A Dash Of Nutmeg

— The writings, ramblings, and muses of #Nutmeg. — ❥ 𝓐 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓓𝓸𝓿𝓮. 𝘝𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. || Role Play Writer Account, Not Associated With Ida van Munster ||

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘊.

"Hers is an old-fashioned heart that holds timeless love. She's a three-page love letter in a world of relationship status updates." x Lover of all things Vintage x Favorite Decades: 20's, 50's, and 90's. x Fan Fiction, Fiction, and Poetry Writer x Published Poet and Writer x Musician x 21+ in Real Life x Diagnosed with Idiopathic Intercranial Hypertension (Ghost Tumor) x Writer Tag: Nutmeg

Active Muses in the Comments!!

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Good Evening

I hope everyone is having a great day, I'll be getting to plots and things as I can. RL has been a real ballbuster lately. But there's always a silver lining.

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Give me a love like Tony and his ducks.

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Good Evening

I'm around to write and plot! I've also kicked up a public Indie Roleplay server on Discord if you prefer Discord writing! Just Click Here to check us out!

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Goodness! I've been busy busy today cleaning on the house! I'm around now, though, for the rest of the night. Hello!

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

I am ko'd after this day, so I'll get to replies tomorrow. 💜

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Waking up, and on the road again ~

So, I'm mobile for a while. No pretty trimmed replies for me. 😂

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Good Morning / Afternoon

Hello there! I'm around if anyone would like to plot! I've got my muses on sideblogs, and I'm open to crossovers and free writing. Curious about who I got? Let me introduce you to some of the Dashes of Nutmeg! Muses (click the names to check them out, any questions just message!):

- Elena Gilbert (TVD) - Willow Kettwood (True Blood OC) - Jennifer Humphrey (Gossip Girl) - Julius Livingstone (Vampire/Fandomless OC) - Sookie Stackhouse (True Blood) - Harleen Quinzel (DC) - Mary Anna Bennett (Sons of Anarchy Centric OC) - Bonnie Parker (Historical) - Ixchel (Mythology / From Dusk Til Dawn OC/AU) - Blair Waldorf (Gossip Girl) - Serena van der Woodsen (Gossip Girl) - Kenickie Murdoch (Grease) - Elena Moriarty (Historical / Boardwalk Empire OC) - Fawn Trager (Sons of Anarchy) - Bethany Reid (Mythology OC)

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Tony Soprano

[isabellebissonrouthier]

Assume my ocs are bisexual until I explicitly tell you otherwise

[asprinkleofnutmeg]

Good Evening!!!

I'm around! Like this, if you want to plot with me! I write in multiple fandoms! Fandomless, SOA, True Blood, Historical, DC, Marvel, Gossip Girl, TVD, and so many more! I'm also open to crossovers! I write in the First and Third Person. I match to style. 🩵

[derisorydoll]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺'𝘴 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯

Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine — 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙢𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙬.

I was born in New Orleans, where the air hums with secrets and the streets are paved with stories. My mother used to say that the city wasn’t just alive—it was listening. I believed her once. Back when my world was bright, and my dreams were bigger than my fears.

I had plans—so many plans. Art school in Savannah. Exhibitions in Paris. A life where my paintings could make people feel something real. I used to believe that I was meant for more, that I could leave my mark on the world with color and canvas. But life has a cruel way of unraveling dreams.

I was twenty-one when my body betrayed me. It started with tremors in my fingers, ruining delicate brushstrokes I once painted effortlessly. The dizziness came next, like the world had tilted just slightly off its axis. Then weakness in my legs, fatigue that settled in my bones like a lead weight. At first, I thought it was nothing—too much caffeine, not enough sleep. But the symptoms lingered, worsened, until my reflection became a stranger’s face.

When the doctors finally gave it a name, it sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else. A rare, degenerative neurological disorder. No cure. No treatment that would save me. Just a handful of years before my body withered, before I became trapped inside myself, unable to move, to speak, to be anything but a shadow of who I used to be.

I remember sitting in the cold, sterile office, my mother’s hand gripping mine so tightly it hurt. My father asked all the logical questions—prognosis, experimental trials, what little hope the doctors could give. My mother just wept. I stayed silent, because what was there to say?

I was already dead.

The months that followed blurred into endless hospital visits and hushed conversations that stopped whenever I walked into a room. My friends tried, at first. They visited with forced smiles and whispered reassurances, but pity is a heavy thing to carry. One by one, they drifted away, leaving me alone with the slow decay of my body.

I stopped painting.

I stopped living.

And then, I met her.

