#hall0ween

[badlydrawnaradia]

Trick or Treat

@badlydrawnrose

here y0u g0! happy hall0ween, R0se!

[magically-strange]

[badlydrawnaradia]

aradia, whats advice can you give someone whose been turned into a frog? note: magical true love kisses are NOT working

until y0u can find a suitable text-t0-speech device, i w0uld suggest typing 0r writing everything you want t0 c0mmunicate. d0n't be afraid to ask f0r help reaching things y0u can't jump t0, either.

[badlydrawnaradia]

happy hall0ween everyb0dy!

i decided i'd g0 as jane d0e fr0m ride the cycl0ne this year 0u0

[magically-strange]

Costumed Craving...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

“Holy cow, Marianne! Boggy is just adorable!”

“Bog.”

“I mean, it was sweet enough of him to invite us all to lunch, but to pick up the tab, too?  I tell ya, sis, if I wasn’t so completely head over heels for my husband, you’d have some competition!”  

“Uh-huh.”

“And I love his accent!  Scottish, right?”

“Yup.”

“I know Sunny’s glad to finally have someone to talk soccer with!”

“Mmm.”

“Seriously, Marianne, he is awesome!  I can’t wait for you to make him part of the family!”

“…”

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

“…”

“Helloooooooo…?”

*sniffle*

“Wh-?  Marianne, are you-?  Are you crying?”

“N-n-no…”

“You are too!  What’s the matter?  What are you crying for?”

“…”

“Well?”

“…Dawn, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“I’m so scared.”

“Why?”

“I’ve…I’ve never felt this way before.  It was never like this with Roland; not even close.”

“Um, yeah.  Because Roland wasn’t the one, remember?  We’ve been over this.”

“But he still hurt me so bad, Dawn.  I mean, I was gonna marry the guy.  House, kids, the whole shebang!”

“…And with Bog?”

Marianne’s clutched her pixie-cut hair in her hands for a moment in silence as more tears fell.

“With Bog……with Bog, I want so much more.  He…he feels as natural to me as my right hook.”

“Glad you’re being honest about it now.  That’s perfectly normal, Marianne.  There’s nothing to get so upset about.”

“Yes, there is!  After Roland cheated, I…I got over it.  I toughened up!  I opened my gym; I made something of myself!  But if…if Bog doesn’t want this. If he doesn’t want m-me, I…it’s just too much!  It’ll destroy me.  I know it, I can feel it!”    

“Marianne, that’s crazy talk!  You did the thing!  He’s meant to accept this!  Just like Sunny did.  And his friend, Pare, for cousin Lizzy.  Uncle Paul, grandma, great-great aunt Marcia.  And that’s just in our own family!  The list goes on and on throughout history, Marianne!  You know that!”  

“…”

“…”

“I love him, Dawn.  I really love him.”

“I know you do.”

“I don’t wanna lose this.”

Dawn wrapped her arms around her trembling sister.

“You won’t.  Trust me, I was just as nervous as you; having exactly what I’d always wanted right there in front of me, waiting for somebody to yell ‘PSYCH!’ or for my alarm clock to go off, but it didn’t.  I trusted my instincts, and now I’m the happiest married blonde you’ll ever meet.”

“Heh…”

“Got any plans with Bog today?”

“No, he’s got a lot of work to catch up on this weekend, but he wants me to meet his mom next Thursday.”

“But that’s the 24th!  …Oooooooh, he wants to take you home for Christmas!  That is so CUUUUUUUUUTE!!!”

Marianne broke free of her sister’s hug.  

“Gah, stop that!  I hate when your voice gets higher every syllable!”  

“Girl, this is big!  He wants you to meet his mom!  The same mom he told you is obsessed with getting him married?  I’d say this is extra proof you have nothing to worry about!”

*sigh*

“So...when are you gonna tell him?  It’s been like a month and a half; he’s bound to have started noticing things.”

“Soon.”  

“How soon?”

“Don’t rush me.”

“I’m not rushing you, but Dad says the longer you wait, the more dangerous-”

“After Christmas; I promise.”

“..Okay.”

[magically-strange]

Costumed Craving...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

The longest stretch of silence yet shrouded the darkened boxing gym.  

Bog’s hands had left his face to lifelessly hang off his drawn-up knees.  His head had fallen back against the corner pole, eyes closed, and jaw set in a grim expression; he was stone still.  

As Marianne watched him, she found herself noticing that Bog rather resembled her father this way, back when she was an unruly child standing before him in the living room while he sat in his easy chair and took a long moment to calm his temper before deciding on a fitting punishment for whatever trouble she’d caused.  It was as comforting as it was devastating, and she sagged as if she were eight-years-old again, awaiting her verdict.      

