faithful .

“ if having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans. ”

[mnfoster-blog]

chomp.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnxjimin:

   “the fact you haven’t met anyone like me is the actual compliment there. i am a very special case,” jimin shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. he always liked being an individual and when people said they haven’t met anyone like him, he takes it as the best compliment. no one will ever be like him, that is for sure.

   “ah, werewolves and vampires. the never ending battle of who is more annoying and overrated. no offense,” jimin shrugged again, but he obviously meant it to be offensive. he really was over the whole werewolf territory bullshit and the vampires better-than-thou bullshit. maybe jimin was biased, but witches were definitely tougher. maybe not physically, but there were spells jimin knew that could knock a werewolf into the sky.

    the witch moved to take a seat and crossed his legs, “werewolves are only fun in bed. can’t say i’ve ever held a conversation with one that didn’t go ‘wanna go again’ and ends with ‘sure’. then again, i can say the same… for most species. but i digress, as long as no hunters are coming. we’re copacetic, foster.” 

“i don’t care about other vampires or the werewolves. it’s so.. juvenile.” foster sighs, irritated with the whole ordeal now that it’s over and he’s sure he’s going to survive. there were so many stuffy old vampires and impatient young werewolves and he was caught somewhere in the middle of it involved in an age-old war that he never wanted any part in. “they’re so busy fighting each other that they’ll do hunters’ work for them.”

the vampire runs his tongue along his teeth, tasting the lingering bitter flavor of witch’s blood. foster can’t say he’s met a lot of witches, he can’t remember more than a couple decades ago despite knowing he’s been alive for much longer, but he thinks that jimin is something different. it’s funny.

“gross,” he responds to the fact that the witch beds beasts idly, not actually looking all that grossed out or even concerned. it’s not foster’s business to judge, but he does think that they’re no where near close enough to be sharing stories of conquests ( not that he remembers any anyways ). “well, thanks for not killing me. you’re officially my favorite with, just so you know.”

[mnfoster-blog]

chomp.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnxjimin:

   jimin picked himself up, holding onto a railing for support before making his way over to his wall full of ingredients. it was mostly for ombience when human customers came in. it looked more believable, but to anyone with any understanding of magic, it was ingredients. he grabbed one jar of a liquid before opening it, “i was hoping i’d be that one witch that doesn’t taste gross, but i guess i am not due for a cheesy teen drama movie any time soon. boo.”

    he placed a finger into the liquid before placing it on his neck and sighing, “you’re not the first dying vampire i’ve seen. you’re the first one to take he plunge and actually bite me, but not the first.”

    after a few moments, he pulled his hand away and glanced at his neck in the small mirror on the wall, “all good. no one will be the wiser. so,” he closed the jar with a bit more force than necessary, “tell me what you did to end up like this and if i need to be worried about some hunter coming hunting. despite my less than… truthful business, i’ve had hunters leave me alone. so, tell me if i have to move.”

“don’t worry, you don’t taste any worse than any with i can remember at least,” foster didn’t say that he couldn’t remember biting any other witches, but perhaps the sentiment would soothe jimin’s pride anyways. “if that helps at all, i mean. i don’t know, i don’t think i’ve ever met someone who was so disappointed that vampires don’t have a taste for their blood.”

he watches with mild curiosity as the witch knows exactly what jar to grab in what looks like an unorderly cabinet. foster supposes there must be some sort of organizational method in place, but he can’t make sense of it from where he’s standing, nor does he think that he’ll ever have need to anyways.

foster wrinkles his nose, not intentionally looking irritable but failing to mask that emotion all the same. “damn werewolves and their stupid pissing match affecting the whole city. i’m so uninvolved in their whole thing but they still think it’s a great idea to jump a lone vampire. i wasn’t even bothering anyone!” he sighs, not meaning to go on a short rant but the words were already spilling out. “they’re unreasonable. don’t talk to any werewolves right now, they suck.”

