Like a Pidge out of Hell

Monster Mash Q and A!

hellzabeth — Sun, 06 May 2012 21:21:50 GMT

Considering that I am probably never going to actually finish this series, I have decided to open up a Q and A for everyone to drop their questions into. Want to know what happened to your favourite character? Ask here. Niggling plot hole? I will attempt to fill it as best I can. Wanna play in the universe yourself but have some questions about rules etc? I'll be happy to lay them out for you!

Have at!

Aevus

hellzabeth — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 01:03:14 GMT

Title: Aevus
Authors: hellzabeth and nenamoo
Fandom: Hetalia/Ai no Kusabi (loosely)
Rating: R-18
Warnings: All of them, though not all in this chapter. Dub-con, rape, slavery, racism, violence, torture, character death.
Summary: Non-Nation AU, very loosely inspired by Ai no Kusabi. In a world divided by hair colour, far into the future of the human race, how do people live? How do they love? How do they, eventually, die? Neither light nor dark is entirely good. How much either way remains to be seen.

Chapter 1 - Yao

Oh shit son! Guess who is actually alive and kicking! (Do people even follow this account any more.... probably not).

So yeah this is the beginning of a thing that nenamoo and I have been working on for... geez maybe a year now? A freakin' long time basically, and we finally decided to share it with you lovely folks! I must warn you, however, about the content of this fic series.

1: It's got rape in it. It's got some nasty, nasty graphic rape in it, not sugar coated in the slightest. And when it ain't rape it's dub-con. This is a side effect of the universe we crossed over with, Ai no Kusabi. You're welcome to look it up.
2: Also violence. Violence and torture but if you've read my other stuff this should be par for the course by now.
3: Child cruelty and psychological breaking. We set out to fuck people up and boy did we fuck some people up.
4: It's a monster. This first chapter is the tip of the iceberg- no, better metaphor. It is the first slimy tentacle of the whole elder-god sized universe behind it.

That said, I am excited to finally post this and hear what people have to say (even if it will mostly be questioning Nena and my mental states), so do drop a comment on the fic or here. Toodles!

Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned [Chapter 5]

hellzabeth — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 22:03:08 GMT

Title: Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned 5

Characters: Francis, Toris, Feliks, Arthur, Matthew

Rating: 15 for this chapter.

Warnings: Vampire politics, Feliks is a troll.

Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.

Toris frowned at the phone. “Hello?” Still no answer. It sounded like there was talking in the background through. What was this, a prank call? “Hello? Okay fine, putting down the phone.” Instead of any response, there was a loud crunching noise that made him pull away from the receiver in surprise, followed by dialtone. Confused, he placed the phone back on the cradle, before shrugging and heading downstairs again to where Feliks had pulled up a chair and was noting down important bits of what their captive ghost was saying.

Now, Toris wouldn’t call himself squeamish, but there was something about the way the ghost chatted like he didn’t have an arrow in his throat that was just plain gross and disturbing. When he swallowed, it quivered with the motion. The brunette shuddered himself. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have the Sight.

“So then, I said to him, ‘I think, therefore I am’, and he just goes and writes it down, steals my whole philosophy!” he gestured wildly. “And he still owes me twenty francs!”

Feliks laughed. “Wow, Descartes was kinda- oh hey Toris, who was on the phone?”

“Nobody, there was silence and then it sounded kind of like the phone got stepped on.” Toris said, scratching the back of his head in confusion. “Sounded like there were people in the background though. Wrong number maybe?”

“Feh, anyone who calls our number never does it by accident.” Feliks dismissed the idea with a flick of his wrist. “They’ll call back if they’re any sort of important. Anyway, we got sidetracked, you were saying before all the philosophy thing that there was something we needed to know?”

“Yes,” Francis sobered quickly. “I assume you’ve heard of Alfred F. Jones, the serial killer.”

Feliks raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I listen to the news, kinda my job.”

“I believe the Hunters are trying to recruit him.”

The blonde looked unimpressed. “And? The Hunters recruit a lot of murderers. Most people refuse to kill something human-shaped, easier just to get in people who will happily have at it. I think they call it ‘the redemption program’.”

“You don’t understand. This boy, he can wrestle werewolves.”

“So could Romulus Vargas, similarly a Hunter. You’re kinda disappointing me here Francis.”

“He’s inhumanly fast too, strong enough to pick up a person like they weigh nothing despite not having any muscle on him, he jumps off four storey buildings and hits the ground without a scratch on him. And what’s more, he looks identical to Arthur Kirkland’s lost coven member.” he gestured helplessly. “I’m saying that the Hunters may have found themselves a possible dampyr!”

This time, Feliks and Toris’ expressions changed. Surprised, they looked at each other, and started discussing something in fast Polish, which Francis couldn’t understand as he wasn’t possessing anyone who knew the language.

“Are you completely sure?” Toris asked finally. “That’s a pretty big thing to suggest. There have been maybe two other dampyrs in recorded history, and their existence is debatable.”

“I’m telling you he’s not human.” Francis insisted. “Not entirely.”

Feliks sucked in breath through his teeth. “Sheesh, this is kinda huge. Firstly, that suggests the existence of a vampire that’s able to reproduce sexually, which is A: gross necrophilia, and B: hugely bad for the rest of humanity. Secondly, that means that the Hunters are sending a half-vampire to fight a werebear which is only going to end super badly.”

“Hold on- the Hunters are- you mean he’s already in the Hunters?!” Francis’ jaw dropped open, incredulous. “If they find out that he’s a dampyr, they might reverse-engineer to try and find a way to bring down vampires for good.”

“Yeah, and wipe out like, half my customers in the process.” Feliks scowled. “Okay, here’s the deal. There’s a rumour about a ghost matching your wife’s description up in the Ukraine. I’ll free you, give you a body and let you run loose with it, but in exchange, you have to make sure Alfred F. Jones never tells the Hunters he’s a dampyr.”

“We don’t even know if it’s true!” Toris hissed to his friend worriedly. Feliks glared back.

“The balance of everything will be totally screwed if it is true though! If we don’t act and it’s right, the world is fucked, if we do act and it’s wrong, oh well, never mind. You wanna take a chance with this?” He watched Toris shake his head quickly. “I thought not!” He turned back towards Francis, clapping his hands together and releasing the charms holding the ghost in place. “Okay! You, me, wardrobe, now!”

---

Matthew felt himself go cold. Well, colder than usual, which was pretty cold, considering his body temperature was that of someone who’d been dead for a week in the arctic. But he was digressing, as he always did when he panicked, and panicking was something he was definitely doing right now.

He had planned to tell Arthur at some point about the Alfred issue. He’d figured it out in his head, he’d just never found the way to say it without hurting him. He was in trouble, yes, for hiding it from him, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

This was, however.

From the picture, three people smiled just slightly. A woman of Indian descent, devastatingly pretty, had a long fingered hand resting lightly on a shorter, Asian boy’s shoulder. His smile was somewhat more of a smirk, and he was flashing an ironic V sign with his fingers, but he seemed quite comfortable. Standing just to the side of them was a man, also Asian who at first glance could be mistaken for a girl. There was something not quite right about his complexion; while his companions looked bloodlessly pale, he seemed almost blue-grey. Dead looking.

The former two were vampires, as they both knew well. Vampires that were supposedly dead.

“Uh. I can explain.” Matthew tried lamely. Arthur was unimpressed.

“You already did that, with Alfred. As for this, I’d like you to tell me what it is.”

“Um... it’s a picture.” He felt suddenly like a child who’d been caught stealing food. “Of three people.”

“Their names?”

“Yao...” the dead-looking Asian man’s fingers were black, he’d just noticed. “A jiangshi - an energy eating type of zombie, commonly found in East Asia.”

“And the other two?” Arthur’s voice was dangerously level. “They look awfully familiar.”

“They’re... um...”

“No tricks this time, Matthew.”

“It’s... it’s Maya and Li Shui.”

Arthur nodded slowly, turning the picture back to face him, staring at it in silence for a long while. “And now I ask again; where are they?”

Matthew hunched his shoulders and stared at his feet. “I can’t tell you.”

Arthur crumpled the photo in his hand. “Why the bloody hell not!?”

“Because they told me not to tell you!” he confessed, voice rising in exasperation. “They purposefully left and let people think they were dead, okay! They’ve been living in peace for sixty years now, and they’re happy, so just don’t- just leave them be!”

“I will not!” glared fiercely at him. “You thought, for the briefest moment that I’d leave here and you could just go back to lying to me-”

“I didn’t lie!”

“You never said!” the blonde vampire threw up his hands. “Why do you never tell me anything any more!”

“Because I’m not yours to command!”

Silence fell. A long, tense pause, in which both vampires stared in shock at what had just been said. A line had been crossed.

“And... and they’re not yours either. Not anymore.” And Matthew figured, that if he was across the line, what was a few more steps?

“That,” Arthur said slowly. “Is insubordination.”

“Will you kill me for it?” the question was honestly asked.

Arthur inclined his head. “I should.” he said stiffly. “By the laws of the Vampire Society, as your Sire, I am entitled to. The blatant disrespect and insolence would justify it.”

Matthew swallowed. Arthur moved forward, and he closed his eyes reflexively. But instead, his Sire walked past him, to the doorway.

“But I won’t.” he said finally. “Because you’re coming with me on a little trip to Asia.”

Notes:
- A WILD JIANGSHI APPEARS
- ARTHUR used GLARE
- It's not very effective...

Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned [Chapter 4]

hellzabeth — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 00:14:55 GMT

Title: Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned 4

Characters: Francis, Toris, Feliks, Arthur, Matthew

Rating: 15 for this chapter.

Warnings: Crazy family trees, SHOCKING REVELATIONS, Feliks being Feliks.

Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.

Francis came to with a headache not unlike the one he’d had after nearly getting his head kicked in by one Alfred F. Jones. He groaned, and reached up to rub his eyes. It was upon doing so that he realised he did indeed have hands, was tangible, and must be possessing someone. Still. After supposedly being exorcised.

Experimentally, he opened his eyes.

He was no longer in the kitchen. He was in what appeared to be a basement. Considering his previous associations with basements, this wasn’t a particularly comforting thing.

“Don’t try to move.” came a voice, and Francis’ head whipped around to stare at Toris, who was looking uncomfortable just being here. He was trying to cover it up, putting on a commanding front. “You’re in a magic circle, it’s trapped you and made you temporarily solid.” He looked away. “You’re exposed in your real form.”

Francis briefly looked down to see whether he was exposed in a different manner, but he was in clothes. Specific clothes in fact. Clothes that were singed and covered in ash and mud. He felt up to his neck and grimaced when he felt the silver crossbow bolt that was still there, cold to his touch. Seeing that Toris turned particularly green when the killing weapon was brought to his attention, Francis smirked and twisted it slightly, feeling no pain but succeeding in making Toris cover his mouth with a squeaking noise.

“Like, ew.” Feliks commented as he entered the room. “I know a lot of ghosts are gross, but you’re really gross.”

Pride stinging, Francis dropped his hand. “I am not gross.” he spoke as if the bolt wasn’t there; as long as he didn’t concentrate on it too hard, the words came easily. “I simply take issue with being looked at like a specimen on an operating table.”

“Yeah, well, I take issue with creepy ghosts getting all possessive with my besties, mmkay?” Feliks folded his arms and examined the pink nail polish on his fingers. “So you have like, ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t exorcise you, starting now.”

“I require information.”

“Chyeah, everyone does.”

“I can give you information in exchange.”

At this, Feliks’ gaze finally slid to him. “Uhuh. What makes you think I’ll want your information?”

“Because it could potentially mean the Hunters have been stacking the deck, with an ace up their sleeves, if you understand my meaning.” Francis kept a careful eye on the blonde’s reaction. A smirk curved at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you want to know?”

Francis tried not to blurt it out too quickly. “Whether you have any information as to a woman named Jeanne Bonnefoy.”

Feliks’ eyebrows raised. “Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne.... hmmmmmm... Bonnefoy, I’ve heard of Bonnefoy.” He grinned and pointed at the trapped ghost. “You’re Francis Bonnefoy then?”

Surprised at the broker’s intuition as well as his own infamy, Francis nodded.

“Mmm, yeah, my gal Elizaveta told me about you. Amnesiac pervy ghost bodyhopping around Europe for like, five hundred years.” He nodded. Francis knew he shouldn’t be shocked he knew the demoness of Wrath; Elizaveta was quite the gossip herself.

“Correction; I am no longer amnesiac.” Francis added. Feliks made an intrigued sound and shuffled closer.

“Oh oh, do tell, come on, what did you remember? How’d you die.”

Francis frowned. “You know that’s-”

“Rude to ask a ghost, yeah yeah, I know, but I’m an information broker and you want information on this Jeanne Bonnefoy girl, who is what, your sister?”

“My wife.” The term came automatically, and with a painful pang of loss. Feliks sucked in breath between his teeth.

“Yikes. Well, okay. Tell me what happened.”

Francis relayed the story to him as best he could, purposefully leaving in raunchy details to make Toris blush, but also because he wanted to avoid the final ending. He reached the end, mind filling with memories of him crawling through the mud and ash with a broken ankle from falling out a window, finally finding Jeanne. “And then that man, the Hunter-”

“Did you get his name?” Feliks had sat in silence for the whole thing, and only interrupted this once. “Your description of him sounds familiar.”

Now it was Francis’ turn to raise his eyebrows. “How could any Hunter sound familiar to you? This was hundreds of years ago.”

Feliks rolled his eyes. “And some Hunters live hundreds of years. Part of the hypocrisy thing they have going on. Now come on, spill!”

Francis didn’t have to think long. The name was burned into his memory, finally uncovered. “Gabriel. Gabriel dos Anjos.”

At this, Feliks grimaced, muttering. “Yup, thought so.” he shook his head. “If you’re thinking of revenge on him, don’t bother. Guy’s unkillable, much as he’s tried himself. Lives forever, don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.”

“I just want to find my wife.” Francis sighed. “I have to search Earth for her. If she lingers here still, then I want to find her.” He gritted his teeth. “Gabriel, he said that witches go to hell, or wander in limbo forever. Well I wandered limbo myself, and it may as well have been hell without her.”

Feliks sat down on the floor, thinking to himself. “Why not check hell?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but once you go to hell, you can’t get out.”

“Unless you’re a demon.”

“Which I’m not.” Francis pressed. “I have to check. If I miss her, and she’s waiting for me up here...”

Feliks held up his hands. “Alright! Okay, calm down. I’ll see what I’ve got. Can you linger a little longer?”

“I’ve been doing so for five hundred years, a few more hours couldn’t hurt.”

---

The door slammed open, and Arthur ignored how it shook the whole wall with the force of it. He was too busy striding over to where Matthew sat, stunned, at the side of the turning child’s bed. He grabbed the other blonde’s wrist and yanked him out of the chair, dragging him out into the hallway.

“Arthur, what-”

“Shut up.” Arthur hissed, pulling him down the hallway and throwing him into the study, slamming the door behind them. The photos were still out on the desk, and from Matthew’s suddenly tense posture, he knew he’d been caught.

“... this isn’t-”

“Isn’t what, Matthew?” Arthur growled, grabbing a photo of not-Alfred and holding it up to the light. “Isn’t what I think it is? Would you care to explain to me exactly what you think this is?”

Matthew avoided his gaze. “It’s just a picture...”

“A picture! Of the same person! Over and over again! And not just any person - this is Alfred, you know it, I know it!” He was this close to smacking the boy for his evasiveness. “You’ve been squirreling away this information for decades, haven’t you!”

“Is that a crime?” Matthew snapped back with unusual bravado. “Are you angry because I still have hope that he’s out there? Angry because he might have found a way to turn back, to become human? Angry because you were the one who argued with him that night and let him run away?”

This time Arthur did hit him, a slap across the face to shut his mouth. Silence fell.

“I am angry.” Arthur said slowly, trying to reign in his temper. “Because you never told me. You are not the only person who still cares.”

Matthew said nothing for a long while, bringing a hand up to his stinging cheek. There would be no redness or swelling, but there was pain nonetheless. “I didn’t want to tell you in case I was wrong. I thought it would hurt you. What if you’d run off on a wild goose chase?”

“Hurt me? Do you think I even care about that anymore? You’re right, I did argue with him, I caused this, I know that goddamn it.” he gritted his teeth. “That’s what hurts. Any news, any hope, anything is better than not knowing.” He sat down in the desk chair, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “So I want you to tell me. Everything you know, everything you’ve found, whether it was relevant or a dead end. Your theories, your ideas, your hopeless dreams. If you leave anything out, Matthew, I swear to the Count himself I will set the hounds of hell on you and your coven.”

Matthew bit his lip, and at first Arthur almost thought he was going to refuse. But then he hefted a long sigh and sat down in the spare chair, putting his head in his hands.

“Alfred Kirkland is long dead.” Matthew said, the words striking Arthur in the heart. “I have no idea how he did it, but when he died, he was human. Or, mostly human.” He reached over and picked up the oldest document. A census, with Alfred’s name circled, as well as the name of a woman with the same surname, and, to Arthur’s surprise, two children. “The lineage goes down, spreads out, but whatever Alfred did to turn himself human, it wasn’t a complete transformation. Vampire genes are strong.” he pulled out a portrait of a young man, with a slight smile, in mid-nineteenth century attire. Once again the spitting image of Alfred, though the eyes were brown, not blue. “Wherever you go, there are descendants that have taken certain traits, more than just looks. Letters detail that this man, Alex Jameson, lifted a fallen tree off his wife. After it was moved, it took eight men to shift it again.” Now a picture in black and white, a boy standing in some dockyards. “Morris Kingsley, who grew up to be the fastest man of his time. He was always said to run like he was taking a leisurely walk, and yet finished ahead of everyone.”

“He didn’t get rid of his vampirism...” uttered Arthur in astonishment. “He buried it.”

Matthew nodded gravely. “More concerning are these.” He produced several mugshots, from various eras. One was a woman, busty and bright eyed with fair hair, and another was an Alfred duplicate. The last bore less resemblance until one looked in his eyes. “Granted crime tends to run in families, but these people’s only common ancestor is Alfred.”

“What were they arrested for?” Arthur frowned.

“Mass murder, cannibalism, and supposedly satanic blood rituals.” Matthew grimaced. “Even if Alfred was one of the most gentle vampires to ever exist, he was still a vampire, and as you said, that part was only buried, and passed down.”

“They’re human.” Arthur said slowly, piecing it all together. “There’s nothing noticeably vampire about them. Nobody could ever detect them, they can go in churches, recite the bible, they’re human, for all intents and purposes.”

“But they’ve got something in their brain that tells them to hunt, to seek out human-shaped prey. The Hunger, but in a different form.” Matthew paused, then shuffled to reach a newer file. “I... have a confession. I knew the existence of Alfred F. Jones before I met him at your house. I never expected to find him there. He’s by far the closest recreation of our Alfred I’ve ever seen. Apart from, obviously, unsuppressed vampire instincts.”

Arthur peered at the folder. “... is he connected?”

“Yes.” he drew out a photo - of Alfred, an older woman, a young boy nearly identical to Matthew, and Francis. No, wait, that was Phillipe Fournier. “Through his mother. It seems she too was mentally unstable, but not in the murderous way. It can’t have helped any.”

“So.” Arthur said after a pause, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. “Whatever turned the original Alfred human, it’s still present in his descendant’s genes, as you say.”

Matthew nodded. “It’s likely.”

The older vampire’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not good. If anyone else catches on, finds a way to turn vampires human, then all vampires could be in danger.” He bit his thumb, worried. “If the Hunters get wind of this...”

“Alfred is in a mental institute, right?” Matthew said, putting all his files back in order. “We may have to bust him out.”

Arthur hummed. “... what do you think would happen if we turned him?”

Matthew grimaced. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. We need to break him out first.” He rolled his shoulders, and reached for the phone on the desk. “Er... let’s see, it’s 4am, so counting forward.... yeah, should be okay to call.”

Green eyes blinked in confusion. “Who?”

“We need information.” Matthew smiled. “Where else do the supernatural go for information?”

---

“Toris, get the phone, I’m busy down here!”

---

"Alright." Arthur said, watching Matthew pace with the phone in his hand. "But what about this one?" He held up one last photo. The one containing two more people who should definitely be dead.

Matthew dropped the phone. "Ah-"

"Where. Are. They."

Chapter 5

Notes:
- Shock! She's aliiiiive! Yes, after the holiday I was kind of burned out but here's your long-awaited chapter! (You can thank Nena for reminding me it's been over a month.)
- Gotta say, I'm not really on LJ so much as I am on Tumblr and Plurk these days. ;; I do miss you guys though. Join usssssss.
-EDIT: I AM AN IDIOT AND DIDN'T HIGHLIGHT THE WHOLE CHAPTER. HERE, HAVE THE ACTUAL CLIFFHANGER IT'S MEANT TO HAVE.

hellzabeth — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 10:32:36 GMT

BACK!

HULLO ALL, I have missed you all greatly. <3 Now excuse me while I catch up with 2 weeks worth of news and anime and manga etc etc etc <33333

Nena get your butt over here now and/or pick up your phone.