Perhaps that was why each empty, ticking second was more unbearable than the last, and she had to say something before her thundering heartbeat crumbled her aching body to the floor.

“Do you……hate me now?”  She asked in a broken whisper.

Immediately, Bog looked at her with a confused frown, as if he didn’t understand the question, and Marianne’s legs almost gave out when his gaze softened.  

“No.”  Bog said, gently.  “No, Marianne, o’ course I dorn’t hate ye!  Hell, under almost any other circumstances, hearing ye say I’m yer soulmate would be…just about the best news ever.”

He gave her a faint smile which Marianne automatically returned tenfold through her tears.

“However, I’m sure ye can understand that I’m…more than a bit overwhelmed, an’ that I’m no’ particularly happy with ye, at the moment.”  Bog added, his sternness returning.  “I mean, this happened against my will!  It’s no’ like ye asked me if I even wanted to be a-!  …An i-incubus.”

Marianne twisted her fingers in shame.  

“But…then again…” he sulked, “…I guess it’s no’ really fair o’ me to take issue with a...nature or culture or whatever that’s no’ my own, is it?”

“You have the right to feel however you want to feel, Bog.”

“Well, that’s great, ‘cause I’m certainly feelin’ a lot right now.”  Bog snorted.  “Do ye realize I could’ve killed someone tonight?!”

The question gave Marianne pause, and a chill crept along her spine.

“Y-you mean you…you fed?”

“I think so; on Cindy.”

“Who’s Cindy?!”  Marianne demanded, losing her sorrow and guilt in anger at the assaulting mental images of Bog being close enough to some mysterious woman’s lips to draw in her energy.  

Bog seemed puzzled by her sudden change in tone, but was thankfully quick to realize the cause.  She had, after all, told him all about that cheating scum of an ex-boyfriend of hers, so he hastened to explain:  

“Cindy is a four-month-old baby; my friend, Brutus’s daughter.  I was rocking her.”

As if in slow motion, he saw Marianne’s furious glare melt into deep embarrassment at her assumptions.  She looked so uncomfortable and forlorn, he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms.

“…Oh.”

“I wouldn’t do that to ye, Marianne.”  Bog murmured, knowing how difficult it was for her to give her trust to anybody since Roland.  It was a problem he struggled with himself, with good reason it seemed.    

“No, no.”  Marianne whispered, waving him off and trying not to joyfully dwell on the hint that he still considered them to be in a relationship.  “I’m just being stupid.  That’s my fault, too.  I should’ve told you sooner.  What…happened; to Cindy?”

“She fell asleep.”

The succubus breathed a sigh of relief.  

“Good.  That’s normal!”  

Her boyfriend still eyed her doubtfully.  

“I swear to you, Bog, you didn’t hurt the baby.”

“No,” Bog agreed, but his mouth thinned into a dismal line, “but I could have, couldn’t?”

Marianne’s stomach turned, and the unbearable pain of her foolish cowardice flooded her system anew. What kind of an idiot was she?  To let an unprepared, fledgling incubus loose on the public almost two months after the first bite?  It was a miracle nothing more serious had occurred.  

“Without…knowing what you were doing…..yes.” She conceded with force. “Yes, you could have, Bog.”

She expected so much to happen after her admittance: for him to curse her, to attack her, to bash his own brains in with one of her dumbbells, to break down the door and vanish into the night, never to be seen again.  

Anything but what actually followed…

Bog steadily rose to his feet, and Marianne felt a feminine thrill rush through her when she heard the feral, inhuman growl in his throat.

“If this Lilin stuff is in fact, irreversible, then ye better start sellin’ it fast, Tough Girl.”      

[magically-strange]

Costumed Craving...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Bog gaped in shock at the docile woman before him.  His brain was buzzing like stirred bees, struggling to make sense of her words.

“What are ye talkin’ about?!”  He managed to say in a strained voice.  He’d never told her about his...ailments.  He hated telling people about his troubles.

“Come on, Bog, you’re not stupid.”  Marianne replied, shifting forward in her seat.  “Surely you have some suspicions about me by now?”

The way she was watching him made Bog feel like a buck before the gun.  She wasn’t fucking around.  He didn’t want to believe it.  He couldn’t believe it.  But this was no dream.  

This was a nightmare in the waking world.  Every strange situation and insane doubt in his head that he’d been suppressing since they’d met came thrashing to the surface.

No.  

No, not you.  

NOT YOU!!!

Shooting up from the couch, Bog backed away from the brunette as if she were a bomb.

“No…no, that’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry, Bog, but you’re wrong.”

Slowly, Marianne rose to her feet as well, and steadily advanced on the trembling man, her unsettlingly placid demeanor making his pulse rate skyrocket.    

“It’s not just possible, it’s real.”

Choked by the sudden terror of every horror movie he’d ever seen coming true, Bog spun on his heel and flew at the door, only to find it locked.

“Bog.”  Marianne said calmly as his shaking fingers repeatedly slipped on the dead bolt.  

Once he clumsily managed to turn it, he almost let out a cry of dismay at the door’s stubborn refusal to open.

Fucking privacy knob!

Frantic, he yanked on the handle, savagely rattling the wood.

“Bog, don’t do that.”

She was getting closer!

One last panicked jerk, and the frame splintered, freeing the damn latch and twisting the top hinges from the wall.  The evidence of his inhuman strength only spiked Bog’s fear as he rushed past the ruined door and down the stairs.  

“Bog, wait!”

Refusing to listen, Bog bolted across the dark, empty gym, still managing to see a clear path despite the deep shadows.  He saw his chance of escape in a single door beyond the sparring ring.  

“Bog!”

Marianne’s footsteps followed steadily behind him, as he reached the unfortunately locked door, only to realize with sharp alarm that unlike the previous, this one was metal…and with two an interior key locks.

SHIT!

“Bog?”

There was no more time to run, so Bog helplessly battered the unyielding door with his fists, barely managing to leave a pair of dents before he heard Marianne approach him from behind.

“Bog, I just-!”

In a desperate move, Bog noticed a coat rack beside him, and seized his makeshift weapon.

“Get back!”  He shouted, pointing the tip of a large umbrella at Marianne’s neck.  “Stay the fuck away from me!   I mean it!”

For several, silent beats, Marianne just stood stock still with a look of surprise and even hurt in her eyes…

…until she gave Bog the most furious scowl he’d ever seen.

In the breath of a second, she side-stepped him, snatched the end of the umbrella, and pulled hard, causing Bog to stumble forward and lose his grip on the handle.  It clattered to the floor as Marianne then grabbed him by the back of the neck and his right arm.  With unimaginable strength, she marched him away from the door like an angry mother would an unruly child, and when they reached the ring, she suddenly released his neck, swept her left hand under his chest, and shoved upwards, hurling him into the air.

Bog’s six foot seven, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound body flipped clear over the raised platform and ropes.  He landed flat on his back in the ring, sprawled and dazed, but unharmed, save for the wind knocked out of his lungs.

Marianne then came somersaulting after him like Catwoman.  Her feet slammed down on either side of Bog’s head, freezing him in place as she squatted to snarl in his face:

“Listen here, jackass! If I wanted to hurt you, I coulda snapped you like the overgrown twig you are weeks ago!  But I didn’t! So, obviously I don’t wanna hurt you, and I’m not going to!  Now you get a hold of yourself, goddammit!  You hear me?!”

Funny, most people would’ve likely shit their pants after getting such an explosive reaction from a person they perceived as a threat…

…but Bog, oddly enough…

…had the opposite reaction.  He was still afraid, alright; but the passive and contrite Marianne freaked him out, because it was so unlike her, and it scared him more so.  Yet, the shouty, boxing trainer with that don’t-take-crap-from-anyone attitude and backbone of tempered steel?  Now that was familiar.  That was his Tough Girl; the woman he fell in love with.    

“I-I-I hear ye.”

“Good.”  

Moving off of him, Marianne stomped away to sit cross-legged in the center of the ring, resting her elbows on her knees with a pensive frown.  Carefully, Bog sat up and focused on calming himself.

She was right; she hadn’t hurt him.  Yes, she was upset, but she was still the Marianne he knew; she’d proven that, by God.  

He could at least hear her out.  

“…”

“…”

“Overgrown twig?”

“Oh, don’t act like it’s not fitting.”  She returned with a pointed glace, veiled with dry humor.  “You’re gonna pay for a new office door, you know.”

Bog drew up his legs and crossed his arms over them.  

“Not ‘til ye tell me the whole truth first, I worn’t.  Start talkin’.”

Marianne started at Bog for a moment, twisting her lips in consideration before sighing and giving her attention to the restless fingers in her lap.

“Why don’t you ask me…specific questions instead, and I’ll try to answer them as best I can.  I think if I try to explain everything in one go, it’ll just stress you out even more.”

Bog swallowed, but pressed on.

“Fine, who are ye?”

“Marianne Springwood.”