It happened on a humid afternoon in the French Quarter. I had wandered from my usual path, letting the city pull me wherever it wanted. The air was thick with the scent of rain and spices, the streets buzzing with life in a way I could no longer touch. That’s when I saw the shop—a small, tucked-away place with a faded wooden sign that read: Maman Solène’s Remedies & Readings.

Something about it called to me. Maybe it was the flickering candlelight inside, or the heavy feeling in my chest that told me I was supposed to be here. I stepped through the door, and the scent of sage and incense wrapped around me like a whisper.

She was waiting.

Maman Solène was older, her dark skin lined with the wisdom of years, her eyes sharp and knowing. She sat behind a low wooden table, a deck of cards spread before her. When she looked at me, it wasn’t with pity, but with understanding.

“You’re looking for something,” she said, her voice like the rustling of old pages.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

That was the first of many visits.

Over the weeks that followed, I came back to her again and again, drawn to the way she spoke of the unseen world. She taught me about the Loa, the spirits who walked the line between the divine and the mortal, the ones who could tip the scales of fate if you knew how to ask. She spoke of the crossroads—a place where deals could be struck, where those desperate enough could barter with forces far older and far more dangerous than they understood.

At first, I thought she was trying to scare me. Maybe she was.

“Magic isn’t a shortcut,” she warned one evening as she placed a bundle of dried herbs into my hands. “It’s a path. And every step changes you.”

But I wasn’t afraid of change. I was afraid of dying.

And so, one stormy November night, I left my house and walked into the darkness, following the pull of something I couldn’t explain. I knew where to go—an old, forgotten crossroads just outside the city, a place where the air always felt heavier, where people swore they saw shadows that moved on their own.

I carried my offerings: a bottle of dark rum, three silver coins, and a black candle I had carved with symbols I barely understood. The rain had started to fall in slow, heavy drops, soaking through my clothes as I knelt at the center of the crossroads.

My hands trembled as I lit the candle. “Kalfou,” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the wind. “I call on you.”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Just the sound of my own breathing, the rustling of trees. I thought, for a terrifying second, that I had failed. That I would leave this place with nothing but wet clothes and shattered hope.

Then, the world shifted.

The rain stopped mid-fall. The wind stilled. And suddenly, he was there.

Kalfou.

He didn’t appear with thunder or fire, no monstrous form like the devils in old stories. No, he was beautiful, and somehow that was worse. Tall and poised, his dark skin gleamed like polished onyx, and his sharp eyes glowed with something ancient. He smiled, and the sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

“You called me,” he said, his voice like velvet over steel. “Do you know what you’ve done, little one?”

I swallowed hard. “I need your help,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I’m dying.”

His smile widened. “Yes,” he murmured. “I know.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.

I clenched my fists. “I want to live. Please. I’ll do anything.”

His gaze flickered with amusement. He took a step closer, the air around us humming with something unseen. “Anything?” he mused. “Such a dangerous word.”

I hesitated, but what choice did I have?

I nodded.

He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that I hadn’t asked more questions. Then he reached out, a single fingertip tracing the curve of my cheek. His touch was ice and fire all at once, and I felt something shift inside me, something twisting and reshaping itself in ways I couldn’t understand.

“You’ll live,” he murmured. “But not as you were.”

Pain struck like lightning. My body burned, every nerve alight with something unnatural. I collapsed to the ground, screaming, my vision flashing between darkness and stars.

When it was over, I lay gasping in the dirt, my limbs trembling. My body felt different. Stronger. Whole. But when I reached for the nape of my neck, my fingers brushed something warm—a mark, shaped like a butterfly.

Kalfou crouched beside me, his expression unreadable. “Welcome to your new life,” he said softly. “You’re mine now, little doll.”

He vanished before I could ask what he meant.

I'd soon find out... I was alive. But I had never been more trapped. For when he called, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦... I was a part of him now. His 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺.

[derisorydoll]

— 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

▪︎ Living Doll ▪︎ Butterfly Kisses & Death Wishes ▪︎ Kept By Kalfou ▪︎ Presumed Dead ¤ Dead Dove Topics Contained; Reader discretion advised. ¤

[polishedperfectionism]

𝓗𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵

Guys My Age - Hey Violet — 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘹 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱. 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱.