<3

Incoming vent and rant. Also hi I'm not dead.

hellzabeth — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 10:19:08 GMT

Still on a boat, and coming to realise what a pathetic human being I am.

Basically every MB of information that goes into my computer is costing me £0.65. Which doesn't sound like much, but then you must consider that checking an email will usually take up about 4MB, after which the money it takes to do anything with images in it becomes ridiculous. Add in the automatic updates computers and browsers tend to do and....

I spent £56 on the first two days by accident.

So I said to myself "Come on Pidge, it's two weeks, you can go without the internet for two weeks. There's plenty of things to do out here, and if you get lonely you can always text Nena."

Only I didn't account for two things:

1: Texting costs me about as much as the internet does when I'm overseas. I cannot receive messages while overseas either, so that blows.
2: I am cripplingly addicted to the internet. I can't stand being cut off from information. I thrive on the constant stream of news and people's lives and entertainment.

For the first few days I was alright. Then I ran out of credit on my phone. We went to Rome (which was just as crazy as I remember it) but I couldn't enjoy it firstly because Rome makes me paranoid (someone almost snatched my sunglasses, dad caught them) but also because I was already feeling lonely. By the time we were in Corsica, I was depressed. I wanted to talk to Nena, to Cande, to Meg, to Sarah, to any of my friends. I love my family very much and we all get along pretty well but by that point I was just snapping at them and generally being a bitch. I didn't want to go to Toulon, I didn't want to eat any more posh food, I didn't want to sit in a little room with my sister doing nothing because I'm too old for the teen clubs and too young for the adult activities.

I just wanted to go home.

Basically, I'm making this post because I need to vent pretty badly. Ten days of keeping this in me when I'm pretty used to being able to say what I want. But the place where I get to say what I want was out of reach.

I miss you guys. I miss you so much I could cry. I'm back home on Friday, but it feels like forever away.

<3

brb going on a cruise around the med

hellzabeth — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 15:08:44 GMT

Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned [Chapter 3]

hellzabeth — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 21:09:49 GMT

Title: Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned 3

Characters: Francis, Toris, Feliks, Arthur, Matthew's coven

Rating: 15 for this chapter.

Warnings: Blood, vampirism, possession, implied abuse.

Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.

Francis blinked, and then grinned.

No psychic headache, no yelling voice in the back of his mind, no struggle at all. He appeared to have jumped into this body so quickly he’d rendered its owner unconscious. A quick skim off the top of the information pile revealed this wasn’t Feliks, which was disappointing. This was Toris Lorinaitis, and he was in the middle of feeding a tricorn, not a unicorn, as Francis had suspected. The white creature was looking at him from its stable, dark brown eyes following his movements. It was very aware of the fact this person was not who they were before. Francis reached out to pet it, but with a somewhat haughty snort, the horse turned and trotted away. Alright, fine. He heard they only liked virgins anyway.

Now he could see again, he found the nearest mirror and looked at what he was working with. Green-ish eyes, brown hair that went to his shoulders, quite feminine a face which would be easily mistaken for a girl with some make up, but on the other hand if this hair was shorter would clearly belong to a man. He raised his eyebrows, checked out the teeth. 20/20 vision, hearing’s fine, fit and healthy. He stretched his arms above his head and- ow.

Alright, he had some sort of injury - old, from the feel of the tight skin - on his back. Had to remember that. This was why Francis usually checked his targets before using them.

He sat down atop a stool. The barn was very spacious, part stable and part roost for a number of birds. He could spot two phoenix from here, possibly a mating pair. And that- was that a thunderbird? Either way, the Menagerie deserved its name. None of them seemed particularly interested in stopping him possessing young Toris, so he leaned his head against the wall and started sifting through the information in his mind.

Feliks, he needed to find Feliks.

The thought brought up the image of a blonde girl with green eyes and a bright, mischevious smile. Feliks was a girl? That question was immediately answered in negative. A school classroom flashed into view, Toris frozen in shock at the door, having walked in on Feliks - sans underwear and clearly male - changing for gym class. Feliks had then threatened something about feeding Toris to a dragon if he’d told anyone, which Toris promised he hadn’t and wouldn’t ever, despite doubting whether Feliks had a dragon or even a small lizard.

That brief look into Toris’ childhood over, Francis tried to find any other facts about Feliks. He was worried around strangers and only felt safe meeting them in his kitchen, or when Toris was about. He dressed like a girl because he liked girl’s clothes, nothing more. He could drink Toris under the table, but never woke up with a hangover. Once you got to know him past his shallow and selfish exterior, he was actually a very caring friend.

Toris clearly liked Feliks an awful lot, even with how exasperated the other boy made him half the time. It was endearing. But that wasn’t what he needed.

Feliks had inherited the Menagerie off his grandmother. He didn’t want to run it all alone, so he let Toris come help out. Toris needed the extra money because he and his mother were living out of a car, having run away from-

“Ow!” he helped, back suddenly aching. The old wound - wounds? - there were twinging uncomfortably, and Toris’ consciousness was stirring in his mind. Okay, avoiding Toris’ origins. Back to Feliks.

Feliks had his hands in both the world of the supernatural and the world of the humans. He was completely mortal himself, but his connections made him hard to kill. Francis was amazed by what Toris was witnessing. Within hours of each other, Feliks would buy information from a werewolf pack in exchange for the location of a safehouse, and then as soon as they left, sell unrelated but incredibly valuable information to two hunters who’d come knocking on his door. Was that even allowed?

Feliks was much more powerful than any man had right to be. Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that Francis had possessed his one and only best friend.

Taking that into consideration, Francis carefully shuffled around, and moved Toris’ consciousness to the front instead of his own. He didn’t much like backseat driving, but for Feliks to not catch on he was here, he would need Toris to act like Toris.

Green eyes fell shut, and Francis waited for the brunette to wake up. As he was considering poking him awake, Toris winced and blinked open his eyes. He sat up putting a hand to his head and groaning.

“Owch...” he muttered, standing and looking around. “What.... how did I end up over here?” Rather than dismiss it like many others would, he then looked around more carefully. He had at least the dregs of Sight, but nothing supernatural popped out at him immediately. He went over to the tricorn, looking through the window. “Illyad, what happened?”

He horse snorted at him too, not even deigning to look at him. Clearly he could still sense Francis there. Toris was concerned. Nervous, he left the stable wringing his hands. He was going to take Francis right to Feliks. Then, with luck, the ghost could jump over to the blonde, and get the information he wanted.

The little cottage was somewhat underwhelming, for something belonging to an information broker. Though they’d passed three fields with creatures Francis couldn’t even name in them but all with nasty teeth, there didn’t seem to be much secruity. Into the side of a hill there was a cave, probably built rather than formed naturally, and a great many trees on the other side of the hill. Sitting in the middle of the countryside like this, it didn’t seem all that outlandish to assume that an old woman or a farmer lived here. Ivy was growing up to the roof along the side of the house, the chimney stack was leaning a little to the left, and the tiles needed to be replaced. It was adorably homely. And the arguably most powerful man in the world lived in it.

Toris entered through the back door, which lead straight into the kitchen. It was decorated in pastel colours, cute little wooden cupboards and an awful lot of pink tableware adding to the effect that he’d just entered somewhere both very rustic and very feminine. It would probably unsettle a great many supernatural creatures and hunters alike to be in the presence of something so frilly.

“Toris, are you done?” came a call down the hallway. He even spoke like a girl.

“I need to talk to you!” Toris called back, nervousness in his tone. There was a thud from upstairs, and then a quick rumble of footsteps. Through the door that lead to the hallway, Francis could see Feliks jump the last two stairs and skid along the tiled floor to where Toris stood. His hair was up in pigtails and he was wearing a short, pink skirt. From the looks of things, he’d been in the middle of painting his nails, two of them hot pink while the rest untouched but manicured.

“Omigosh is something wrong with the ponies.” Feliks’ words came out in a panicked rush. Toris held his hands up defensively.

“No no! It’s not that.”

“The birdies?”

“No, I-”

Feliks sighed. “Well then what. You scared me for a second there.”

Toris looked behind him, and closed the door. “I thought I felt the presence of a ghost.” he whispered. Feliks’ eyebrows raised.

“Uhuh.”

“I was feeding Illyad, but then I passed out and woke up several feet away from where I was. I think I was possessed.” he frowned. “I’m alright, but I don’t know what happened while I was out.”

Feliks considered him. “What about Illyad?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me after I woke up...”

The blonde considered him, then shrugged with a smile. “Guess that means the ghost robbed you of your virginity then!”

“W-what?!” Toris yelped. Feliks burst into laughter.

“Ahaha oh man your face is like, hilarious oh my god.” He smacked Toris on the shoulder. “No way man, you were barely gone ten minutes. Besides which you know that virgin thing only works with unicorns not tricorns.”

Toris fumed a little internally, but gave up and sighed. “Yeah, of course. I knew that.”

“Sure you did. Okay, so, hold still a second.”

“Why?”

“Coz I can feel him still clinging to you like a gross undead insect and I’m gonna get him off.”

Francis recoiled. Oh merde-

There was a loud bang, and everything went dark.

---

Dinner was, as to be expected with a young coven, a messy affair.

After locating Jacques and Oswald, the two had gone to sit at opposite ends of the large table in the dining room. They were throwing each other heavy glares and tearing into their meals with gusto. Arthur, sitting at the head of the table, watched them with eyebrows raised. Mostly, the kids were being well behaved, but when one had a large male human spread-eagled on the table, blood was going to get everywhere and there was nothing to be done about that. Wise of Matthew to get laminated wood for his floor, then.

Matthew himself had come down, broken off a leg for himself, and left again back up the stairs to where the new girl was. Anne was chatting excitedly to Victoria about having another girl to play with, while Victoria seemed somewhat disinterested in the prospect. But Victoria seemed to be apathetic about a lot of things. Regina was listening with interest though, sitting half on the table to reach a jugular until Arthur had told her to mind her manners.

After all the kids had retrieved bloodcicles out of the fridge for desert (an ingenious idea, Arthur had to say) and Oswald had thrown the body outside into the forest for the wolves (the boy had a good throwing arm, the corpse went at least fifty feet), everyone split up to their respective pastimes. Anne and Regina read in the front room, which was cleaned up thanks to Edward and Albert, who themselves were playing some kind of video game that Arthur didn’t understand on a large television - one that wasn’t broken. Jacques had vanished again, Oswald was writing something in a book, possibly a diary, and Victoria had, in the end, wandered off to go see how Matthew was doing with their new covenmate.

