A Blog of Questionable Repute

Vampirism. Lycanthropy. Cheap spells gone wrong. A woman brought in for her prenatal has to be told her baby is a lindworm. Someone is literally being followed by the anthropomorphic personification of the Black Death.

little cenozoic guys

You are posted out by the Hollywood sign tonight, sitting under the frame where the W used to be. It got burnt to a crisp during last week’s big superhero fight. A hero died right where you’re sitting. The whole area’s been closed down until Hero Force can coordinate a recovery effort. Usually it’d be done by now but no one’s willing to touch it until the ash has been completely blown away.

It’s a rule that the world must stand still when a hero dies.

“How much?”

The voice comes from behind you. The lights that illuminate the Hollywood sign are down to hide as much of the scorch marks as possible. You wouldn’t be able to see anything even if you did turn around, so you don’t.

You put some chapstick on, the glide of the balm against your wind chapped lips grounding.

“I said,” the Hero says, voice tightening, “How. Much.”

There’s the sound of gravel crunching now. They’re wearing heavy boots and the scent of fresh blood grows stronger the closer they get. Their breathing is smooth and even which means it’s not their blood.

You put the cap back on your chapstick and tuck it into your leather jacket’s inner pocket. “I don’t take money.”

“Then what do you take?” The Hero rounds the Y and comes into your line of sight. The dark hides most of their features, but you can make out a glittering gold mask and the dull shine of drying blood on their chest plate. Their breathing may be even, but their stance isn’t. They sway in place, back and forth, back and forth. Their arms wrap around their stomach. “I’ve got land. A house. You can have it.”

He stops short where he’s stooped down low in front of the open fridge, looking for leftover pie, and blinks up at Dex’s back. “Yo, where’s Bits?”

Dex doesn’t bother turning around from where he’s stirring something on the stove. “Class I think? Not sure.”

“So you’re just… cooking. By yourself.” Nursey stands up and lets the fridge door swing closed, pie forgotten.

“I keep trying to tell you guys it’s not a big deal,” Dex huffs. “All you have to do is–”

“–follow the instructions, yeah yeah, whatever. Why are you cooking?” Nursey narrows his eyes. “Is this for dibs?”

“Oh fuck off, Nurse. Unlike some people, not everything I do around the Haus is just because I–”

But lightning strikes Nursey’s brain then, and his eyes widen, a smirk creeping onto his face despite how fast his heart suddenly starts beating. “Oh dude, hold up, is it for a girl?”

you and I made a pact

rating: teen | words: 4683 | chapters: 6

summary: