Warhol’s Barbie is very different from Hartigan’s however. In her essay, which analyzes Hartigan’s work, Melody Davis points out that, “Pop art is typically hard-edged, cool, acrylic-painted, repetitive and de-personalized.”5 This is the antithesis to Hartigan’s work. In response to this new aesthetic, she made an unapologetic statement in the 60’s saying, “Pop art is not painting, because painting must have content and emotion.”6 Similar to the contrast between the quality of a hand crafted table that exudes warmth from the carpenter’s personal touch and the mass-produced particle board piece made by machines and sold in an IKEA store, so is the unfriendly relationship of Hartigan and Pop art. It is not uncommon to see the subject of Barbie in everyday life, but just as Dutch genre painting is not Pop art, neither is Hartigan’s work.

Instead, the individual work is one of social commentary. Referring to the Barbie doll, Hartigan made this statement, “I’m very interested in dolls of all cultures, because a doll is an essence, really, of what society thinks you should present to your little girls, about what they’re supposed to plan for, how they’re supposed to think about themselves. And if you’re supposed to think about yourself as a bride that deserves a $100 dress and you only cost $15 and your husband is a castrated man, boy, that tells you something about American morals!”7 Hartigan painted what she saw around her. When she walked throughout New York City she painted vendors and shop windows. When she studied the masters at the MET she painted the scenes and figures that excited her. When she noticed a changing country she painted a doll that symbolized a part of it. Hartigan was not supporting or criticizing mass production, mass marketing, or mass media. She was taking input, processing it, and then giving output. Hartigan explains, “I try to declaw the terribleness of popular culture and turn it into beauty or meaning.”8 Now a motive fueling her creative machine becomes apparent. By zooming out and viewing the entirety of her life and work, we see that Hartigan takes both the ugly and mundane as well as the beautiful and exciting and gives them a poetic quality. This should not be a surprise, given her love for literature as a child, her very close relationships with the poets who patronized the Cedar Tavern (O’Hara in particular), and her “heroes,” the novelists Eliot and Sand. For the final piece of evidence let’s again consider Hartigan’s own words, “As most painting moves closer to sculpture and architecture, my own work moves nearer poetry…It increasingly must be ‘read’ in terms of meaning and metaphor.”9 Hartigan’s bold colors, gestural brushwork, and expression through abstraction are some of the tools she employs to give emotional life to the content that she chooses to paint. The successful viewer is the one who does indeed “read” her paintings. Poetry and Hartigan’s work are musings on life.

With a creative career that lasted over half a century, Hartigan produced a large body of paintings and prints. She did not stray far from her aesthetic, yet changes throughout the decades are visible and tell her life’s story like rings in a tree. Her experiences at the Cedar Tavern were truly invaluable and would cause envy in any historian. Unfortunately, she has been misunderstood a great deal too much. Barbie should be read as a poem, and not as Pop art or feminist art. Only then can one fully appreciate the creative mind of Grace Hartigan.

Bibliography

Diggory, Terence. “Questions of identity in Oranges by Frank O’Hara and Grace Hartigan.” Art Journal 52, no. 4 (Winter93 1993): 41.Academic Search Premier, EBSCOhost (accessed November 9, 2012).

Gibson, Ann Eden. Abstract expressionism: other politics. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1997.

Hartigan, Grace, interview by Julie Haifley. May 10, 1979.

Hartigan, Grace, interview by Jonathan VanDyke. February 12, 2000.

Hobbs, Robert. 1995. “Grace Hartigan: A Painter’s World by Robert Saltonstall Mattison: Reviewed by Robert Hobbs.” Woman’s Art Journal , Vol. 16, №2 (Autumn, 1995 — Winter, 1996), pp. 42–44. JSTOR (accessed October 18, 2012).

Jachec, Nancy. The Philosophy and Politics of Abstract Expressionism: 1940–1960. Cambridge [u.a.: Cambridge Univ., 2000.