This left Arthur rather at a loss. This would usually be when he and Matthew sat down for a chat over tea, but since the coven sire was busy, Athur was left wandering the house. And it was a decently sized house, not as big as his own was, but enough for a coven of this size. Each one had their own bedroom and there were still three more spare. Two bathrooms, another games room, plus the kitchen. It was in the middle of nowhere, and there was no road leading up to it. Passing by the trapdoor in the ceiling that lead to the attic, Arthur could see it was open, and a host of little black eyes peered back at him. The bats were relatively calm, which meant the kids were too. A good sign of a healthy coven.

He reached the end of the hall, and paused. Here was a door he’d not really been in before. It was Matthew’s office, he knew that much, but it’d been years since he’d visited. He wondered if it was still as tidy as before.

It was unlocked, so he opened it, and the first thing he noticed was that it was definitely not tidy at all. There was now a large bookcase that covered a whole wall, but several of the books were open on the desk. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, but didn’t touch them lest he mess up whatever Matthew was doing. What was he doing though... wandering hands picked up a book, keeping his thumb between the pages so he didn’t lose Matthew’s place, he checked the cover.

‘Vampirism and the Soul’ by Bram Stoker.

Bram Stoker? Where the hell had Matthew managed to get a volume of Bram bloody Stoker’s work! The other books went in a similar vein - Stoker, Callahan, Summers, Belmont - all vampire hunters writing of their understanding of a species they were determined to exterminate. Ignorant, the lot of them, as to what it really was to be a vampire. He was going to have words with Matthew...

His eye was caught by a small newspaper clipping sticking out of a book. He tried to remove it, but it was glued in. He opened it, and immediately froze.

Alfred was staring back at him.

No, wait, it wasn’t Alfred. Not Alfred Kirkland or Alfred Jones, but a man who looked incredibly similar to them, in 1890s attire, in front of the statue of liberty. He was smiling, relaxed and happy. His hair was a little too dark and his eyes were the wrong shape, but he could be Alfred’s son if it weren’t for... no.

Arthur pounced on the book, turning page after page. Alfred, Alfred, Alfred, different names and clothes and little differences to the face but it was so strong, the resemblance, it was uncanny and disturbing and most certainly unnatural. How did he keep appearing? Why in so many jobs? A construction worker, a landlord, a businessman, a thief, a sailor, a soldier, an outlaw. On the back page, finally, was Alfred F. Jones’ wanted picture, his stupid grinning face as he shouldered a baseball bat.

Matthew hadn’t given up on Alfred. Not even close.

Arthur’s heart was racing. While he’d been mourning the death of a vampire, Matthew had been tracking the life and descendants of a human, following Alfred’s outlandish hypothesis that vampires could be returned to human origin. Matthew had faith that his brother had succeeded. And from what Arthur was seeing, there was a large, plausible chance that he had.

After all that, Arthur was almost afraid to look at the last book on the desk. It appeared to be a photo album. This was a bit of a silly possession for a vampire to have. Thanks to the use of silver in film, the image of a vampire was rejected from the photograph, leaving an empty space. Alfred Jones, he recalled, had wondered if digital cameras would work, since they didn’t use film, but data. Arthur couldn’t claim to understand technology, but if Alfred said it would work, maybe it would.

Matthew’s album proved Alfred, once again, to be correct. An experimental photo of Regina was only slightly faded, and she grinned happily while holding up her first kill that she’d done on her own, or so the subtitle said. He flicked through a few more pictures, a few of them almost making him smile despite all the shocks he’d been through so far.

One picture almost slipped out of the book, and Arthur caught it to put it back, before noticing what the picture was of.

The vampire nearly dropped the photo album on the floor, eyes wide and disbelieving. He stepped back, hitting the bookshelf and jumping in surprise, using it as support for his suddenly weak and trembling legs.

“Impossible...” Arthur muttered to himself, slowly making his way back to the book to check what he’d seen wasn’t a hallucination. But it had to be, because if this was after the invention of the digital camera, then this photo meant that all the people in it were...

“... alive...”

Not all of his coven was dead.

Chapter 4

Notes:
- DUN. DUN. DUUUUUUUN.
- Place your bets, place your bets, who's in the picture! Those of you who have been keeping up with monster_au don't have to guess though. <3

Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned [Chapter 2]

hellzabeth — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 22:30:15 GMT

Title: Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned 1

Characters: Alfred, Vash, Francis, Arthur, Matthew's coven

Rating: 15 for this chapter.

Warnings: Blood, violence, heavily implied child abuse.

Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.

Alfred F. Jones had never claimed to be difficult to please. He was a simple kind of guy, in his opinion, who enjoyed the little things in life. The sound of fireworks, the taste of a freshly cooked hamburger, the patterns a blood spray could make if you angled it just right. Nothing big or expensive. He would be content with the bare minimum.

But, when the maximum was offered, of course he was going to take everything he could.

They’d been so desperate to have him they’d promised him anything. He’d asked for a computer, internet access, a tv with an X-Box, Wii and PS3, a comfy bed, and his chainsaw. He’d been allowed all of those but the last one. They’d taken it away to bless it, and it’d been a month since then. He’d still not had his precious baby back. Didn’t they know how important it was to him? He’d named it and everything.

Still, being a hired killer wasn’t too terrible. He’d neatly beaten the shit out of two warlocks with his bare hands the other day for exercise, though they’d died way too easily. Warlocks were just humans, after all, and while Alfred simply loved killing, he also loved a challenge.

He’d been promised something bigger today. Something way bigger. So when the bolts on his 6-inch thick steel door groaned back, he sat up like an excited child about to go to Disney Land.

The man who ducked in through the door was becoming increasingly familiar. His blonde hair was trimmed neatly, uniformly straight under his beret. Alfred had originally laughed when he saw the Swiss Guard uniform, and still couldn’t fully suppress giggles even when he knew this particular guard had to qualms against shooting people who found his clown suit funny. Piercing green eyes tracked his every move. Did this guy ever blink?

“Hey there Hash!”

“It’s Vash.” the man said stiffly, lips pursed as he handed over a piece of paper. “I assume you didn’t kill your teacher before they taught you to read.”

“Your insults could use some work!” Alfred laughed, turning the paper over. He tilted his head, checked the back of the sheet, and raised an eyebrow. “And yeah they taught me to read, but not in Latin dude.”

“That’s Italian.” Vash corrected. “And there’s a summary in English at the bottom. Read the whole thing.”

“Blah blah blah...” Alfred mimed the guard talking with his hand. Let’s see here.

’Alfred F. Jones to accompany Gabriel dos Anjos, Ida Dusek, Heracles Karpusi and Lydia Biely to find and kill the Russian Werebear. Mission begins at 0600 Sunday 13th March 2011. Training needed and materials to be gathered before this date.’

The teen hummed. “Werebear, huh? What’re they like?”

Vash glared. “You should do your own reseach.” But after a moment he added. “A werebear is a human that can change forms into a bear-”

“I kinda got that.”

“- depending on how angry they are, the size of the bear changes. This particular werebear has been giving the Russian Branch trouble, so we’re sending you in to assist them.”

“Russia branch come crying to you for help then?”

Vash paused there, narrowing his eyes. “Yes.”

Alfred spotted a little white lie. “Really? Because from what I’ve heard, the Russian branch doesn’t seem the type.” he rose from his bed, approaching the guard and delighting in the way he tensed. “Aren’t you guys being kind of pushy, sending a team when they didn’t ask for one?”

Vash said nothing, but his hand was on his gun holster.

“Not that I’m complaining. A werebear sounds fun!” Alfred shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ that it’s really kinda rude.”

“Not that you’d know anything about politeness.” Vash growled. The American chuckled at him, a head taller and intimidating without trying to be.

“You sound like a guy I know. Green eyes just like you. Is it just a thing for people with green eyes to have sticks up their asses?” Alfred grinned, leaning down to Vash’s eye level. “Bet you want to know how much I already know about the other Branches. You guys really need to teach your agents to keep their mouths shut.”

“All our information is handled with the utmost care-”

“Buuuuuull~shiiiiiiit~!” Alfred sing-songed. “A 14 year old in his bedroom could hack into your files, Jesus! Never mind how much gossip flies around the mess hall.” He tilted his head. “Is it true someone in the Asia branch invented a blade that can cut though souls? Can I mod that onto my chainsaw? And by the way,” a step forward made Vash take two steps back and draw his gun. “Where is my chainsaw?”

“Get back in bed.” Vash growled, pressing his pistol between Alfred’s eyes. “Now.”

“You’re not gonna shoot.” Alfred rolled his eyes. “After all that trouble of finding me and training me. Betcha I’ve got some useful intel that I could pass to my friends on the other side too, if you kill me. Straight to hell in a hand basket for me, and I know a demon with a penchant for deals. You know how much your information is worth? Probably about the same as the price for my soul.”

“I said. Get back. Into bed.”

Alfred let him sweat a little longer, before straightening, walking back to his bed, and plunking himself down on it with his hands up. “Happy?”

“I’m never happy.” Vash grumbled, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him. The locks groaned back into place.

The younger blonde chuckled. “I figured as much.” He flopped back on his pillows. “And I still want my chainsaw!!”

---

Francis stopped the car and knew he wouldn’t get any further in this. The endless country road wound on into the distance, grey clouds casting shadows intermittently over the fields and occasional trees. From here, Poland didn’t look all that different from France, but it was a bit colder, which is why the body Francis was possessing at the moment was wrapped up warm. It would likely help them once he left them behind here. There was a barrier in front of him now, invisible to human eyes, but passing through it while possessing a human would likely set it off. Now, going under the barrier by phasing through the floor, that would be safer. He’d prefer not to give this Feliks person time to prepare before he made his appearance.

He pulled himself out of the body he was in with the same level of difficulty one takes off a shirt that’s a size too small. The young man slumped back in his seat, breathing softly, for all intents and purposes asleep. He’d probably wake up in a few hours. Francis would be long gone by then.

With no solid form, Francis simply had to will himself where he wanted to be. He never really liked being intangible. Granted it gave him the ability to go where he wanted to, but being deprived of his senses was a disturbing thing. He was deaf and blind, he couldn’t feel the wind that rustled the trees, he couldn’t taste the chill on the air or smell the flowers blooming on the shrubs. What he did have was an innate sense of his surroundings, of sound on another level, of light from beyond the visible. It was disturbing and reminded him too much of a place he didn’t want to be - a place he’d erased from his memory along with Jeanne a long time ago and still didn’t like to dwell on.

Speed was nothing when he was like this. He could go anywhere as fast as he wanted, but long blank distances were confusing to travel through; disorientating. So when he found the first human spirit for miles, he emerged, observing him. And it was a him, despite how gentle the spirit was. He was feeding something horse-like and supernatural. A unicorn? He’d definitely arrived at the farm. This had to be either Feliks, or one of Feliks’ helpers. Either way, by poking around in his mind, Francis would be able to find the information he needed.