[mnfoster-blog]

chomp.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnxjimin:

    the sudden shock on the fangs sinking into his flesh sent a unfamiliar feelings through his body. he fingers reached out to the other holding onto him. his finger dug into the skin of the vampire as his eyes closed tight. jimin hadn’t felt much pain. anything he ever felt was magically induced in someway. he wasn’t all too surprised that a vampire could cause him pain.

    he did feel his head get a bit dizzy, but before it became too difficult for him to stand, he was released. jimin didn’t release the male at first because if he did, he was sure he’d fall. he soon reached out for his chair and slowly fell into it. he reached a hand to throat where the male bit into him and sighed, “not as kinky as i was hoping.”

    jimin closed his eyes for a moment before speaking up, “i’m jimin.”

too much? enough? foster wasn’t sure. his body craved blood, more than he knew he was allowed to take, but the less than appealing scent of witch blood held him at bay. he had enough that he could heal, enough that he wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for quite sometime. he’d have to thank the stranger again for that.

“kinky?” he snorts, a rather undignified sound that comes out more like a choked laugh than anything else. “i’m sorry to disappoint, i guess,” foster shrugs, good-natured as he is he can’t bother to be embarrassed or upset by the other. oh he knew people were into pain, vampire bites likely included, but this was hilarious to him.

he helps the witch into the chair; foster could feel the way he wobbled as if caught in a breeze and a pang of guilt ran through him, as it often did whenever he had to succumb to his instinct. “nice to meet you jimin. sorry to take a bit before even getting your name. it was kinda.. an emergency.”

[huntermoonkrp-blog]

DRABBLE PROMPTS! 

Here is a collection of quotes from BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. These collection of quotes fit vampires, werewolves, demons, witches, humans and hunters. There is an arrange of quotes you can use for your prompts.

RULES: Remember, for every prompt you get, send one out. It isn’t fair if you get a whole bunch of drabbles. If you want, you can change the quote to fit your muse. For example, for the quote “What, Vampires don’t get jealous?”, you could change it to say ‘witches’ or ‘demons’.

Keep reading

[mnfoster-blog]

monster.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnkevin:

“’s fine,” he mumbles weakly, letting the back of his head fall against the tree holding him upright. it’s the furthest from fine. he’s dying, slowly but surely in that impossible way mortals do. but all he can think about is how nice a nap sounds, about how simple it would be to just close his eyes and sleep for a while…

you have to stay with me. please.

a cold hand wraps around his own rapidly cooling fingers, foster’s voice battling with the undeniable heaviness of his eyelids, the overwhelming urge to fall asleep, if just for a few minutes. the synapses that fire when his alarm goes off in the morning, the ones that coo into the air ‘five more minutes’, sound now, and he finds it more and more difficult to stay awake with every passing moment. sleep, his body says. sleep and it’ll all be better. but rough fingers squeeze gently around his, a tether to the physical world he’s slowly drifting away from.

foster chatters frantically over the phone and kevin tries to focus on the spot where their hands meet, instead of the ominous tingling in his fingertips. 

“fos’,” he utters softly, almost inaudibly, “fos’ i’m tired.”

even his own voice sounds distant and muffled, as if somehow the fog across the forest floor has expanded into an ocean and swallowed them whole. for a split second, he loses the battle with his own body, his eyes slipping closed until foster speaks again, still frantic, still terrified.

you’re still with me? kevin hums in response, trying to sit up with the same sort of urgency he does when he’s been caught sleeping in a lecture hall, but with half the strength. he’s not entirely sure he’s caught every word foster’s spoken to him, but what little conscious thought he can spare tells him his answer should be an affirmative one. so he nods as much as he can manage, slowly, but clearly, and starts trying to sit up on his own, his own words starting to come out soft and slurred.

“i-can make’t.”

fear has its claws deep in the vampire, taking his breath away ( until he inevitably needs to inhale to speak ) and forming a cold, heavy stone in the pit of his stomach where still-warm blood sloshes. it shouldn’t be there, the blood. it should be in kevin, keeping him alive, feeding his brain, his body, not a vampire. how long until his organs start dying, one by one? foster wets his lips, a nervous habit, and tastes red still lingering there. it’s a pleasant flavor to him, but in this moment it makes him feel sick.