Kunitz, Daniel. “Gallery chronicle.” New Criterion 20, no. 3 (November 2001): 51–54. Art Full Text (H.W. Wilson), EBSCOhost (accessed October 19, 2012).

Landau, Ellen G… Reading abstract expressionism. New Haven: Yale, 2005.

Lavazzi, Thomas. 2000. “Lucky Pierre Gets into Finger Paint: Grace Hartigan and Frank O’Hara’s Oranges.” Aurora: The Journal Of The History Of Art 1, 122–137. Art Full Text (H.W. Wilson), EBSCOhost (accessed October 18, 2012).

Lord, M. G.. Forever Barbie: the unauthorized biography of a real doll. New York: Morrow and Co., 1994.

Princenthal, Nancy. 2009. “Grace Hartigan 1922–2008.” Art In America 97, no. 10: 142. Art Full Text (H.W. Wilson), EBSCOhost (accessed October 18, 2012).

Robert Saltonstall Mattison. “Hartigan, Grace.” Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online. Oxford University Press, accessed October 18, 2012,http://www.oxfordartonline.com/subscriber/article/grove/art/T036782.

Shapiro, David, and Cecile Shapiro.Abstract expressionism: a critical record. Cambridge [England: Cambridge University Press, 1990.

#art

[writingfromthestormdrain]

Writeblr Introduction

Hey everyone! I’ve been lurking around the community for the past month and thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself. I’m Writing From The Storm Drain, or just Storm. I’m still in high school, but I really love writing and hope to publish a book in the next two years.

~Genres I write~

Fantasy

Sci-fi

Suspense

Adventure

Mystery 

~Things you’ll find in my writing~

LGBTQ+ characters and relationships 

Diversity in ethnicities

Mythology

Dragons (lots of dragons)

Assassins/Spies

~WIPS~

The Fanged Jewels- 

The Fanged Jewels is placed in a world where it’s either kill or be killed. Humans are famously known as the only non-magical beings in this world. The only way for them to gain powers is for mythical creatures to give them parts of their own powers. However, they’ve found another way to steal powers, and humankind is getting greedier.

The Reapers are a society hell-bent on murdering mythical beings for their tainted powers. They’ve become corrupted, and there isn’t an end in sight. A Revolution of people have stepped up to stop them, but is it too late? 

Five teenagers, each with connections to either the Reapers or the Revolution, are chosen by five of the most powerful dragons to stop this madness. As they learn how to use these gifts without hurting themselves, they also learn how to deal with their past traumas.

~SoulKeepers~  

 Demons and Angels, the two most influential beings in the world. Each are paired with someone to protect and nurture a soul as it journeys through life. Angels protect the innocence of people, they are there to add happiness to their soul’s life. Demons protect the fears of people, they are there to help their soul’s through difficult times in life.

Both are needed to protect the billions of souls, but neither side are happy. The Fairy Queen is getting angry with the Demons’ forceful methods to give people character. The Demon King is fed up with the Fairies’ carefree ways and go with the flow attitudes. When Luna (a Fairy) and Starscape (a Demon) have to council their rulers together, they learn parts about themselves they wouldn’t have otherwise. Can they really work together to help their soul? Or will they crumble under the pressure?

~

The Fanged Jewels is definitely the stronger one of the two here. I’m still trying to convince my older sister to illustrate it (fingers crossed)! But I’ve been working on it for almost a year now. I’ve fallen in love with the story and the characters. I might post some concept work, but I can’t do much until she agrees to illustrate.

SoulKeepers is a newer project, I’ve only been working on it for two months. It’s still extremely shabby and needs a lot of work, but I hope it does well. 

I’m really excited to start posting some more writing! The next short story I hope to post is one that won a couple of awards. I’m really proud of it and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written. My DMs and Asks are always open <3  

#writeblr #writing #my-writing #storm writes #i might make a get to know me later idk