Everything in Blair Waldorf's mind to her was a never-ending movie of her life. Each event is a scene captured for the eventual display of the triumphs and tribulations she went through to get her happy ending. She did everything right, and she ensured that with the perfectionism she displayed in every task, scheme, or event she dealt with. Every detail had to be parfaite. And even in her lowest moments, in her mind, they were just that. If the scene of her and Chuck at the station had played out on the big screen, it would have been a tear-jerking scene played out in black and white with the wind in her hair as she rushed away, leaving him there on the walkway to return to her home in New York. The crowd would have applauded her for her strength while crying with her through her pain, and the screen would fade to black. There would be a brief end scene at the end of the credits that would have spared her tumultuous recovery the screen time, showing her with her Prince Charming. Her happily ever after. But the cruelty of life was, as bad as she wished for it to be, it was not a movie. She wasn't going to be spared the days of pain and the Chuck-sized hole left to mend in her heart. She wouldn't live down the humiliation of letting a real-life Grimaldi go to talk Chuck Bass into staying a part of her life without letting herself love him. Or him her. And Gossip Girl ensured that before she could even get back to pack her bags for the return trip. 𝘚𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥: 𝘉 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘰'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘉𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘶, 𝘎𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭 "Ugh!" The sound came seconds before the sound of her phone ping-ponging off the marble floor with the echoing clicks of Serena's heels fast approaching to catch up with the distraught brunette. "Hey, B, come on, it's not that bad." "Not that bad?!" She wheeled around with the crimson feather dress brushing the floor in a noisy twist so that her tear-filled gaze could find her best friend's face with disbelief coloring every part of her visage. "S, did you miss that last text you got? It's bad enough I blew off a Prince for this, but now anyone who reads Gossip Girl knows I humiliated and ended things with Chuck!"

"B, you already ended things with Chuck, remember?" She sighed, gathering her own dress up in hand while dropping her clutch on the nearby table so she could offer Blair comfort. "Then why's it hurt so much? I feel it with my whole body. It hurts me to breathe or even think about all the women who will crawl out of the woodwork, thinking they have even the smallest hope of being something to him... Or worse." The small rant was quickly cut short by the sob that hitched in the back of her throat in her attempt to continue. And as she sunk into Serena's shoulder, she was glad Gossip Girl couldn't see this particular moment. For all the scheming and quips aside, she didn't want anyone to see her the way Chuck made her feel. Vulnerable. She couldn't appear weak. Just like she couldn't let anyone of importance see her Grace Jones side. Class and Reliability, an unwavering leader, is how she wanted to present herself. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦. She'd often reminded herself. But she couldn't use that anymore, could she? Not after today, or while she sat here feeling her own heartbreak, she'd been avoiding all summer, fresh and new down to her core. Grace Kelly didn't become Princess of Monaco by blowing off Prince Rainier for some high school love. She gave up millions and an acting career, and here Blair was presented with her own royal, and she couldn't even let Chuck Bass run off to God knows where with some dimwitted, doe-eyed, village girl. He'd used her to keep his precious Empire, and yet her heart was crippled by his existence. Closed off to the potential of another love.

The rest of the night and most of the next day was a blur of traveling, Lady Godiva, and Audrey and the sickening anticipation of a blast that would undoubtedly come of Chuck with some burlesque dancer on his lap, a glass in hand, or some headline from a French newspaper with Blair leaving Prince Grimaldi in the middle of a diner while hot on Serena's heels to catch a cab. But the silence was deafening. Gossip Girl had gone dark, Serena had rushed off after Nate and that walking disappointment heart on her sleeve, Dorota was taking the day with Vanya for Anastasia's checkup, and assured her she'd be back to cheer her up.

But screw that, she could lay around feeling sorry for herself, and let the pain and emptiness swallow her whole, or she could prove the benefits of retail therapy. Unlike most, she knew precisely where to shop to buy happiness. Or at least she would put up a good front. Try as she might, she wouldn't be any better than Chuck with her vices. But today, she would make sure to fill that hole he left with a wardrobe overhaul.

[doloridaculebra]

𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝑫𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆

As Above So Below - In This Moment — 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴.

Trying to find a way to explain the way Ixchel felt after her encounter with Seth Gecko would be much too difficult on any given day with the words afforded to humanity. She was relieved, in part, to be back into her hotel room, but the other part of her was practically screaming out for her to go back out of that room and demand to be a part of the action, and the smallest fraction of her was hoping he had the key to ending her earthly existence. If she was a Goddess, she'd been trapped here much too long. She was about to go and settle on the edge of the bed when a rapping came across the wood of her door. 'Hey, open up, Peaches, I know you're in there.' A mixture of annoyance and relief flooded her as her head bowed forward with a low sigh that was drowned out by the obnoxious knocking ringing out again. Chel pivoted on her heels and quickly flung the door open mid-knock with her eyes flashing the briefest moment into their serpent form. "Once was enough, Menso! You want to raise the dead? Eh?"