“no. don’t be tired. please don’t be tired, kevin. don’t fall asleep on me.” he gives a gentle squeeze to the hand he’s holding, shaking it a little as if that will help keep kevin awake. he can hear it now that he’s not focusing his attention on the phone, the labored breaths and an overworked heart desperate to circulate what’s left in the human’s veins.

he’s scared, so scared that his best friend is going to slip away and it will be all his fault. he curses his own nature, the fact that he can only survive by taking the lives of others, or coming incredibly close. a monster. foster, just for a moment, is distracted from concern and fear for his human by hatred of himself. not for the first time he wishes that he was something else, anything else, and that his very existence didn’t constantly threaten the well being of those he cares about.

it’s carefully that he slides an arm around kevin, hooks the other under his knees and hefts him up easily. vampire perk; strength.

“you okay?” he has to confirm, even as he’s already taking his first steps out of the forest. of course kevin isn’t okay, but foster needs to hear his voice, he needs to keep him with him until help arrives. “please be okay. hang on just a little longer, kev. we’re getting help, okay?”

[mnfoster-blog]

chomp.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnxjimin:

    jimin isn’t sure why the vampire would pick him. he guessed he was the closest thing he could get. maybe the fact his blood would be so disgusting would cause the vampire to only take enough to survive. 

    “oh my god, i don’t care. just get it over with,” jimin hissed, annoyed that the vampire was bleeding on his carpet and on him and about to take his blood. what bullshit was this? just pick a place! you’re dying! just do it!

     he’s never been bit before. he wondered how that would work with his ability. would it even work? would the vampire bleed instead? he hadn’t heard of any vampires biting witches with injury transferal. he was extremely curious. 

instinct takes over before foster even had the chance to mumble another short apology. he leans in, desperation making him aggressive, and sinks fangs into the witch’s neck. the blood that fills his mouth is bitter, unpleasant, but it’s blood and it’s mostly human and foster feels better just for having it.

his own wounds granulate together, the bleeding slowing to a stop. he’s not healed completely by the time he stops feeding, but he’s not making a mess anymore and he can feel the strength returning to his limbs, a more solid grasp on his own self control.

foster releases the witch, blood wet on his lips and cheeks from where he spilled over on himself. he’s never been a neat eater, and he wipes at his face to try to alleviate the mess. “i’m sorry. thank you.” he shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, not used to this sort of interaction. “uh, i’m foster, by the way.”

[mnhwanhee-blog]

// volume levels

[mnfoster-blog]

mnhwanhee:

Hwanhee was nervous; an understatement at the very least. This wasn’t something he had to deal often which explains why he hated having so approach the other. Clearing his throat, Hwanhee stared at the freeze-frame of a poor innocent human about to be slaughter before turning his attention back at the other in front of him. It wasn’t as if he could do it in a way that was easier - this, itself, was difficult enough already; interrupting someone’s time at the library. A place that they could seek comfort, peace and quiet. Alone.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but the volume of your movie is interrupting the people studying around you. Would you mind plugging in some ear buds or turning the volume down? Thank you,” Hwanhee requested, voice polite and just barely above a whisper. It was practiced, something he rehearsed in case situations like this occurred.

Now, Hwanhee could only wait for the other’s response. Heart thrumming in a rhythmic beat with his ears turning red as the seconds ticked by.

“oh, i’m so sorry!” foster’s eyes widen with his genuine apology, realizing he’s quite dumb for not considering that he’s disturbing the peace of the other library patrons. he has no excuse; even in the age of his youth that he can’t remember himself, he knows the rules of the library were to remain as quiet as possible so that others may do their work in a focused environment. the world seems like it’s gotten much louder as the years progress, but perhaps the library was one place that tried to retain a quiet hold of the past.

it’s not his business to pry, not his place to ask, but he can’t help it. his run ins with demons are few and far between and he’s never met one with such a peaceful seeming job before. his voice lowered to a volume that only the two of them can hear, he speaks. “i hope you don’t mind my asking, but what’s a demon doing working in a library? do you let the humans pay off their overdue book fines with their souls?” the last part is a joke, a little upward quirk of his lips at the end to communicate his good humor.

