Kerosene's Collection

The Vampire King's Match

Space: Dragging Themselves Along The Ground

Fandom: N/A

AU?: N/A

Extra: This, like the first entry, is my own world and characters.

Warnings: Blood, Injury, Fights

Tag: @badthingshappenbingo

Everything was fine. Everything was fine before the assassins arrived. Cries and screams of men, women and children alike poisoned the usually peaceful air. His Royal Highness of Bludpyra stood face to face with many foes in his long life, but these assassins were man-made. They could not regenerate their injuries nor could they hypnotise, levitate or use telekinesis, but they were faster and more agile than the average vampire.

Karayan, as he happened to be in the village at the time of the attack, had skewered and slashed many of the artificial vampires to smithereens. However, there was one that was clearly the perfected model. Slim, tall, and weak in appearance, yet lethally strong in reality. It annoyed Karayan. He ordered the ones who were still alive to get inside their homes, while he stood face to face with the last.

Karayan was nothing short of powerful. He'd lived for centuries, perfecting his immunity to sunlight and all of his found capabilities. His scythe, a weapon perfectly designed for him and him alone, floated beside him. He kept calm, blocking the attacks that were sent his way with the scythe, not moving a muscle. Upon spotting an opening, a pale and dead hand grasped the scythe and swung it at a crazy speed. Karayan's eyes grew wide - the bastard had dodged. Before Karayan could regain his focus, a burn screamed through his thighs.

He crashed to the ground, a blood-curdling shriek bubbling up and out his mouth. He didn't understand. His regeneration was impeccably fast, so why wasn't he regenerating?!

"Silver is a beautiful yet dangerous thing... Is it not, Your Majesty?"

Karayan had never felt panic so bad in his life. Like how a heated blade would cauterise the wound it inflicts, the sword this man-made piece of shit wielded had closed the wounds it made. Well, it had closed off the points that Karayan would regenerate from. Fight or flight had become his mindset, a snarl curling onto his face. Gritting his jaw through the pain, Karayan commanded his scythe again, giving his opponent a flurry of furious attacks that sent them stumbling.

With a big enough distance, Karayan clawed at the ground, pulling himself along the blood tainted earth. He knew he was adding to the red. He may not have had a pulse, but his long-dead blood seeped out as a steady run. He dragged himself, pain and all, along the ground.

A scream of agony and surprise had him halt in his escape. This stupid fucker just had to take a arm off as well. Karayan snarled at the assassin, rolling out of the way as a frenzied strike was made towards his chest. Karayan grinned at the look of anger on his opponent's face, and at the fact his scythe was floating at an angle behind the attacker.

Mortal blood splattered over the ground and over what remained of Karayan's body. The vampiric king laid on the ground, gasping for the air he didn't need. He had won, yes, but he was in pain. He laid in his own blood, and that of the assassins he had killed to protect his people. Speaking of his people, a young woman was first to leave her home, a gasp of horror caught on Karayan's ears. He tilted his head back, looking back at the lady as she rushed over to him.

"Your Highness, can you hear me?"

Karayan slowly nodded, recognising the lady to be the wife of his friend's butler. "I can hear you, Lady Serene... I can hear you," he replied, his tone swept with his agony.

Lady Serene Haworth, an elven lady of underestimated power. She was one of a few necromancers that lived in Bludpyra, in this village on the borders of the neighbouring nation where her husband worked. She was a healer, and commonly helped Karayan's servants.

"Let me heal you, Your Majesty..."

Rotten Escape

Space: They're Coming For Me

Fandom: Original Work

AU?: N/A

Extra: This, like the other entries, is my own world and characters. This one's a little shorter than the others

Warnings: Brief descriptions of rotting, death

Tag: @badthingshappenbingo

No light to trust, for the moon gave no cover to the girl as she stumbled over roots. Run... Just keep running: that's what she kept telling herself. She could hear their voices, shouting to bring her back. Back to that white room with nothing but a minimal bed and a restraint system in case she got violent.

She was 8. Permanently 8. That's why they wanted her body as it slowly rotted away from her bones. They wanted sick, sick answers that she would refuse to be the subject of. They weren't welcome here. They landed and never disappeared. 8 years old and she ran through a woodland full of a misty blanket. Home. That's where she needed to get. To wriggle through the gnarled gates of the citadel grounds, and beg for help. Beg someone to tell her father that she was home.

She reached the gate, and almost as soon as she had, the gate swung over and she was hauled off the ground into the arms of a man. Pale tri-coloured hair was all it took for her to know that she was safe.