"Easy, sunshine, the kid got her guy to come to the room. If you're going to be in on this thing-" "Heist?" "That. Then you need to be a part of the planning, because if this shit goes sideways I don't plan to be the one on the ground bleeding. Got it?" "Right, because robbing a market full of Culebra and angry humans with guns couldn't possibly take you out." She retorted to Seth snidely. "Good, you're catching on." His hands adjusted on his hips with agitation vibrating off his whole person. "Now come on. Before I change my mind again." "You do that a lot." Ixchel scoffed with a slight nod as her arms folded at her chest, causing the leather jacket covering her mostly exposed torso, clad in a mere ebony laced bralette, to shift slightly. "What?" He quirked a brow with a slight bobbing tip of his head to the side as his lips pursed in annoyance.

"Change your mind. What a luxury to have such free will, Mister Gecko. Lead the way." She shrugged, and he rolled his eyes, nodding in the direction he was about to walk. Ixchel followed the man without hesitation, only to skid to a stop as he grabbed the handle to his door, lifting a pointed finger without offering her so much as a glance. "Before I let you in there. We have ground rules. Alright?" "Rules?" She hated the way the word tasted on her tongue, but she begrudgingly accepted. This man could get her across the border, which apparently was a thing these days, and being an Ancient Mayan Princess/God, she didn't exactly carry around a passport or government ID. "Fine..." "Good. First," he struck his finger across the air in a quick line, "none of this fang and venom shit. I don't need a reminder that I'm working with a snake. Rule number two: no more of your kind. You're it, and I'm not even sure why the fuck I'm bringing you along other than a strength bonus. Clear?" "Crystal." She sighed, flourishing a hand towards the door. "May I come in now? It's about to get pretty toasty out here, Jefe, and I'm tan enough. Clear?" "Crystal." He smirked, shoving the door open before a simper crossed his lips. "After you, Princess, mi casa es tu casa."

Her jaw clenched at the nickname, but nonetheless, she needed out of the direct sunlight's path, so she fled into the room as dawn crept up on the horizon. "Don't call me that again." "What, Princess? Cause you act like another one I know." He huffed, moving past her to the small table in the room with a black bag placed atop it, papers scattered recklessly, and a doorknob with a key jammed in it. "Tools of the trade?" Her brow quirked up on one side as her intrigue grew, and suddenly, the youthful brunette made her way out of the small bathroom, smoothing her shirt out as she came towards the table. "It's a pop key." She said with a crooked smile. "A what key?" "Ah, it's a.. It's, uh..." Seth's hand flailed in the air, briefly skimming over his lips before extending back out towards the object before dropping to his side. "It doesn't matter because that's her job, not yours." "I have a job now?" Her question was wrapped in the hint of laughter as a grin claimed her lips. If nothing else, this was a Hell of a way to defeat the boredom she had been feeling with her monotony. "You don't even know what I can do, Menso, and you give me a job already?"

"Yeah, to shut up and look pretty for five seconds while I tell the plan." Her nose scrunched up in annoyance, and he rubbed his forehead, seeming to be in a determination to smooth the crease formed there. "Alright, Kid, where's this in you say we have?" "Rafa will be here," Kate said, crossing her arms at her chest. "He promised." "Maybe he g-" She was cut off by the lifting of Seth's hand. "Excuse me, Shelly, I'm talking to the young brunette. Are you a young brunette?" "No." She sighed in annoyance. "Then I refer you back to earlier when I said to sit there and shut up. Now, Kate, are you sure you gave this guy the right hotel number?" "Yes, I'm positive. I wouldn't get this wrong." She sighed, pressing the heels of her palms to the hotel room table. Before anything else could be said, a knock came at the door, and Seth pointed to the door while simultaneously checking his watch attached to the same watch before marching over and opening the door. There, a young-looking gentleman stood most of his skin covered, and Ixchel's attention was immediately grabbed before glancing curiously over at the brunette over her shoulder. This man wasn't human either. But the Gecko was oblivious to the fact. Interesting, so the kid had a few secrets of her own, it would seem. This little deal was becoming more and more interesting to her. Rafa entered the room, and soon we were all swarmed around the table where a map of the mercado had been splayed out. One by one, Seth gave us his plan for each respective job; it was honestly impressive how thorough and detailed he'd gotten into it. Planning for the girl to get a haircut as a ruse, the Pop key was to open the door in the back room that joined to the neighboring tattoo parlor, which apparently doubled as a fake ID racket. Every small detail was accounted for, and she was genuinely impressed by it.