[mnfoster-blog]

chomp.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnxjimin:

    two hours. two hours without some lowly university student, drunk off their ass and wanting to know if mr. right was coming her way. how disappointing. 

    honestly, jimin blamed the war going on. even though it was kept in the dark, there was still this tense air all around seoul. he didn’t need to be some sort of empath to sense that humans feel like the shadows are dangerous - more than before, at least. it was instinct and after years of evolution, at least humans still had that going for them. fight and flight was a good survival technique. he’d give them that.

     the false psychic sighed as he leaned back on his couch and stared at the TV that was usually hidden behind a curtain. he picked at his bag of shrimp snacks before he had a ominous feeling coming to him. he wasn’t clairvoyant or anything, but any witch worth a damn got a feeling when something bad was coming.

     his door went open and he eyed the new comer, obviously bleeding and obviously a vampire. the irony. when he’s grabbed, he tries to pull away, repulsed and annoyed. vampires didn’t bite witches though. his blood was supposed to be disgusting. the other seemed desperate and jimin… was a little curious. for someone who didn’t feel pain, would he feel this?

    all signs were telling him to just put the vampire out of his misery, but curiosity was winning. “fine. get off,” jimin muttered, pulling the vampire off of him as he moved towards the door, locking it and closing the blinds before turning off his open sign. 

     “if you kill me, i’m haunting you,” jimin threatened.  

he whimpers an apology, though words don’t quite form on the injured vampire’s lips. it hurts, his body hurts and it’s screaming protests at him for hesitating even this long. you need blood! instinct screams, and foster could have sworn he heard the words physically through the ringing in his ears.

it’s a stroke of luck that he’s in the company of a witch who must have somewhat amicable feelings toward other suprenatural beings and not someone who’d take advantage of his weakness. foster would be an easy target right now. without the strength or the means to defend himself properly, he’d be amazed that he survived this experience later.

“i won’t kill you,” the promise sounds weak, though he’s never been more serious. witch blood doesn’t taste good anyways, his nose can tell him so before his fangs even break flesh though he’s desperate enough not to care. “ghosts don’t exist anyways.”

a weak smile crosses his lips with the attempt at a joke; a play on irony, a vampire saying something doesn’t exist. he hesitates, almost reaching for the witch’s wrist and then stopping, then leaning toward his neck and stopping short again. “i.. where... is it okay?”

[mnhwanhee-blog]

// volume levels

Hwanhee expected that today’s shift would be as boring and silent as it usually was. After several minutes into his shift, his expectations were proven wrong. Shuffling down the aisles, making sure all the books were in order and neatly aligned, Hwanhee’s ears caught the sound of.. Screaming? It was in a hushed tone but loud enough for him to catch. Concerned, the male began quietly stalking towards the sound, all senses on alert in case he was needed to fight anyone - not that he would. The last time that almost happened, the librarian ended up lecturing him for hours on end before finally giving him a warning.

With his job on the line, the male continued towards the sound only to be greeted by the back of a stranger in a study cubicle. His face contorted into an expression of confusion, as he slowly approached the other, as quietly as possible not to startle them. What he saw on the screen shouldn’t have shocked him, but it also disappointed him.

On the laptop screen that the other person had  in front of them, was a B-rated horror film - some type of slasher horror genre, which explains the screams. The lack of earbuds painted a frown on Hwanhee’s face. As much as he hated this part of his job, it was something he had to do, and so he did. Reaching out, he lightly tapped the other’s shoulder.

