Aworldfullofmuses

In no particular order:

@growinguphartless - Ethan & Cecilia [x]

@hellfirebound - Ethan & Ky’lar [x]

@ribbedxgloves - Matthias & Brent [x] // Cooper & Oakley [x]

@hunterofpixiedust - Ben & Hailey [x] // Rex & Hailey [x]

@voxvulgi - Oakley & Zoran [x] // Arin & Adonis [x]

@theimpalpable - Matthias & Lark [x]

@pantslessoptimism - Dustin & Sophie [x]

@contrarymuses - Arin & Nate [x]

@shesboundtolose - Dario & Lou [i had started on something for them for the plot we discussed before I left...]

@adeadlysong - Dario & Tahirah [x]

Morgana was still incredibly out of it, incapable of processing much other than the fact she knew she couldn’t stand, let alone sit up. She could hear the blood rushing to her head and was mildly aware of the bruises forming on her skin from having collided with the wall due to her sister’s magic. She groaned once more, unable to clear her head of anything other than the pain that had flooded her body. 

Isabelle watched Ethan closely as he listened to the blood flowing in Morgana’s veins. “It’s okay. I can handle it if need be.” She assured him softly, running a hand through his hair to soothe him. “I trust you.”

She took a step back as he got to his feet, crossing the room to her sister who was still heavily disoriented. Brown hues observed as his fangs extended and his eyes darkened with thirst. 

Morgana growled softly, aware that someone was touching her but not of much else. It occurred to Isabelle that perhaps she had thrown her a little too hard. The eldest daughter of Hades was limp in Ethan’s grip, pain racking through her ribs and torso as she was lifted up by her collar. Her heart beat increased its pace as some part of her registered the threat. 

A small gasp followed shortly by a whimper escaped Morgana as Ethan gripped her neck to tilt her head to the side. She felt part of her shirt move to the side and his fingers curl around her wrists. “N-no.” She breathed, attempting to move before he bit into her. 

Isabelle observed carefully and cautiously as Morgana gasped, keeping a watchful eye on Ethan as he fed. She would allow him a moment or two to feed freely but she couldn’t allow him to drain Morgana dry, no matter how tempted she was. 

The mixture of Morgana’s cries and Ethan’s growls were also a great indicator as to when she should step in. Another moment or so passed before she decided it was enough. “That’s enough, love,” Isabelle whispered to him, “Let her go.” Her hand gripped his shoulder, preparing to pull him off her sister if she was required to.

Such weakness, how you’ve tamed yourself. You are a monster, a vampire - drain every single drop until her heart ceased to beat. You can’t escape your true nature - this is who you really are. Do it - kill her! 

His grandfather had never spoken those words to him, and yet he could hear him speak so clearly as if he were standing close by his side. It spurred the thirst, a thick fog clouding his consciousness. The warm and metallic liquid filled his mouth, the vampire’s throat working to swallow in large and frequent gulps. Deep growls and satisfying purrs rumbled in his chest as he fed, the fresh blood coursing through his frozen veins as if to replace his own. The hole in his chest mended shut faster than before, his healing powers enhanced with the consumption of the crimson fluid that pumped into his mouth, courtesy of the frantic beating heart. He could feel his strength returning, the haze in his mind swirling thicker and thicker with each gulp.

A voice cut through the fog, but it wasn’t that of his grandfather’s. At first, he thought of it as another mere illusion, but the hand on his shoulder convinced him otherwise. His sense of rationality gradually returned and he soon found himself back in reality; Morgana writhing in his arms and Isabelle by his side, whispering sweetly and doing just as she promised. He knew that he could trust her and thankfully she trusted him too.

Fangs pulled from the neck wound, the blood continuing to ooze from the small holes. He gently placed Morgana on the floor, staring at her with a bit of sympathy in his dark hues. Any time he fed, didn’t matter who the person was, he felt guilty and remorseful. Most of his donors were unwilling, hypnotized by his abilities; frozen in a state of helplessness as he drained them. Even someone as cruel as Morgana earned a shred of his regret.

There was no doubt in Ky’s mind that the moment things became a little problematic ( or he let down his guard ) that Ethan would use that moment to strike. He’d been involved with Vampires before; not romantically, but, rather, it was purely business, and among other things… he hated them. 

If it was up to him, every single vampire in existence would be eradicated.  It wouldn’t matter who they were or what they could do for him.  They would all be not just dead, but exterminated as well.  

“Your assurances mean nothing.” At least to him, Ky knew what Vampires could do, and how easy restraint could slip from their grasp. So, he was going to take everything Ethan said simply on face value. At least until Ky felt he could have a sense of peace around him  ( but even then that little  part was unlikely to happen ).