"You're safe, Cas, you're safe", the voice of one of her fathers rang through her ears and she lifted her head slightly. She saw the gleam of metal walk by, slow and deadly. Far too curious for her own good, she turned her head to watch as the woosh of air was met with the wet squelch of flesh and blood. A few thuds followed, presumably heads of the bodies that collapsed down to the floor.

"They were coming for me...", the forever young girl spoke, staring at the bodies outside the gate. They had been so close to getting her. Broke from her staring by a hand on her head, she looked up to the gentle brown eyes of her second father.

"They will never have you, Cassie, not if I have anything to say about it".

Space: Hidden Scar

Fandom: Original Work

AU?: N/A

Extra: Original characters again, whoop whoop!!

Warnings: Stabbings, self blame, attack, bodily harm

Tag: @badthingshappenbingo

The Warden Of Jejivan High Security Prison

The prison warden was an intimidating man, a tall fae with horns that looked sharper than a freshly sharpened blade. With his uniform and his flawless face, every inmate and worker within the prison assumed that was just how he was - a cold, physically flawless man who gave no sympathy. But, this couldn't be further from the truth.

Fëanor sat in his office with camera screens humming away to his left, his fountain pen scratching the page. He was leaning stressfully on his desk, his hand on his head and his elbow on the desk's surface, practically holding his head up. A new inmate had recently been put into solitary confinement, and the inmate was someone that Fëanor had known in the past. "How was the funeral...? Oh right, you couldn't attend, you were in a hospital bed... Kinda deserved considering you let my brother die...". Those had been the inmate's taunting words to Fëanor when they had arrived. The words that echoed through the warden's mind. Fëanor had to hold himself back from lashing out, keeping his cool.

He hadn't let anyone die, and if he could, he'd save all the victims he was unable to save. The inmate's brother was a victim to a case that had taken three teams of profilers and federal police to hunt down the criminal responsible. Fëanor was no stranger to the blame being put on him for 'not finding the criminal quicker', but he'd not expected the inmate to attack him - actually why the inmate was there, the only reason it'd taken so long to arrest him was because Fëanor hadn't been able to confirm who attacked him until the day prior to the inmate's arrival.

The attack was nothing special, except it'd been executed well. Fëanor had been at home when it happened, the attacker somehow breaking in with stealth akin to a vampire's. It'd started with the click of a gun being loaded to fire while Fëanor wasn't looking. The fae had looked at his assailant at that point, the gun firing and missing Fëanor by mere millimetres, the warden not even flinching. Silence had followed for a good few moments, until crashes of bodies falling into tables resonated through the room. The warden had fought back as much as he could, the assailant fighting tooth and nail to tire Fëanor out before slamming the battle of the pistol into the fae's jaw. The pain was dizzying, Fëanor's focus and concentration destroyed. Unable to fight back, Fëanor had no way to stop every sink of a blade into his body - arms, chest, stomach, legs - but all aimed perfectly so Fëanor wouldn't definitely die, but left enough of a chance it could happen. The assailant had leapt out of Fëanor's window by the time his neighbours came to him, having heard the commotion.

He'd been hospitalised for weeks afterwards, stitched up and hooked to wires and painkillers. He still felt the ache of the wounds through the painkillers, but any stronger of a dosage would kill him.

Fëanor hid the scars of the incident, feeling ashamed and full of self-hatred when he saw them himself. He hated it. If his teams and he had figured out who the criminal was sooner, his attacker's brother would still be alive. And, for once in his life, Fëanor blamed himself for it. He blamed himself, believing he deserved the attack, since he failed to save that guy.

No one knew about what happened to him, aside from his neighbours, and Fëanor planned to keep it that way. What would people think? The warden of Jejivan's most notorious prison being unable to defend himself? He'd be a laughing stock and a target.

The prison warden was an intimidating man, a tall fae with horns that looked sharper than a freshly sharpened blade. With his uniform and his flawless face, every inmate and worker within the prison assumed incorrectly about him - yes he was cold, but he was also scarred and ashamed, afraid to admit it aloud.

Monsieur Neuvillette

Chief Justice of Fontaine

PLEASE ISTG

Pretty hydro man

When you're in the banners, COME HOME I BEG! I need the pretty hydro man.

Also, I will hug and comfort him! He's so sensitive like AAAAH DON'T CRY! THINK ABOUT HAPPY OTTERS!

That's the post

Thought I'd do some funky lil headcanons for some of my favourite ships!

TreyJade

Trey learns what Jade's favourite dishes are, and makes himself a personal goal to learn how to make them.