“Excuse me…”

[mnfoster-blog]

while eager to learn, there’s much that foster still doesn’t understand about modern technology. namely, the etiquette of such. he’s competent enough to turn on the movie, sure, but the thought of plugging in headphones never once occurred to him. why block out the sound from others when he could just as easily invite someone to join him?

the movie wasn’t very good anyways. foster was disappointed in their depiction of supernatural lore; though he had to admit even he, the vampire, jumped a time or two when an unexpected scare came up.

the tap on his shoulder doesn’t surprise him much, vampirey senses and all. he glances up at the other ( demon, his nose tells him ), an innocent expression of inquiry on his face. he recognized him as part of the staff here and foster just couldn’t piece together why he was being talked to, though he can’t imagine it’s just a friendly gesture of greeting judging by the overt politeness and look on the other’s face.

“i’m sorry, can i help you?” said in another tone the words might have come across aggressively, but foster’s voice carries nothing but amicable compliance. he fumbles to pause the movie, not wanting to miss anything.

[butaer]

embarrassed clumsy tae.

[mnfoster-blog]

chomp.

@mnxjimin

it’s his own fault that he’s not as strong as a vampire his age should be. foster doesn’t feed properly, he can’t bear to, and even though he keeps himself and his vampire instincts at bay with innocent woodland creatures it’s still not enough for his strength to manifest itself as it should. he’s never been to concerned about it before, keeping to himself in the woods, but since slowly easing out of his shell like a shy hermit crab, he finds himself in situations that almost make him wish he didn’t stunt how own growth.

almost.

the werewolf took him by surprise; foster hadn’t pinned the beasts as ambush predators especially when alone, but the rogue werewolf caught him off guard nonetheless. he fights back, of course, using teeth just as much as he uses any weapon available to him, but he’s careful not to swallow werewolf blood no matter how tempting the taste is on his tongue.

he survives the fight, successfully driving the werewolf away, but not without wounds of his own. they’re not healing right; he’s lost a little too much of his own blood to the skirmish and he wasn’t well fed to begin with. the vampire whimpers pitifully, limping into some little shop to try and collect himself. he smells witch.

“i’m sorry, i’ll.. i’ll be out of your hair in a minute, i--” he hisses, recognizing the feeling of snapped ribs and his lungs expand and contract in his chest. it hurts. “do you mind if i..?”

foster leans toward the witch, reaching out and grabbing a wrist to pull him closer. “i won’t take much, i promise. just.. please. i don’t feed well.”

[mnfoster-blog]

hiccup.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnxsunmi:

being amongst the public still made her feel weird after all these years. despite being raised by humans and despite being a normally functioning member of society, sunmi could only think the worst whenever the streets of seoul were the busiest.

obviously the beta took extra precautions and made sure not to stay out too late (or at all, if she could help it) on days of the full moon. they happened often enough and she really didn’t like making it obvious. it was harder when she was young and absences would only result in a failing grade. her parents opted for homeschooling more than once. but now as an adult, she can’t just avoid the public nor can she put her job on hold.

even on days other than the full moon, sunmi felt like a weed in a garden of flowers: a member of society but a poor eye sore. almost as if anyone could point to her and guess she was a werewolf. it was always a nice reminder when she picked up a foreign scent of another species that she wasn’t alone. everyone was just trying to pass off as human just as she.

the approaching scent of the vampire is what drew her attention first. she looked at him a few moments before he even spoke with a look of curiosity on her features. in the seconds he spoke to her, the curiosity transforms to full on bemusement. “hiccups?” she asked, holding back the smile on her face.

“i thought you guys don’t breathe. how do you get hiccups?” she questioned. she failed to hold back the smile of her face. how could something that doesn’t need to breathe get the hiccups? she wasn’t purposely trying to seem like she found this the funniest thing to happen all day but it was.

sunmi decided to have mercy on the poor boy. “the only cures i know are to swallow air or to take deep breaths.” she tilted her head. “i’m not sure how well that would work out for you.”

