Stiles grabs the vampire by the arm and sort of hefts it up, just enough clearance to hack off another limb and throw it on the steadily burning pile. He makes a pleased sound in his throat at how cleanly Danny’s sword cuts through flesh and bone. So much better than his bat. But it’s not as messy and there’s something very satisfying about the solid thunk of pulpy flesh. Allison always liked the way the blood splattered around the nails, too. Stiles shrugs to himself and beheads another vampire; he’s only borrowing it.
Allison bounces on the balls of her feet, eyes wildly alert and dilated like she’s just shot up. She took down four of the vampires in the first two minutes—it’s almost the same thing. “That smells really nice.”
Lydia shoots her a glittering smile and adds another vial of something pale pink and bubbly to the burning pile of corpses… or what’s left of them. “Thank you, I made it this morning. Can’t leave any evidence.”
The chemicals turn the flames an even brighter orange and fill the glen with the smell of something sharp and floral. If any civilians come through this way, there’ll be nothing left to suggest anything went down. The pack will know what happened, but it’ll already be too late by that point.
With a giggle Allison grabs fistfuls of Lydia’s jacket and yanks her close for a kiss, teeth catching on her perfect lips.
Stiles watches from the other side of the fire, grin wide and dangerously at ease. He’s smeared in blood and dirt, but it stopped bothering him a long time ago. If anything it helps cover his own scent (that’s what he told Scott anyways). He watches and waits for the rest of the brood. They’ll come as soon as they realize what’s happened, and that’s exactly what Stiles wants. The pack said they’d deal with it, but the pack is so slow sometimes.
* * *
The armadillo waddled up to the couch and bumped into Caleb’s shin. Repeatedly. Without looking he reached down and picked it up, depositing it on the couch cushion between himself and Emily.
Dalton watched as the armadillo did not settle down, as he expected (but then that would be assuming Cas was a normal pet, and nothing about Emily and Caleb was normal). It merely walked over Emily’s lap to the other end of the couch, turned around, and began ambling back again. It climbed over Emily, over Caleb, and paused momentarily by his leg. It looked up at him before climbing across his lap and to the other arm of the couch, where it turned and began the process all over again.
“What’s up with Cas?” Dalton asked.
“Patrolling,” Emily said. She leaned forward for the popcorn bowl and held it up so Cas could pass underneath. “He’s obviously a defender of the night, keeping the couch safe.”
Caleb took his hand and intertwined their fingers. “He has to protect us from crooks and super-villains.”
“And it’s Bruce,” Emily said.
“The armadillo. His name is Bruce this week.”
“Oh.” Dalton watched the armadillo pace the length of the couch a few more times as Emily and Caleb squabbled about what movie they were going to watch. “You should get a turtle. Or a rabbit.”
“What on earth for?” Caleb asked.
Dalton shrugged and leaned across him for the popcorn. “Bruce needs an arch-enemy. Every hero does.”
Emily raised her eyebrows at Caleb, nodding. “I like this one.”
You can have some of my original fiction UvU
“I gave it breath, why can’t I take it away?”
“Because they are creatures who exist and survive, and must be respected and given opportunity to run their own fate.” He gave her a stern look and she huffed.
He crouched down and looked her straight in the eye, gaze at once sharp and intense. For a moment it was as if he didn’t have eyes at all, merely gaping sockets in bone—hollow and hungry. “And I am the one who takes breath away. The only one. For how irresponsible would it be to give such a gift to a child who plays at being naive.”
She leaned away quickly, innocence dropping away entirely. At once she was older—larger and shape more befitting. Her hair floated and fingers long and lovely as if they were more suited to crafting clay. Her eyes glowed with the light of the cosmos. When Life spoke, her voice hummed with barely contained energy; raw energy that struggled to be free like the waves beating against the surf.
“And what of those who take their own life? Or that of anothers? Who receive my gift and spit in my face as they snuff it out? What about those who turn something precious into something broken!”
Death stood; an ever-growing shadow that loomed over her. “You can do nothing, because there is nothing more powerful than free will. You can give breath, but you cannot dictate how they will use it.”