Jade info-dumps about mushrooms to Trey, and Trey will happily sit and listen.

Trey will risk breaking Heartslabyul rules just to go see Jade.

Mountain dates. They have mountain and hiking dates.

Jade teaches Trey about merfolk beyond what NRC teaches - Trey's curiosities would most likely get the better of him

EEL CUDDLES! You know how otters have cuddle piles? Jade does exactly that in his merform if he can, tail and arms wrapped around Trey as securely as possible.

Jade being autistic, Trey learns his sensory triggers etc and does what he can to help

Jade will calmly threaten whoever says bad about Trey, even going as far as letting Floyd have the chance to squeeze

Trey is out of bounds to Azul's deals - Jade threatens him

CidClive

Cidolfus constantly sends Clive letters when he's away from the Hideaway, or away from Clive in general.

Clive holds onto Cid's jacket like a clingy child if he feels scared in a specific area - it's rare but Cid will have a silly smile he fails to hide when Clive does cling to him.

Clive is allowed in Cid's office/room without knocking.

Cid's "parental approval" was Torgal and Jill. Torgal likes Cid anyway, and Jill approved of him verbally - Gav also approved, but not without threatening both Clive and Cid that if one got hurt by the other, they'd be hurt several times worse

Ramuh and Ifrit form a mental connection as to when the other is ready to be unleashed. The two Eikons defend their respective hosts and each other

VarWel

Divus Crewel and Ashton Vargas. (Funnily enough, this is a recent one I've stares shipping)

Divus has the worst road rage, as driver and passenger. Ashton dreads Divus driving though, he also knows not to drive Divus' car under any circumstance

Ashton gets scolded like he's a dog more often than not, and Divus even threatens to ban him from his classroom.

Divus picks outfits out, and refuses to let Ashton do so

They have a dog (Dalmatian) and it's called LeFou

Hajime x Samon

Both were in denial for the longest time!

Act like enemies at work to stop questions

Hajime is like a cat when they're away from work eyes

Momoko is heartbroken when she finds out (Kenshiro is overjoyed but hides it for her sake)

Enki firmly threatened Hajime where no one could hear.

Samon lets Hajime have ice lollies if he wants one, but for every ice lolly, he gets Hajime to not smoke

Mitsuru teasing the living hell out of them both

Any other ships you want to see - Opinions or headcanons for?

AllTober Day 4 - "How Much Of That Did You Hear?"

Contains: Barbatos/Beelzebub, Diavolo and Lucifer being Diavolo and Lucifer, Gayyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Fandom: Obey Me!: Shall We Date?

Characters: Barbatos, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Lucifer

Extra: I LOVE BarBeel, it's such a cute ship and it needs more attention so :D

A typical day in the Devildom - Mammon in debt, Asmodeus shopping, Satan getting mad when his reading is interrupted, Belphegor sleeping, Leviathan gaming... The usual.

Well, for most people, the usual.

The Demon Lord's Castle housed a couple of guests on this day - Lucifer and Beelzebub. Beel had been left to his own devices, a banquet provided by Barbatos to keep the gluttonous demon occupied. Lucifer had a meeting with Diavolo.

At the end of the meeting, Barbatos walked into Diavolo's office to collect any teacups and saucers, only to hear the end of Lucifer's statement.

"... he'd like to confess."

Who'd like to confess? Barbatos, in an uncharacteristic interest, tilted his head. "Oh? Who's confessing things?"

"Ah! Barbatos, we hadn't noticed you there!" Diavolo gave that same happy smile he always did.

"Yes. It appears one of my brothers has fallen for someone" Lucifer replied, giving Barbatos a look to say the 'someone' was indeed the butler.

"Is that so? May I enquire who?"

"Beel."

Barbatos failed to keep his face from going red. He has expressed to Diavolo a multitude of times about his own feelings for the famished sixth born.

"Hmm, it seems you like him as well." Lucifer smirked, suggesting he had ideas.

"How can I not? He's constantly eager to try my baking and cooking, and he's genuinely an attractive and interesting demon" Barbatos explained, not registering the knock on the office door.

Diavolo had welcomed Beel into the office mid-way through Barbatos' little confession. Barbatos ultimately froze in a matter of a second, before excusing himself.

"How much did you hear, Beel?"

It wasn't until many hours later that Beelzebub had gone into the kitchens to find Barbatos, the butler baking some sweet treat. "Uhm... Barbatos?"

Barbatos jumped a mile, spinning round to face Beelzebub. "Oh, Beelzebub... My apologies for my startled reaction. How can I help?"

