#;lorcan

[bvttlebcrn]

while the o’phelans had been rather eager to meet and greet aisling, especially following mack’s death, she had heard nothing from the ryan side. even her own mother skipped town. so much for abandonment issues, right? anyways, aisling had not come to the festival seeking any of the original vampires out, hadn’t even expected to see them considering the party probably had to still be set up. when she saw the sullen face of none other than lorcan ryan, the vampire king, her curiosity was peaked. she wondered if lyall had ever spoken about her, if she was even on his radar. maybe it was a test, but aisling took her loaded cheese fries over to a picnic table he stood next to and sat down. ( @nctgold​ )

[bvttlebcrn]

( @nctgold​ )

henri had been minding his own business for the most part post-party. a lot of that minding his own business still involved emery, but now that emery was actively a part of his business, it was perfectly fine. maybe part of that “minding his own business” meant avoiding lorcan at all possible turns, and maybe that was about to be shattered. 

henri twisted around when he heard lorcan’s distinct voice, tightening the grip he had around the newspaper he just picked up (he’s 800 years old, he’s allowed to be old fashioned). he considered running for it, but decided the humiliation would be worse than anything lorcan had to say to him. “what?” he asked petulantly.

[bvttlebcrn]

after awhile of no feedings, grayson tended to get . . . restless. he chalked most of it up to generations and generations of his family serving vampires––eventually creatures evolve to better serve their purpose. despite himself, grayson knew deep down that for him, it was almost like an addiction. he had trouble explaining it to other humans that had never been fed from. so, here he was, strolling in the park at night, keeping an eye out for any clientele. he made no effort to hide his mark, often flashing it to those he passed as an offering. eventually he sat down on a bench, knee bouncing impatiently. “come on,” he said quietly, under his breath. ( @nctgold​ )

[lucindatclkalot]

Lorcan, d’Eath, Lo I can’t believe how many times you manage to work in referring to yourself as “Bat Daddy” in your life, honestly.

I’ve never sent one either. This is harder than it looks thank you for sen I don’t know what to say Or received, actually. Which probably sounds sad or I’m not meant to say Thea is too busy describing flirting techniques to Reg for me to ask but I’ve never cared bef before. I don’t really know what to say either. I mean 

Thank you. (I decided to start a new line. Seemed less messy. Believe it or not, structure is actually one of my strengths, despite all evidence to the contrary). For sending me that, I mean. 

You’re not a monster. A monster isn’t—you’re not born a monster or made a monster or even one because of something terrible you do. It’s choosing to do it again and again and to buy into it. ( And of course I’m not afraid of you. Exasperated, maybe, but not afraid. Fangs or not, I’ve met real monsters you call yourself Bat Daddy. I’ve met worse. Better ways to refer to themselves, though. Usually just “I”. Surprisingly effective, actually. )

This is alarmingly messy and clearly not my forte and I am going to send this before I set it on fire instead. Thank you. Might have to cash in these vouchers after the next match. 

— Lucinda

P.S. I would draw something, but it seems silly to draw the Captain’s badge and I don’t know how to draw anything tough and Puerto Rican or Welsh except for maybe a Welsh dragon or an angry cookie. I liked your fangs, though.

@lorcvndeath