Hou Taiga

I speak of the commonalities that unite humanity. All the world over, we eat, we shit, we fuck and we die.

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Would you ever let yourself be turned into a vampire? Why or why not?

“Absolutely. If I live long enough, on the day I feel I’ve lived out the fullness of my mortal life, I’ll find a vampire to turn me.”

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Damn, if being sexy was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged.

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Send me anons baby!

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warmercolours:

“No.” She said softly, curling in on herself like a dying leaf. Thea couldn’t believe she had been so careless. She wished she could look away from his face, from the anger she saw there. “I’m really sorry. I feel awful, I–… I apologize.”

Taiga growled. “What’s the likelihood you’re a millionaire, and can easily pay this back?” He read the truth from her trembling eyes.

“I’m willing to let it go for a major favor,” he told her.

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Whispers of the Heart

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brandfrost:

Brand could tell his friends must have been interesting so he didn’t bother commenting. The Original vampire’s eyes narrowed at the mention of a favour, however. The clarification wasn’t much better. “And what will happen during this few hours of little discomfort?” Money he was more than willing to poor away, time and what sounded suspiciously like experiments, were not on the table. 

Taiga tapped his bow lips. “If I call in the favor, it just depends on what I need, and what you’re willing to give. Obviously mental or emotional strain is listed under lasting effects, so there’s no chance I’ll ask you to do something you’ll rue or despise. Goods moved, help with a legal situation, even advice, should I need it. Naturally everything I’ve listed is a limiter. You’re free to advance your own limits, as well.”

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Shots

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cal-rook:

Cal chuckled. “No, I suppose that wouldn’t suit you at all.” Taiga, like Cal, very much appreciated the finer things in life. Whether it was because they came from similar backgrounds and had both clawed their way up from nothing, Cal didn’t know. 

The faerie noted that Taiga’s lighter seemed to be out and was about to offer his when the witch leaned forward to light it cigarette to cigarette. Cal raised an eyebrow but shook his head, also leaning forward to make the process easier. “Not at all.” He smirked around the cigarette, with their faces so close, before they both leaned back. Cal plucked the smoke from between his lips so he could take a sip of his drink, chuckling at the comment. “Yes, there are quite a few unusual people in this strange little town. An inordinate number of puns, as well.” Cal rolled his eyes about that, though he’d gotten used to it. “I myself have wondered that on occasion. There was some nasty business with a tree recently but I don’t think they involved themselves. You’d have a better idea than I would, most likely.” 

Cal leaned back and took another drag from the cigarette, shrugging in response. “Debauchery, for the most part.” He gave a wicked grin. “Some actual work here and there, but I’m semi-retired, you see. Taking a sort of break just to enjoy life for the time being. And what brings you to this quaint little hamlet?” 

“Retired,” Taiga mused. “I’m too young, I suppose, to retire. Too young and too addicted to the life. I expect to find a casket before a retirement home. But then I don’t have the comfort of immortality—” At least, not yet. “—and growing old seems a waste.”

Taiga smiled and slid the cigarette onto his tongue.

“Debauchery,” he said, his cigarette bobbing with the word. He blew out smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Now that’s something I can get behind.”

“I heard of that. Doom and gloom and witches having fits about it. I think it’ll be exciting, myself. Who doesn’t want to live during Ragnarok?”

[gnosem]

What does trouble smell like? Probably like blood dripping from your nose, like sweat wetting the back of your shirt, like a dry mouth and dirt in your hands? Yeah, probably. But what about expensive champagne, clean carpet and a bit of chloride to clean god-knows-what? Eli hardly ever gets in trouble. He’s a good kid, a good citizen. Yet, he was brought to the penthouse by big men. They were rather polite, but still, Eli understood he had no option at all. Once in the expensive place, he waited.

@thathoutaiga

[thathoutaiga-blog]

He’d finally found some men from an agency. Canada was not a hotbed of international crime syndicates, but resources still existed, and Taiga had used them.

Hired muscle. Always good to make an impression.

Taiga finished the last painting of blood on the circle. The glyph was good. This would be good. He slapped a glyph that would counteract Eli’s glamour over the back of his neck. He’d stripped the suite of plants ahead of time.