“You might be able to control yourself today, maybe even tomorrow as well, but the moment i turn my back,” or let his guard down, “you’ll be ready to stick those fangs where they don’t belong.” Then, Ky would break them off, but he doubted  that he’d needed to state the obvious for the moment.

“You worry about keeping your nature under control and maybe i’ll let you in on everything, but only when the time comes.”

Ethan learned a long time ago that trust was a fickle thing; in all truth, he wanted to be more trusting - of everyone he met - but that was merely a wild dream. People lied, people cheated, people were greedy and selfish - not everyone, but sometimes it was difficult to differentiate them from the genuine. 

The vampire could understand his caution and warning, and yet he couldn’t help but feel the same. How did he know, if Ethan kept up his end of the deal, that Ky’lar would not just kill him anyway? He could sense the feeling of the other’s intense dislike for him and his kind - on a small side note, he wondered what the reason truly was. Did it have a deeper meaning than simply general disgust? Maybe he would find that out. 

“Let us be honest here - it could take years for you to be comfortable enough around me, despite all of my efforts. Why should I waste my time proving that I can remain in control when it may simply be futile on my part?” Ky’lar could threaten him with death all he wanted, Ethan was not afraid of dying. He’s come close many times before, he was used to it by now. It wasn’t dying that frightened him - being forgotten, wasting away without anyone’s second thought however...

“How was that fair and square? I so would have won if those assholes at the table next to use weren’t so annoying.”

Was he mocking her? Maybe. Did Hailey feel mocked? Absolutely not. If anything, his X-Files reference impressed her, and the fact that she was easily impressed didn’t take any of the fun out of it.

As if she hadn’t almost pulled a gun on him, and as if she wasn’t busy actually looking for a ghost, she grinned right back at him. Come on, Hailey. You’ve been looking for a while. If there was a ghost here at all, the EMF meter would have at least flinched aside from that one time. Honestly? Maybe it had gone off a couple of minutes ago because Hailey’s chances at being useful tonight were so, very dead.

“You have a winner!” she exclaimed as if she were serious. “My name is Scully. Hailey Scully. I look for ghosts sometimes.” And other times, she looks for vampires or shapeshifters or demons. But telling this stranger about the ghostbusting was already a risky jumpstart for this conversation. Worst case scenario was he’d think she was drunk or high and try to take advantage of that. Not that she looked like she was either, but she sure spoke like it.

She bit her tongue to refrain from referring to herself as a unicorn.

Then, she said, “What are you doing here all alone? You’re not ghostbusting, are you?” Hailey didn’t carry only fatal weapons. She also had pepper spray.

She...was an odd one. He’s met many different kinds of people in his biologically seventy-four year lifetime, he shouldn’t have been surprised by such peculiar behavior. Was she serious? Was she naive? Or just plain stupid? He would put money on the girl being easy prey for him, a little bit of charming to lure her in - perhaps there not even any need to hypnotize her. He liked that idea; the thought of watching her struggle futility as he overpowers her, the delicious fear in her pretty eyes and splashed all over her cute face. A grin curled his lips.

Benjamin chuckled, his amusement unknown to be genuine or fake. He tilted his head a small bit as he looked at her, taking a moment to study her (or rather imagine his fangs sinking into her beautiful neck) for a moment. “I think you mean Dana Scully.” ‘Hailey’ was no where near sounding the same as the actual name, he wondered if it was actually a mistake. 

“I’m what you would call a ‘night drifter’. I’m just taking a long stroll without a specific destination - doesn’t matter to me where I end up, I’m just following an ever changing path.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but he did leave out a couple of crucial and truthful details. “A little more believable then ghost hunting, wouldn’t you say?” He continued to maintain a sense of ignorance to the supernatural, the time to reveal his true nature not quite upon him yet.

Cecilia shook her head and exhaled, showing a little sign of lacking confidence. She wasn’t the most confident in the painting medium.

“I’m great with color schemes and mixing and everything that has to do with the before painting steps,” she admitted. “And I am good with the semantic of painting…but I just…the techniques are hard for me and it all turns out really unoriginal and mediocre. The lighting is always off by a degree and the shadows don’t mimic the right way.” The was all the truth, and it was frustrating for her. “Sketching is less pressure, I think. Easier to fix when it’s gone awry.”

God there was a metaphor for her personal life in there somewhere, she was sure. That thought made her heart skip at least a beat. Cecilia wasn’t ofter honest with herself about her social tendencies and she felt her eyes go back to the scene in front of her, focusing specifically on the water she could see. She watched the waves move up and down and tried to follow the waves in her breathing pattern.

