Author's Note: I came up with a little, crappy game type thing for the hell of it, if anybody feels like winning a worthless piece of crap prize/request. If you find one of these AUs interesting and whatnot (though you probably won't) and would like me to expand on it, leave a review with the number/title of that AU and what color you think I was thinking about when I was writing it. If you get the color right, I'll expand on it for you. Understanding that some people are colorblind, I was also thinking of a particular marine animal when writing each of these, and you can guess what marine animal instead.

If there are no AUs that interest you, just guess the color of a random one and I'll write any MCL request for you instead (not including OC stuff because it's bad enough I disgrace canon characters, I don't want to expand my eternal shame by disgracing your OC). And when I say guess the color, I mean be specific. If you think on number 23 I was thinking of green, don't just guess green. Guess the shade of green. Turtle green? Mint green? Pine green? See what I'm saying? (Note: This does not necessarily mean I was thinking of green when writing 23. It was just an example. It doesn't necessarily mean I wasn't thinking of green either.)

And on a slightly irrelevant note, I am not a very sentimental person e_e'


26. Naga

Violette gulped, simultaneously terrified and awed as she gazed upon the creature before her. A naga, one of the ten most dangerous beasts her village warned her to steer clear of. This naga was female, a human woman from the waist up with deep brown skin, a lithely muscled torso, and plump naked breasts. Violette would've been embarrassed to see them so plainly, had she not been petrified of what was from the waist down.

From the waist down the naga was serpentine. Copper scales glittered where human legs would be, a boundary of paler ventral ones starting under its navel. Its tail must've been well over ten meters long as Violette couldn't even find the tip of it. She knew she couldn't outrun this creature, no matter how vociferous the instinct roaring through her blood was.

"If you're going to eat me, do it fast!" She screwed her eyes shut tight and took a rush of what was sure to be her last breath, heart dropping as she anticipated the end. Hopefully the naga would take pity on her and adhere her plea.

"Pfft, darling, I hate to break it to you, but you're too scrawny for me to eat."

Violette was more even shocked to hear the naga speak than she was relieved not be be killed. She opened her eyes and blinked in bemusement, at a loss for words. She supposed it shouldn't have been such a massive surprise that the naga spoke. It made sense really, being human from the waist up, it must've had vocal chords.

It stared at Violette with its head slightly cocked, its lime eyes gleaming with amusement and a grin curling the corner of its lip.

Violette dumbly stared back.

"Need a hand?" asked the naga as it offered its own, fingernails long and ending in a point that looked as sharp as any dagger's.

"N-No," Violette stammered, awkwardly crab-walking backward and then springing to her feet of her own accord.

The naga rolled its eyes and brushed its claw like nails through its short ebony tresses. "I say I'm not going to eat you, and yet you still look like you think I'm about to sink my fangs in any second."

Which was exactly what Violette was afraid of. Nagas were to be avoided at all costs and, she wasn't about to trust one. She just couldn't keep her eyes off that seemingly endless tail. One whip of that thing could probably break her back. If it coiled around her, she'd undoubtably be constricted in seconds.

"Will you feel better if I introduce myself? My name's Kim." The naga extended its hand again.

Violette stared at it hesitantly.

Beyond all her better judgement, she bravely accepted and couldn't help wondering where a monster like this naga learned basic etiquette.

27. Madoka Style

"Please stop," Iris begged behind the defensive barrier Melody created for her. "You're both magical girls! You're on the same side, there's no reason to fight!"

Peggy ignored her and whisked an iridescent chakram like a frisbee. Melody couldn't dodge fast enough. She was exhausted, her edge was gone. The circular blade slit her right above the elbow, taking off a nugget of flesh. Blood sprayed as Melody cried out and then rolled down her arm in a crimson ribbon. The sword fell from her grasp and clattered to the pavement with a metallic clang.

"Melody!" Iris leapt forward, but the blue-tinted barrier was still in effect.

"Done already?" Peggy mocked as Melody dropped to one knee.

"She's really going to kill her!" Iris drew in a breath of horror.

"You can stop her," Kyubey offered, unblinking eyes fixed firmly on Iris as its ever-friendly neutral voice rang in her head. "Just make a wish and become a magical girl."

Iris swallowed hard and looked back to the fight. Melody had shakily pulled herself to her feet, and was sluggishly dodging Peggy's attacks, but only barely. One arm was useless and she was battered to the bone, worn, while a seasoned Peggy was hardly breaking a sweat. She wasn't going to last.

"Alright," Iris agreed resolutely, turning back to Kyubey.

The creature gave a flick of its impossibly fluffy tail that must've meant something. "All you have to do is make a wish."

"I wish—"

"That won't be necessary," an eloquent voice cut in, a new set of heels clicking on the ground. Capucine cast a cool glower to Iris and strode into the thick of the fight. She seized Peggy by the sparkly emerald collar and whipped her back, pinning her against the wall. "I told you to leave these two alone."

Melody's barrier fell, but Iris couldn't be sure if it was intentionally done now that the fight was simmered to a standstill, or if it waned with Melody's collapse. Iris rushed over to her and helped to a stand, throwing her uninjured arm over her shoulder and securing her own arm around her waist.

"I don't have to listen to you," Peggy spat, struggling furiously in Capucine's grasp.

"You do if you want to stay here," Capucine snapped. Satisfied, she released Peggy and marched back to Iris, apple-green orbs narrowed sharply. "And you. What did I tell you about becoming a magical girl?"

"Um...Well, you said not to." Iris shifted her gaze.

"Right. So don't. This is the last time I'll repeat myself and I'm not above using force." Capucine's mouth set in a flint line.

"Leave her alone," Melody mumbled, dizzily lifting her head to glare at Capucine. "I don't want Iris to be a magical girl either, but what she does is her choice. And it has absolutely nothing to do with you anyway. You barely even know her."

Capucine visibly winced. She then wheeled around without so much as another word and strutted away.

Capucine did know Iris. She'd known Iris several timelines over, everything she'd done for (one)months on end in this continuous loop was for Iris's sake. But sadly it was true, the Iris of this lifetime barely knew her. Capucine knew it was illogical to have hurt feelings over this, but she did. However, her feelings didn't really matter. What mattered was Iris's safety.

This time, this time, she had to protect her.

28. Plague

The news of the pandemic grew grimmer everyday, reported deaths every hour turning the disease into a dim reality. Projections of a possible cure spieled from the mouths of broadcasters on the radio, but these were just tokens of false hope to keep their sponsors sponsoring. Streets were growing emptier as people boarded themselves up inside. Buildings were going out of business and boarding up as well.

Schools were closing internationally.

Sweet Amoris had managed to stay open thus far. There had been no outbreaks in the school, though many students stayed absent for fear of the day that happened. Those were the smart ones. Students who did come gave others, even their friends, a wide berth and carried around sanitizers. Many wore face masks. Teachers were required to.

"Do you think we're all going to die?" Violette asked quietly, looking between her friends at the lunch table. The twins were present, Kentin's absence was still conspicuous, Kim was here, but the baby-blue face mask in place of her usual grin was just as stark.

"Nah," Armin answered. "I think this thing will blow over. It's scary, yeah, but the closest case of the contagion was like, forty kilometers from here."

"That isn't that far," Violette couldn't resist pointing out, even if she didn't want to be a pessimist.

"It's far enough," Armin insisted. "We only go from school to home and we're all careful. We'll be fine."

"I agree," Kim said, voice slightly muffled from the material of her mask. "We'll be okay. We just have to make sure we disinfect the stuff we touch, and stay inside unless we really have to come out. That's what they said on the news. As long as we play it safe, we'll be fine."

Violette breathed a neutral sigh, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "What do you think, Alexy?"

The blue-haired teen looked up, cerise gaze dull. He'd been rubbing at his temples for the past few minutes and did so still, obviously uncomfortable. "I don't know what to think. I've got a headache."

"Are you okay?" Violette asked, though the question was hollow. With everything that was happening, none of them were okay. The world was crumbling all around them under the feet of microscopic enemies. Even the ever-dedicated Nathaniel had stopped coming to school.

"I didn't sleep well," he mumbled wearily. As soon as the words left his lips, two splenetic rivulets of blood streamed out of his nostrils and dripped quietly on the tabletop.

Hemorrhage from any given orifice was a telltale sign of the infection.

Violette couldn't even get out a gasp as Kim leapt up, her chair clattering to the ground. She yanked Violette to her feet and snatched her back, caging her with protective arms. It was the first time she'd touched her in weeks.

"He's got it!" she snarled so loud the whole school could probably hear. "He's got the fucking disease!"