“Hello,” Taiga said, walking out of the interior rooms smiling. “Eli, isn’t it?” He was calm, smooth, collected, a real fucking psychopath.

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Cabin Fever

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caelxmercer:

Cael didn’t like asking for help from strangers. It was an odd feeling, to look at his beat up car that was against the nearest tree. The other was a witch – he felt the magic as soon as the door opened. “Yeah, I know that,” he mumbled, pushing some of his damp hair out of his face. 

His arm was the only thing that hurt, and he wasn’t going to have the paramedics show up like a goddamn circus. “No, no. I don’t need paramedics,” he said slowly, looking at his arm. There was a cut, but nothing much else. His shoulder was sore as well, but he wasn’t about to complain. 

“Please just…can I have some water or something? A towel?” he huffed, though he allowed a smile to hit his features.

Taiga gave him a long, slow, thoughtful look. He thumbed through his small, nondescript black binder, and touched a glyph for sight. This man was a witch, the glyph told him. And that arm was in worse shape than he thought.

Taiga left the grimoire on the couch, and ushered him inside. “You’re a witch too, so this becomes easier,” he said.

He pulled off the checkered tablecloth and began drawing a cleaning and healing glyph onto the rough wooden table with some of his ever present chalk.

Blood magic was more fun, but too risky with a witch. “Put the arm over this,” h told him.

[trueallie-deactivated20200726]

@thathoutaiga​

Shit. In her rush, had she bought dark blue instead of dark purple? The colour’s name was “Midnight Lilac”. It ought to be blue, but in this light, it looked distinctly not so. Thea unscrewed the small glass bottle as she walked. She was about to dip a finger in to verify its contents when, because her attention was occupied with keeping the ink from spilling, she walked right smack into another person. The bottle fell forward and out of her hands, and suddenly there was Midnight Lilac everywhere.

Thea stepped back, staring at the ink spread hopelessly over this poor man’s suit. Horrified, she looked up at him. After a moment of stunned silence, she tripped through a hushed apology: “I– … I’m so sorry. I can‘t–… I’m so - sorry. I’m s-sorry.”

[thathoutaiga-blog]

This was a custom suit by an Italian designer. It'd cost Taiga thousands of dollars.

Enough money that, when someone collided with him and something lukewarm and wet cascaded down his front, Taiga’s first reaction was anger.

“Watch where you’re going,” Taiga snapped, examining the front of his suit coat, and the ugly lilac stain.

“Do you know how much this suit cost?” Taiga asked, his voice low as his scowl.

More than this girl would make in a year. It was expensive. It was a present.

Taiga had killed someone over far less money than this.

[iambecomcdeath]

Bottles of Bub

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aracelian:

There was an irony afoot here: for her part, Ari was a lesbian. She didn’t hate men and the job was a good one: setting your own hours, your own boundaries, and, more or less, your own pay. Feeding fantasies and giving a bit of love to a loveless world was something Ari didn’t mind doing to pay the bills. She didn’t want to sleep with Taiga, although he was handsome; she just knew that, generally, men in a strip club were looking for a woman, and that this one had been in on a few occasions—enough to be noticed, and enough that Ari knew he had money to burn but a vagrancy problem. He was uprooted, and, if she could, she had no problem finding roots for him. Especially if it helped save him in the long run. 

She preened for him as he offered her a drink, saying, “Thank you, I’d like that,” as she sat down beside him on a stool. He wasn’t a regular of hers, not yet—outright lap sitting would be akin to begging and Ari was more veteran than that. She crossed her long legs, hooking the heels of her shoes onto the subsect of the chair, and leaned into him, her mouth making a soft oh shape, not quite closed, looking interested and enthralled. “A bottle of Moet champagne, would you, darling?” she asked, but it was only half a question: champagne was her favourite. Besides, she’d make commission on the bottle. “What brings you back in? How has your visit been so far?” If Ari recalled correctly, the last time they’d talked, he’d been newer to the area, and not only was she curious about how he was finding it, but also who he was finding.