He huffed in exasperation at her sass.

“What are ye?”

“…It……depends on what culture or time period you’re referencing, but…basically, I’m……I’m part of a race of…superhuman beings that……feed off of mankind.”

“So, yer what? A…s-some kinda v-v-va-vampire?”

Marianne rolled her eyes with a breathy snicker.

“Not in the way you’re probably thinking.  All that Bram Stoker, garlic, crucifix, ‘I vant to suck your blahd’, Hollywood crap.  We may have inspired all that, but fact is still very different from fiction.”

“How so?”

“Bog, how familiar are you with Jewish mythology?”

Bog blinked in brief confusion.

“Um…well, I was raised Catholic, but my mom’s non-practicin’.”

“Ever heard of the demon, Lilith?”

“…Vaguely.”  Bog said before tensing.  “Are ye sayin’ yer a-?!”  

“No.  Trust me, if I were, you’d be dead.  We’re generally known as Lilin, or, the children of Lilith, but many of us don’t appreciate the whole ‘demon association’ thing if it’s not meant as a joke.”

“Does that mean yer not evil?”

Marianne winced, but covered it by giving Bog a sultry grin.

“Well, I, personally, can be very naughty, as you know….”

Gulping, Bog squirmed to readjust his position, suddenly feeling extra vulnerable in his boxers as Marianne went on in a more serious tone.

“…but we’re sentient beings with free will, Bog.  We can strive to be good, or we can choose to be evil.  We have the same emotions you humans do, and it’s up to the individual on how to use them.”

Nodding in hesitant understanding, Bog took a minute to absorb the information thus far.

“Lilin.” He whispered to himself, testing the word like a new flavor.

“Yes,” Marianne continued, “but there’s an even more common term.  My sister and I prefer to be called ‘succubus’.”

Bog’s mouth fell open.

“Yer sister?”

“That’s right.  And Sunny and my dad are ‘incubus’, since they’re males.”

The thirty-one-year-old sound editor could hardly believe what he was hearing.  Her whole family?  Even Dawn? That bubbly, blonde Barbie doll he’d met the other week?  They were all…?

“Succubus an’ incubus. Aren’t those the things that are supposed to come into yer room at night an’ have…s-s-sex with ye?”

It was Marianne’s turn to be embarrassed.  Awkwardly, she scratched behind her ear.

“Erm…yes and no.  We don’t have to do that; sex, or more specifically, kissing, just gives us the best opportunity to feed, but it’s not essential.  For those of us that are born Lilin, the craving doesn’t appear until puberty, so it’s nice to have an alternative to a bunch of promiscuous preteens running around, you know?  Even we frown upon underage, unprotected sex. But we’re masters of stealth, so we can usually just sneak in at night, take what we need, and that’s it.”

Regardless, Bog looked queasy.

“W-when ye said ye fee-feed off mankind…”

“Don’t worry, Bog.   Lilin live off human energy, not blood.”

“How is that better?”

“It’s less messy, for one.  And it’s safer for our prey, ‘cause it only takes two or three draws to satisfy us.”

“Draws?”

“We…steal their breath, in a sense; inhale the energy into ourselves from their mouths.  That’s how we feed.  If we take exactly what we need, the human just falls or stays asleep.”

“An’ if ye take more than exactly what ye need?”

Marianne paused, and the room seemed to drop ten degrees.  Her expression darkened with gloom, but Bog’s anxious eyes held her fast until she stammered a skirting response.

“I-it’s not like the books and movies, Bog.  You don’t lo-lose control like it’s an undeniable urge or anything.”

“Answer the question.”

“There are no a-accidents. If a Lilin draws more, th-then they mean to do-”

“MARIANNE!”  

The echo of Bog’s frustrated demand bounced off the walls of the gym, and Marianne cringed, but confessed.

“Then…they can lose consciousness…”

“…”

“…slip into a coma…”

“…”

”...and die.”  

.

.

.

Bog’s spine was overrun with chills and his throat was sandpaper, but he had to know.  Setting his jaw, he spoke again in a quiet, but firm tone.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

[magically-strange]

Costumed Craving...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

Bog both looked and felt as if he was going to vomit.  

After Marianne’s screamed confession, he’d torn off his shirt as if it was on fire to see the evidence of her claim for himself.  The small, angry, red and purple mark on his pale chest, just to the right of his left nipple, he’d written it off as a hickey.  But how could a hickey last two months?  He’d treated it like all the others, but it was the only one that had refused to fade!  

This was too much, and Bog would’ve clambered through the ropes to try his luck with the metal door again, if he wasn’t so petrified he couldn’t move an inch.

