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@eivorx @lunadarkwoodx @prcspero @blademasterdior @casimirnoctis @sakkarathekeeper

Tana Boys

The modern Norse form varulv (Danish, Norwegian and Swedish) was either borrowed from Middle Low German werwulf, or else derived from an unattested Old Norse *varulfr, posited as the regular descendant of Proto-Germanic * wira-wulfaz. @andersxragnulf @danteragnulf @connorlang

#edit.#anders.#dante.#connor.#clownmas.#//me wondering how i do an edit for all three of you #//and then realizing

mentions of @demonkaito & @yurcna When a young witch and her familiar had crept into the hotel one night and tried to get past the front desk, Ciaran had been kind enough not to send both of them packing. Mortals are tiresome at this point, he can’t stand being around them most of the time, but the witch points out she didn’t mean any harm as she stands between himself and her familiar. She had wanted to prove she was brave enough to face the spirits and he has half a mind to let her. But she is just a child with something to prove and he looks between her and her familiar and he grabs one of the books he keeps behind the front desk. He scribbles his phone number in it, he hands it to her familiar with his immaculate bone structure and steady gaze. He tells them to go bother someone else, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he does so. Kaito is something else.

It’s not like he hasn’t had partners here and there, but being a reaper and keeping up with the hotel is a very demanding job and while he’d once had the white picket fence situation, it does not seem feasible. Until it slowly becomes a possibility again, the hotel slowly becomes full of life again in the sense that he’s not so miserable anymore with the demon around. He’d taken up being security for the hotel and that should have been that, Ciaran is a professional. But he’s also a romantic and an Irishman and banter is something he does well and so they get to talking, Yurena starts collecting other haunted books, the three of them get on well. But banter becomes flirting and flirting becomes whispering in dark corners of the hotel together and then one day Ciaran is laying in bed beside the demon and wondering where the time went. Because it feels like he belongs there at his side, like he had always been there. “I think I love you, you know.” Such a casual thing to tell someone as they lay there in bed, he’d practically face plantedd it, clothes still on and half laying on the green haired demon. Said demon doesn’t put the book down that’s in his hand, but he does make a thoughtful noise and he knows those steady eyes are on him, can feel them burning into the back of his neck. He doesn’t speak again, just closes his eyes after toeing off his shoes and he’s about to move, about to crawl further into bed when he feels fingers carding through his hair, hears a page turn. It has been years, decades even, since he’d felt so comfortable with another person, met someone who had reminded him he existed outside of two very demanding jobs. With Kaito he is not just a reaper, he is not just The Host, he’s been dead for centuries but he’s a person underneath all that. They stay like that, nearly lulled to sleep in the low light of the room and as sleep nearly has him, he swears he hears Kaito tell him that he knows. He had always been there. Until one day he wasn’t. It’s not as if the details matter, but at the end of the day something is wrong with Yurena and Kaito is gone. There’s nothing he can do for the witch and her familiar who have slowly but surely wormed their way into an unbeating heart that had been dormant for so long. He trashes the hotel lobby, he pulls at his hair, there is nothing he can do. The spirits watch, they mourn, too. He goes back to Ireland. He goes back to walking among what is left of the cemetery his family used to tend to all those years ago, stones in the ground at this point. His wife and child are buried there, he debates putting a stone down for Kaito, if not there, somewhere. But he doesn’t on account of his bed becomes a grave for the two of them no matter where he stays. He watches Yurena, he holds onto hope. He waits. And he waits. And some days he thinks he is going to become a statue at that front desk or wherever he is stuck loitering, knees drawn to his chest as he plays with the necklace bestowed upon him by his lover. Three little gold charms dangling at the hollow of his throat to match the three gold charms dangling from the demon’s right ear. He counts the days, he goes through the motions, he makes up Kaito’s side of the bed every morning. It’s the same side he cries into night after night as he tries to think of how to dull the sharp pain in his chest. The only thing that seems to do it is holding onto hope that they’re going to be together again. They’re going to be together again even if he has to find a way to beg his way into the Inferno himself. He’d never even got to say goodbye. But he holds onto the chance to say hello again.

#self para.#edit.#clownmas.

on the fifth day of clownmas +15/?: Casper & Marcella

“I fixed it.” Marcella says proudly, coming up behind him, her chin dropping to his shoulder as she leans over the couch and presents the silver daylight ring. The problem with living with someone who wore her pieces was that she was constantly scrutinizing them, finding little things to perfect. There was a section of the band that just wasn’t as burnished as she’d like, the intertwined metal branches had looked too pristine. Strands of her hair tickle his shoulders as the warmth of her finds him, a grin suddenly tugging at his lips as eyes tear away from his work to examine the ring. Casper had always been proud of every version of the ring— yet another thing that evolved alongside them, “For now.” A playful tone that showed his excitement as he slipped it on, knowing that in a week’s time it could be fine-tuned again.

@caspermhahn

#edit.#casper.#clownmas.

on a day of clownmas: Emory & Micah

“Fine.” It’s clipped and Emory finds himself digging his card out of his wallet, the one he gives to people with haunted shit that has his cell on it, and slaps the cardstock down on the table. It lands right beside the damn silver tray. Maybe Micah would call him, maybe he’d cut another line with it. If not the next one here, maybe later at home, or the next day. And for a petty moment, he hopes he does. He hopes he has to see his name and his number every time he does something destructive. He hopes he haunts him. @emmaxmicah

#edit.#clownmas.#micah.#drug tw

CLOWNMAS: @ormir as Sue Sylvester

"Schuester! Yeah, I'll need to see that set list for Sectionals after all, and I want it on my desk, warm from the laminator at 5:00 p.m. And if it is one minute late, I will go to the animal shelter and get you a kitty cat. I will let you fall in love with that kitty cat. And then, on some dark, cold night, I will steal away into your home and punch you in the face!"

#ormir.#edit.#clownmas.