“I’d like to be a better painter, but I’ve grown tired of the traditional teaching methods of art professors…so I make references in a medium I have confidence in and paint in private.”

It sadden him to see the skepticism she seemed to exhibit from his words. He always sought to encourage people, taking particular interest in fellow artists, finding himself having faith in complete strangers - men and women he didn’t know at all but that didn’t quite matter, so long as he had an idea of their talent. He understood what she spoke of, though, having experienced his own challenges many times before - he didn’t think of himself as perfect as some of his ‘fans’ have claimed. Would he deny that he was born with the talent, no, but he’s had just under two centuries of practice to hone and master his skill. But that didn’t mean he never experienced mistakes or endure any difficulties since. How many canvases has he tossed because he was unhappy with the progress or result? And yet, he would discourage others to do the same. 

“I suppose it is all in preference - which I can understand,” he said, his gaze turning to the painting he was working on; he eyed and studied it carefully, looking for any place for new additions or touch ups. He was practically finished and, upon inspecting the completed work, felt satisfied with what he had done. He began to pack his supplies.

“Souls are not of anyone’s property, if that is what you are implying. Corpses on the other hand, well they’re just lying there and like you say are decomposing, so no one is using them, not even their previous owners,” he spoke calmly, knowing that the longer he stayed composed, the more it was infuriating the other. 

“And clearly you have no idea of what I do, or even capable of, but I get it. I get your sense of disarray upon knowing that I perform necromancy when you yourself think it’s me simply putting a soul back into a decaying body. But it’s more than that, trust me. I feel- if I can just explain how the process truly works, then maybe you’ll be more understanding? Because I do harness the power from the Book of the Dead and how to reverse the afterlife processes. I know how to restore the body to it’s alive form, and have it expedite the healing process, even regenerate limbs completely through advanced technology and sorcery merging together. But I doubt you’re even interested to learn… since you’re here to scowl and threaten me.”

Matthias scoffed. Arms cross over his chest, dark eyes rolling as he unenthusiastically listens to the other male’s boring speech. Maybe once, when he was still human - still alive - he would have believed the necromancer’s words, that he was doing something good by bringing the dead back to life. Christ, if he wasn’t bound to be Hell’s bitch, maybe he wouldn’t be arguing with him now - if there was any chance to hope that maybe, just maybe, his sins could be corrected and even forgiven; his family - his parents and sisters, his WIFE...

But he knew better. It wasn’t possible. And he shouldn’t waste his time on dreams and hopes when there was no point in having them. All he had were the orders he had been given, to collect souls - he wasn’t about to let this necro fuck that up for him [if anything, that was Matthias’ job].

Pepper is a six year old Russian Blue cat, adopted from an animal shelter as a two month old kitten. While visiting the shelter in search for a new best friend for his goddaughter Poppy (before she became his step-daughter after he began dating her mother Rebecca), Dario came across a litter of Russian Blue kittens ready to be chosen for their forever homes and took the laziest one of the bunch who he found all curled up and asleep in the corner of the pen despite all the noise and commotion coming from her siblings. And Pepper hasn’t grown out of her slothy nature; while Dario has brought out a playful side, for most of the day Pepper can be found laying curled in a ball - usually in sunlight if there’s any - and sleeping the day away. Dario discovered that Pepper can be grumpy and moody when she’s awakened from her nap, even after hours of sleeping, and is only in the mood for cuddles and playtime after she’s had her fill of food. Dario affectionately calls her his “old lady [cat]”.

(Trigger Warning In Effect: This paragraphs contains mentions of animal harm ; honestly, I’m tagging it as tw animal harm for the condition his cat was found in though I am unsure if that is the right thing to tag. If not or if there is any other tag suggestions, please let me know and I will fix/add them) Ruby is a two year old Ragdoll cat and the most recent addition to his furry family. Adopted from a shelter in Washington, Dario was smitten with little Ruby after seeing her and hearing her story; she was brought to the shelter by someone who found the cat living in a dumpster and was in terrible condition - fleas and ticks covered her fur and skin, her hind right leg and front left paw were broken, and she very malnourished from living on the streets - the shelter workers had to shave off her fur to treat the infestation better and also to fix her injuries. It is still unknown if she was injured while living on as a stray or if someone mistreated and abused her. When Dario saw her in her cage - two paws encased in bright pink casts, eyes so big and blue, and a little bit of her tongue sticking out of her mouth - he deeply felt that he needed to be the one to heal the cat and give her a much better life than what she’s already been through. With instructions given to him by a vet on how to take care of her and what to watch out for with her injuries and conditions, Dario took home the Ragdoll and nursed her back to full health, with her long and gorgeous coat of fur growing back and showing how truly beautiful she is - that’s when he saw who little miss Ruby really was. In short, his newest feline friend is quite the diva and very attention seeking, doing almost anything she can to be noticed. She’s incredibly cuddly and affectionate, and it seems as though that she knows she’s beautiful by the way she will posture herself when she’s sitting or laying on her back for belly rubs. Ruby likes to sleep in the bed with Dario, positioning herself right above his head on the pillow - Dario often wakes up with either her fluffy tail or a paw in his face.