Armin panicked and did the last thing you were supposed to do when confronted with one of the infected; he grabbed his brother. "Alexy!"

Alexy exhaustedly went limp in Armin's grasp, head sagging onto his twin's shoulder as blood continued welling out his nose (and now his ears). At this angle Violette could see the beginning of a bumpy vermillion rash creeping up the side of his pallid neck. It was the last thing she had time to see before Kim fled the classroom at breakneck speed, dragging Violette along with her.

"W-We should help them!" Violette protested shrilly, looking back down the blurring hall as the gravity of what just happened pressed down on her.

"You know we can't! Once you have it you're dead! I'm not gonna let that happen to us!"

But Kim really didn't have control over who got infected and who didn't. In the end, no one did.

29. Lysandeer

Jade loved the forest. The livening wild smell of loam and pine, the wildflowers that dotted the undergrowth, the soft crunch of leaves and twigs beneath his shoes as he walked. He adored every aspect. There was no color like the color of the sun shining behind leaves. There was no song as melodic as the call of birds harmonizing with the rustle of tiny mammals' feet.

Most of the mammals in the forest were tiny, anyway. One day Jade discovered a mammal that was far from tiny.

He was enjoying another day in the woods, walking along a footpath and charting the various wildflowers he saw, when he heard a sharp, distinctly human (or so he assumed) noise of displeasure. It was followed by a soft, subdued whimper that barely reached his ears.

"Hello?" Jade called out incredulously, hands cupped over his mouth.

"Hello," came the response. It was a mellow voice, a chary kind of smooth.

"Do you need help?" Jade blinked and began walking in its direction.

There wasn't an immediate response. The pause was so long that Jade almost thought he imagined the voice to begin with.

"I don't think you can help me," it answered hesitantly, clear and close. Near the river.

"I can try." Curiosity piqued, Jade wound around the path. What he saw beside the riverbed a few seconds later wrung a gasp from his throat. His eyes stretched in disbelief, mouth falling open wide enough to fit the moon. He pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. The painful square of pressure told him he wasn't.

What was beside the riverbed was equal parts deer and person, possessing a moderately muscled human torso of the male variety, a sturdy stag torso, and stag hindquarters. Keen antlers sprouted from the top of his slivery head — that contrasted so sharply with his sepia pelt — and velvety ears swiveled and twitched in the place of where human ones would typically go.

He was laying down, forelegs folded under his boxy body as well as one hind leg. His other hind leg stuck out slightly and Jade could see fresh mud coating the bottom of a cloven hoof. His bicolored eyes studied Jade as closely as Jade's studied him, his mouth etched into an anxious line.

"What the hell. Just...This can't be real. No way." Jade pinched himself again, but the impossible sight before him remained. He felt the pain too.

"I take it you've never seen a cervitaur before," the human-deer thing murmured.

"Cervitaur?" Jade echoed dumbly.

"Yes. That would be what I am, which you have quite clearly never even heard of, which in turn confirms my assumption that you can't help me." The cervitaur tore his gaze away and tried to stand. A painful noise just as much a bleat as it was a whine left his lips and he stumbled forward, shakily maintaining a delicate balance on three legs, while keeping the hind one that was previously extended off the ground.

Jade was initially too awed by witnessing the strange physiology in action to do anything. But when the cervitaur's balance lapsed again, the creature's legs buckling, he trotted across the gap between them. The cervitaur raised his head, consternation painted on his face. Jade quickly held his hands up in a gesture he hoped conveyed no harm.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Honestly, he believed the cervitaur would be more of a threat to him. Those antlers were lethally sharp up close, and even laying down, the top of his head was level with Jade's sternum. Nonetheless, he still seemed frightened of Jade. "You're hurt already, huh? Maybe I could help, even if I'm not an expert on you're...biology."

"I have bigger problems than that," breathed the cervitaur, his brow furrowing as he glanced to his injured leg. "I'm lost. I don't know which way home is." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Jade, but the desperation grating in his voice tugged at Jade's emotions.

"Well, how did you get lost? I might be able to help you retrace your steps."

"It's a long story," sighed the cervitaur. "But it'd be nice if you could tell me where I am now."

"This forest is apart of Amorisville. Do you know where that is?" Jade inclined his head.

"I don't...My home is far from this area." The cervitaur despondently lowered his gaze.

"Do you have a name?" Jade asked.

"Lysander."

"I'm Jade. You seem like a pretty nice guy, Lysander, even if you are really different looking. I'm going to try to help you out."

Lysander spared a smile. Wan and worried, but a smile nonetheless.

30. Eight Legged Freaks

Amber arrived fashionably late to school, as usual. Her parents tended to strict and against her doing so, but if they found out, a few bats of her pretty eyelashes would butter her daddy right up and earn her forgiveness. However, when she walked down the halls she noticed something odd: they were completely empty. She was only fifteen minutes late.

The halls should've been had more stragglers milling about, Li and Charlotte should have been waiting for her. It shouldn't have been vacant. Weird. She went to her locker anyway and opened up, putting away her backpack and grabbing her science textbook. She was about to shut it and be on her way to class, when a shape in her locker mirror caught her eye.

A grey eight-legged hairy shape to be exact, with six shiny black eyes. It skittered along the opposite wall of lockers, its pineapple-sized pinschers clicking together. Amber whirled around and let out a horrified, piercing scream so shrill and tinny it could make one's ears bleed. It even caused the giant spider to give a moment's pause.

Amber shot off running down the hall as fast as she could, the soles of her velour boots pounding against the floor and heart screeching in her chest. The massive arachnid scrabbled after her, as quick as gazelle in its prime and incredibly uglier. Her life was over.

"I'll save you, princess!"

Just as Amber opened her mouth to bellow another crystal-shattering scream, an azure-haired teen appeared, racing down the stairs and throwing a history book. It struck the enormous spider right in the face with a sound like a wet slap. Before the spider could right itself again, Marcese charged forward and unleashed her second weapon; a fire extinguisher.

Pressurized carbon dioxide sent the creature writhing backward, gobs of the seemingly fluffy white substance flying from its thrashing legs. Amber never glanced back. She threw herself forward and swiftly sprinted up the stairs three steps at a time.

"Go to the roof of the school," Marcese shouted as she tore after her. "We're all up there, it's spider-free!"

"Are you telling me there are more giant spiders!?" Amber gasped, lightning bolts of disbelief and revolt rippling through her. "That wasn't the only one!?"

"There's tons of them! They got Mr. Faraize!" They got Nathaniel too, Marcese lamented silently. But she just didn't have the heart to cough up the words.

31. Marriage (courtesy of MellaTheKnightmare~ Thank you, Mella)

"If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace," the recited line smoothly fell from the minister's lips.

"I object!" Kim leapt forward and ignored the chorus of gasps from the people in the pews. She trained her lime eyes on Violette's bowl-sized ash ones, enhanced with orchid shadow that complimented her long, fanning wedding dress, with its dove-white ruffles and glittering rhinestones. Viktor stared at Kim as well, slack-jawed and stunned in his spiffy black suit.

A twinge of guilt stirred in Kim's stomach. Viktor really was a nice guy. She'd been his mechanic for years and thought of him as the opulent, warm-hearted, suave duck brother that she'd never had. But losing touch with Violette after high school had been the worst mistake of her life and if now was her chance to rekindle what they shared, then she was going to take it.

"I love you, Violette!" Kim exclaimed from the top of her lungs. "I love you with all the stars in the sky! I love you as deep as the ocean blue! I love you as much as other cheesy allusions I can't think of right now! I love you and I think we could be really happy together if you love me too!"

Violette's lips trembled. Kim extended her hand.

"I'm sorry," Violette breathed quickly to Viktor. She leapt down from the podium, sheeny white high-heels visible for just a moment as her dress fluttered up. She landed nimbly, taking Kim's hand, and the two of them ran out of the gazebo with their fingers interlocked. They pelted to the parking lot, Violette's veil streaming and her amethyst plait coming loose.

"I just lost a client," Kim laughed, deliriously happy.

"I just lost a husband," Violette replied, adrenaline swirling through her veins.

They hopped into Kim's truck and Kim peeled out of the parking lot, relatively sure that appalled wedding guests might come chasing after them.

"This is crazy," said Violette a few blocks later. "This is crazy, but I don't regret it at all...I love you."

"I love you too, but do you want to hear something crazier?" Kim grinned.

"Okay," agreed Violette.

"I want to marry you. Will you marry me?"

"Like right now?"

"Yes," blissfully laughed Kim.