A smirk crossed Taiga’s lips. “You heard the lady,” he informed the bartender, and watched him plod away to retrieve the bottle. Moet wasn’t a bad choice, though not necessarily Taiga’s go-to. 

Taiga could have an intense gaze when he was considering you, a look like he was parsing out your secrets just sitting next to you, like you were a puzzle and he was finding the right placement of your pieces.

He looked at Ari like that, a lingering, nonsexual look. Sizing her up. Sussing her out.

“The same thing that took me out last time, truthfully. I need a place to drink with a good selection.” The bartender returned with her bottle. He shook it and popped it, then let the liquor fizz over the lip of the bottle. He poured it competently over two glasses. A strawberry in each, and they were served.

Taiga picked up the champagne flute and sipped.

“Your lovely company is just a perk to that,” he said, with as close to an honest smile as Taiga ever got. “As for Nova Scotia, I can think of at least a hundred places I’d rather be.”

He could, too. Easily.

[thathoutaiga-blog]

kikei--watanabe:

Kikei looked up to see Taiga and the urge to knock his head into something nearly overwhelmed him. A few curses in both English and Japanese left his lips. “Fate is a heartless bitch who needs to stop fucking with me,” he grouched.

They said people couldn’t run away from their problems, a saying Kikei had been trying to prove wrong by moving to the other side of the world. Still, it looked as though common logic was going to win this round.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he continued. “Come out here for the nice greenery or what?” Maybe he should just go home. Nah, out here was getting interesting no matter how exasperated he already was.

“Can’t I just have a little vacation and not have people ask questions about it? Sun, fun, all that shit. Haven’t been able to find any good clubs out here though so that’s a disappointment.”

Taiga laughed, raising his hand in a little wave. “Come now, seeing me isn’t that terrible. Right?” He bent down to look in Kikei’s eyes, a charming grin crossing his face.

“The clubbing here is abysmal,” Taiga laughed. “But who comes to Canada for the hookers? I ask you.”

No, you needed desperation for a strong industry of prostitution. Desperation seemed far away, in Canada.

“Very well,” Taiga said. “I’m on vacation, and so are you. And we’ve chosen rainy Nova Scotia instead of sunny Columbia because fuck if it’s your business. I can live with that.”

“Shall we get a drink, then? Since fate is fucking with us both.”

[thathoutaiga-blog]

julietbowman:

“Shit.” Lee said, looking around at her surroundings. She was lost. She was really, really lost. She reached for her bag, fishing around for a moment before pulling out her phone.

She tapped the home button. Nothing happened. She frowned and held down the power button, thinking that she must have turned it off. Even though she would never do that. She stood there staring at the device and waiting for it to turn on. Nothing happened. She tried again and got the no battery screen before it flashed off again.

“Well that’s just great I’m lost and my phones dead.” With an angry sigh she put her phone back in her back and started walking again, going the direction that (what she thought was) her gut was telling her.

Finally, a woman came. She was poking at a phone and walking right through the edge of the circle, directly towards Taiga. Taiga smiled. This was the ticket.

He leaned back. “Mermaid,” he called, to see if she looked up. “Lovely day to meet one, don’t you think?”

It was gray and overcast, clouds threatening rain.

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Get in Loser, We’re Playing Poker

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a-painintheneck:

Of course, he should’ve known. Why else would he be coming here? Still didn’t answer the question to how Taiga figured out where he lived but he figured it had something to do with magic. That was the nasty thing about witches. You could not hide from them unless you used stronger and more powerful magic to block their tracking spells. Taiga confessed that he was in town and that he wanted nothing better than to spend a few hours here, at his home. Malachi could think of far better things one could be doing with their time. ❝Didn’t think my company was so delightful.❞ Taiga had brought an expensive bottle of whiskey and cigarettes to share with him and his brows shot up quizzically. ❝You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?❞ Malachi chuckled and moved away from the door so that Taiga could walk in. ❝Make yourself comfortable.❞

As he helped himself inside, Taiga’s lips lifted from his teeth in a smile. “That depends. Would you be seduced? I’ve never turned down sex from a man as handsome as you, and I shouldn’t like to make it a habit.”