Entering the body of an unwilling person is much more difficult than that of a weak-willed, hopeless individual like Francis’ usual choices. He stayed out of sight for a while, thinking how to approach this. It would probably hurt, both himself and the potential vessel, and he could get kicked out of the body at any time. If this helper had any training in dealing with the supernatural, there was a chance of receiving a psychic shock too.

Here goes nothing...

---

There was toilet paper hanging from the chandelier.

Arthur observed this and the carnage that had befallen the rest of the room with a kind of weary nostalgia. It seemed that, when you got down to it, kids would be kids no matter which coven they belonged to, or what species they were.

Matthew had dashed upstairs with Kimi in his arms, leaving Arthur to stare at the chaos of the front room. There was a large television with a remote sticking out of it that fizzled slightly, blood all over the carpet, ripped up magazines and what looked like a chess set had been over turned. In the midst of this were two young children, wrestling and clawing and snarling. It was a play fight, sure, but it wasn’t exactly helpful to the damage that the room had already taken.

Arthur cleared his throat, and the children froze, looking at him.

“Hello Edward, Albert.” he said with raised eyebrows, folding his arms. The young vampires scrambled off each other. One had short, red hair and blue eyes, blush almost obscuring his freckles. The other sported brown locks that were staring to grow out, grey eyes, and ears that always looked a little big for his head. If Arthur recalled correctly, the former was Edward, and the latter Albert, though if Matthew kept expanding his coven at the rate he did Arthur was fast going to lose track. “Is this your doing?”

“Grand-sire Arthur!” They cheered, jumping to their feet and racing towards him, bouncing up and down in place. “We didn’t know you were going to come visit!”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Really? Matthew sent a letter.”

The covenmates shared a look. “We didn’t get it. Jaques had something but he burned it. And then Oswald got angry at him for burning it and they broke dinner and messed up the room.” said Albert, pointing at the blood on the floor.

“They were beating each other with the legs!” added Edward. “We had to go use the reserves instead of catch more dinner.”

“Well that was good of you to restrain yourself.” Arthur commended, picking up the chess table and dusting it off. “Why hasn’t it been cleaned up yet, though?”

The children shuffled sheepishly. Clearly they’d not even considered cleaning it up. Arthur sighed. “Alright, where are the rest of them.”

“Umm, Green and Tory are upstairs doing girl things.” Albert pulled a face. “Tonic was talking to Mate in the kitchen and Frogger’s outside.”

Arthur stared blankly. Matthew had warned him about the nicknames.

“Who?”

“Oh!” Edward grinned. “Green is Anne, like Anne of Green Gables. Tory is Victoria. Tonic is Regina - her name was Gin but then it was Tonic like gin and tonic. Mate is Oswald because it sounds like Oz which is like Australia and people in Australia say mate so his name is Mate.” He babbled. “And Frogger is Jacques’ name because he speaks French so he’s a frog like you said and also because Oswald calls him Fucker and we’re not allowed to say that.”

“Oh.” said Arthur. “You know, people in England say ‘mate’ too.” and for some reason that was the only response he could make to that.

“Yeah but his name is Oswald not Engwald.” Albert said pointedly, and then his eyes lit up. “Hey, we should call him that...”

“Where’s Matthew?” Edward cut over him, peering behind Arthur in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his sire.

Arthur glanced behind him just in case Matthew had appeared. He did tend to do that without people noticing. “Oh, he brought home a new covenmate for you. They’re upstairs.”

“Did someone say new covenmate?” chirped a girl, poking her head around the door. Her reddish-brown pigtails swung over her shoulders. “Oh! Hello Grand-sire!”

“Hello Anne.” Arthur smiled. “Yes, a young girl called Kimi.”

Anne’s green eyes lit up. “A girl! Hah! We equal the boys now!” She stuck her tongue out at Albert and Edward, and ran up the stairs.

Edward rolled his eyes. “She’s been waiting for a girl ever since he brought Albert back and made it uneven.”

Albert scuffed the floor with his bare feet. “She still kinda hates me.”

“Nonsense.” Arthur said, pushing the sofa back into place with one hand. “I’m sure it’ll be fine now she has someone new to focus on. Now, are you going to help me clean this up before Matthew sees or are you going to make your Grandsire do all the work for you?”

The two shook their heads frantically. “We’ll help, we’ll help!”

Chapter 3

Notes:
- Yes, all of Matthew's coven are based on the provinces of Canada. Who's who is often obvious, sometimes not, but take your guesses.

A very Potter ramble...

hellzabeth — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 12:08:58 GMT

So I’ve been hearing a lot about Pottermore, but I only thought to look it up recently. Still very little details, heard some wishful thinking about an MMO, which I doubt, even if JK is richer than the King of Spain and could afford that shit if she wanted.

Harry Potter was probably what I'd call my first fandom. As in, it's the first one I went looking for extra details on. It's not the first one I read slash for, that gleaming trophy is reserved for Naruto, but I consider HP to be an important part of my childhood and I continue to love it today. Granted, it's not perfect, now that as an adult I've removed my rose-coloured glasses somewhat, but I still have a great affection for this now quite massive fandom. I've only just got my sister reading the books (after nearly a decade of pestering, holy shit) and it's nice to share in the fandom.

I grew up with Harry. He's always been a year ahead of me, in terms of the books, but as he aged, I aged. I was, however, a little bit faster. By the time the last one had arrived, I was slightly ahead of him by a year, but still felt incredibly connected. I lined up at midnight to buy my copy, and read it until I literally collapsed from sleep deprivation at 6am. Then, when I woke up, I continued where I'd left off. Finishing the books was weird for me. I was so used to waiting for Harry that when I didn't have to wait any more, it was odd. I've never been much of a fan of the movies - watched them anyway because I don't believe in disliking something unless you've seen it - but this last half of Deathly Hallows is another sort of end.

Pottermore, whatever it turns out to be, is a nice way to placate fans like me, and the several thousand rabid nutters that are no doubt out there. The fandom certainly isn’t going to die anywhere in the next decade, but a little extra material is much appreciated.

And I guess we finally found a fandom aside from Homestuck that accidentally DDOSes its own site. Well done, HP, well done.

Pidge is drawing again everyone run.

hellzabeth — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 01:07:35 GMT

Continuing on from this post here, Pidge has made yet more of her friends into magical girls.

Backstory:
Theme: Gradus Prohibitus

Backstory:
Theme: Umbra Nigra

Probably going to add more later!

Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned [Chapter 1]

hellzabeth — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 22:42:13 GMT

Title: Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned 1

Characters: Francis, Arthur, Matthew, Kimi.

Rating: 15 for this chapter.

Warnings: Blood, violence, heavily implied child abuse.

Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.

A ghost, a vampire and a serial killer walked into a bar and...

No, that’s clichéd, starting again.

A young man with short dark hair, a scraggly goatee and a face that wasn’t really his walked into a bar sans the company of either a vampire or a serial killer. And perhaps that would be for the best, because those two acquaintances of his were quite busy with their own problems, and Francis was looking for someone that, in all honesty, he didn’t want to introduce to his extremely dysfunctional contacts.

After all, he couldn’t call them friends. If he did then he would have to admit there was something extremely wrong with him. Both of them had tried to kill him on occasion, the vampire’s attempts tapering off as he became aware that Francis would only come back, and the serial killer merely becoming more effective in his methods until he finally succeeded. But Francis had been dead long before he met Arthur Kirkland, and much longer before he encountered Alfred F. Jones.

The body he was possessing was a little taller than he was used to, and he had to duck his head to walk through a low door to a small room at the back of the bar. The smell of the room was heady, incense and probably something illegal. Through the smoke, a lady gazed at him over a table.

“Spirit.” she addressed him, inclining his head. Ah, jackpot.

“So you’re not a fake.” he smiled, approaching her table. “You don’t know how many I’ve had to go through to-”

“Fourteen, and really that’s not so many as some who come here.” her voice was slightly scratchy, probably from using that long pipe her thin, boney fingers held. “You’re just impatient.”

“After waiting several hundred years, even a saint would be tried.” Francis shrugged. The mystic may have been beautiful once, but she was older now, dark skin wrinkled and liver-spotted. But her eyes were bright and alive as a young lady’s, watching his every move.

She chuckled, a rasping sound. “I’ve had the pleasure of knowing a few saints, their patience is often overestimated.”

Silence settled. The mystic was in no rush to go about things, mystics very rarely rushed. They did things exactly when they were meant to happen. Francis waited, and waited, until he realised that she was, in fact, waiting for him to speak instead. Or maybe she was waiting for him to realise that he didn’t really need to speak, apart from to start the conversation. Mystics were odd like that.

“You know what I’m going to ask, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She took a long drag on her pipe, exhaling the smoke deliberately slow. “I do. Your wife is dead.”

“I’m quite aware. But where is she?”

The elderly lady shifted forward. “That knowledge is closed to me.”

Francis frowned. “Closed.”

“Indeed. She is out of my sight, as much as she is out of yours. I am not permitted. The door is closed.”

Hands slammed down on the table as Francis stood from his seat. “Then how do you open the door?”

The mystic was unruffled, waving her hand at him to calm down. “Sit.” She waited until Francis had slowly returned to his seat, but his frustrated glare didn’t leave his borrowed face. “I may not be able to give you the information you desire, but I know someone who could.” A small smile quirked at her lips. “A name you may be familiar with, as famous as he is becoming amongst the supernatural.”

Francis leaned forward. “Who?”

The crone laughed, sounding every bit like the witch people claimed she was. “A young man who inherited the largest collection of supernatural creatures on the planet, the Menagerie. He’s set up so many contacts on both sides of the battle field, they call him the eyes and ears of Europe. If you want information, on anything not of this world, you go to him.” she flicked out a business card from her sleeve.

“His name is Feliks Łukasiewicz.”

---

Joints popped as Arthur stretched. Sitting in a cramped boat’s luggage hold for the duration of the day really did a number on one’s back. They’d come on deck during the night, and nobody would miss that other stow-away they found. If they could have travelled by bat, they would have, but flying over the Atlantic was inadvisable and frankly impossible when one was concerned for the sunrise.

Matthew rolled his shoulders, glancing back at the last scraps of daylight that still clung to the horizon. They’d have a good ten hours to travel in now, with the winter on their side. Arthur abandoned his sunglasses, tacky things that they were. “Well, lead on, Matthew.”

The younger vampire smiled at him, and began walking towards the city they’d docked in. “I’m contemplating bringing dinner home.”

“How much do they eat?” Arthur asked, happy to keep up a conversation.

“Not as much as we used to.” Matthew laughed softly. “Three a week, we ration in the summer. And anyone who is stupid enough to wander into the woods during a snowstorm too.”