"Well...I am already in a wedding dress." Anticipation and fondness effervescently rose in Violette's chest. She felt weightless, as airy as a cloud and as invincible as love itself.

"The airport is off the next exit. Do you want to get married in Spain?" Kim's smile could knock down doors.

"I would love to get married in Spain," declared Violette.

And get married in Spain, they did. They exchanged vows and sealed promises with a tender kiss in the Sagrada Familia and sent postcards from the Aqueduct of Segovia.

32. Lycanthropic

Kentin wasn't scared going into Werewolf Woods. Werewolves weren't real, of course. This is one of the easiest dares he'd ever had to take. Okay, so the woods were a little creepy at night. And it was a big forest, so he was admittedly a teensy tiny bit nervous he might get lost. But still, it's not like there was any serious danger here. There weren't really werewolves on the hunt.

That was what Kentin thought initially, anyway. He changed his mind when one came tearing through the foliage and attacked him.

It slashed at him with dexterous claws as thick as his wrist and snarled into his face, saliva falling from its massive fangs in gooey ropes. It threw its head back like they do in the movies, hunched on its hind-legs with its tail bristled as it let out a feral howl. Kentin raced away, charging blind through the forest. But he knew he couldn't outrun this horrific beast. This was a futile instinctual reaction of self-preservation.

In a matter of seconds the werewolf's scorching, reeking breath seared the back of his neck. But its growl turned to a yip and the deadly bite Kentin expected never came. Kentin stumbled over a root and pitched to the ground, arms out to break the fall. Behind him, rapid, angry sounds of snarling and snapping resumed. Two sets of snarling and snapping, Kentin realized with a cold stab to the gut. He whisked around and scuttled backward like a crab on crack, scarcely able to conceive the sight before him.

The first werewolf hadn't killed him, because a second attacked it before it could. The new one had a darker pelt, though with only the moonlight, Kentin couldn't be sure what color it was. And to hell with what color it was anyway, it could be fucking pink-striped for all he cared. He just hoped they killed each other so he could go home safe. They sure looked like they could kill each other. Blood flew through the air as their opposable paws sliced through fur and flesh. Crunches and rips louder than their grunts and whines grated on Kentin's ears as they bit chunks out of each other, blood staining their muzzles.

The battle must've gone on for twenty minutes before the paler werewolf that had initially attacked Kentin backed off with its ears pinned and its tail tucked between its obscenely muscular legs. It started to walk away on its hinds, but the darker wolf snapped at its ankles and it dropped to all fours, loping away at a breakneck gallup. Letting out a satisfied snort as it disappeared, the dark werewolf turned toward Kentin.

Shit. He was too petrified to run now as that would mean taking his eyes off the beast. Maybe if he just kept still and boring, it would leave him alone.

No such luck, it started prowling right toward him.

Double shit. His heart thudded in his tightening chest. Well, it was hurt. Maybe Kentin could take advantage of this, kick it in its wounds and use the opportunity to run. His breath suddenly snared in his throat as the werewolf stopped, mere centimeters from his face.

It snuffled his hair and sniffed down his chest, its ears pivoting. When it was satisfied with scenting, it simply curled around Kentin and laid down. Kentin went as rigid as a pole. The werewolf laid its colossal head in his lap and closed its eyes. It wasn't hostile now...It was just resting. Kentin blinked in bewilderment and tentatively let himself relax. Maybe it was nice? It did save him, after all.

"Thanks," Kentin told it. The werewolf opened an eye and studied him briefly, closing it again and breathing a sound through its nostrils. Kentin wondered if it could understand. Werewolves all had a human side, after all. But after watching the thing fight so savagely, it seemed equally as likely that it currently possessed only the mind of an animal, no matter what other shape it might have.

Kentin wasn't exactly uncomfortable until he became aware of its blood soaking through his clothes. Even so, its body heat was nice. Like a toasty blanket, and it was so, so late...

When Kentin opened his eyes in the morning, the werewolf that was curled around him was no longer a titanic wolf-like beast. It was a redheaded guy who couldn't have been much older than Kentin himself, snoring quietly and buck-ass nude.

"Oh my god!" Kentin exclaimed without really meaning to, jerking at the realization. The redhead snapped awake as he was jostled and uncurled from Kentin, looking around alertly. Kentin let out a little gasp of surprise and scuttled back from him.

"What's your problem?" he tilted his head.

"My problem!?" Kentin repeated, stupefied. "Oh! You talk, oh um...Wow. Uh...You...Want my jacket?"

"Why would I want that?" The redhead rose a brow, apparently perfectly at ease in the nude. Kentin noticed that thin scratches and minute scabs marred his skin where yawning wounds had wreaked the wolf-beast's flesh the night before.

"Never mind, I should probably be going..." How the fuck else was Kentin supposed to respond to this? If this wasn't what he'd woken up to, he would've thought it was a dream. Hell, maybe it was a delusion. Maybe he needed to get his head examined. He stood up and brushed himself off. "Anyway, thanks again for um...Protecting me last night."

The redhead shrugged. "I just wanted Nathaniel out of my territory."

"Nathaniel...?"

"Yeah, that bastard's always barging in here like he thinks he owns the place. Next time I'm gonna kill him. You were trespassing too, by the way." The redhead smirked. "But you're not a threat, so I considered you apart of my turf instead of a trespasser."

"I'm...territory?" This was too weird for words. Yeah, Kentin was pretty sure this wasn't really happening. Maybe he'd hit his head on something.

"You catch on fast," the redhead grunted sarcastically and laid down again, this time on his back, charcoal eyes half-lidded in contentment. "But you're free to take your leave. It's not like you're too useful or anything."

33. Σειρήν

Debrah lounged on her favorite rock, tresses fanning behind her head in a damp chestnut pool and legs dangling over the edge, her toes in the sea. Sailing weather was pleasant today. The water was mild, but not so mild one couldn't bob on the waves, and a steady breeze carried through the air. Ships would come out soon, all she had to do was wait.

By noon one had found its way into her realm, a large polished gem of a ship with proud sails and regal carvings. She sat up and admired it as she began to sing. Lulling notes flowed from her lips like the sun glistened off seashells when a gentle tide swayed back out. Her vowels reached a captivating crescendo as the ship steered toward her voice, its captain and crew ensnared in her unearthly melody.

The sharp, mournful noises of wood splintering synchronized with Debrah's song as the ship crashed against the rocks. She didn't stop singing until it capsized. Then she flung herself off the rock and plunged into the water, swimming deep down and gracefully avoiding the drowned bodies and debris as they began to float up. She dove down deeper and scoped out what goods they'd been carrying.

She found a necklace, but not much else worthwhile.

That was alright.

More ships would come in soon enough, and as a siren, she was always ready to sing.

Debrah put the necklace on and swam back to the surface. She delicately hefted herself back onto her favorite rock and caressed the new topaz adornment as she waited for her next victims. Hopefully they would have more treasure.

She really did need to add to her collection.

34. Noodle Incident

"Are you hurt?" Nathaniel was sure he was. He would've looked to see for himself, was he not driving, but he had a hunch. Castiel was never this quiet. Especially not after completing an assignment like this.

"Not really."

That meant yes. Sighing in exasperation, he pulled off to the side of the road and turned to Castiel. He was expecting something not too pretty, but was unprepared for the copious amount of crimson that soaked into the back of the passenger's seat. The redhead's fingers were closed tightly around one shoulder, more crimson seeping between them in abundant supply and trickling down to drip on the seat.

"Goddamn it, Castiel!"

"Shut up, it isn't serious."

"Yes it is you asshole! You're bleeding all over the car! This is my sister's car! Her brand new car! She's going to kill me!" He unclipped his seatbelt and leaned over a bit. "Let me cover that, at least!"

"Hell if I'm gonna let you play doctor with me," Castiel scoffed.

"Hell if I would. You could bleed to death for all I care, just don't do it here where it's getting everywhere!" Nathaniel shifted back and unlocked the doors. "Now that I think of it, go on, get out of the car." He waved his hand in a shooing gesture. "Go find somewhere else to expire. I'll fill out your K.I.A report."

"I'm not dying, douchebag! And I would gladly leave if I had another way to get back. The last thing I feel like doing right now is sitting here and listening to you bitch about your sister's car. Bloodstains add character, she should thank me for this."

Nathaniel irritably rubbed a hand over his face. "I should've asked to take care of this assignment by myself."

"Pfft, as if you're capable. Without me, your corpse would be getting cold by now."

"Says the guy who actually took a hit. And speaking of that, sit up."

"I am sitting."