“In truth, there’s little I like less than being out in ball-scratch Nova Scotia. Not to mention, the spells I had to put in place to get a visa for Canada were bizarre. Having known affiliations with the Chinese mob usually precludes one from stepping foot into the so-called first world. Cigarette? I’m smoking one,” he said, sitting on the nicest of their chairs and groping into his coat pocket for the carton.

He tapped one out for himself, and lit it with a few flicks of his thumb on a gold lighter. He left the carton in easy reach of Malachi, and placed his brought suitcase flat on the table, opening it to reveal a gun, a full poker set, an oddly well-used deck of cards, and the promised bottle of Macallan 1939.

“Mind grabbing tumblers and perhaps some ice for the whiskey? This is a bottle to savor.”

[thathoutaiga-blog]

bloodxspice:

He seemed like a big shot but Clary wasn’t scared.  She’d spent a good portion of the 60s going around to pool halls, challenging and beating out all the competition.  It’d been a while but she was confident she could handle some guy like him.  The balls were racked up and after getting in position and taking aim she fired the first shot.  The balls scattered across the table as the solid yellow slipped into the side pocket.  “Looks like I’m solids,” she announced looking back at him before going for her next shot.  She may have been short but she could maneuver around the table with the best of them.  She landed the solid red and green ball before missing and pulling back.  “Your turn,” she said, eager to see what he could do.

Taiga surveyed the table, tuning out everything but his opponent, watching her form and style. She was in control of herself and the stick, and that made him smile. He loved a challenge, it was one of few things that got that icy pulse racing.

Taiga walked around the table to an odd position. With a careful eye, he lined up his hand, and the cue. Just as carefully, he took the shot.

Taiga had played thousands of games of pool in his life. The shot was an ambitious one, and his execution was good. He landed three stripes on the first hit.

Three down, four to go. The cue ball was in a bad position though—no easy shots but for one that might set her up for two solids in a line, if he got it.

Taiga opted to play defensively, He hit the cue ball with no intention to land a stripe, but only to make it damn difficult to land a solid, and knock a few stripes into better positions.

Taiga stepped back, nothing having landed, and nodded to her.

[thathoutaiga-blog]

A Bear

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ashfilledsoul:

She’d been scouting the woods with what could be called an obsessive attention to detail. People had started reporting seeing things, hearing things, and in her mind there was no doubt that it was all connected to the tree and the darkness that had shaken the ground as it smeared along and away. But had it really gone away? Surely there were signs of it somewhere. Her eyes took in every tree trunk, the foliage on the floor … 

Ashley did not come upon the circle unknowingly. It was not accidental that she moved forward. She’d seen the bear through the trees, the figure kneeling beside it. Was this some sacrificial blood magic? Curiosity drove her forward. While she didn’t know that her presence would disturb things, it was probable that she would have stepped forward anyway.

The magic sizzled, balked at her presence. The circle burned away and the air became charged with dissipating spell-work.

Whatever had been taming the bear snapped, and it shifted onto it’s limbs with an angry roar. Ash moved swiftly, barreling into it with her whole body till it’s back hit a sturdy tree. It wasn’t dead, merely unconscious, and with blood taken from it the monster probably would stay down for a while. “Blood magic in public venues is usually a pretty stupid idea,” she chastised with a scowl, turning on the male. 

The danger began in a moment, and Taiga cursed fluently in Tianjin dialect, grabbing protective glyphs.

As quickly as the danger appeared, in the form of a black bear roaring on hind legs, it was gone.

The bear was unconscious and meters away, courtesy of a woman Taiga didn’t recognize.

Strength and speed of that sort meant vampire.

Taiga stood, unhurried now that the spell was safe and he had an entirely new problem to deal with. He beat the leaf litter from his jeans. “I don’t tell you how to do your job,” he said, in good humor. “Besides, aren’t we comrades? Blood witch, bloodsucker.”

Taiga still held the protective glyphs. “May I suggest we leave before the bear wakes up?”

He gathered the vials of blood and began packing up the phlebotomy kit as he spoke, radiating self-possession and about the level of fear or guilt one would show on a Sunday stroll through the park.

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