#llynhurstopen

You’re not supposed to put your fingers on the image. You’re only supposed to hold a photo by the edges. If it’s an older one, like this one, you can hold the white frame where nothing is printed. Out of all the prints Sergei kept in the shoe box under his bed, the ones with him in them were in the worst shape. He just couldn’t keep his hands off of them.

It was one of those days. Where he couldn’t get the mental pictures out of his head. Rafael laughing. Rafael with a bloodied nose. Rafael winking at him. Rafael with fangs bared. Rafael’s hand on his. Rafael’s fist in someone’s face. To say he missed him was an understatement. 

​First rule of urban magic: All buildings needed protection. Sigils were super easy, once you had training - Joly was lucky they were her mother's favorite subject. She could basically draw sigils in her sleep. But! She wasn't asleep now. The winter sun was shining, the world was busy, she'd had three shots of espresso, and the can of neon green spray paint in her hand was as wide awake as she was. Dormancy was traded for activity, the tip of Joly's tongue caught between her teeth as she drew an purposeful set of symbols across the old brick.

The sound of footsteps close by made her jump, dragging a line off course. Ugh! Joly could almost see the magic fizzle into the air. Didn't people know better than to disrupt a witch at work? She huffed, spinning on her heel to face the interruption, a white knuckled grip remaining on the can of paint.

Rei was minding his own business, sat on top of the roof of meadows house. Just chillin’, watching the moon as it rose into the sky. Nothing out of the ordinary.

In his absent-minded gazing, he kinda just forgot that he had to still somewhat concentrate on staying in his human form for now. Spirits sometimes freaked people out, ya know? Thinkin’ that he could just, I don’t know, read your mind, or somethin’. He couldn’t do that. Sure, he knew other types of spirits who could, but that’s just invasive and kinda mean. The only sorta telepathy he was able to do was telling when someone was havin’ one of them nightmares that shook you to the bone. Well. If you had bones, that is. 

As Rei’s form started to haphazardly shift back to nothing but a darkened mist, he felt himself falling. He half-heartedly laughed at himself as he, somehow, seemed to fall in slow motion. Standard Rei. A spirit shouldn’t really follow the laws of gravity - but sometimes, he just kinda forgot to stay suspended in one place.

As he fell through the ceiling, he felt something cold go through his middle.

“Eurgh, what was that?!”

[text from: 🐰😂👌💯💯🔥]: dude im still in the labs rip

[text from: 🐰😂👌💯💯🔥]: dont start click without me tho

[text to: 🐰😂👌💯💯🔥]: aw.... man now i look hella sad @ the glug

Looking up from his phone, Freddie gave the dude at the bar a sheepish grin. He’d been sat at the bar for, like, a super long time, and now he felt like a total asshole for all up an’ wastin’ this dude’s time. “My roomie just stood me up, man. Freakin’ sucks, right? Guess I’ll, uh, just get, like...” The werewolf’s face slackened thoughtfully, as he blinked up at the menu. Man, it was so much easier to just crack open a Bud at home. “Dude, could you do like a root beer float?” 

It had, as was often the case, been the demon’s fault. Stevie had irritated it, taking caffeine pills and eating spoonfuls of sugar to keep herself awake so she could finish her essay, and it had retaliated by pouring an entire bottle of expensive wine into her laundry hamper when she finally crashed out and slept for fourteen hours. Awaking to a bedroom stinking of wine and the harsh laughter of the demon ringing in her ears, Stevie’s mood had only worsened when she realised she only just had enough change to pay for the laundromat. God, she wished she could just sleep for another day.

It was 1:04 a.m. and he couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. 

Sergei sat alone at a small table for two in the corner of The Steam Room. He held a steaming cup locked behind his long, cold fingers. A white straw stained inside it’s translucent plastic with streaks of red and clogged with the occasional black clump poked out of the sipping hole of the cup’s lid. He was bundled up a little too heavily for the autumn season and his cheeks puffed out from the gauze stuffed between his teeth. This miserable season leading up to All Hallows’ Eve could kiss his undead ass.

She was three weeks in to the American college way of life, and yet she still didn’t have the faintest idea of what she was supposed to be doing.

It was 2am and Luna was sat at the end of a counter in Moonpies, staring at the slice of pizza that had been sat on her plate for the last forty five minutes, getting colder as the time rushed past her.

She was supposed to be at college to finally learn, from professionals, about the things she had spent her entire life wishing to know. And yet, here she was, in the early hours of the morning, alone, staring at a slice of pizza, with no friends, heck - she barely had any acquaintances - and no clue what she was doing with regards to her studies. 

She stared out of the window and looked out onto campus - it was quiet and dark, even in the glow of the full moon. There were several students milling around outside, but not enough to create the buzz of daytime class-going. Luna sighed. Spending a lifetime tucked away from a society different to the clique-like clan she grew up in was never going to be easy to break away from. It was only now that Luna was really realising that. Had this been a mistake? Did she really know what she was doing? 

A single tear slid down her face as she worried about her inevitable lonely doom and misery. She angrily wiped it away almost as soon as it had hit her jawline - why am I getting so upset over nothing? 

Suddenly, Luna felt a large hand rest on her shoulder. 

It had never been relevant to tell any of his roommates that he was a part of the Brotherhood. It was no secret, but he certainly wasn’t going to start wearing t-shirts that read “Hi! I’m Russian mafia,” on them either.