“Unless you turn them.” the elder pointed out. Matthew flushed, chuckling nervously.

“I’m too soft, maybe... but if they’re young I just don’t think they deserve to die like that, in the cold.” Violet eyes flickered to Arthur. “I ask them, though. I tell them exactly what they’ll be.”

Arthur knew it was a jab at his methods, but said nothing to it. “To date you have...”

“Seven.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Jacques, Edward, Anne, Oswald, Victoria, Regina and Albert. But they all prefer their nicknames.”

“Nicknames.” A smile tugged at Arthur’s lips. “You really are soft.”

Matthew turned even redder. When a vampire started to blush, they often went overboard. “Th-they’re kids, they made most of them up for each other...”

“What kind of nicknames?”

The younger vampire let out something between a nervous chuckle and a sigh. “I can’t repeat them in polite company...”

They left the city lights behind without catching anything. With more security, more cameras and more people, it would be difficult to hunt without being caught, and a vampire on a government watch-list would have to be dealt with by the Society. And the Society was not kind to those who disturbed the peace and order they so adored. Of course, Arthur was very much in line with the Society, and prided himself on once being one of the more high ranking members. But the admiration had turned to pity, once he lost his coven, and he hated pity. So he’d withdrawn from the meetings and balls for several decades until Matthew and Carmilla staged what they’d called an intervention. Of course he’d dug his heels in - ruined the carpet to boot - but now the two had taken it upon themselves to make sure we was looked after and kept out socialising with people. Well, with vampires.

He probably wouldn’t be getting any peace and quiet once they reached Matthew’s coven, so he enjoyed the companionable silence that had settled around them as they made their way through the frozen night out to where the street lights didn’t reach. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, and the dark sky promised more later. Boots crunched, and soon keen ears picked up another set of feet. A slow walk. Heavy breathing.

Instinctively, the two vampires made their steps as silent as the grave. The dark night did not impede their vision. The road they were on was empty, surrounded by trees on all sides. And the tracks left by their prey lead off into the woods. There was blood as well, specks of it littering the tracks and intervals. It couldn’t possibly be more perfect. And that was why it was suspicious.

Arthur glanced at Matthew, and knew the other was thinking the same. They would be cautious. After such a close run in with the Hunters before, they had to be careful. Granted that the North America branch of Hunters were fairly well known as incompetent, it never hurt to be careful.

The steps stopped, sound going dead. Arthur could smell their prey so clearly; the injuries must be great. Matthew, strangely forward, approached the origin of the smell.

Slumped against a tree was a small child, perhaps seven or eight. Her hair was dark and braided, peeking out of the hood of her fur coat. She clutched her arm, and that was where the blood came from, seeping out between bare fingers. Arthur swallowed, throat dry and thirsty. He was going to pounce, but Matthew held up his hand. After a brief moment of surprise, Arthur admitted to himself that this was Matthew’s territory, so he should probably get first look.

‘Stay here.’ he mouthed.

The little bit of Arthur that still wanted to treat Matthew like a child and protect him was screaming that this was a trap, surely a trap. But Matthew was old enough to take care of himself. Arthur had to make himself accept it. Still, he shifted uncomfortably.

Matthew nearly gave his sire a heart attack when he just walked straight into the clearing with no attempt at stealth. The little girl’s head whipped up, eyes wide and scared, and Matthew held up his hands to show he wasn’t going to hurt her. Which was stupid, because either way this situation turned out, he was.

“Hello.” he greeted gently. The girl curled up, away from him, whimpering. “Hey come on, don’t cry. What’s wrong, you’re hurt...” He crouched down. “Did someone do this to you?”

The girl was silent. Arthur could have sworn he taught Matthew not to play with his food.

“Papa...” she suddenly mumbled.

Matthew blinked. “Papa? Do you want your papa?”

The girl shook her head fiercely, clutching onto her wounded arm. Arthur frowned. An arm wound shouldn’t be giving off that much blood; he could smell much more. Was she hiding more injuries? It seemed Matthew had the same idea. He slowly reached out a hand to her.

“Let me see. I want to help.”

The girl stared at him for a long moment. Arthur was about ready to get up and do it himself, when her shaking hands undid a few of the buttons on her thick coat.

What little Arthur could see of her skin was cross-crossed with scars. The rest was covered in bandages half-soaked with blood, clumsily wrapped, probably by the girl herself. None of these wounds were to be found on the coat apart from the gash on her arm. Whoever had attacked her had got in one last hit as she put her coat on. As it was, in the cold and with that many injuries, she would have bled to death if they hadn’t found her. What a waste of food.

Matthew sighed. “What’s your name?”

The girl swallowed nervously. “Kimi...”

“Alright Kimi. I’m going to give you a choice. With all of these wounds, you might die. Either I can make it quick and peaceful and all the pain will stop... or, you can come with me, but you can never see your family, or anyone you know, ever again.”

Kimi stared at Matthew. “Are you an angel?”

A soft laugh. “No, I’m not.”

“... I don’t want to see my family ever again.” she said, voice hushed low. She reached towards him, blood dripping off her hands. “Please don’t make me go back there...”

Matthew took her hands. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

The young girl let out a small sob. “Please. I don’t care, I don’t want to go back. I want to go where he can’t get me.”

The vampire didn’t say another word. He used his own sharp teeth to bite at his wrist until blood was drawn. Blood that would satisfy no hunger, but rather create more. He pressed it to her lips, and a little slipped through. A single drop was all that was needed. It only took a moment before her body spasmed, and her head dropped forward. For all intents and purposes, she was dead.

Matthew picked up the light body into his arms. “Arthur, we’ll have to hurry back.”

Arthur left his hiding spot in the trees. “You really are soft.”

The younger shrugged. “I’d rather be soft than which ever monster did this.”

“We’re monsters ourselves.” Arthur pointed out, following as Matthew turned and headed for home. “In case you forgot, you just damned her soul.”

“In case you forgot, it’s nice to feel wanted.” he snapped, and then stopped. Arthur felt his heart clench.

“That was low.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...” Matthew sighed. “I... Arthur you know how it is. You remember, wanting to build a coven, surround yourself with allies. It’s built in to us. We can’t reproduce, so I suppose this is how we’ve evolved to keep ourselves going as a species. Sometimes, they’re not potential food, but potential family.”

Arthur snorted. “Please don’t tell me you subscribe to that Darwin fellow’s tripe. After witnessing so much of the occult surely you can’t deny it.”

They resumed walking. “I’m not. Why can’t evolution exist alongside the occult? It’s possi-” Kimi spasmed again in his arms. “Okay, less talk, more running back to the house.”

---

It was going to be a wheat field this year. The man who owned the land where his village had once been tended to rotate what he grew in each of his fields. Where Francis’ house once stood, there was a flat, empty expanse of snow, seeds of the crop still not yet sprouted. The ice and snow were melting though, late February steadily turning into early March and the weather with it. He figured he should at least visit here before he went running off to Poland of all places. Besides, now he had more memories to consider of this place.

The village of Blancroche had only had about 130 inhabitants, of which Francis and Jeanne had been but two. It had a small church, a butcher, and of course a baker, though it quite lacked a candlestick maker and instead had a small smithy employing ten of the town’s men. It had sprung up around an old inn on the Via Domitia road. The ancient pathway had yielded much trade, and the market would often be held there, where Francis would take his bread to sell, and flirt with young ladies passing through town.

One day, a group of women supposedly on pilgrimage passed through. They were all tired and hungry, and the prettiest among them didn’t have quite enough money to buy the bread they needed. Francis gave her a discount. And that was when he fell in love with Jeanne’s smile.

The ladies had stayed a while in the inn, and soon became familiar faces. They stopped being customers and started being workers, Jeanne took her job very seriously. She’d later told him it was her first “proper” job.

He’d never suspected her of being anything but a beautiful woman. The fact that she didn’t simply giggle at his every advance, but rather ignored him most of the time in favour of finishing her work, only made him crave that smile he’d seen before more. A sly trick, playing hard to get. So he’d started being less forward - leaving flowers tied to her bedroom doorknob, paying off her boss so she’d be let off work early, making sure none of the guests she tended to pulled any funny business. After all, she was so pretty.

Of course, now he knew she was perfectly capable of defending herself if she so wished. The powers bestowed upon a witch, whether by birth or by contract, were powerful indeed. That may have been why she’d yelled when he’d bodily flung a drunk patron from the in for attempting to do more than just goose her as she passed.

He let out a long sigh, walking towards the old Roman road. With a quick shove, about the same amount of effort one uses to pull themselves out of a swimming pool, Francis exited his host's body. This would be enough for his generous patron to find his way home with. Either way, he didn’t want to linger here too long, lest his happier memories be spoiled with newer, darker ones...

He was much freer to travel through customs as a ghost anyway.

Chapter 2

Notes:
- You remember how I said maybe sequel? I meant 100% definitely sequel. I hope you lot have been reading monster_au, if not, run on over there now for some interesting and fun supplementary material. A lot has built up over the months, so I made the Essentials tag for the not-silly-drabbles stuff.
- Alfred comes later, keep your panties on, psycho-lovers.

Family Ties [Part 99]

hellzabeth — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 14:52:08 GMT

Title: Family Ties

Characters (in this chapter): India, Diaspora Israel, Macau, New China, Canada, Quebec, England, Scotland, Wales,

Rating: 12

Warnings: ZOMBIE FIC, ALERT, ZOMBIE FIC, SHOOT FOR THE HEAD.

Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.

The soft clack of china was all that broke the silence in the room. But it was a companionable quiet; that of two people who had lived a long time and seen a lot of things, and were probably the last two to remember them.

“Well, that was quite a scuffle.” The woman once known as Israel commented, sipping her coffee. India, in turn, stared pensively into her tea.

“I’d say that maybe lessons have been learned, but that would be far too naïve of me.” A wry smile touched on dark lips. “Nobody ever learns. Not even you and me.”

Sarah chuckled. “I suppose not. Regardless… you have profited from this war.”

Hazel eyes glanced up. “You think so.”

“At least temporarily.” A shrug of the shoulders. “There is always territory lost and gained. Do you fancy yourself the new Persia?”

“Hardly.” India smiled. “I doubt any can be that decadent these days without consequences.”

“Then what are you going to do with all that oil?”

“Attain decadence, of course.” A laugh, with raised eyebrows. Sarah paused for thought.

“And the consequences?”

“They make life interesting.”

The comfortable silence settled again.

“Yao wouldn’t want you to get reckless, Maya.” Her friend said cautiously. “I suggest you work subtly, though that may already be too late, if what you’ve told me of Khalidah’s conversation with you is true.”

“You say that like I’m some micronation who’s never had an empire before.” A level look passed. “Don’t worry. Your son will be safe.”