"You know what I mean," Nathaniel hissed and impatiently smacked Castiel's damaged shoulder, immediately drawing a startled yip of pain. "Sit up more! Move forward!"

"Fuck!" The redhead cringed and ground his teeth, shooting Nathaniel a livid death glare. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Amber will beat you to it, since you got her new car blemished on my watch!" He pushed Castiel forward with a touch no more gentle and studied the tattered leather and haphazard collection of puncture wounds that bled beneath it. Work of that nail-bat, probably. He didn't care enough to ask. He pulled his shirt off and draped it over the back of passenger's seat, hoping to spare it from further defacement. "You can sit back now."

"No." Castiel leaned his head against the dashboard, using it as a pillow. And likely saying 'no' just to oppose Nathaniel. That's all Castiel ever did. Argue, oppose, contradict. It was like the purpose of his existence. He figured the only reason Castiel even had a job was because his best friend's brother was boss of the company.

Or if he did have a purpose besides being as difficult and stubborn as a mule with hives, it sure as hell went over Nathaniel's head.

35. Salem Witch Trials

Rosalya held her chin high as she walked through the marketplace, her gait a proud strut and a hard glint in her amber orbs. People glared at her suspiciously and whispered behind her back.

"Heaven save us, she's a witch! I saw her talking to a black cat once. Pricked her finger and fed it her blood, she did."

"Up to the devil's work in that cabin of hers! My own Capucine heard her chanting hexes over a bubblin' cauldron."

"I say we should run her out of town before she gets out of control. I would bet my life that our dry spell this season is her doing."

"Oh, but of course it is!"

But it wasn't. Rosalya hadn't done any of the things they said she did. However, the truth could never put out the fires of rumor and she didn't even try. If people wanted to think she was the witch up to no good and doing the devil's handiwork, then they were blockheads. Their stupidity wasn't her problem. She carried on to the fabric stall without a single glance back.

The vendor, Leigh, greeted her with a polite smile. He was one of the few who remained civil to her since the start of the rumors and she thought he was cute, really. He had a smile as subtly sweet as brown sugar, cocoa eyes warm enough to melt marshmallows and somewhat untamed licorice hair, long bangs framing his face. Well maybe she didn't find him cute. Maybe she just wanted to eat him.

Either way, she appreciated his courtesy.

"What can I get for you today, Miss Rosalya?"

"A roll of violet ribbon will be all."

"Coming right up." Leigh nodded and produced a roll of ribbon from under his cart. "Do you want it wrapped?"

"No thank you," she chirruped. She paid him and put it in her basket. "If you don't mind my asking, how is your brother doing?"

The small smile vanished from Leigh's face. He shook his head and let out a low breath, anxiety darkening his gaze. "Not good. Worse. He's young, but there's fluid in his lungs. I...I should be with him, but I mustn't leave the shop. We need the money."

"I am very sorry to hear that," she murmured genuinely. She respectfully dipped her head and started to leave.

Leigh caught her by the elbow. "Miss Rosalya, I just...I just want you to know that I do not believe in any of the things I have heard about you. You are not a witch. These people...Well, you are not from this town. You moved here rather recently, so you are an outsider to them. This is the first dry spell that's hit the land in a very long time. The town needs someone to blame for it, so they blame it on you. Isn't fair, I know. But that is as it stands. I think you are kind. Brave too, with how you come out here and face these jeering people everyday..."

Rosalya's lips parted in surprise. She had certainly appreciated Leigh's politeness, but she had never imagined that he actively disbelieved the rumors, let alone thought she was a good person. She had just assumed he was too decent to spit in her eye without due cause.

"Thank you," she breathed, drawing her hand over Leigh's as he let go of her elbow. She gave it a slight squeeze. "I cannot describe to you how comforting it is to have an ally here. I sincerely hope your brother gets well. Your family has my best wishes."

"Thank you," he warbled quietly.

Rosalya gave him back his hand and went home.

The next day she went back to the marketplace to purchase some velvet. When she got to Leigh's shop, after once again resolutely ignoring the taunts of "witch", the man practically leapt over the counter with joy.

"Miss Rosalya! It's a miracle! Lysander got better!"

"He did?!" Rosalya broke into a dazzling grin.

"He did! He's so much better!" Leigh embraced her. He hugged her tightly and she could smell him, a pleasant scent of linen and lavender. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, letting her go. "That was highly inappropriate! Forgive me, please! I have done that to nearly everyone today...It's just that I am so glad! I was so scared, and now he's going to be fine..." Relieved tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

"I understand," Rosalya laughed, patting him on the back to assure him. "In fact, why don't you go be with him? I can watch your stand today."

"You would really do that for me?" Leigh gaped at her.

"Of course." She bestowed him with a gentle smile.

"God bless you, Rosalya!" Leigh gave her another fleeting hug and then raced home.

She watched him go and giggled softly to herself, winding her way around the cart.

"Lysander getting better is the first good thing that's happened to this town since you moved here, Witch," declared a voice with cool acidity.

Rosalya side-eyed the vendor next to her. It was Jade, some garden boy for hire and part-time florist. He was glaring at her coldly. She ignored him just like she ignored all the others.

No one came to buy anything from the stand that day. Rosalya wistfully lamented this, but it figured. They all thought she was a wicked witch and no one wanted to buy from a wicked witch. She couldn't care less about what they thought, but that meant today was a day where Leigh made no money. She closed shop with a small sigh and began to walk home. As she was walking, something hit her from behind, square in the back. She stumbled forward with a startled gasp.

"That was for trying to cast a spell on Leigh. I saw him touch you, not just once, but twice. I know what you're up to."

Rosalya turned to see Jade again, glaring at her while pushing a wheelbarrow of compost. Touching her back, she confirmed it. He'd thrown compost at her. She said nothing but she met his gaze and glared amber snowstorms. Their staring contest lasted three seconds before he became intimidated and turned away. Rosalya walked home.

In the morning, she awoke to thunderous pounding on her door. "Come quietly, witch! Or we will break this door down and drag you out!"

Rosalya sighed. Though proud and bold she would always be, this was irritating. She felt like a honeypot before a swarm of flies. Even so, she stood up and padded to the front door. She took a breath and opened it, blinking blearily at the mob of people in her yard, led by none other than the sheriff.

"May I help you?" she asked serenely.

"You look so haughty for someone who's under arrest," sneered the sheriff. Townspeople behind him growled at her like stray curs.

"The charges?" Rosalya drawled.

"Witchcraft. We finally have proof of your devil business. Faraize's garden boy died of a snakebite early this morning due to your curse."

"My curse?" Rosalya scoffed. Laughter trilled from her throat and finished with a critical tsk-tsk. "Snakes in gardens are hardly unheard of. It's unfortunate about the boy, but I daresay—"

"You daresay nothing!" the sheriff cut her off. "We have witnesses that saw you curse him last night in the marketplace! His last words were how he saw hellfire in your very eyes when you did it!"

He seized Rosalya by the wrist and wheeled her around, tying her hands together behind her back. The mob roared their approval and they marched her off, barefooted in her nightgown. Her hair was sheared by another policeman when they reached the prison. They cackled viciously as she was tossed into the cell. She was there for two hours before her impromptu trial.

It wasn't a fair trial, but it's not as though Rosalya had her heart set on that. Leigh had been issued to the court and testified in her defense. But that only strengthened the belief that she had him under a spell. She was deemed guilty, her sentence execution. Townspeople gathered to gawk as executioners marched her up the podium and onto the block. Leigh was in the crowd and shouted in protest, but he was powerless to help her. All he could do was watch as Rosalya's head was forced through noose.

"Any last words?" asked the executioner. "You would be wise to take this moment to pray for forgiveness."

"I have nothing to say but farewell." With that and a tiny, knowing smirk, Rosalya jumped right off the block. But when the rope was supposed to go taut it swung loose, the noose empty. She was no longer there.

She'd disappeared, vanished right into thin air before the eyes of everyone.

36. Price

Castiel knew Viktor was rich. No matter how casual he tried to be about it, there was gold in the way he walked, diamond in his grin, silver in his stature. He smelled like a new car and peppermint patties. His voice was as sly as the swipe of a credit card. Castiel didn't care how loaded Viktor was, as long as he wasn't conceited about it, and he was far from that. He was a friendly acquaintance.

He became an even friendlier acquaintance when they fucked on the floor of Castiel's apartment, the result of drinking and pent-up mutual attraction. It wasn't going to go anywhere, it was just a one-night thing. Viktor stayed the night, apparently not minding Castiel's cigarette-burnt carpet and static-tastic television. It wasn't awkward in the morning at all. Castiel offered Viktor some coffee and though he refused, it was a polite refusal and he left with a smile.