Ixchel's job was getting away because Seth, rightfully so, was counting on her quick reflexes and thinking to get them out of dodge quicker since she was more familiar with the land. In addition, she had a signal in case there was trouble. three rapid fires of his pistol was her signal they needed help. "You got it?" Seth asked her pointedly. "Oh, I can use my voice now?" "Yes, and I'd like an answer sometime today. Unlike you, I don't have an eternity here, Sweetheart." "Well, in that case... Sure. I got it, Handsome." "Funny, look we ain't got any coffins for you to sleep in, but you can have the bed for a bit. I'm going out for breakfast." "Do you take carry out orders?" "Did I miss something? I thought you already had breakfast." "No, I had a snack; he was hardly tasty." "Well, I don't snag blood bags for your kind." "I was thinking more along the lines of a ham and cheese omelet and hash." "With a bit of blood on top?" Seth asked sarcastically. "That's people food, and last I checked you were a dead snake bitch." With a quick hiss, Ixchel was across the room, pinning Seth to the wall by his throat, fingers tightened around his throat with just enough effort to make him squirm. "Watch who you call a bitch, menso, I'm following your goddamn rules, so show me some fucking respect." "Put him down," Kate said coldly as the bite of wood pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, causing her nostrils to flare before dropping the man and lifting her hands in surrender. "Sorry." She practically growled up at the man cradling his throat. "I get grumpy without sleep." With that, Ixchel went to the vacant bed and flopped down on it, letting her eyes close and ignoring the two humans and their side conversation while she checked him over. It was almost laughable that Kate felt like she had hurt him. Had she wanted to, then he would be in misery on the floor, not holding his reddened neck that wouldn't even bruise.

She allowed herself to slip into her head for the remainder of her time in the room, before Seth had woke her with a startle. It was time for the job, and in all honesty, time had passed much too slowly for her liking. Especially once she was there. Getaway driver. The longer she sat there with only the music on the stereo to keep her company, the more it dawned on her that she had most likely been given this job to keep her out of the way, and it started spreading anger through her like a slow burning flame consuming her every nerve. But before she could decide how she wanted to react to it, 𝘖𝘯𝘦, 𝘵𝘸𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦... The gunshots rang out quickly before screaming ensued with an even louder gunshot. "Shit!" Chel was out of the car and running through the searing burn of the sun into the safety of the market without hesitation. "Where is Santanico?!" The man in the trench coat snarled at Seth, who was between him and Kate, but something told her from the sight of La Matrona that if he shot that thing he was holding, both Seth and Kate would have a gaping hole in the buckshot's wake.

"Blah, blah, blah, Santanico. I'm so tired of the name Santanico. Who is this bitch to call herself La Diosa anyways? Hm?" Chel huffed, walking towards the man with her hand dragging along the edge of one Mercado table. "I got trapped for a century to be some pinchazo's personal Santanico. I'm La Diosa, and have been for centuries, and yet I was put in her shadow?" "You know where she is?" The man asked, looking over his shoulder at her but not taking his gun off Seth. "No, nor do I care to find out. That menso is helping me. I'm going to ask you very nicely to put that gun down." "Sorry, can't do that. His brother has Santanico, and her presence is being demanded." "She's not the kind of lady you boss around." Seth joked, only to have to move himself and Kate out of the way as a shot went off, and her fangs quickly unfolded as her eyes shifted into their serpentine form.

"You know he's right, for a meat bag. I may not like her much, but ladies prefer to be invited, not demanded. We're not your slaves, hijo de puta." Rolling her neck around between her shoulders, Ixchel hissed out at Seth and Kate. "Get to the car! I got this!" Seth scrambled, grabbing Kate as the regulator started to charge her, but once Seth and Kate were out the door, Chel began singing her siren song. A distress call to those near who'd listen as she retreated for the door. It was her special gift. Rafa, and others began flocking towards the Regulator, helping to slow him down. By the time they were on the street and she was rushing for the car, Rafa was the only one holding on, much to Kate's shock and disappointment. "Forget him! Drive!" Chel hissed up to Seth. "She's right, Kate. Get in the car now!" He said, revving up the car. "Rafa!" She was practically running back to the arms of the Regulator as the boy crumbled to ash, and you could see Seth's entire demeanor change before yanking the girl back into the car. "Are you stupid or something, Chica? You got a death wish?" Chel snapped up at her as the car began driving forward. "I got this." Seth snapped back at her, lifting one hand before returning it to the wheel. "Are you stupid?! He was one of them? And you knew?" "He was helping us, wasn't he?" "Because I sang. News flash, darling, prince charming wasn't sweeping in to save you out of the kindness of his undead heart."