Sarah sniffed. “I know. Worry more for yourself. Be careful of the road you walk down. Yahweh can dismantle a nation that does not obey his will. And if not Him, then the world will act in his stead.” She paused, thinking over her words. “When you fall – and that’s when, not if – be sure to have somewhere safe to land.”

India finished the last of her tea. “As long as Yao’s replacements do their job right, I’ll be fine.”

---

“Chinaaaaaaaa.” Macau whined, leaning on the back of Li Shui’s chair. “Hey, hey, China. Come on, let’s go out. You’re going to suffocate on pen fumes in here.”

“It’s a biro, it doesn’t give off fumes.” Li Shui replied curtly, shuffling paperwork on his desk out of the way of Rui’s wandering hands. “And stop calling me that so many times.”

“Is it starting to annoy you Chinaaaaaa~?” he sing-songed the last note with a cheeky grin. Li Shui glared at him.

“Meimei will come in and hit you until you acknowledge her as China too.”

“Meh, one of you’s got to take top dog eventually. I know the whole equality thing was kind of big for gege after communism and all, but I don’t think it’ll last-”

“Macau.” It seemed Li Shui had reached his last nerve, from he glare he was giving him. Rui span round and started marching towards the door.

“Alright, alright, sheesh.” He stretched, bones popping. He’d been growing too recently. “By the way, I’ve got reports for you from the lower downs, if you know what I mean.”

“The Triads.”

“Oh come on, use code words, makes it sound more mysterious.” Rui’s pout suddenly became a grin. “You know they’ve started calling me the Shadow Capital.”

“Out with it Rui.”

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “India is making her move. She’s taking advantage of her still stable economy to take over her neighbours. She’s not making any moves on us, don’t worry, but I’ve heard she would like our support.” He sighed. “I don’t like it, but we need a strong ally when we’re recovering like this. For now, I’d recommend going with it.”

It was starting to snow outside, Li Shui observed as he turned to gaze out the window. The city was bustling with life regardless of the weather, undeterred by political upheaval. Peace. This was what peace was like.

They needed money to maintain that peace.

“I’ll email her.” He said neutrally. “Can you grab Meimei? I need to talk to her.”

---

“Quebec?” a fist pounded on his door. “Quebec, get up, it’s past noon!”

“Fuck off.” Came the muffled reply. “Getting up before noon is for people in charge. Let the working classes sleep.”

“I think you’ve got that the wrong way round.” Canada didn’t sound particularly amused by the resurgence of laziness in his province. “Either way, you’re coming with me to see Mexico at the North America summit. Work with me here, I’m still not quite officially recognised yet, come on, eh?”

“Je suis mort, vas-y allez sans moi.”

“J'étais mort, mais j'y vais, et tu viens avec moi! Lève-toi!” The doorknob rattled as Canada tried to turn it, but he didn’t know that Quebec had pushed a wardrobe in front of it in case of this very incident. The Nation on the other side was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Je suis étonné que tu sois capable de diriger un pays, t'es tellement paresseux! ”

“Je ne t'écoute pas!” Quebec turned up the music on his headphones, but not before he heard Canada’s last retort.

“D'accord! Très bien! Tu n'auras pas de pancakes!”

A loud scraping sound of the wardrobe being moved, followed by the door opening a crack. “Tes... pancakes? Faits par toi?”

Canada raised his eyebrows. “Oui.”

The door opened. “Alright, you twisted my arm.”

“Did you miss my pancakes that much while I was gone?”

“Fermez la!”

---

“… and the negotiations are to be completed by this afternoon. In other news, after stepping down from his position after a disastrous term in office lead to war and social uprisings, the former President of the United States of America had this to say-”

“For god’s sake Wales, change the channel.” England groaned from the other side of the room. Green eyes glared over his well-worn and well-loved copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “They’ve been cycling around the same stories for the past hour.”

“But I haven’t been able to hear half of them because you keep telling me to turn it off. I’m just trying to catch up.” The other replied, but muted the sound anyway. “And don’t boss me about just because I look different now. I’ll grow again, you’ll see.”

Arthur grunted something about population damage and housing problems, but went back to reading his book. It was then that James hobbled in, tossing his crutch to the side before flopping on the sofa with a large sigh and a little dignity. It was really, really gross to watch him re-grow limbs. Granted, it was slow, but he had half a shin now and it just looked odd when he walked.

“Finished your phone call to your boyfriend?” the youngest brother snarked. James flipped him the bird.

“Just because yer own wife’s gone off trying to sort out politics in the Med with his brother.” He snorted. “Don’t get bitter, yer’ll turn into even more of a grumpy old sod.”

“Fuck you.” England replied, having stopped listening half way through what James was saying. The door to the lounge opened again, America stumbling through and collapsing against a book case, sliding down with a groan. England watched him. “Good shift?”

America made a sound somewhere between a curse and a moan, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “You got those painkillers on handy?” Wales tossed him some out of pity. The younger Nation popped two and swallowed them dry. “Thanks. This sucks much more than I thought it would. House makes it look easy.”

“That’s rather the point of it being a punishment, America.” England spoke like he was talking to a colony, but really, America was being childish. Surely he was getting used to the negative repercussions of war by now. “It’s not meant to be easy. None of this is going to be easy for the next few years. Hell, the next few decades. Remember how long it took everyone to trust Germany again?”

America looked down at his feet and said nothing.

“Shouldn’t you be at that conference-summit-thing?” Scotland asked the sullen nation. America shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, you know, I guess…” he mumbled. “But I don’t think they want to see me and my new boss wants me to stay out of trouble for a while and… um…”

“And you’re avoiding Canada.” Wales said bluntly. The younger Nation flinched and England looked at his brother reproachfully. Wales ignored them. If you couldn’t be honest with your family who could you be honest with? Glancing back at the TV, however, he noticed something he’d been waiting for. “Lads, look!” he cried, turning the sound back up.

“-India and Pakistan… and I’m just receiving more information on the Ireland situation…”

The Nations leaned forward. Most of the time, watching the news was like watching a gossip channel, but this was much more serious. Much more important. Dora burst in, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Am I late? Have they announced it?”

“Shh!” the four of them hissed.

“The remaining fragments of the Northern Irish secular counsel have agreed with the Republic of Ireland parliament on a coalition of government, at least for the time being. This will hopefully lead to better organisation of aid and evacuations of Splash Zone areas. Areas of Ireland have been prepared for the incoming refugees. Residents who refuse to leave irradiated land will have aid provided to them, but are strongly advised to evacuate the area…”

Arthur sighed. “… I was almost… well, hoping…”

“A split would be too hard on Aine.” Scotland shook his head. “And even if there was one… it might just lead to a new state. Not North coming back…”

Gazes turned to Wales, expecting him to comment in a similar manner. Wales, however, was smiling.

“Gee, I wonder what I should do with all this compensation money.” He lifted his voice in a purposefully false manner. “I suppose I could buy that new gaming platform with the holograms-“

Somewhere in the hallway, a door burst open.

---

The snow was piled high in the streets. Ukraine held on to her brother’s arm as they walked through the streets, through the markets that had been set up to replace the shops that were destroyed. It was like 200 years ago again, were it not for the occasional tank abandoned half way into a brick wall. Russia breathed into the wool of his scarf – new, one that his sister had made while in physical therapy to get her hands steady again. It was more purple now, she said it matched his eyes. Brought out the colour in them, even when he looked so dejected.

Something ran into Ukraine’s legs, nearly knocking her off balance. Russia caught her quickly, but winced as the movement pulled on a healing wound. The siblings turned their attention to whatever they’d bumped into.

A small child had wrapped its arms around Ukraine’s leg. A girl, judging from the clothing and the bow in her hair. Platinum blonde, just like…

“Sister.” The little girl mumbled. Ukraine’s breath caught. Russia almost wanted to scold the child, for nearly knocking them over and for saying such a thing. But she didn’t know any better. Surely, this child had lost her family too.

Grey blue eyes turned on him, sharp in intensity like a hawk spotting its target. He knew that gaze. It used to give him more chills than winter ever did. Now, it made his heart stop, before stammering back to life.

Back... to life...

“Brother.”

---

Germany covered Prussia’s sleeping form with a blanket, leaving him on the couch and not bothering to ask why there were children’s toys everywhere. He felt the answer would only give him a headache.

Notes:
-This is, in fact, the second to last part of this fic, which ends on chapter 100/Epilogue. I just want it finished. If you've enjoyed it up to this point, I hope I can finally give you guys some closure, because since you've stuck with me this long, that's the least you deserve. <3
- And yes, it's a kinda-sorta cliffhanger even if you know exactly what is going to happen.
- No I will never resolve India's thing with Saudi. After wars big as this, there are always lingering factors and conflicts even after the main fight is over. This is one of them. Use your imaginations.
- French corrections by leyyn! Thanks!

hellzabeth — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 22:39:38 GMT

not gonna scream not gonna scream not gonna scream not gonna scream....

oh god I have never been so terrified of an exam before in my whole life.

fkdfnkjgsdnfgfkjx,fjksd

someone kill me please.

In which Pidge plays Kyuubey.

hellzabeth — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 12:04:47 GMT

Good god what have I done.

Basically, when Pidge gets bored on her breaks, she tends to doodle. Recently, she also downloaded the Maho Shoujo Madoka Magica OST, and then... well I blame Meg for the rest.

Large pics and slight spoilers for Maho Shoujo Madoka Magica below the cut.

Edit: Added two more.

Maho Shoujo Nenamu Magica!
Theme: Credens Justitiam
Backstory:

Maho Shoujo Ameko Magica!
Theme: Desiderium
Backstory: Ameko grew up with a normal family, who she loved very much. One day, while cooking, the stove caught fire, and soon the whole kitchen. She wished that it would be put out, before her parents got home. Kyuubey granted this wish. Some might say that wasting her wish on something material as a small house fire, that could be fixed by a call to the fire brigade. Ameko would be inclined to agree. Still, what's done is done, and now she dedicates herself to fighting Witches, and helping her friends fight off despair.

Maho Shoujo Mekippu Magica!
Theme: Salve, Terrae Magicae
Backstory:

Maho Shoujo Kitsuka Magica!
Theme: Conturbatio
Backstory:

Maho Shoujo Nekoi Magica!
Theme: Scaena Felix
Backstory:

Maho Shoujo Maderin Magica!
Theme: Pigna cum Maga
Backstory:

Ensemble so far...

Nena's one is by far my favourite one. Look it looks so cool aaaaah.

I tried to keep the names to 3 syllables, so it would fit in the title better and keep the rhythm. (Ma-do-ka, Ki-tsu-ka, A-me-ko, Ne-na-mu, Me-ki-ppu etc).