“please don’t laugh at me. i didn’t know this could happen either.” it takes a lot of willpower not to whine at the werewolf girl, and even then he’s not sure he keeps a whimper completely out of his tone. she’s not entirely out of line anyways; foster can hardly blame her for smiling at his situation no matter how scary it seemed to him in the moment.

another hic startles him and his brow knits together further, a frown deepening on his face. he doesn’t know how they started, or even why. isn’t he supposed to be basically flawless by human standards? like a demigod or something. no one ever hears stories of hercules or achilles ever getting the hiccups, and while they were short of being anything godly foster didn’t think he was out of line to compare himself to the legends.

“i--” his words are cut off by an unexpected hic and he frowns at himself before trying to speak again. “i mean i have to breathe to talk and stuff.. i just.. don’t know.. how to reset my breathing..” he slows down as he reaches the end of his sentence, worried about another hiccup that doesn’t come until several seconds after the words are out of his mouth.

foster chokes down another whimper, determined not to be too frightened by whatever the hell it is his body is doing to him. “tell me exactly what to do. i’ll try anything to get rid of these; it’s scary.” he’s not sure if he can emphasize how strange it is to experience hiccups for the first time in his memory. he’s a grown man, a vampire, it’s pathetic that he’s so anxious over what’s probably not even a big deal.

he’d hold his breath but he needs to let air in and out to talk to the werewolf. “my name’s foster, by the way. sorry if i’m stopping you from something important.. i--” hic “--didn’t know who else i could ask.”

[mnfoster-blog]

monster.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnkevin:

he doesn’t protest, is in no place to even if he wanted to, as he’s lowered against a tree by gentle hands. bloody fingertips stain the dark fabric of his jacket and the chill of the air starts to seep its way into his skin permanently, as if moving into his veins as his life force pulses out of them.

“’t hurts,” he mumbles, not sure what it is that hurts until his own hand is moving up to his neck toward the source of pain, instinctively. his palm presses against the holes in his flesh and he winces weakly at the sting that follows, the dull bruising feeling. something dribbles between his fingers and it’s only when he pulls his hand away and glances down at it through the haze in his brain does he realize it’s blood.

“oh,” he utters, a muscle twitching painfully in his neck, his stomach churning dangerously. he’s never been good with the sight blood. his hands are shaking almost imperceptibly, from the cold or the shock or a lethal combination of both. 

his head swims and his eyelids flutter. he slips out of consciousness for a few dangerous seconds before foster slips his phone into his hand.

“…hospital,” he parrots, after a dazed moment of blinking up at the distressed vampire and waiting for comprehension to sink in. he weakly swipes his phone to its emergency mode, leaving a streak of red across its front, and starts to dial a nine before he vaguely remembers he’s not in his home country anymore.

“hospital,” he repeats as he offers foster the device, “one one nine…”

there’s blood everywhere. foster can feel it, tacky and drying against his face and down his chin, watches it ooze sluggishly from the wound he made in kevin’s neck. instinct still tells him that it’s food, it’s meant to be consumed, and there’s that feeling of desire as if a cake was placed in front of him. he knows it would taste good, he’s already had a bite, and he’s not full enough to reject it on that principle. it’s his own will not to hurt kevin that has him trying to ignore the scent, the temptations of his instinct.

“i know, i’m sorry.” of course it hurts. foster tries to tell him not to move, don’t touch it, but the words don’t make it out in time to stop motions that kevin has already started. “don’t move kevin, please. i don’t.. i can’t tell how bad it is.” i’m afraid.

“kevin? kevin!” he sees the way the human slips away for a second. that’s all it would take, one second. less than. the notion strikes him that he could lose kevin just like that with a cold stab to his gut. “don’t.. don’t look at the blood. stay with me, okay? here.” he takes his hand, gripping firmly and watching kevin’s face carefully for signs of life. “i’m right here. you have to stay with me. please.”

the phone feels alien in his hand. he's yet to own one of his own, but he’s seen kevin tip-tapping away at the device often enough that he feels like he can handle this much. his hands are steadier than he expects them to be when he keys in the numbers, vampire perfection he supposes. it doesn’t keep the frantic note out of his voice when he’s talking to the operator though, describing the location and stressing that there’s a lot of blood. “a lot of it. i’m not kidding i think he’s lost too much already.”

foster squeezes the hand he’s holding gently, searching kevin’s face for some sort of responsiveness. “kev? you’re still with me? i need to move you, so help can find you. do you think you can make it?”