Castiel didn't expect to fuck him again. But maybe it was eventual. They knew some of the same people, ended up at some of the same places. Liked the same kind of liquor, though Castiel seemed to like it a whole lot more.

"You shouldn't be driving," Viktor informed him with a smirk playing at his lips.

"Gonna give me a ride home?" Castiel drawled, brow raised.

"I was thinking of taking you to my place instead."

"Eh, why not?"

The second time they fucked it was on Egyptian cotton sheets that covered a king-sized Elite Cloud mattress. Castiel woke up with the luxurious bed all to himself. He would've gladly stayed there too, had the scent of eggs not been wafting around in the air. He reluctantly left the plush comfort and threw his clothes back on. It took him awhile to locate the staircase, but once he did it was easy to make it downstairs and find the kitchen.

There was Viktor, neat and poised as he pushed a pan around the stove. Even his jeans were custom and preppy and damn, did his ass look good filling them.

"Hey," greeted Castiel.

"Hello." Viktor's harvest gold gaze lit up at the sight of him and he offered that expensive smile. "Would you like an omelet?"

"Nah, I've gotta get my car from the club. So I guess I'll..." 'See you later?' No, that would be weird. It'd sound like turning this thing into more than it was; just a nice night. "...be going now."

Viktor blinked at him and gave a slight tilt of the head. "Didn't you say your car needed its brakes fixed?"

"Yeah, I just meant the one I left last night. I'm borrowing it from a friend."

"I see." Viktor smiled again. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything unsafe. The keys are with your wallet on the nightstand."

"Right, thanks." Castiel grimaced at himself for not thinking to get them earlier.

After getting them, he bid Viktor goodbye and left discreetly. He fetched Lysander's car and managed to catch his last class at the community college. Blowing off the other ones today might bite him in the ass later, but it wasn't like he skipped a lot. Not now. He trudged down the hallway and went to the vending machine, intent on getting some chips. Low and behold, when he opened his wallet it was loaded with crisp new bills, more than enough to pay for the entire machine, let alone a bag of chips.

Castiel knew exactly where that money came from. And he was livid.

He drove all the way back to Viktor's opulent estate and practically punched the doorbell. Viktor himself answered.

"Hi— "

"The fuck is up with this!?" Castiel furiously threw the crumpled bills in his face, fire blazing through his blood. "You think I'm your whore!?"

"No, not at all!" Viktor's mouth fell open. "Look, calm down, I only want—"

"Don't tell me to calm down, you platinum-plated asshole! Keep your money and keep the hell away from me!" He shoved Viktor back and wound around, marching down the steps with his middle finger high in the air. He wasn't about to be some rich boy's fucktoy for hire.

Viktor watched him tear out of the driveway and exhaled a sad sigh. "I only wanted to help pay for the car repair...I like you."

But of course, Castiel couldn't hear him.

37. More Madoka style because fuck it my Idea Train went off the rails and Austin is watching Rebellion in the background

Iris had been looking for Melody for hours, along with Peggy. Peggy was still prickly, but she'd become a tentative ally through her and Melody's similar experiences. Iris was glad to have her help. And lucky too, for it was Peggy who suggested they look in the park. There Melody was, sitting hunched over in the park bench beneath the pale streetlamp. She whimpered, her shoulders shaking violently with sobs and tears unshed stinging her eyes.

"Melody!" Iris raced over to her with Peggy right behind, relieved that they'd finally found her but concerned that she looked so starkly distraught.

"Iris," Melody murmured as she lifted her head. "I...I've been so dumb! I'm so angry at myself! I saw Lynn with Nathaniel and I wanted to say so many horrible things to both of them! But I have no right, I'm barely even human anymore!"

Peggy let out a low sigh and exchanged glances with Iris. "You'd better take her home."

"Yes," Iris agreed sadly, putting her hand on Melody's trembling shoulder. "Come on, Melody. Let's go back to your house. Peggy can come with us, and we can all have hot chocolate and watch a movie or something, okay? We'll have a sleepover since we had to cancel the one on your birthday." Canceled to fight witches, that was. Iris was beginning to wish Melody had never contracted in the first place.

Melody shook her head and the tears began to fall. "I haven't been home in days! I don't know what to say to my parents anymore! They always wonder where I go when I fight witches and I...I've just been such an idiot!" Melody wailed and uncovered the soul gem in her palm.

Iris and Peggy gasped in unison. The normally cerulean soul gem was corrupted by swirling darkness. It pulsed and writhed within the glass, eating up the luminescence like a dark omen.

"Melody," Peggy exclaimed. "Your soul gem! W-When was the last time you cleansed it!?"

Melody drew a shaky breath and simply shook her head. A falling teardrop gently splashed on the surface of her soul gem and for a heartbeat it was completely and utterly pitch black, a starless night in the shape of an egg. Then it shattered into pieces, energy blasting fourth and sending Iris, Peggy, and the streetlamp flying backward. A grief seed throbbed in the soul gem's place and Melody's body was swept up in the emerging labyrinth as she succumbed to her fate.

When Iris raised her head, she saw that she was in a labyrinth. Minions with bodies like golden apples and reflective appendages like shards of a broken mirror bobbed around. Surreality covered the world as silhouette cats marched along beams of distortedly reflective glass. The witch herself sat at the center of it all, a malformed creature with pupil-less green eyes covering the entirety of her vaguely rose-shaped yellow body.

"W-What!?" Iris rasped, brow furrowing in confusion. "When did...Where's Melody!?"

Peggy stood, scooping up the empty sell of what used to be Melody. Her head lolled limply to the side, eyes closed and mouth opened in a minute half-moon. The soul gem had broken, Peggy had bore witness. And for a split-second, yes, yes she had glimpsed a grief seed, even as she was blown back. So that meant— That could only mean—

"That witch is Melody," Peggy gasped, horrified eyes widening in realization.

"No!" Iris cried. "That's wrong! That's impossible!" the words had barely left her lips when the witch bellowed a fiendish inhuman scream. A faceless cat minion launched itself toward her, inky claws outstretched, only to be shot out of the air by a coral arrow.

Capucine landed nimbly on the phantasmagorical patchwork floor of the labyrinth and turned her cold gaze on Iris. "It's very possible. In fact it's the fate that awaits every magical girl who isn't killed in battle."

38. Idea Train still in repair so have a crappy Role-Reversal

Mary returned to the castle with fangs and a heart that no longer beat, belonging to the supernatural world that flourished in the fabric of night. She returned to the castle with pallid, lifeless skin and an undesired bloodlust thrumming through her heightened senses. She returned to the castle with the intent to bite her beloved Dimitry and infect his mortality with an undead forever.

Her maid informed her upon arrival that no such thing would come to pass. Dimitry had succumbed and perished just the night before. Mary took the news like a bullet to the chest. She crumpled up and gave way to a frigid ground, tears creating rivers down her cheeks. For the briefest of seconds, she hated him for it. She hated Dimitry for not holding on just one more day, she hated him for dying and leaving her alone, she hated him for rendering the sacrifice of her very humanity in vain.

But then Mary loved him again and she just had herself to hate. She hated herself for not coming back just a day sooner. She hated herself for leaving him to suffer at disease's hand and die alone. She hated herself for sacrificing her humanity and failing to make it count. But alas, time heals all wounds as the saying goes and Mary had nothing but time. As everyone else fell around her and her castle weathered with age, she accepted her reality.

She punctured animals' throats and drunk them dry to keep herself satiated in her preserved solitude. She kept Dimitry's grave trim and decorated even as passing decades turned his bones to dust. She often had one-sided conversations with him and some of the other surrounding graves. She didn't have anyone else to talk to, except for Black the bat (who interestingly enough, could actually talk back).

Either her communication with him was apart of her vampiric abilities, or he was a magic bat. She didn't know and didn't ask.

Mary thought about killing herself sometimes. She considered wandering into the sunlight and letting it blaze through her until she was nothing but ash. Dimitry probably wouldn't want her to do that...but Dimitry wasn't there. It was an option worth giving thought to. She was getting weaker anyway, living solely on animal blood for the past two centuries. Maybe she would get so weak she'd just die on her own.

Did that happen to vampires who chose not to feed from humans?

Mary didn't know. There hadn't been enough time for her to learn these things from the vampire who turned her.

After a few months of contemplation, Mary finally decided she was going to end herself. She didn't know what the after would be like, but she'd been undead and lonesome for far too long. Whatever the after was, if there even was an after, it would have to be preferable to this night in and night out of perpetual uniform longing.