"... Lucifer told me about the conversation".

Well shit.

Barbatos cleared his throat and sighed. He ought to have known that Lucifer would tell. Afterall, it was Lucifer who told Barbatos that Beelzebub liked him.

"Funnily enough, Lucifer also told me about your feelings" Barbatos informed, craning his neck a bit to look up at the taller. Beel had a pale blush on his face, before - provided with no warning - hugging the butler with a soft smile. Barbatos took a moment to process, before reciprocating the action.

"Soooo, confirmed?" Diavolo's voice rang through the kitchen. Barbatos, in embarrassment, launched a silicone spatula at his lord with a scowl.

"Shush, my lord".

"Doesn't answer my question!"

"They're confirmed, now lets leave the lovebirds to it" Lucifer grabbed Diavolo by the collar, dragging the nosey prince with him.

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His Majesty's Horror

Space: Go Through Me

Fandom: Original Work

AU?: N/A

Extra: This, like the other entries, is my own world and characters.

Warnings: Abuse, battle, gore

Tag: @badthingshappenbingo

The door creaked open, the young boy's mother poking her head into the room. A look of guilt and sorrow came over her face as she saw her son awake, curled up with his hands over his ears and tail wrapped around himself. She quietly made her way over, sitting on the boy's bed. The instant she did, he crawled into her arms and clung to her side.

"Did Daddy hurt you again?" The boy asked, toying with the cotton of his mother's pajama top.

"He only shouted, don't worry," she rested her head atop his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Avalyn Noxalus, a strong and independent woman, tough to break and destroy. She cherished her son like he was her hoard. Not a single soul would hurt him, not while she lived. Despite the fear set in her home, she remained warm and loving for her son's sake.

Pulling the boy onto her lap, Avalyn started to plait her son's hair, an attempt to put him at ease. She sang a lullaby to him, quiet enough so only he could hear her. A silent promise that no one would hurt him.

============================================

Blood covered his face, hands, arms... Everywhere. The scythe dripped with that ruby substance, the stringy remains of some poor beggar's intestines caught on one of the many curled sections. Guts and blood splattered the walls and ceilings, more on the floor - smeared along pearly white tiles. Metal scraped along pot tiles, the sound just short of nails on a chalkboard. Heavy breaths and low growls led the scratching blade, heading towards the main laboratory.

They had her. They had her, somewhere in this disgusting building. And he would be damned if he failed to get her out. She had spent years protecting him from the violence of his father, now it was his turn to protect her from the violence of the world.

He glared back down the hallway, hand on the doorway. An endless run of bodies, disfigured and in more pieces than what it would seem. For the ones that still had life, they dragged themselves like zombies across the floors in an attempt to stand, or to die with a wheeze on top of another. A mad grin spread over his face at the sight of their pathetic and useless bodies as he pushed the door open.

Met with guns to his face, or rather to his stomach, he stared down at the human scientists with a snarl. He towered over them, adjusting his grip on the scythe. Time seemed to slow as he swung, the blade pushing on skin before breaking through, tearing into flesh. Bloodcurdling screams wretched from their mouths, the blade of the scythe ripping their bodies clean in half at the abdomen. He swung it back the other way, taking heads from the shoulders as he did. Blood spilled from various points, mixing into one large puddle under the bodies.

Scientists further into the room stare in horror, fight or flight starting to kick in - and naturally, they all made to flee. The swirling whoosh of something flying through the air was the last thing they'd all hear, the blade hugging their bodies and slicing them through the middle as it went. Blood splattered across the floor, over equipment, up the walls - everywhere. Guts were cut to pieces, scattered wherever they landed.

He found her, Avalyn Noxalus, shattering the glass of the cylinder that held her. Before he could put her on his back, the sound of machinery caught his attention.

"She is ours now, you have no further connection to her".

He laughed, turning to face the machine. He grinned like a maniac, resting the scythe on his shoulder.

"You want to keep her? Get through me first..."

when Zack had to come back without a sweater... 😳

Space: It's Quiet... Too Quiet

Fandom: N/A

AU?: N/A

Extra: This one is being written with connections to my own characters and their plot line(s).

Tag: @badthingshappenbingo

Lunafullia: The Revenge Of The Ringmaster

The circus grounds of Jejivan. A lively and warm atmosphere all year round, the acts and staff having as much fun as their fans and supporters! Cheers and awes would leave the glow of the tent's entrance around 6 o'clock every night for around 4 hours, 6 hours if it was a special night. Located a few miles south of the capital's centre, it stood to be the biggest source of enjoyment from residents and tourists alike. Hell, even the royals would attend frequently. Who'd expect high ranked members of society to attend events in a red and white tent that seemed to destroy all aspects of basic physics?

