there will be blood

plot - based on this.

Jia looked down at her phone, rolling her eyes as she tossed it onto the bar counter in front of her. Her husband, soon to be ex, was constantly trying to get a hold of her. and Jia just wanted one night out. It was the first night of her 20 year class reunion, and she was going to enjoy it. Picking up her glass, she spun on the stool, her eyes taking a look around the crowd to see what old classmates she could spot. It wasn't until they landed on an ex of hers. "Oh my gosh!" Jia said, as she stood up, grabbing her things and walking over to them. "It's like seeing a ghost!"

"dunno. might be fun. i never really go in the cemetery. maybe it really is haunted like my friends say it is," kaia leaned against the metal fence the separated the two of them from said graveyard. arms slid through the old, dark poles of the fence and then doubled back to grab onto those same poles with her hands. "what do you say? want to go into a cemetery after close and see what we can find?"

It was a risky move, to shoot his shot now, but Ignacio figured it was no better time than ever. He'd already gotten his ass kicked tonight so really what more harm could a broken ego do to him if she turned him down. Of course, he was also able to read the room enough to feel comfortable to even ask. When Jules didn't instantly say no or step away from him, Ignacio felt confident that maybe the night wouldn't turn out all that bad after all. He gave her a playful roll of his eyes at her cheeky comment about the drinks here not being real drinks. "I mean, they're pretty decent but I don't see this place ending up in any of the city's ten best lists anytime soon." His eyes met hers as he watched her curiously, seeing as she hadn't answered the question yet. For a split second there was a feeling of doubt that reared it's ugly head, making Iggy start to second guess himself, though his expression hid it well.

Luckily, Juliette spared him quickly of losing his momentum when she spoke only moments later, mentioning her inviting him to dinner. His brows knit together softly as he opened his mouth to protest - feeling bad at the thought of her paying when the idea was his. However, he stopped when he realized this was a battle he might do best to surrender to, not wanting to offend her. Besides, he still got to spend time with her and that was really all that he wanted ultimately. "A feast? I mean... is this a homemade feast? Because then I might be inclined to accept without putting up too much of a fuss." He raised a brow, smirking. | @rxtualistic

Julietta spend the hours leading to their non-labeled date in a chaotic daze. First, she cleaned the whole house, dusting off every piece of furniture and putting fresh bedsheets on her bed, telling herself it was only because the small apartment needed a makeover. Then she spent a good thirty minutes in front of her closet, pulling outfit after outfit, mumbling under her breath that she had nothing to wear — even when the bed ended up covered in clothes. When she ended up wearing her favourite dress, the one that hugged every curve and made her boobs look more succulent than they really were, she somehow managed to convince herself it was only because it had been ages since the poor dress had seen the world outside the wardrobe. And it was a dress to be seen. Same with her expensive perfume. Her good makeup. That hairstyle that took twenty minutes to get done… It had nothing to do with who was coming; it was just a coincidence. A funny one. 

And then there was the food.

Anyone who knew Jules well enough knew that cooking wasn’t her thing. She could bake anything from scratch. Bake desserts so good it would bring tears to any critics eyes. But she couldn’t cook to save her life. Most of her meals consisted on a combination of bread with other ingredients or premade food. Easy. Safe for her taste buds. But tonight, she had cooked. The only thing that didn’t make people’s eyes go wide with fear. Lasagna. Her grandmother’s recipe. Made completely from scratch. It had taken three hours. But it was worth it. Why? Well, it was the least she could do after Ignacio had been so nice… Wasn’t it? 

The table was carefully decorated. Candles, a little basket with homemade bread, butter in a tiny plate with matching tiny knives. The good french china, the one she had gotten in the vintage market in Paris and taken with her when she left the city. A bottle of water and something sparkly. It looked good. It looked too good to be casual. Jules was about to rearrange the whole thing when the silence was broken by a knock.  

She took a deep breath, mentally scolding herself for being nervous, plastered a smile to her face, and opened the door. "Hey, you," she teased, stepping aside so he could enter. "You made it on time and all."

"uhm, yeah. so this book is very late delivered. you should have delivered it months ago. you're gonna have to pay " he says as he looks at the information on the computer in front of him, he had absent mindedly taken the book without looking at the woman but when he looks up he is taken aback by how gorgeous she is. "then again, i see that it is your first offense so i guess we can forget it this time." he lets out a nervous chuckle, he had no idea if this was her first offense at all, but mohan couldn't control the words coming out of his mouth.

Eventually his time locked away did come to an end. He was out but left with nothing. No family, no friends, no home. The only thing he had to keep him going was his spite. And he had plenty of it. More time passed, years of getting himself back on his feet, but throughout it all, Kenji never lost sight of the vow he made while he was imprisoned. He got really good at snooping around, asking questions and all that. So much so that he eventually started making money offering his services as a private detective, all while continuing his own investigation on the side.

He never expected to find what he did. At first he thought he was just grasping at straws when no other explanations seemed to bring him any closer to solving the case, but the more and more he looked into it, the more Kenji realized that he'd gotten himself entangled in a world that up until then he thought had not existed. That was when the puzzle pieces began to fall into place and Kenji finally learned the identity of the one responsible for his sister's death.

Sneaking into the other's lair, Kenji had tried to be as stealthy as possible. In his experience with regular people, he was quite good at hiding in the shadows, keeping a low profile and being seen only when he wanted to be, but this was no regular guy he was going after. A truth he quickly found out when the other seemed to notice his presence from the hiding spot he'd been observing from. He was momentarily caught off guard by the shift, confused on why the other had not immediately attacked, but still driven by his need for revenge, he figured fuck it, and stepped slowly into the light of the room.

"Alright, you got me." Kenji spoke through clenched teeth, arms going out as if presenting himself. "Here I am." He dropped his hands back to his side, right fingers twitching at the ready and elbow bent slightly to be able to quickly reach the sharpened stake concealed at his back if needed. | @rxtualistic

“Whiskey?” He smirked over his shoulder, the question irrelevant since he was already pouring the golden brown liquid into the second glass. “You’re here to kill me.” The rotundity of the affirmation filled the space between them, thick and heavy. And yet the smile never faltered on Vincent’s face. Neither did that teasing, derisive attitude ever leave his body. “Don’t you think it’s only polite to introduce yourself before trying to drive that stake through my chest?” Brows raised mockingly, his smirk hidden behind the glass touching his lips. “I would suggest you also decapitate me. Just in case. Just to be sure. There is nothing a vampire loves more than a grandeur comeback.” 

“Don’t be shy,” Vincent continued, flopping onto one of the long settees that governed the room. “Tell me more about yourself.” He patted the space next to him, as if inviting an old friend to join him for a casual conversation over drinks. “I would love to know the name of my butcher.” 

"open up, you insufferable bastard!" éile pounded on the cheap wood plastic composite door of the flat next to hers with a fury that could only belong to a woman who was suffering from week-long sleep deprivation. she would've been happy to ignore them indefinitely but they seemed to have a knack for making themself very noticeable — at the worst hours, too. the wee ones, where she might have done some good writing, if their music wasn't piercing through her noise-cancelling headphones. and the music wasn't the half of it. the slamming doors, the fucking pornos they seemed to be making — éile was as sex positive as the next liberal arts alumni but there was a line.