[beui]

kim taehyung; aka the Cool Guy™

[mnfoster-blog]

hiccup.

@mnxsunmi

his whole body tenses for only a split second and his breath catches erratically. it’s just short of painful, an uncomfortable disturbance somewhere low in his chest the cause of the tiny spasm. for a second he wonders if he’s just been cursed by a witch, or maybe this is what it feels like if a ghost passes through a vampire.

foster didn’t realize that vampires could get the hiccups.

as far as he’s aware, there’s no medical studies on the anatomy of a vampire; it made sense that his body still has a diaphragm even though breathing isn’t exactly required for someone who’s pretty much the closest thing there is to the walking dead. he hiccups again, and a tiny surprised yelp escapes him just after. vampires aren’t supposed to get hiccups, are they?

he’s in public; he can’t cause a scene over a function that’s perfectly normal and not at all dangerous to regular human beings. foster has a hard time keeping a worried expression off his face though, a hand pressed against his stomach as if that will soothe whatever caused his hiccuping in the first place. he can’t recall ever having the hiccups before, can’t remember his days as a human. how do you get rid of these?

another hic sends a small tremor through his whole body, his core tightening uncomfortably with the mistake of his body. all those legends about vampires being flawless beings and here he is, over ninety years old and lost when it comes to dealing with his own hiccups.

the vampire glances around, looking at the people around him and how they take no notice of how he’s trying not to freak out. she’s a werewolf, he can smell it on her, and he decides that she’s safe enough to approach. sure she knows what to do. “excuse me,” foster knows they haven’t spoken before, and he hopes she’s not one of those wolves who hate vampires with a passion. “do you.. know how to get rid of hiccups?”

[mnfoster-blog]

monster.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnkevin:

he grows weaker with every moment that passes with foster latched onto his neck. time seems to slow down around him, the edges of his vision growing grey and bleary. the sounds of a suckling predator are drowned out by the frantic thrumming of his own heart in his ears, which eventually melts into a single dull roar. 

“fos’-” he tries again, weaker, nearly inaudible even to himself. his anxiety starts to dissipate and his eyes start to feel heavy, pins and needles forming at the tips of his fingers. there’s a moment of panic, like the flash of a light bulb before it goes out, and then a state of calm immediately follows, as if his imminent death is nothing to be too worried about. 

there’s a subtle ache forming in his extremities, from the cold or from the blood loss, but something sounds in his brain telling him it doesn’t hurt, that everything will be okay.

his vision blurs, turning the forest into misshapen shadows and shapes. something nudges at the fog in his brain, and he recognizes it vaguely as a voice. he ineffectively tries to blink the world clear, once, twice, notices the familiar outline of foster’s face, and starts to smile weakly. his delirium helps him forget that he’s staring at his attacker, allows him to feel relieved that he’s looking at a friend.

“fos’,” he starts weakly with the smile he’s managed, the warm oozing from his neck an interesting contrast to the cool clamminess of his skin, “there you are.”

the grip on him loosens, and only then does it become clear that it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“where were you hid…ing…” his words trail off and his knees buckle, his consciousness faltering as he tips toward the ground.

he’s staring at a dying man. the thought hits him suddenly with an icy stab through his core; he’d be responsible for kevin’s death, the murder of his own best friend. blood is on his hands, quite literally ( and in his stomach, all over his face, dripped down and staining his sweater a dark color, black in the midnight lighting ).

kevin is smiling but it doesn’t comfort foster in the slightest, his own expression one of mixed fear, shock, horror; anything but a smile decorates the vampire’s face. “i told you to go home.” his voice cracks, a thousand thoughts and apologies threatening to come out in a panicked sob. you should have listened to me. for once, just did what i said. you shouldn’t have come out here tonight.

the pain might be imaginary, but he swears his heart is breaking when the human he’s nearly killed smiles at him so fondly, looks at him as if he has no clue what foster’s done to him. he reaches out as kevin falls, darting back into his space with the intent to protect rather than attack now. slowly, carefully, he lowers him to a seated position on the damp forest floor, leaning his friend back against the tree that he had just previously been pinned to.