your writing gives me life *-*

        deeks  was  a  hostile  man  by  nature  and  when  it  came  to  his  family  he  was  even  more  so.  it  wasn't  uncanny  for  him  to  hate  someone  just  on  the  principle  of  protecting  his  family.  and  yeah  maybe  he  had  already  made  his  decisions  about  ethan              the  one  difference  being  for  lizza's  sake  he  would  give  ethan  ONE CHANCE  to  change  his  mind.  mitch  was  the  more  pleasant  of  the  two  whilst  deeks  was  just  hostile  and  vicious.  his  inner  monster  already  telling  him  that  ethan  was  hiding  something    ,    guess  the  good  thing  was  that  they  were  in  mitch's  house  which  mean  he  had  to  play  nice  as  charlie  would  no  doubt  be  back  soon.         the  scent  deeks  was  smelling  had  his  shackles  raised  and  every  protective  insinct  he  had  on  high  alert  but  he  fights  it.  for  the  time  being    ,    he  was  dangerous  and  calculative  enough  to  know  when  to  make  a  move  and  right  now  he  wanted  answers.  ones  the  male  had  and  well  killing  him  would  put  him  in  lizza's  doghouse  and  yeah  not  a  good  thing.  he  watches  ethan  with  a  INTRIGUING  look  as  the  other  almost  seems  to  be  putting  something  inside  of  him  into  a  cage.  something  deeks  could  wholeheartedly  understand  given  he  did  it  daily.         ethan's  words  have  a  HARSH  chukle  falling  off  deeks  lips  as  he  moves  and  causally  walks  past  ethan.  motions  idle  as  he  scans  a  picture  giving  ethan  his  back            and  also  a  clear  view  of  the  bitemark  on  the  back  of  his  neck  which  to  supernatural  eyes  gave  away  just  what  he  was.  if  his  scent  hadn't  already.         ❛      you  know  i've  killed  men  for  telling  me  better  lies  than  that  one.   ❜        he  turns  to  face  ethan  finally  and  there's  a  smirk  on  his  face.  which  could  mean  he  was  joking    ,    downside  being  he  wasn't  at  all.         his  dark  eyes  showed  that  right  now  he  was  intent  on  finding  out  why  ethan  was  lying    ,    like  a  man  with  a  bone  as  it  were.  a  soft  sigh  falling  off  his  lips  as  he  leans  against  the  wall  ,  legs  crossing  at  the  ankles  as  arms  cross  over  his  chest.        ❛      you  know  you're  lucky  that  lizza  loves  you    ,    though  that  girl  sees  the  best  in  anyone.  take  me  for  instance.  but  the  difference  is  she  forgives  lies    ,  i  don't  so  why  don't  we  just  drop  the  charade.   ❜    words  spoken  with  a  tainted  edge  of  anger  as  he  GUESSED  getting  to  the  truth  will  be  a  slow  ordeal.

Dark hues flicker to the other man, exasperation cracking in the mask he wore. He really couldn’t blame Deeks for his current actions - stalking around Ethan like a predator would a wounded prey, only Deeks had no intention (yet) of putting him out of his misery. He seemed to be just toying with him - but why? Why did he seem so intent on making Ethan admit what was really going on? He knew, Ethan had no doubt about that, and yet it felt like that wasn’t enough for him. He was only being protective, that was the argument he made, but the demon inside believed there was more to it. That side had more leverage in his internal conflict and was winning the fight, resulting in Ethan feeling defensive. 

With Lizza in another room, hopefully seeking treatment for her cut no matter how small it was, and no one else around but the two of them at the moment Ethan composed himself and stood tall, his back straightening. He closed his eyes and ceased to breathe, cutting the artificial flow to his lungs. The smell of his beloved’s blood lingered in his senses still, it wouldn’t go away any time soon, but he gathered as much of the control that slipped from him moments earlier. Hands fixed and adjusted the blazer he wore, brushing the wrinkles out of the collar and breast portion of the suit jacket. 