Jejivan's Circus. That was its name. Simple yet memorable. The main tent stood at a scarily tall 75ft, the other smaller tents standing at 55ft. Of course, that meant the space inside was just as scarily large, the centre masts stationed over 80ft apart, with a width of over 100 to add - and that's just the main tent. Why would a tent have to be so big? Well, the ringmaster and circus owner wasn't the smallest man - or naga - on Lunafullia's surface. He had to fit somehow!

Speaking of, shall we delve into the ringmaster?

A naga of the largest variety, measuring in at around 90ft long, was the ringmaster. His name was Ryoko Occidendum, and he'd been running this circus for over 150 years. He was the father of the acts, figuratively speaking at least. He made every night unique, with help from his brother on the occasion. As we mention him, Reign Occidendum is the creative manager of the circus, and also the stand in ringmaster if Ryoko couldn't partake. How would that work? Well, Ryoko and Reign are twins, identical twins.

But enough about that! This circus ran for hundreds of years, originally being called Occidendum's Circus, for it was a family thing. Popular, thriving, safe; all things for the circus that was true.

Until it was not.

No birds sang, no sounds at all. Not even the weight of his tail made a sound as he slithered over the abandoned grounds. Or, at least he didn't hear it.

He didn't know. And yet he was the one blamed. He didn't know there was a monstrosity beneath the circus. Several heads, maybe 30 of them? He couldn't quite recall. Each head had black holes for eyes, with teeth like the spikes on a flail. He didn't know.

The tent still stood. But the pain he felt, staring at the shreds of his life, was far too much. The white and red vibrance had been replaced by yellowed and tattered violence, the stench of damp fabric assaulting his senses. The fabric was torn to no end, the centre masts having trenches from where its destroyer had tried to claw its way out of its confines. Old stalls, from which attendees would've gotten their merch and snacks, now rotted and collapsed.

The air stood still. The sickening smells didn't waft away. No sound broke the silence.

It was still there.

Somewhere.

Despite the pain in his chest, he pulled back the ribbons of the tent's entrance, half debating to coil and cry. He didn't stop, advancing into the place he once stood. He stared at the main stage, the memories already surfacing.

"Welcome ladies and gents and everyone present! The circus opens its curtains to you!"

He'd said that. As he had every night. The distinguished hat he always wore, his tailcoat a charming blue, like the early hours of the morning sky. He had his tail, the reds and greens of his scales reflecting the fire light that illuminated their stages, coiled beneath him, his cane raised in a dramatic introduction.

They'd gotten two hours into their set for the night when the first grumble had been heard.

"And what a spectacular performance from our very own pirate captain! Never ceasing to amaze his crew~! Up next-"

He'd been introducing their fire dance act. He remembered it so clearly. He was cut short by a grumble, growl of sorts. He had regained his composure before attempting to introduce the act again, until a loud snarl had ripped through the grounds. He had been scared out of his skin, the first head making its horrific presence known. He had immediately called the night off, shouting and screaming for everyone to get out.

He slithered around the debris, his hood flaring slightly. He was paranoid. Rightly so, though. He didn't know what that creature had been. All he knew was that it had appeared, and ate its way through over 200 supporters of the circus, and hadn't been seen since the grounds were abandoned.

15 years ago to the day.

15 years ago, screams of fear and horror had filled the circus. Reports channeled over the city and beyond. He had been blamed for hiding it. He had insisted he'd not known it was there, and that he had no idea what it was. Survivors backed him up, informing investigators that he had been just as scared as the rest of them.

Now, 15 years on, the area was dead. Silent. Nothing. He had no reason to be there, but there he was.

Clutching his modified masamune with a white-knuckled grip, Jejivan's Circus' former ringmaster relaxed himself, glaring at the place the beast had come from all those years ago. It had destroyed his life.

He felt eyes on him, and his hood flared further. He locked his attention on the darkness ahead.

His life had been destroyed that night: his career, his family's past, his brother, his family at the circus. That beast had killed those he loved, had killed his life and reason for living.

Ryoko had come to repay the favour... Only this time, as the Lord of Jejivan, the Noble Naga of Death.

He would avenge his murdered friends and family.

The memories would be put to an end.

And he'd not be nice about it...

write my malec fic with me bitch (with love)

Apocalypse one? Blame timezones 😭

But yes, we will write it... Eventually