"You're lying!" Kate snapped at her. "He's not like the others! He was helping and showing me that there was a way for..." "A way for what, Kate?" "For me to help my brother, okay!" She snapped up at Seth. "Ay Dios mío." She sighed, sinking back into the backseat with a low groan. "Newsflash, Kate, but in case you missed it, everyone you love is dead, and that includes Scott. Whether you like it or not." "So is that what Richie is? Dead? I thought they were both Culebra?" "You leave him out of this." Seth cautioned lowly. "What? You just said everyone I loved is dead. I promised my father that I would help Scott. I would keep him safe. I didn't drive a stake into his heart to lie." "Jesus, it's the goddamn family circus." A gun cocked and pointed back at Chel as the vehicle skid to a stop on the gravel without taking his eyes off Kate. "I'm getting really freaking tired of that fucking gun." "Then can it. You never told me that." Seth's focus was fully on the girl in the front seat who was holding the score in her lap. "I have a better plan. Why don't you both shut it and listen to the centuries-old being in the back seat? Hm? I'm a siren. I sang, and he and several others tried to slow that vato down, and barely succeeded. You two have bigger fucking problems than whose dead and who is- SON OF A BITCH!" She hissed as the bullet went through her left shoulder. "I want out!" Kate snapped. "I'm going to help Scott with or without your help, Seth." "You want out? Fine. Here." He leaned over the seat and shoved the door open before waving his hand with the gun towards the opening. "Then have it. Get out. Take your cut and go on out into the night with your little vampire friends. Hell, maybe you'll make a new one." Ixchel was hissing, picking the damaged bullet casing out of her shoulder while glaring up at Seth as they carried on with their argument. When the door shut, he flung the bag down in the empty seat. "That stung, bastard." "Yeah, well, get in line. You're not the first Culebra I shot this week." "No, but you leave little miss Doe Eyed walking the road alone, she won't be finding her brother." She pointed out as he started to drive off. "Fuck." He hissed under his breath, slapping the steering wheel, angrily tossing the vehicle into reverse before rushing the car back just short of the girl. Grabbing the bag up. Curiosity demanded she follow him out of the car, giving her shoulder a few adjusting rolls once she was in the open air. Catching the end of Seth shoving the bag into the girl's arms and dropping the car keys atop of the bag. "Take it all." He sighed, lifting his hands briefly before slapping them down through the air, cutting to walk back towards the hotel instead of the initial right of the county line. Ixchel groaned and glanced between the pair before moving past the girl with a brief pause to wish her luck, and she was off to catch up with Seth. "I thought you wanted out of Mexcio." He grumbled. "You think I'm leaving my fate in the hands of bleeding heart Barbie back there?" She scoffed. "Besides, something tells me you're the danger magnet, not her." There was no response outside a snort, and the pair walked along the road as Dusk began to settle in, the foliage coverage being more than enough to keep her safe until darkness could fully settle in.

[doloridaculebra]

And So It Went

Picture it, people worshiping your every breath, because you fit some ancient story. That's the way it was with Ixchel. She was born to the king of the Mayan's of Cuzamil, a small island off the coast of the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico. They had their own myths they adhered to, much like the Aztecs.

There were legends that were the same, Gods of the same things but by different names. Some things, the darker things had a name recognized by many. One such being? The Culebra.

The Culebra was what modern society considers a vampire. The only thing is they weren't exactly Bram Stoker's version. To the Maya they were servants to the serpent God, Kulkulkan. They possessed the ability to walk among the people to do the God's work. Spreading his gift of "vision".

What does these ancient demons have to do with Ixchel? Chel's original name was Chaka Chel, "Big Rainbow." Her hair was so blonde it reflected the light in an array of colors. She was born to the king, emperor, what have you, and his first wife in the third month of Zip.

To you, dear reader, it would be March on the sixth day of the month's cycle in the year 1492. Chel, seemed to embody the light and grace of the moon, and because of her birthday, her people, the priests, all believed Chaka Chel to be the human incarnation of Ixchel their moon goddess.

The Goddess was pictured throughout their history as a woman knelt by the water with a basin flowing freely, a face half animal, half human, a snake wove through the braid of her hair, and resting atop her head. The effigies built in her honor at the original temple in Cuzamil was carved to reflect the same glyph.