The Habit helps you cope
Before consuming you in the same way
The previous problem did
Leaving you vulnerable and sick and broken
Lydia has two special bottles in the far corner of her nail polish box. The clear one is thick and shiny like glass. She puts three coats of it on her freshly filed nails.
Stiles shoots her a look. She smiles back, blowing on them until they’re dry.
Allison takes another pull of the nice, red wine Lydia brought before putting her patched jeans aside and begins mending Stiles’ jacket. There’s an eight inch rip in the left shoulder and she remembers how much blood there was. She remembers the rotting gore in the Minotaur’s teeth and the rust on every ring in its face. She remembers how the moonlight reflected off Stiles’ blood as it dried in the beast’s fur. She takes another drink and fiddles with the stereo until the Top 40 replace the sound of her own too loud breathing.
Lydia takes out the other bottle. It’s different. It’s old and the glass murky and the top is a silicon stopper that takes a bit of wiggling before it pops free. The paint is thin and pale indigo. At first it smells sweet, a rush of berries and flowers and honey, and then it smells like nothing at all. More than that. It smells like the absence of scent, and it makes Stiles’ blood run cold.
“Careful,” he warns. He wishes she would stop.
“Always,” she says, flippant and unconcerned. But she holds her hands out and spreads her fingers wide, making sure they touch nothing, watching them with a scary obsessiveness.
It dries unnaturally fast and she’s quick to put another clear coat on it, really seal it in, before it starts to crack and flake. When they’re dry she taps the tips on the edge of Allison’s bow and Stiles can’t deny that the sharp sound, the solid sound of how strong her nails are, is unbearably attractive.
Lydia holds her hand out for Allison to see, who giggles and sucks the fingers into her mouth. Leans over into Lydia and looks up at her through her eyelashes.
“Careful,” Stiles warns. But the purple is so pretty, and when Lydia reaches out with her other hand to trace her nails down his face, thumb rubbing along his bottom lip, he can’t help but lean into how cold they are against his skin. He knows that no matter what, no matter how long they spend pressed against him, inside him, that the wolfsbane in the mixture will keep her nails cold like ice. And Stiles doesn’t know what he likes better—the danger of it, or the recklessness in her bright eyes.
Pairing: Stephanie Brown/Damian Wayne
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: Stephanie doesn’t need to be Robin, owning him is more than enough.
I found another fic I had written for Thren, but never posted.
Tiny boyfriends this time, being cute at the zoo <3
Once upon a time Damian took Colin to the zoo. Over in Metropolis. In his private jet (flown by Alfred of course).
Once I wrote Thren JayTim, with Jason bottoming. And it just occured to me that I never actually posted it.
It’s pretty short
Title: Little Things
Word Count: 3k
Summary: Tim doesn’t know why Jason’s started dropping in on him at odd times but… he’s not exactly complaining.
Happy (Late) Anniversary, Jen <3
Prologue: 24 times two freshman roommates accidentally had sex, and the 1 time it fucked everything up
Word Count: ~8.6k
Summary: Boarding School AU [Based on this 3-sentence fic]
They have sex twice in the first week they know each other. Freshman orientation week at Beacon Hills Boys Academy is always a hectic affair, with too many emotions flying around and whipping the students into mob-like frenzies.
Scott and Stiles had exchanged enough emails during the summer that when they both moved in that sunny day in August, they clicked like they’d been best friends forever. Easily slid into each other’s lives and routines because that’s what felt most natural. Like they finally belonged. It was that that spurred them, alongside the terrifying realization that they were alone now, counties away from home and only half a dorm room to their name. That terrible loneliness of being in the big world without a familiar face, and finding someone who felt like they were meant to fill that anxious hole at their core.
When you are fourteen-going-on-fifteen everything seems different and you see the world in a warped vision. Tender and vulnerable—anyone sent away to boarding school at such an age would cling to any stability they could find. Curious and suddenly so free, anyone would make stupid mistakes. Rush into things they have no real understanding of.
Fandom: Teen Wolf/Disney
Pairing: Erica Reyes/Allison Argent
Word Count: ~8.2k
Once upon a time, deep in the Dark Forest, bordering the Beacon Kingdom, a maiden named Erica lived, along with her Step-Alpha Derek and her two pack brothers, Boyd and Isaac. They were nice enough, but made fun of her often for losing control on the full moon.