dead boy.

As Reynardine listened to Pete’s plan, he realised that it was no use trying to change his best friend’s mind; he was set, and ready to roll with the punches. Though, after seeing the male fight, it was more him throwing the punches than receiving them. It was probably why, as he mentioned, vampires were nervous around him; Pete wasn’t soft, but Reynardine still couldn’t help but worry about him. He’d protect him with his whole life. “That’s a big maybe, Pete.” Reynardine returned, trying to believe in the theory, but there seemed to be more cons to this plan than pros – and the werewolf damned how much he cared sometimes. He didn’t want the worse to happen; he was getting pretty tired of people dying, and he feared Pete would be next. He had faith in the vampire to hold his own, but the side of Reynardine that had seen many disasters worried that the plan would crumble.

But he felt guilty. Rather than dissuading, he should be ready to run in there, guns blazing. In their case, claws and fangs. He should be supporting his best friend every step of the way, and really he had nothing to lose, but Reynardine hoped for an alternative end. “I suppo–oi! Cheeky…” A word he wasn’t about to say, but it helped crack a smile. Humour was desperately needed. “Of course you don’t. You and I both know that you never listen to me.” The werewolf chuckled, but it trailed off into a sigh, “Alright, listen. I’m not happy with your plan, but I can’t change your mind. And even though I’m not a big fan of fightin’, I don’t have much choice, to be honest. I’m not goin’ to stand on the sidelines, watchin’ some shitheads try to kill you, because then I won’t be doin’ my job of lookin’ after you, yeah?” Playfully yanking Pete’s hood up over his head, the werewolf pulled the strings until it was tight around the vampire’s face, “’Sides, I’m the only one allowed to beat you up. Nobody else is allowed to bully you, y’know.”

“But it’s something.” There was more to his plan than perhaps he’d ever told Rey. Pete had spent countless nights on the streets in Chicago, alone, hunting out anybody with a connection to the Dandies. Anybody who couldn’t help him ended up with a stake to the chest -- he wasn’t looking to form a one man army, but he needed to find Beckett, a dude who isn’t exactly available in a phonebook. Increasingly on his patrols, Pete had found himself saving people in danger -- making a name for himself. He’d become quite the fighter. In fact, even the Candles had mentioned offhandedly to him something about the ‘decrease in vampire attacks’, the lack of stray vampires loitering in the streets at night hunting down humans, the quiet. His efforts didn’t matter much, he still had no idea where Beckett was. “The longer he gets away with this, the more he’s mocking me. The more they all are.” 

“You certainly smell like a house pet. Don’t worry, I was never a cat person.” Pete doesn’t respond to the statement, he doesn’t feel like he needs to, a slight smile almost forming on pale lips -- before his hood is completely covering his head. He barely looks impressed, but after a short while there’s a tiny laugh. A rare one. “Yeah, you wish. You can’t exactly beat me up anymore, ‘m stronger than you.” Theres silence for all of one minute, before he pounces, knocking Rey back onto the floor and grinning above his face. “See. Proof.”

Reynardine wanted to point out that the vampire had, pretty much, already killed him – but somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate. Even said in his usual jokey way wouldn’t have made the situation any better; if anything, it would have made it worse. He didn’t want the joke to backfire and make his best friend feel even more guilty. Instead, the werewolf lightly grinned at the comment and muttered a ‘Yeah, I know,’ as he affectionately bumped Pete’s shoulder with his own. Even in dire times, they still had their stupid humour; without it, the world would be shittier than it already was. Man, if he did die, Reynardine would miss out on their daily banter, and the thought sucked.

Just about managing to grab his pack of cigarettes, Reynardine took a slow moment to pick one out and place it between his lips, “Uh-huh.” He answered, fishing out his lighter and proceeding to light up the fag, “Don’t want you settin’ on fire, or anythin’.” A humoured snort, and Reynardine took a drag, savouring the taste; it might well be his last now. “Nah, let’s chill inside. I don’t want to drag anybody else into this, yeah?” The werewolf had no doubt that Patrick could make anything, but he would be extremely surprised if he could reverse the effects; he was smart, but not that smart. This was a miracle job. At the question, Reynardine chuckled around the cigarette, “All I have is you, buddy. And…uh, I don’t think you can help. Usually people contact their relatives, but I don’t think my parents are on the scene. ‘Sides, they probably think I’m already dead, any way.” Taking another drag, the werewolf shrugged one, heavy shoulder, “Let’s go inside? I want to get comfortable.”