The serpent represented Ixchel, same as Kulkulkan and the Culebra, and so when Gabor, one of the Nine Lords and ruler over the Yucatán Peninsula territory, pitied the trapped princess he came adorned in feathers, and ink that marked him as a Serpent Priest. Gabor convinced the priests and people to allow the man to go pray to the entrapped woman. Promising to bestow her with a gift fit of a Goddess.

That night, Gabor bestowed the woman with a serpent, breathing into her a new lease on eternal life. The man promised her the gift would give her the power to free herself. Alas, she became a prisoner of her own devices. Realizing her new state, the priests of her temple began bringing her sacrifices in groups instead of singles. Her new abilities being considered her ascending to her true form.

Guilt consumed the poor woman, and she struggled with the humanity within her that never fully waned. As a result, she spent the next several years doing deeds that forever changed the Mythos of Ixchel.

She began helping people, using her growing knowledge from souls consumed to come up with medicines and ointments to help her people. Because of her efforts, the Medicine Wheel (colored Red, White, Black and Yellow and symbolizing the four segments of the universe converging), was formed.

Medicine men and women came to her for help. Sacrifices were brought when couples wished to bear healthy children, grow plentiful crops, and when the inquisition began, they pleaded for her to rid them of the scourge that plagued them with foreign illnesses that not even she possessed a knowledge of.

Chel, fled to the Isla Mujeres (Bay of Women), as her home crumbled around her where a new temple was built in her honor. Here she added fertility and love to her list of talents, as she focused on helping the women of the islands. Bringing life and new beginnings to the people here.

She protected this new population fiercely for centuries. Little did she know she was only cultivating women for Amancio Malvado brother of Gabor. In the late 20th century, Chel immersed herself in with her people, getting herself abducted with a group of women that was escorted to the mainland in a canoe.

Frightened for the women cowering around her and praying silently, Ixchel began promising the women in their native language that they would be safe. She'd see to it that when they reached land, they'd be safe.

And so she did, unfortunately for her though, one man on shore was someone who had been on her main island during the inquisition. Carlos Madrigal. A man who'd been obsessed with gold, and pillaged and feasted like an animal with his fellow men at the base of her temple.

It was a shock to both parties, but in fear of Ixchel's appearance he gifted her to a man with hair that was more void of color than her own. Referring to her to the man as his very own Santanico. This man built a museum like temple around her. A new prison where her image hung on every wall in pictures like mirrors.

The mere sight sickened her, and as time passed, she grew more and more frustrated. Being weakened on purpose. She was meant for freedom, and so much more than being a glorified lure. She was a Goddess in her own right, and women depended on her. Who would heal them now if she could not make it back? Small debts paid to relieve the weight of the chains that guilt had strapped across the hole where her own soul had once been whole before it was splintered to make room for her "gift".

Chel was stuck until sometime in the 21st century when she found the strength to overcome the venom that weakened her. She set her portraits ablaze while her "Master" was occupied with her male counterpart in another room for a photo shoot to pull in fresh female candidates.

With the flames growing she made her escape into the streets, using her added strength to propel her forward at greater paces than humanly possible. She glanced over her shoulder repeatedly looking for the man to follow her, but he was not there, so she ran to the first place she could find. A hotel outside of Acuna with a vacancy.

She used this Culebra friendly business to hunt in attempts to regain her strength. Wondering if going back to the Isla Mujeres was even worth it anymore, so many women needed protected...

Focusing her hunting on predators, real criminals, she began humming her siren call. A special gift, that as far as she could tell over the last century, that was all her own. She could lure her prey to her with the lulling song, and this particular time, as she finished off a sexual predator under the canopy of the hotel, she was met with the cold bite of a gun barrel and the accompanying sound of it being cocked.

"Can I help you?" She sighed in annoyance.

'Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting your meal?' The judgmental voice was joined with a firmer press of the gun to the back of her neck causing her to lift her hands dropping the body as her light brown irises rolled with a quick bite of her bottom lip and a bow forward of her head.

"Yeah, actually, ya were, menso. You got a set to interrupt something like this."

'Screwed on tight, hot stuff. Now turn around here.' He huffed while taking a step back to give her room to do so. 'And no funny business. I'm packing more than led.'

"Oh, yeah?" Her brow lifted as she pivoted around on the heel of her tennis shoes to face the man licking her lips clean before the deadpan expression settled in. "We talking a woody? Because that can go two ways, Mister."

'Funny.' He flexed his brows before his free hand pulled out a sharpened stake with a quick flourish. 'This clear it up for ya, Snake Bitch?'

"I prefer Ixchel." She answered dryly lowering her hands to her side before leaning herself back onto the cement pillar. "Do you prefer dumb ass, or do you have a name?"