But he could still talk.

“Th-then, ye…ye lied to me!”  He almost squeaked.  “Ye are a vampire!”

Marianne rolled her eyes with an irritated grunt.

“No, I’m not, Bog!”

“Ye jus’ said ye bit me!”

“Yes, but not because I’m a vampire!”

“Y-ye told me ye dorn’t drink blo-!”

“We don’t.”  Marianne emphasized before biting her lip and staring at the floor in obvious guilt.  “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“…Unless we find our…God, I hate this term,” Marianne groaned, running a hand through her pixie-cut hair, “…our……s-s-soulmate.”

!!!

“…What?  What did ye say?”

Marianne couldn’t meet Bog’s eyes if her life depended on it.  Her gaze stayed low, but her face pinched in her battle to keep from crying like a child.  Turning away to one of the corners, she wrapped her arms around her middle to quell the irrational fear that she might literally fall apart otherwise.

“Lilin do have fangs, Bog,” she began slowly, “like a traditional vampire, but they only appear for two reasons: for defense…or for when we meet our soulmate.”

When Bog stayed silent, Marianne forced herself to continue.

“For every Lilin, there’s…one person out there, that they’re meant to be with, for life.  They can be either human or Lilin themselves.  Some think that through all the seduction and prowling, we’re just…searching for them.  Others say they’re our spiritual salvation, but what’s a definite fact is that when we’re blood bound to them, our craving finally stops.”  

“…Stops?”

Hearing his voice gave Marianne the courage to face him again.  

“When I first saw you at the Halloween party, I instantly knew I wanted to spend the night with you.  I loved your costume, and I thought you were crazy hot; I still do.”

Bog cleared his throat and awkwardly glanced to the side.

“I mean it, Bog.”  Marianne insisted, knowing full well his lack of confidence when it came to his physical appearance.  “You have no idea how sexy you really are.”

“Th-thank ye, but…can we please stay on topic?”  Bog asked, blushing like a peach and discreetly shifting his legs to hide himself.  

Pursing her lips to keep from smiling, she nodded and went on, growing more and more somber with every word.

“Right, sorry.  Well...while we were together, I…I honestly don’t know how else to explain it, Bog.  I just……I couldn’t control myself.  Nothing like that had ever happened to me before; not even in the three years I’d dated Roland.  My body knew you were my soulmate before my mind did; it was instinctual.  You made my fangs appear, and…the next thing I knew…”

She trailed off, not needing to state the obvious, so she skipped ahead.

“I was horrified at what I did.  After Roland, I…I let myself believe that my soulmate just didn’t exist; that it was all a mistake.  I tried to stay away from you, but…clearly, that was impossible.  There you were, practically everywhere I went.  And the pull to you was just too strong.  No matter how much I denied it to myself and to Dawn…being with you made everything better.  I’d never enjoyed talking to someone as much as did you.  All the things we had in common; you even understood what it was like to lose a parent, and to get your heart broken by someone you thought you loved!”

As she spoke, Bog’s expression changed; morphing from fright and discomfort to a look of shameless awe.  She didn’t know that he’d felt the exact same way!  

“Lord help me, Bog, I just couldn’t resist you.  I didn’t need to feed anymore, but I did anyway whenever we were…intimate.  I was too scared to face you afterwards, so I always put you to sleep, and left before you woke up.  All the while, lying to myself about what a goddamn coward I was, because those first couple of times after Halloween, I somehow ended up biting you again.  I suppose I was trying to subconsciously counteract my stubbornness by making sure the transformation was working.”  

Momentarily spent, Marianne studied Bog carefully.  He was still as a statue and watching her without even blinking.  His eyes were hollow and his mouth sullen, as if he’d aged thirty years over the course of this unbelievable exchange.  He said nothing, not even when he appeared to lose the will to stand, and trudged himself over to one of the opposite ring corners so he could sit down and lean his back against the pole.  His hands came up to cover his face, and she could hear his deep, shuddered breathing.  

This time, his silence was absolutely unbearable, and her quiet, long held tears began to quietly fall freely, from the terror and anguish that her Roland-induced doubts were about to come true; that he was going to reject her and prove once and for all, that she could not have a soulmate.

The soulmate she wanted and loved more than anything on this earth.  

She was so caught up in her despair, she nearly missed it when at last, Bog did speak again:

“There’s…no way to stop this, is there?”

And just like that, Marianne’s heart was crushed into a million jagged shards of glass, cutting her to bleeding ribbons from the inside out.  It was a miracle she was able to keep her tone even.

“No, Bog.  Not without dying.”