Ventur was feeling pissed off. He’d been feeling that way more often recently and that just seemed to piss him off even more. He felt like it was harder and harder to control himself and he was getting into more and more arguments with his friends because of it. Even Theo, who would usually sit calmly as Ventur paced and ranted about his troubles was starting to make pointed comments. Then there was Rheandra. She seemed to actively seek him out and wound him up on a daily basis. She would talk in her exasperated way about how magic is power and should be embraced for the good of all, about what he should be doing with his unique ‘gifts’ and about what she would do once she was free of this prison she was so tragically confined in.
QP-id has decided that the humans around him need help. He has a plan to spread love and happiness. He’s going to take it one experiment at a time.
NC17: M/M, Mind Reading, Oral Sex.
What the fuck had he drank last night? He hadn’t remembered having that much. Maybe a beer or two over what he’d usually have, but nothing too extreme. He’d even managed to have a decent conversation with the bartender after Connor had disappeared onto the dance floor. Well, that’s what he’d thought at the time anyway. Now, well now, his head felt like it had been invaded by a swarm of bees and they weren’t at all happy about the situation.
Blearily John crawled out of his bed and stumbled to the bathroom for some pain killers. He opened the cabinet above the sink and saw the empty box, lid still open, sitting on the bottom shelf.
The soul drifted, lost in the vortex. It knew only absence and loss. It felt no pain because it lacked any form, but it yearned, oh how it yearned. It yearned for sensation and for the connection it knew on an instinctual level was possible. It was so cold and so alone it didn’t understand how it had come to this place nor how to escape it. Time was its enemy here, it knew. It just didn’t know how to fight or why the war was even taking place.
Jim’s world was full of nothing but monotony and run of the mill criminal activities. with nothing interesting looming on the HORIZON, the arrival of a new student is just the distraction he was looking for.
Dean is looking to leave his past behind him. starting afresh in a new school and new country was THE best idea he ever had. Unfortunately for him, fate had other plans.
PG13: Magic, tragic pasts and monsters. Have fun!
Jim woke up with a jolt and stared at his beige ceiling. He turned to his left and stared at his beige wall for a bit before deciding to get out of his cream coloured bed and pad over to his crisp white computer. Boring. Life was just so boring.
Work In Progress. Check Back for More Updates.
It had been a long ten years. After this was over Meladath swore she would never teach a single person anything ever again. How people did this job their entire lives she could not understand. She saw the other teachers in the corridors and they smiled at the children, they actually smiled. Did they put something in the water around here? The blood they served for meals wasn’t exactly the standard she was used to but then again, donor blood never was. It lacked the sweetness that accompanied a truly corrupt soul. So maybe they were drugging the water after all? She wouldn’t put it past the damned Headmistress.
Cóir observed the barely controlled chaos around him as Ventur was led away by flustered but well-meaning teachers and the Vampire child had been calmed down and shown to the nurse’s office for the Vampire equivalent of a hot tea and a biscuit. The fake headmistress had disappeared soon after the real one had arrived, much to the relief of everyone involved. He studied the Headmistress, his sightless gaze taking in everything. She was clearly terrified and completely out of her depth. She had no idea what was going on or what to do, she was in need of a scapegoat and fast. Cóir wasn’t surprised when, after managing to stay calm in front of both the children and staff, she rounded on him like a maddened Harpy.
Cóir sat staring at nothing, listening to the sounds that filled his world and contemplating the conundrum that perched on the other side of his door. This particular conundrum sat on a hard wooden bench that was designed in such a way as to keep the most determined of visitors from overstaying their welcome. Not even the ghastly deputy head who plagued the building fifty years back had managed longer than twenty minutes on the contraption. So far this kid had lasted nearly an hour.
Cóir was impressed. In Cóir’s endless campaign to be left alone to do his work he had found that his personal brand of defensive furniture was a formidable force for good. His creations had never failed him. Indeed, in the nearly 300 years that he had been a visiting professor at the school, no one had managed to withstand the mixture of masterwork carpentry and deeply ingrained magics, that he had personally combined in order to produce the most disconcerting bench he could imagine.
A fateful meeting in the park shows Helen more than just her own future.
Helen felt the chill as she walked along the park path and pulled her woollen coat tighter around herself. Her deep red stilettos clicked at a rapid pace across the uneven gravel and her pencil skirt, so suited for the hi-rise office she worked in during the day, now meant that she had to take two steps for every one she would have usually.
There was no one around her but as the hairs on the back of her neck rose, she rummaged around in her Prada handbag for her pepper spray. Her fingers had just clasped the cylinder when she felt hands wrap around her throat and waist in one sudden and terrifying embrace.