'Why should I tell you? So you can call me by name before turning me into dessert for that poor sap?' He said waving the stake at the man crumpled to the ground, gun remaining on her.

"This man, you're lumping yourself in with, wanted to sell me for my body. Am I really so bad for ridding the world of a man like that, that you'd kill me right here? No one will mourn this man. He was more of a monster than I. Trust me."

'Well, I'd ask him but he's a bit busy being a stiff.'

The muscular man with the flame tattoo running up his right arm and over part of his neck, moved the hand with the stake to rub the base of his chin.

"You could just stake me and be done with it, but you haven't yet." She shrugged, but before her shoulders could lower, she was pinned to pillar the stake pressing against her sternum. A weak laugh parted her lips as she laid her head back against the concrete.

Chel allowed her eyes to close and the grin to dance across her lips. "Go ahead and do it. I'm not afraid to die, but you're going to have to do better than that stick."

'I'll take my chances, Ishmel.'

"Ish-Shell."

'Whatever. You'll be dead soon.'

'Seth!' A female voice rang out, and Chel blinked tipping her head to look over the man's shoulder as he bowed his own head in annoyance.

'Dammit, Kate! I said to stay in th-'

'Hotel room, I know. But you were taking too long. What the hell are you doing?!'

"He's trying to kill me for killing a sexual predator, you're welcome. But he's doing a piss-poor job of it."

'Can it!' He growled up at her shoving the stake enough to draw a bit of blood, and all Ixchel could do was laugh with a grin as the small girl came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

While they did their exchange, or argument rather, a few dim bells were ringing in her head from the man whose soul she'd just consumed, and so she closed her eyes to focus on the imagery flashing around in her mind's eye until she landed on a TV report about two brothers robbing a bank in Abeline. Richie and... "Seth Gecko."

Her revelation had him dropping his stake hesitantly and staggering back a step positioning himself between her and the girl. 'I don't recall either of us saying my last name, Sweetheart.'

"Richie and Seth Gecko, Abeline bank robbers, only she don't look like the other brother. She's missing a few key bits."

'Yeah, well, Richie's not a part of the show anymore. Sorry, to disappoint you before you die.'

"Whose disappointed? I only know you because the 'stiff' as you called him seen you on the news."

'Meal times over, why don't you just leave us alone and get out of here before I change my mind?' He sighed lowering his gun.

'Sorry, he's jus-'

'Kate!' He cautioned abruptly, and the girl folded her arms huffing up behind the man.

"Pinche Pinchazo."

'Excuse you?' He lifted his brow turning to face her as she began walking away.

"I said, 'Goddamn prick.' Menso." She sneered at him.

'That anyway to talk to the guy who just spared your whatever you have?'

"Life, dumb ass, and I don't know do you always swat her like a fly with your words? Is that anyway to talk to a young woman?"

'Great, a culebra with a moral compass.' He groaned putting the gun away. 'Kate get back to the room. /Now/. And don't open the door for anyone.'

'Oh so you trust me to go to the Mercado and scope out the heist alone, but I can't be here talking to her with you?'

"Heist at the market? La Matrona?"

'The hairstylist?' Kate asked eagerly.

"She's the only one I know with a safe worth busting into. She has the profits that gets skimmed off half the market in that thing. Ten K easy..."

'Oh great, listen, I hate to interrupt this little girl chat going on, but I think we should leave the heists to the professional. Yeah? I don't need your kind, Shelly, and I have enough of a risk with little miss novice over here.'

'Hey!' She protested.

"I could help for a price." She shrugged her shoulders while folding her arms at her chest.

'You want money? Listen, whatever's in that safe needs to get me and little miss sunshine back across the border into Texas. We can't spare you a cut, and again, I don't want /your/ kind near me.'

"Rude given I could have killed you ninety-six times by now, and I haven't even attempted it once. I'm offering my help, and all I want is out of this hotel. I've been here since I escaped, Gecko, and I'd like a change of scenery, a chance to help more people, because despite what you may think, that's what I /do/, and have always done. Now, you can let doe eyed and hopeless help you, or you can let me. I give an advantage. You can take it or leave it. I'll be in room 213."

With that she gave a shrug and was making her way back to her room before sunrise could come.

'Maybe we sh-'

'Shut it.' Seth cut Kate off before pinching the bridge of his nose.

[maledictussanctus]

"Come on! Join me! Time out. Remember?" A short laugh danced across my lips as I stumbled to the side, grabbing up my drink before falling back into the rhythm.