However, when Mary went to bid goodbye to Dimitry's grave, she was stunned to see someone already there. She blinked her shocked eyes once, twice, believing herself to be hallucinating. When the person there (a young girl) didn't disappear, she slapped herself. She wasn't hallucinating.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice brittle and more accusatory than she intended.

The girl jumped nearly a meter in the air and spun around, her pine-green pools startled. "I'm s-sorry! I met a talking bat and he told me to visit the grave...I was just going to leave actually. Being near this grave makes me sad, like I knew him..."

Mary studied the girl, softly tilting her head. She irresistibly drank in her scent and noted it was sweet, like the creamed pastries she used to eat back when she was human.

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Oh, uh, that's okay." The girl forced a smile that was probably meant to come off as anything other than what it did: frightened.

"What's your name?"

"Lynn..."

"I'm Mary."

"I know. Or figured, really. Black told me you take care of this grave. He also told me something else..." Lynn took a step back and swayed uneasily from side to side.

"That I'm a vampire?" Mary guessed, smiling slightly and letting a fang peek out.

"Yes. Is it true? Are you really a vampire that drinks blood?" asked Lynn, her tone reedy and face pale.

"I am. But I won't hurt you. You don't have to be afraid," Mary promised.

39. Sharknado Style

At first Dajan thought he was going crazy. He could see the storm rage outside, violent gales and tumbling tides. The clouds were as black as coal and rumbling deeply with distress. These parts were normal, this was what storms looked like, but Dajan could swear he saw sharks in the spouts of water. Yes, sharks. Snapping jaws with razored rows of teeth, pure black eyes, distinguished dorsal fins, the whole shebang.

He rubbed his eyes and peered out the window, trying to get a better look. Moisture against the glass obscured his vision, so the result of a second look was inconclusive. It was impossible, right? There couldn't be sharks in the storm. He had to be losing it. His parents called before he could think more about it (they were on vacation for the weekend). They'd heard on the radio about a strange storm in the area and wanted to make sure he was okay.

He told them he was and not to worry before he plopped down on the couch and turned on the news. What the anchor was saying made him drop the phone.

"We are getting reports of sharks in the storm. This is not a false alarm or a prank. It's unclear how this is happening but there are numerous sharks immersed in tornados spanning across the county. So far, ninety-six people have been admitted to the hospital on account of being bitten by these sharks. Flooding is also a major conc— What's that, Julio?"

The anchor put a hand to her earpiece. "Oh! Breaking news, people! We have footage of the sharks! Roll the footage!"

The screen switched to a rickety funnel cloud cavorting around the city with debris flying in its wake. Sharks stuck out of it like pins in a pincushion. Their tails swung from side to side. Their boxy heads thrashed. Their mouths opened to bare formidable sawtoothed teeth.

Dajan gasped and ran to the window. Moisture still obscured the glass, but he could see the rising floods. He could see the heart of the tornado, getting closer every moment. And yes, if he looked closely, he could see the sharks riding the wind and flashing through the water spouts.

His television cut out a second later.

He didn't know what to do. You were supposed to go to the basement in a tornado and find high ground in a flood. This was both, topped off with mean-eating sharks in the thick of it all!

Frozen in panic and indecisive, nature made a decision for him. A column of debris that was likely once a telephone pole shot right through the window and struck Dajan in the head. His skull squashed like a grape and pulpy brain mush bled out into the water that rushed inside. Several sharks followed the scent of blood and eagerly fought over his limbs.

40. Grown N' Not So Classy

"I know about the box," Nathaniel announced suddenly, placidly, nose still buried in his book.

"What box?" Castiel gave him a quick glance and continued surfing through the channels.

"The small velvet box with the ring inside. I'm presuming it's for me."

Castiel froze, jaw falling concurrently with the remote from his grasp.

Nathaniel briefly looked him over and then back to his book again, smirk flicking over his lips. "I thought so."

"Well, who the fuck else would it be for?" Castiel grunted and straightened himself up, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what you do in your spare time." A one-shouldered shrug.

"How'd you find it? I've pretty much kept it on me since I bought it." Castiel just stared at him, bewildered.

"Honestly? I didn't find anything. You've been acting weird lately and I took a guess as to why. You just confirmed it for me." Nathaniel snapped the book closed and grinned broadly.

"Bastard!" Castiel proceeded to attack him with a pillow. The struggle went on for a good five minutes (in his favor) before that pesky little box decided to fall out of his pocket. It dropped quietly to the comforter.

Nathaniel tilted his head from where he lay pinned and studied it before looking back up to Castiel, a small smile on his mouth. "So are you going to ask me?"

Castiel hefted off him and snatched his pillow back. "Why? You're going to say no."

"You won't know that for a fact unless you ask me," insisted Nathaniel.

"I've got a pretty good idea..."

"But you don't know." Nathaniel sat up and gently touched the side of Castiel's face, golden gaze soft and encouraging. "Come on, ask me."

Castiel exhaled and gingerly picked up the box, opening it charily. "Will you marry me?"

"Of course not," Nathaniel chirped, cheeky bearing of the teeth pushing away the tender smile. "I'd rather jump off a cliff."

Castiel snapped the box shut and shoved Nathaniel off the bed. He threw the box down after him and the book he'd been reading for good measure.

"You know what? The stone wasn't real anyway! I got it from Leigh's weird friend when I traded him my wallet chain!"

41. More Ao Oni crossover shit because fuck it, I'm never gonna finish that entire fic

Alexy held his breath and stuck close to the wall, silently begging whatever deity might exist out there that the monster couldn't hear his heartbeat. He crept on, staring blindly into the darkness before him, wondering just what part of the mansion he was in. He wished Armin was here. His twin had known from the beginning that this was a bad idea, funnily enough, and now for once in his life, Alexy just wished he'd listened to him.

Hopefully he would be okay. No, cancel that, Armin was okay. Armin had to be okay. He'd been ahead of all of them in this nightmare of a situation. Low and behold, those stupid video games had actually taught him something worthwhile about surviving a happening that Alexy would've bet his life was impossible. Armin was okay. Armin was definitely okay.

If Alexy got out of this okay too, then he'd give in and pick up a controller for a little while.

He tripped over something heavy in his path and nearly let out a scream as he stumbled, arms pinwheeling. He caught his balance at the last second and turned around, squinting through the black. He could see the outline of whatever object tripped him, somewhat, but not any more than that. As worried as Alexy was that lighting a candle would attract the monster's attention, he gave in and took one out of his backpack.

The dark was just too terrifying, too uncertain. Whatever he just tripped over nearly gave him a heat attack. He couldn't continue on with absolutely no clue what was ahead of him or what was around him. He crouched down and fumbled with the matches, somehow able to light the candlestick. The rays of the small flame were enough to illuminate the vicinity around him.

Alexy almost screamed a second time when he saw what he tripped over.

Rosalya's corpse. Her head had been bitten off. Blood congealed beneath the ragged stump of her torn neck flesh. Her arms and legs were splayed and rigid, her hands curved like claws that clutched so desperately at nothing. A massive chunk of boot and calf were missing where the monster had apparently bitten her leg, leaving the remaining muscle and skin handing in ragged flaps.

Startled and sickened, Alexy abruptly turned away and hurried down the hallway as quietly as he could. He came upon a staircase and jogged down (he had nothing to lose by doing so, it was a one-way path and going back would mean seeing Rosalya again or worse). He found himself in what could only be the basement, a titanic room with an olive floor and numerous bookcases. A shape darted behind one of the shelves just out of sight.

Alexy feared the worst, the air violently vacuumed from his lungs. He raised his backpack to defend himself the best he could. In the same moment the shape, believing Alexy to be the monster, peeked around the bookshelf and raised his garden spade in defense. They stared at each other in disbelief and lowered their respective weapons, relieved sighs leaving their lips.

"I am so glad it's you," Jade breathed.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Alexy ran a hand through his sweaty blue locks. "How long have you been down here?"

Jade let go of a nervous laugh. "I don't know. It feels like days but if I had to guess, I'd say an hour or two. That thing hasn't come down here. Neither have any of the smaller ones, but I'm afraid it's only a matter of time."

"We could barricade the door," suggested Alexy.

"But I'm not sure if there's another exit...Besides, what if someone else finds the way down here?" Panic suddenly bloomed in Jade's gaze and he continued on before Alexy could reply. "There are others who might find their way down here, right? You don't think we're the only two left!?"