“don’t move. just stay still.. but keep talking to me.” he reaches out to run a hand through kevin’s hair, a comforting gesture, but noticing the blood on his fingers he stops short. “can you.. do you think you can work your phone? i don’t..”

were it not for having the flashlight on, the phone might have been lost to the ages in the chaos and confusion of foster’s attack. he fumbles to find it, and offering it out to kevin. the vampire still has a lot to learn when it comes to cell phones. “can you call an ambulance? i’ll get you out of the forest, but.. you need a hospital, kevin.” and even then i’m not sure how much damage i’ve done.

[mnfoster-blog]

monster.

[mnfoster-blog]

mnkevin:

there’s a thick, lingering quiet, as if the woods have gone completely still around him. even the wind seems to have slowed to a stop, and he has to glance down at the movement of his legs through the fog to make sure it hasn’t solidified around them. 

he shivers, blames the cold, opens snapchat and turns the camera toward himself, starting to record.

“out in the creepiest part of the woods at the creepiest time of night and foster is nowhere to be se-”

something knocks the wind out of him, hits him with what feels like the force of a train and pins him against a tree before the fact that it even registers what’s happening. 

“wha-” his bewildered protests are halted, melting into a helpless squeak as something warm and sharp sinks into the delicate skin of his neck. it’s painful at first, like being stabbed, acute and bruising, until it melts into a strange pulsing numbness, a dull twinge sounding with every beat of his heart. his phone lays feet away in a pile of damp, trodden leaves, the flashlight shining into the pitch black canopy like a fruitless beacon.

“fos-” he tries again, a feeble cry for help, until he reaches up to weakly push at the arms pinning him in place and recognizes the vague coarseness of the sweater. he utters his name again, pleading to the familiar form as the color leeches from his face and into the waiting lips at his neck, as his heart rate picks up frantically, desperately trying to make up for the life force slipping from the wound in his neck. “fos’, it’s me-”

it’s a satisfying moment when his fangs break flesh and warm liquid flows between his lips. the hungry vampire lets out a little relieved sound, the tiny mewl of a starving man given food for the first time in weeks. the human’s cries and weak struggles fall on deaf ears, an irrational mind that refuses to process anything other than hunger and survival. the cat does not weep for the bird that fills its belly.

foster’s world is black and red, night and blood. and for a second the red mist clears and he sees the darkness of the woods, hears a familiar voice. he notices the blood dribbling wastefully down his chin, fresh enough that it’s not even tacky and sticky against his skin. all he can smell is the blood, blood everywhere.

and then he realizes whose it is.

he releases kevin with a startled gasp, eyes not leaving the slowly oozing wound he had created. he caused that, he hurt kevin. hands begin to tremble and the guilt rushes in to replace that moment of confusion when he had first come to and he takes an extra step back, putting distance between himself and his friend turned victim.

“kevin? kevin-- i’m-” so sorry. the words can’t come out, they just don’t feel meaningful enough to express what foster is feeling. he’s pretty sure it’s not just the newly emerged moon and her lighting that makes kevin look so pale, but she certainly doesn’t help.

foster wipes at his face, trying to clean himself of his friend’s blood. he’s had too much, he knows he’s taken too much. he feels sloshy and full, and if he weren’t terrified for kevin’s life he’d probably be sleepy too. he hasn’t felt full in a long time; humans were not meant to lose so much blood at once.

“kevin, kevin you’re still with me right?” panic sharpens the edges of his voice though he stands very still, as if afraid to approach the human. “i’m so, so sorry.” i tried to tell you to go home.