Behind closed lids, a red storm swirled, bleeding from black pupils and engulfing dark irises. If he were to open his eyes, if he didn’t know for certain before then Deeks would understand quite clearly upon seeing the bloody crimson in his hues. In his mouth, the pressure of teeth sharpening and extending to a fine point could be felt; his appearance taking shape of his true nature. 

He wanted the ‘charade’ to end, did he? 

Deep in his chest, a low growl rumbled.

He wanted the truth? He wanted to know his secret? He wanted to see it? 

He didn’t deserve to. He hadn’t earned the trust the vampire valued so much. Lizza had seen it by accident, Ethan didn’t have a choice to show her, unlike right now in this moment. Ethan took a rather long deep breathe, releasing the flow through slightly parted lips. The exercise was enough to quell the monster.

“You are right, I am lucky.” Lids flutter open, eyes soft and his natural brown hue. He turns his gaze to his girlfriend’s family. “I am the luckiest man in the world to be loved by the most wonderful and beautiful, kind and intelligent of all women. I understand what this is, what you are doing - I know you are only looking out for Lizza, as family would. I do not intend to harm her, if that is what worries you.” He’s promised that to Lizza herself many a time. “Believe me or not, that remains to be true.” 

This wasn’t the time or place to give him the answers he sought.

Holden was young, and to be out of rehab and sober was both an accomplishment and an anomaly. Not many people could say they beat drugs, but he could. Except he hated to admit that it had happened, so telling a doctor about it was strange and not even close to a good feeling. He hated it, actually. 

“I’d just like treatment to be external…you know, rest and elevation or whatever that fixes shit that’s not really broken,” he said, trying to avoid eye contact with his ER doctor. 

It seemed stupid for him to be here and he wished Marissa hadn’t made him come. But he was here, so he had to just let it play out. So he did. The doctor left, the nurse came in, and within the hour he had gotten x-rays and given a list to the nurse of the drugs he had used. She had taken a list of cocaine, oxy, and heroin being higher on the list. His track marks would have told someone who was paying attention. Cocaine was his main, though, which was why he was under 23 and has a heart attack on his medical record.

He waited, leaning back and staring up at the florescent lights while the doctor read his exams. His fingers drummed on his stomach, his nerves going off. The throbbing in his foot told him it was probably broken and he wanted to just get up and leave before he knew. 

While Arin waited for his patient’s examinations to finish, he went up to his boss’s office to have a chat with him, needing some guidance and advice on what he should do with Holden’s condition in terms of medications. There wasn’t much he could prescribe to the young man, as all the pain killers that came to mind could potentially strike up a relapse for him; not only did he personally want to avoid that, but professionally he had to in order to avoid a law suit. Arin admitted to the Chief of Surgery that he wanted to give the younger something to help with his pain, but was reminded of the obvious - he couldn’t chance it. He hated the thought of leaving Holden to deal with the pain on his own, but he didn’t have much choice, did he? But Arin wasn’t someone who gave up something so easily without considering other options - though, all of that would have to wait until he had the results of Holden’s x-rays. 

He consulted with the Orthopedist once the results were ready; Dr. Torres informed him of the Holden’s condition and the severity, and also told him what the plan was for treatment. He thanked his colleague and took the results with him back to his patient’s room - Dr. Torres would have accompanied him if another consult hadn’t been brought to his attention, the severity of that case being more critical than his own patient’s. But Arin could handle it - he dabbled in several fields during his studies for the purpose of deciding which field he wanted to specialize in after he graduated. Though he was a general surgeon, he had the qualifications to take on other specialty cases. 

“Okay, so,” Arin began, exhaling his words as he pulled out the x-ray film for visual representation, using his pinky to point to the injury as he spoke. “Unfortunately, it’s not a sprain - your foot is definitely broken. Good news, you don’t need any surgery to repair the damage. We’ll just cast it, and we’ll be putting a splint along this part of your injury,” he gestured what he was referring to, “that’ll help support and steady the broken bone while it heals, just as an added precaution. Once the cast is on, we’ll provide you with crutches to use for mobility - I recommend that you keep your foot elevated when you walk, at least until about three to four weeks into your recovering - same thing as when you’re sleeping. Try not to put any weight on it until then. If all goes well, it should take no more than between six and eight weeks for you to fully recover. Despite your addiction and the complications because of it, you’re still in pretty good shape and health so I don’t see it taking too long. You’re lucky, it’s not as bad as it could be.” He gave Holden a warm, reassuring smile.