"No! No way! I was with Kim, Lysander, and Castiel before we got separated and they were all alive! We haven't been separated that long either, so they're all still probably okay. And Armin and Kentin were together. Armin's been ahead of us all with the whole outlasting thing, I know he's alive. I just know...And he'd definitely keep Ken with him, so Ken's gotta be alive too." Alexy stared at Jade resolutely. "We're not the only two left. We just need to find the others."

Jade could only nod and put his faith in him. He didn't have anywhere else to put it.

42. Ouija

"So what do you want?" the seemingly young woman asked Marcese, her blood-red lips curled up in an easy smile, fangs glinting and catlike eyes flashing.

"Whoa...Um. How'd you get into my house?" Marcese tipped her head to one side, confusion clouding her gaze. "And why are you in cosplay? Not that it's not cool, you look really good! I mean, really, wow you're hot, and you make a great succubus! You could like totally pass for the real thing. I just don't know you."

The demoness scowled in distaste. "I am a demon, but I'm not a succubus. I'm here to make a contract with you. You summoned me."

"What!? No I didn't!"

"Yes you did, idiot. I wouldn't have come all this way if you didn't, now what do you want?" She was growing impatient.

"When did I summon you? I don't know how to summon demons!" Marcese gawked at her, waving her hands in crazed gestures.

The demoness pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why me?" she sighed in exasperation, narrow diamond pupils flickering back to the girl before her. "You summoned me with the ouija board. You and your friends spelled out my human name, Debrah, and when you were asked if you wanted me to come, you said yes."

"Oh...Well, I didn't exactly mean to do that...Sorry." Marcese self-consciously rubbed at the nape of her neck.

"Are you kidding me? No. I came all the way, here which wasn't exactly easy to do! You ever hopped between worlds before? Yeah, didn't think so! I am not leaving until you contract with me." Debrah folded her arms in front of her chest, her spaded tail lashing in annoyance.

"Uh..." Marcese blinked blankly, completely dumbfounded. "Okay. I guess I could contract with you then. How do I do that?"

"You make a wish, I grant it. After your wish comes true and you enjoy it for however long said wish allots you to, I get to devour your soul." Debrah studied her onyx claws as she explained, her tone indulgent, as though she were explaining something to a toddler.

"My soul!? You want to devour my soul!?" Marcese skittered back, mouth agape. "No way! No way! No way!" She whipped her head from side to side and crossed her arms over her chest in a big 'x'. "I don't have a wish! You can't eat my soul!"

"There must be something you want that's worth your soul," Debrah insisted with a fiery glower. "I can't go back home unless I go back fed, so you better think of something!"

"Go ask someone else," Marcese yelped. "I don't wish for anything!"

"I can't just go ask someone else! You summoned me!" Debrah bared her dagger like teeth

"I didn't mean to!"

"Whether you meant to or not, here I am!"

"I can see that," Marcese muttered, her gaze traveling from the thick curved horns atop Debrah's head to the swell of her bountiful breasts beneath rich crimson fabric. "But hey...If I asked you for something, but didn't wish for it, could you still devour my soul?"

"No. Only granting wishes enables me access to your soul. Technically you could just ask me for something, but I don't do anything for anyone if I don't get something in return. So don't bother."

"You wanna have sex?" shyly asked Marcese, a blush creeping into her cheeks

Debrah paused, mouth parting slightly in surprise. Smugness replaced it and a giddy smirk formed her lips as she strode forward, hips swaying seductively. She gently flicked Marcese on the nose. "You're a funny one, aren't you? Fine. We can have sex, but only if you wish for it."

Marcese hung her head in defeat. "That's so unfair."

"Demons are unfair, sweetie."

43. Human Centipede Style

April Fools! I may be violent and crappy, but I'm not Satan...

...unless someone wants me to be X3

44. The Fucking Coffee Shop AU

Charlotte scooted into the single booth and pretended to be looking off into space with as much disinterest as any mortal could summon. In reality, she was watching for the barista. She spotted her striding back from serving an older man, her mouth in a merry little line and the trendily dim lights of the shop gleaming in her amber gaze. A snowy ponytail bounced behind her precise brisk steps and Charlotte could spot a pin-sized rip in her nylon tights, just under the hem of her cleanly white uniform skirt.

The barista noticed Charlotte and her subtle smile stretched into an impish grin. She deftly took a notepad from her apron pocket and a ballpoint pen from behind her ear. "Welcome back," she greeted brightly.

"Thank you," Charlotte murmured politely.

"The usual?" guessed the barista.

"Correct."

"You know, you've been coming here for the past two months and you always get the same simple cup of coffee. We have a big variety here and you might like to try something new." The barista is cordial, though chiding, her smile an encouraging one.

Employees don't question their customers on the subject of their tastes, at least not in Charlotte's experience. To do such a thing could easily be regarded as offensive and unnecessary. However, Charlotte grinned. It was a quiet grin, a nearly hidden one in the way her lips morphed themselves with the slightest of increments. But it was a grin, nonetheless.

"I don't actually come here for the coffee."

The barista — the same barista who has served Charlotte every weekend for the past two months — paused. Spices flickered in her eyes.

"Oh?" she asked, teasingly feigning innocence. "Then what do you come here for?"

"Not so much a what as a who." Charlotte raised her eyes to the breast of the barista's uniform, wherein the name tag is usually found, but never was on her.

"I see. And just who is this who?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," hummed Charlotte.

The barista spared a glance to her nameless chest and then shifted forward a couple of steps, so close that Charlotte could feel her body heat and smell the splash of her blackberry perfume.

"It's Rosalya."

"I'm Charlotte. And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would like to try something new."

Rosalya nodded, enjoyment in the way her fingers ready the pen. "Good choice. What would you like?"

"Surprise me," Charlotte told her smoothly.

"Coming right up." Rosalya winked and sauntered away. Charlotte shamelessly watched her behind as she walked and feigned reading a 'Saturday Specials' menu.

When Rosalya came back with a white chocolate caramel latte, she slyly slipped her phone number onto the table.

45. Mulan Style

Li's father was too old and too broken for war. He'd already given his service to China and though he'd given it proudly, it aged him before his years and cost him a painless gait. Li didn't have any brothers to take the summons in his place, either. So the only thing there was left to do was to take matters into her own hands.

By all means, Li was a very feminine young woman. She adored taking dainty steps and painting her face in makeup. She relished feeling beautiful in intricate, flowery gowns. She dreamt of becoming a mesmerizing bride and an honorable hostess. Her long, silken ebony tresses were her best feature. She'd been blessed with wonderful hair and she took pride in that.

She could spend hours combing it and styling it into buns and braids, touching its softness and in awe of its natural sheen. Her eyes sparkled whenever she found the perfect barrette. She strived for femininity and the idea of forsaking that was absurd.

But it would be endlessly more absurd to forsake her father. Her father who sang lullabies to her when she was a child. Her father who tucked pretty blossoms behind her ears and patted her shoulders with subdued pride. Her father who relayed captivating legends in dramatic voices over candlelight and purchased nearly all of the lavish garments she joyfully cloaked herself in.

Sometimes you had to make sacrifices for what you loved. He taught her that too.

So Li bit her lip and snuck into his room the night before he was due to move out with the troops. She shakily prayed to her ancestors for guidance and forgiveness as she donned his heavy armor. She felt as though she'd been struck square in the heart as she sheared her lovely hair with his sword, but she did so anyway and only let a single tear escape.

She was terrified and she was itching with discomfort, but poor feelings were small prices to pay for keeping her father safe.

If she didn't return home...

If she didn't return home, she just wanted him to know that.

It's what she wrote on the note she left on the table along with her shiny golden ribbon, where the summons for war sat before she'd tucked it into her sash and fled into the dark.

46. Frozen Style

The knot in Lysander's chest loosened and tightened up all over again as he reached the sparkling icy stairs. He released a slow breath of awe as he tipped his head back to behold the entire palace. It stood proud and strong, sculpted purely of ice and nothing else. It was majestic enough to be built by a god's hands, and he could scarcely believe it had been created by his own brother.

"Should we go in now?" Castiel asked, voice betraying amazement.

"I think it would be best if I went in alone. Will you want for me here?"

"I'm not about to turn around and go all the way back." Castiel gave him a simper.

Lysander dipped his head and slowly ascended the steps, the towering castle door his focal point. The surface of the stairs was slippery and dangerous despite its elegant appearance, but he was careful. He was collected. Calamity was necessary to approach this situation and if he had kept his calm earlier, Leigh probably wouldn't have panicked in the first place.