“for the record -- you taste disgusting.” pete’s joke has little sarcasm in it, as though all effort to make it funny had dissipated along with his will to carry on. if rey died it would simply be ANOTHER thing to hate himself for, another reason to become a martyr for the whole of chicago; both humans and vampires alike. “maybe we’re just panicking for no reason, ‘n you’ll turn into some kickass wolf hybrid with FANGS. that’ll show all the guys tryin’ to hunt us.” but he refuses to accept that rey could die from this, he refuses to be the kid who killed his best friend because he was so stubborn. but maybe that was just inevitable.

parents. a great change of conversation. “mine ARE dead.” he mumbles, refusing to let off that it bothers him way more than it does. he wouldn’t dare utter the fact that REY was all he had now. sure the candles were there, and he needed them, but this dumb guy was his brother. “need me to carry you in, or will you stop being a little bitch long enough to walk inside. i don’t want you FALLING on me or anything -- you look heavy.”

my active(ish) blogs;

            EXCITEMENT, or at least something akin to that emotion, reigns supreme over the younger vamp’s features, a pleasant rarity even with their current predicament. ❝ No, Pete, I had my eyes closed the entire time. I saw absolutely none of that, ❞ SARCASM, it’s truly Charlie’s favored form of communication. ❝ Yes, you idiot, I saw that - now how about we get the fuck out of here, and celebrate somewhere a little safer. ❞

1:When did your muse lose their virginity?

2:Who was your muse's first kiss?

3:Which parent(or guardian) does your muse prefer?

4:Who are your muse's closest friends?

5:Does your muse have any phobias?

6:Which sibling is your muse closest to? If they have no siblings, which family member?

7:If your muse had the opportunity to turn into the opposite sex for a day, would they take it? If so, what would they do?

8:Who was your muse's first crush?

9:What is your muse's sexual preference?

10:Most problematic thing your muse has ever done?

11:How important is family to your muse?

12:What is your muse's happiest memory from their childhood?

13:What is your muse's saddest memory from their childhood?

14:What is your muse's deadly sin?

15:What would your muse say to their younger self if they could go back in time?

16:How does your muse see themselves in 5 years? What about 10?

17:How does your muse deal with their anger?

18:How does your muse feel about religion?

19:Is your muse more self loving or self loathing?

    ( @candyfxngs -- ) 

The moment Pete disappeared off into the factory, the werewolf momentarily let down his guise of bravado; he felt nauseous and dizzy all at once, but he had managed to sit upright with a reassuring smile to prevent Pete from worrying. Without the young vampire being here, however, Reynardine slumped his head between his pushed up legs, staring at the concrete beneath him; he down-right refused to panic in front of his best friend, but his vision still blurred. Huffing out a few quick breaths, the werewolf pushed down the fear that threatened to turn into an attack, furiously wiping at his eyes before Pete could return to see them. He was so pathetic, sometimes.

Reynardine was back to being calm once his best friend returned, watching with a slight grimace as the blood bag was destroyed within seconds, “Ew, dude – where’re your table manners?” A chuckle followed as the werewolf grinned, though laughing alone took more energy out of him than he could handle right now; where he was once warm, his body was now shivering. Reynardine huffed out a breath, pressing his cheek against the railing behind him as he attempted to ground himself, “Wait – so I’m not doin’ an Irish jig right now? Man, I must be worse off than I thought.” A snort as the werewolf offered the vampire a side-glance, before he squeezed his eyes shut and smiled wide, “I dunno, dude. We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? Pass me a fag, though - it might be my last one!”