Would anyone else like to make a contract? ／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼

HETALOID: The Album

hellzabeth — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 15:33:38 GMT

1: Double Lariat - Axis and Allies, feat. Spain
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

2: StargazeR - America
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

3: World's End Dancehall - England and Japan
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

4: Tsumugi Uta - China
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

5: Servant of France* - France
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

6: Torinoko City - Russia
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

7: Matryoshka - North and South Italy
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

8: No Thank You - Japan
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

9: Poker Face - Spain
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

10: Imitation Black - Axis and Allies
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

11: Jazzy German Anthem - Germany
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

12: Rolling Boy - America
Youtube [n/a] * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

13: Panda Hero - Russia
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

14: 1868 - Japan
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

15: Dog Day Afternoon - Axis
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

16: Go Go America! - America
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

17: Eh? Sounan... - Spain
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

18: Nihon Nihon ✿ Night Fever! - Japan
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

19: Kol Kol Kol! - Russia
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original song

20: Package Song - Italy, Germany, Japan, England, China, Russia
Youtube * NicoNicoDouga * Original songs: 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6

I tried to be fair in which songs I put on here - not too much of one or the other. Japan is extremely popular, in contrast to China who barely has any songs at all, despite having a lovely voice.

There are other songs out there - for a more comprehensive list, I suggest you head over here!

For now, just enjoy the music!

DOWNLOAD HERE
Mirror here.
File size: 85.71MB

Edit: There have been some problems reported with the "Servant of France" song, where it cuts off at 2 mins. If you've got this issue, try this file. Here!

The Hunter's Field Guide [Monster Mash In-Universe Guide]

hellzabeth — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 00:20:50 GMT

Click the front cover to open up the Hunter Field Guide!

Massive thanks go out to: nenamoo, candesceres and megkips for helping make this possible.

Fanfic Poll!

hellzabeth — Fri, 06 May 2011 14:29:36 GMT

View Poll: #1738652

hellzabeth — Wed, 04 May 2011 12:09:18 GMT

HI GUYS I'M ACTUALLY NOT DEAD YAAAAY

Osama Bin Laden is, though. How about that?

But he gets enough media coverage as it is and as far as I'm concerned I'd like this to be the end of my hearing about him (which it won't be). That is not what this journal post is about.

This is about a cat.

So it's 6:30am and I'm putting the papers on the shelf when I see something move outside the door. A small black cat walks past, gives me a glance, and continues on its way.

Meh, whatever, didn't seem important at the time. And it wasn't.

7am and we opened the front door of the shop. Immediately we had customers to serve so I went over to the till to serve them. It was then that I noticed the same little black cat slinking in through the front door. I excused myself so I could go chase it out, since cats and dogs aren't allowed in the shop in case of allergies, not to mention we have fresh food on display so it's not hygienic.

Five minutes later, it came back in.

This time, I picked it up to put it outside. It was quite a young cat, with no collar, and big green eyes. Looking at it, it seemed like it was female. She didn't mind being picked up at all. Pretty tame over all. But I kept having to pick her up and take her further and further away from the shop. Yet each time she returned. Ali, who was doing the baking next to me, couldn't pet her because she was cooking food, and would have to wash her hands every time. So instead, she kept her eye out, and shouted "cat!" every time the cat came in.

This continued.

For five hours.

We decided that the cat's name was Kat, short for Katyusha. Hence, whenever we shouted "cat!" it was actually just "Kat!"

After a while, it seemed that Kat had wandered off, which was good because I had stuff to clean and bread to put on the shelves and customers to serve and didn't have time for running after a cat. In fact, she disappeared completely, so me and Ali assumed she went home. It hit time for me to go home too, so I left the till in Elliot's somewhat capable hands, and went out to the back of the shop to get my things. Val and Amanda were shifting boxes around. When all of a sudden.

"Cat!"

Kat appeared from within a box of teabags, innocent as can be. Val clutched her heart theatrically, though to be fair, it's not often you find a cat in the storage room.

And so, I picked her up, took her outside, and went home.

She's probably going to go straight back in the shop.

Pfft.

hellzabeth — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 21:47:12 GMT

An Englishman shows his high opinion of his country by silence; An American his, by talking." - Anon, Speculations of a Traveler 1824

Happy St George's day I guess.

/carries on like usual.

So my body aches like hell but fuck it I have shit to do and I'm not going to bed until it's done. Cleaning the house at 11pm y/y?

Wait, what?

hellzabeth — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 01:48:14 GMT

"Thank you for being a dedicated user of Yahoo!Mail for 8 years..."

Wait.

What.

That means I joined Yahoo when I was 11... and I must have been on it for much longer before that.

Damn that's crazy. Why was I on the internet when I was 11. N-no, little Pidge, the internet is full of terrible things. Like bad fanfic, and addicting anime, and lots and lots of porn, in the time before parents knew you could get that shit on the internet at the click of a button...

...

Welp, guess I know why I turned out the way I did.

Question Meme

hellzabeth — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 23:45:09 GMT

- Comment with "Hit me!"
- I'll respond by asking you five questions so I can get to know you.
- Update your journal with the answers to the questions.
- Include this explanation in the post and offer to ask other people.

Questions from aislingthegreat

1. If your house was on fire and you could only grab one thing, what would you take?
If the dog had already got out? My laptop, duh.

2. Name one anime/TV show that you dislike and explain why.
Okay, time to own up. I dislike Panty and Stocking. While I appreciate it's a satirical work, the second there was poo everywhere, it turned me off. It's a shame, because I liked the art style.

3. If you ever managed to Take Over The World and become our Evil Overlord, what would you do with your new power?
Sit everybody the fuck down, tell them to shut up, grow up, and get their shit together on this global warming bullcrap. I'd probably divide up power as well because god knows I am disorganised as hell.

4. What was your favourite book as a child?
Do I have to pick one? Because I was (and still am) deeply in love with the Narnia series. The whole thing, I just adored it. Also, the Angels Unlimited series, a much less well known collection of books, totaling up to 9 before I stopped following the releases. Oh, and when I was a really young child, I was addicted to Peter Rabbit books.

5. What are you most thankful for in your life?
Again, do I have to pick one? Because I'm happy to have a loving, if occasionally exasperating family, some wonderful friends both online and offline, a roof over my head, a comfortable and safe place to sleep, food in my stomach, generally good health, a solid education, a job, and a faith.

WOO

hellzabeth — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 01:03:51 GMT

ROAD TRIP!

Me, Nena and Sarah (no you do not have a say in the matter) are going on a road trip to THE EXOTIC LOCATION OF...

Wales.

REALLY.

So yeah, not gonna be here Thursday. Better get all my studying on Miracles- sorry, mIrAcLeS out of the way Wednesday afternoon.

Probably going to visit Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. No, I didn't seize on the keyboard, there is a legit town in Wales called that. It's the longest place name in the world. Check it.

Also Ironbridge because VICTORIANS FUCK YEAH.

dusts off journal

hellzabeth — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 18:55:20 GMT

Man it feels like all I do when I get home these days is write notes and clean.

Luckily, Nena saved me for a day yesterday. We proceeded to have one of the frilliest, girliest picnics this side of the 19th century. The sun was shining (IN APRIL. THIS IS A STRANGE THING, PEOPLE) and we say by the lake in Petworth Park and read Anne Rice novels (giggling like we were 12 the whole damn time) until I felt the sun burning my fragile ~~pasty pale~~ English Rose complexion and we drove back to her house.

And then we decided to go to the beach and went to Chichester, stopped to buy ice creams and Interview with a Vampire on DVD, and then decided bugger the beach, and went to my house instead.

We proceeded to watch said DVD (which was full of so many poncy gay vampires I might have exploded if I'd watched it on my own) and extol the virtues of Lestat.

Then, since we clearly hadn't had enough homoerotic undertones for the evening, we went out and bought 300, along with two tubs of ice cream.

Mmmm, naked Gerard Butler's bum...

But that was yesterday. Today, I am back to the dull drudge that I must do in order to get to Oxford Brookes. I won't let them beat me.

tumbleweed

hellzabeth — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 00:23:27 GMT

....

well after all that DDoS debacle.

MEME

1. Make a list of 5 things that are in your bag:
> purse
> umbrella
> textbook
> bigger textbook
> fuck-off-huge textbook

2. What is the significance of your journal name?
My name is Elizabeth (at least, it is when I'm in trouble) and I was going through a dark phase. Hence, hellzabeth

3. What is one item of clothing you wish you could always wear?
My pretty lolita dresses. If only I didn't get cold and people wouldn't creep...

4. What do you plan to do after this meme?
More reading I swear I do nothing else. ALL THESE NOTES.

5. What are you listening to right now?
Renegade - Styx (Monster Mash Soundtrack)

6. Who was the last person you hugged?
My mum, just before she went to bed.

7. What was the last thing you downloaded?
*cough* ... Russia/America doujin.

8. What did you do today?
Cleaned things, did laundry, went to visit gran, had ear talked off for an hour, faffed about the house.

9. What was the last game you played.
Do flash games count? .... do dress-up-doll games count...? >>;; if so, then Magical Girl Maker.

10. What websites do you always visit when you go online?
LJ, Plurk, Yahoo email, MSPA, Cracked.com, hotmail, manga stream (in that order, first thing in the morning)

11. What irritates you on a daily basis?
The fact that I cannot simply hit myself on the head with a book and absorb the information therein.

12. If you could afford to go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
Oh god, world tour. Japan, hop across South East Asia, visit folks in HK, Aussieland, Singa, then ZOOOOM over to America and check all my homies there yo.

13. What did you want to be when you were a kid?
I wanted to be an author or a teacher. FUNNY THAT.

14. Ever had a weird dream? What was it about?
I used to get vivid dreams about going into my kitchen and finding the wicked witch of the west had replaced my mother and was out to get me. But her face was only ever shown in profile, and she would appear from around corners and out of tea pots and was always cackling. It was legit scary for a 6 year old. I didn't like leaving my door open at night because I thought she would poke her head round.

15. What are you doing this weekend?
Probably... working...?

16. If you could play any musical instrument, which one would you play?
Piano.

17. What's the one thing you need the most now?
More cheesecake.

18. If you could have one superpower, what kind of power would you choose?
>Pidge: DO THE WINDY THING

19. What was the last thing you ate?
Strawberry cheesecake. LIKE A BOSS.

20. A feature that you like about yourself.
I uh... I guess I have an okay singing voice? Yeah, let's go with that.

So in other news the shop where I work at had a window smashed in last night at about 1am. It was closed for all of today. Idk when we'll be open again, I really need to check. But seriously, I've said to Amanda before that the crime rate's been getting worse and worse recently, ever since after the snow.

Ah well, time to hit the hay.