       “Sorry dude--was I meant to use a straw, or somethin’.” He quips, despite it coming out as something highly serious rather than a joke; which perhaps is what he wanted it to be. When sufficiently drained, the bag is just dropped to the side, he’ll sort it out later. ( And, probably, go back to the office for another, at least that way he wont be getting hungry again for a good short while. ) “Don’t joke about that Rey, please don’t... I swear if you die, i’m gonna kill you myself.” He realises that regardless he’d have killed him, it was of course his fault that Rey had even got bitten. There’s a moment of consideration, what the hell would he do if he didn’t have this dumb werewolf keeping an eye on him. Sure he had the Candles, but they weren’t this close to him. They weren’t going to stick by him through thick and thin like his big brother was.

"I hate the basement. I'm just putting that out there."

"I've come a long way to talk to you because I think you're a piece of crap."

"Is this spirit being a smartass?"

"You look great for being... not alive."

"Ghosts don't even like me."

"It's cold, it's dark, and it's exciting as hell!"

"Are you banging your head on the wall?"

"Something is up here, gathering all the power it can."

"If this is the portal of hell, why don't you come up out of that ground and get us?"

"Here I am in the sugar shack!"

"I hope you can hear me up there in the damned attic!"

"I can't wait to get locked in here."

"Dude, he's kinda creeping me out. No joke."

"Have you ever heard of those guys who wear jackets when it's really, really hot out?"

"I can't believe they left me out here, all by myself, with this music playing."

"Wait, am I standing on his grave?"

"I have respect for all spirits... except for you."

"I just wanna see where the massacre took place."

"This right here is like putting holy water on a demon."

"I'm just pumped! Are you guys pumped?"

"I smell beautiful."

"Do you see that? Because I can't, either."

"You have reached your final destination. Hell."

"This is tougher than it looks on tv, trust me."

"This is beyond dangerous. I don't recommend anybody do this."

"It was probably the most dangerous, craziest thing we've ever done."

"Hey, we're just lost. We need a place to stay."

"Thank you for knocking."

"I've got a teddy bear for you!"

i was at an ap physics saturday session and the teacher was talking about gravity, saying that we’re all attracted to each other

behind me, one kid says to his friend “i’m attracted to you”

Seeing his best friend flinch in sight of his curled fist had Reynardine feeling horrible; he was always the calmer of the two, and the werewolf had never raised his voice or threatened violence towards the vampire before. Forever the protector. He was just scared. Despite instinct telling him to defend, Reynardine loosened his fist and held his arm by his side, making it clear that he wasn’t going to hit Pete. He never wanted to again. Still, the male stepped back and kept a close eye on the other, watching as he, too, backed away; trust wasn’t gone, but it was certainly wavering in this moment. 

“Oh.” Reynardine responded, trying not to reveal the uneasiness in his tone. Nausea, on the other hand, had already climbed from his stomach to his throat, and the werewolf reached back to hold onto the metal railings. “…I hope so.” It was said quietly, praying that Pete was too young to turn anybody. Catching sight of the vampire staring at his neck, the werewolf pulled his hoodie further upwards, using the hood to disguise the puncture wounds. “I didn’t mean to shout at you, Pete. I’m just…just annoyed that you didn’t come to me for help. I’m here, you idiot. I’m always here for you.” God, he felt dizzy. And hot. “Look – I knew about the blood shortage. I picked up on it, so I stocked up on some packs. Stole ‘em. They’re in the office.” He had to sit down, otherwise he was going to fall down. “There should be enough. Go get ‘em, buddy. I’m just gonna…chill here for a bit, ‘kay?”

      “I’m sorry … I didn’t want to be any more of a burden. I know you’re here for me. You kinda always have been.” Pete’s words linger before he disappears momentarily, flitting off to the abandoned office to search for the stock which, just as Reynardine had promised, was there; it made him feel completely awful. Why hadn’t he just come to the wolf originally, this is exactly why he left his place the first time. He seemed to always disappoint, making brash decisions instead of sticking by the people who had always sworn to help him. Shaking hands are shoved into hoodie pockets as he presses a cold back to the door, giving him a second to breathe. Why was he so stupid? Why didn’t he just accept the help that others tried to give him? A moments reflection consequently follows, before he takes one of the bags in his hand, appearing back at Rey’s side in an instant.