With that thought in mind, Lysander knocked on the door first. He'd almost walked right in, but knocking would alert Leigh to his presence beforehand. And surprising Leigh was probably not a very good idea right now, at all. His knuckles cooled as they rapped on the surface. To his surprise, the mild touch was enough to open it.

Lysander stepped inside and quietly shut the massive door behind him. The interior of the castle was just as regal as the outside. Smooth pillars of ice twinkled in the pale sunlight that shone in through frost-kissed windowsills. The floor was as wide and smooth as the ballroom back home. A chandelier of icicles hung down from the tall ceiling, its edges polished and veneer glinting softly.

"Hello, Lysander."

Lysander looked away from the fixtures and over to his brother, who stood at the top of another curved staircase and looked levels more at ease than he had earlier. His expression wasn't all that changed. His kingly attire was frosted over, completely transformed. Glittering snowflakes patterned the shimmering pastel-blue fabric and chips of ice crystalized all the seams.

"Leigh...I'm relieved to see you look well...Are you well?" He tentatively took a few steps closer.

"I can finally be myself. It's liberating, to say the least."

"I'm sure." Lysander approached the staircase and took the banister, starting to climb up. "And Leigh, I have to apologize for what happened. Honestly, I feel horrible about it. I shouldn't have cornered you like that."

Leigh sighed slowly and shook his head. "That's alright. It's not as though you knew about me."

But I want to, Lysander thought helplessly. "However, I didn't just come here to apologize." Lysander reached the upper floor and solemnly approached Leigh. "You need to come back to Amoris with me."

Leigh recoiled. "No! I can't do that...Everyone's scared of me! If this is because of my coronation, really, you can just take my place as king. You'll be a better one anyway."

"No, Leigh, that's not it. This problem is a little bigger than that." Lysander took a deep breath and hesitantly reached out, laying a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "You froze everything when you left. Everything. There was a blizzard in your wake. I'm sure it was an accident and I'm not angry with you, and I'm certain everyone else will understand too. But you need to come back and melt everything."

"What!?" Leigh was thrown into another swivet. Lysander could feel him trembling with perturbation before he backed away from his touch, shaking his head as his eyes mutely widened. "I don't know how to melt the ice! I've never tried!"

"It's okay, I'm sure—"

"It is not okay! People could be freezing right now and I don't know how to fix it!" With a gasp of alarm, Leigh whirled around and paced toward the window, head in his hands.

Lysander started after him. "Leigh, please don't panic. Panicking isn't going to help." He reached out to touch his arm.

Leigh jolted and rounded on him, fingers splayed and rigid. It was genuinely an accident that his disorderly magic flew from the tips.

A sharp yelp of pain leapt out Lysander's throat. A pressurized ache nailed through his heart. It was a centered, acute point of pain and dreadfully frigid. A direct fléchette of winter's howling winds. He clutched his chest as his legs buckled, knees clumsily smacking the icy floor. Though the bitter pain remained where it was, a different strange feeling accompanied its aftermath in the rest of him, in his blood. Like the temperature was dropping.

But the hurt was a much more pressing matter and he was stunned when he pulled his hands away and they came back bloodless. He'd thought Leigh had sent an icicle through him like a lance.

"Lysander, are you okay!?" Castiel burst through the doors of the castle and raced up the stairs.

"Y-Yeah..." Lysander was still staring down at his chest, in a kind of shock and expecting ruby to bloom through his shirt any second now.

"You sounded hurt." Castiel dropped down beside him and scrutinized.

"I thought I was..." The pain had greatly subsided. A dull echo of a stab remained, growing weaker by the moment. The feeling of cold veins had yet to change.

"I thought you said he wouldn't hurt you."

"I didn't think he would." Lysander finally lifted his head and looked searchingly to Leigh, only to find that he wasn't there anymore.

47. Grim

Nina knew she was dying. The impact of being hit by the car had sent her sailing and the wheels of the truck that couldn't swerve fast enough effectively mashed her organs into the street.

The revolting taste of copper, shit, and bile mired her tongue and stuck to the back of her throat. She coughed weakly and a couple of broken teeth came out with a jet of abnormally dark blood. Pain danced in parts of her and feel asleep in others in unison. The sounds of people and screeching tires surrounded her, but they were as background as the whirr of an air conditioner.

Then a simultaneously mundane and fascinating sensation came. Nina felt like there was a fan blowing cool air into her face. She died with her eyes wide open and the transition of surroundings was instant. One second she was on the street with bones splintering through her raw skin and her torso demolished into a chunky paste right across the center, and the next second she was standing up in a department store.

It was a cute little boutique where she bought body sprays and lolita outfits, and it was completely empty except for herself and another girl who looked to be a high schooler's age. She had kind sea-green eyes and carrot-orange hair in a medium braid, and was dressed in a purple t-shirt and denim capris.

"Hi there! I'm sure you're very confused, but please don't be afraid." She gave Nina a friendly wave.

"But...Didn't I just die? Shouldn't there be clouds and pearly gates?" Nina looked around, utterly dumbfounded. The shelves in the store were stocked with dresses and accessories, marked at 50% off.

"Oh yes, you died. But everyone sees something different," genially explained the orange-haired girl. She walked up to Nina and gently pat her on the shoulder. "This applies to here and the afterlife."

"This isn't the afterlife?" Nina's brow furrowed. "Shouldn't it be, if I'm dead?"

"Think of this place as an in-between," breathed the girl. "A closet between worlds. Like how sometimes there's a closet with two doors, that connects the master bedroom to the master bathroom. I greet people here before I guide them to where they're supposed to go. I'm Death, you see. But you can call me Iris."

"You're Death?" Nina stared and slowly tilted her head. "But don't...Where's the black cloak? And the scythe?"

Iris hummed. "Well, I could wear that getup I suppose, but I feel like it's too grim. I like what I'm wearing. It's nice and comfortable and I think if I dressed in black and carried around a big old scythe, people might get scared. But you can wear a cloak and take a scythe if you want. After I show you the ropes, the job is all yours."

"What!?"

Iris smiled apologetically and gently took Nina's hands. "It's just how things work around here. Halley's Comet appeared today, for the first time in seventy-six years. You just happened to be the first person to die on its appearance. With the way our system works, that means you get to be Death. I know this is new and it wasn't what you were expecting, but I promise it's not so bad. It can be every fulfilling at times."

It shouldn't have been possible. Maybe it wasn't. But Nina was so overwhelmed she fainted.

48. Phone Home biatch

There was an alien in Armin's backyard. Armin knew there was an alien, all the signs were there. He'd seen a flying saucer just a few nights before, and then more cops were out than usual. Not to mention the flickering lights and radio static. All of these were telltale signs of alien activity. Armin knew the culprit was in his backyard too. He'd heard noises in the garage and seen tracks in the grass.

Naturally, it was his duty to see whether or not this alien was a dangerous one or a friendly one. If it was the former he would kill it, and if it was the latter he would bring it inside and teach it to play Outlast.

Armin crept outside when he had the house to himself and slunk into the garage. He wore a colander wrapped in tinfoil over his head in case the alien tried to read his mind. He was also armed with a crowbar and had a bag of gumdrops to use as bait.

"Alright alien, come out! I know you're in here."

Silence. Armin had expected as much. He simply took a seat on the floor and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He was falling asleep when a clatter roused him out of drowsiness. Sure enough, a little blue alien was present. They peeked out from behind the coffee can of rakes they'd tipped over and stared at Armin with lidless eyes the size of large goldfish and the color of mercury.

"There you are." Armin smiled and held out the bag of gumdrops. "You can have some. You like one of the nice ones."

Perplexed, the alien hesitantly stepped over the fallen rakes and extended their hand. Their three fingers shook and they retracted it almost as soon.

"It's okay, I don't bite." Armin held out the bag a little farther.

The alien dipped two of their fingers in the bag and pinched out a yellow gumdrop. They sniffed it with the noseless slits above their mouth before popping it in. Afterward, Armin took them inside and taught them to play Outlast.

It was the beginning of a beautifully bizarre friendship.

49. Thievery

Stealing things was Dakota's specialty. He was a pirate, after all.

Stealing princesses, not so much. Not that he hadn't ever fantasized about it. He had, numerous times and aspired to do so, but the timing was never right. Or whenever he got the chance, he got cold feet and bailed out.

Now though, he'd been caught stealing a princess's jewelry right out of the box. If he didn't move fast, he was going to be killed on the spot. He zipped over and yanked her out of bed by her hair, pressing his cutlass to the vulnerable skin of her throat.

"I'll kill her," he promised the guards that glared at him with weapons drawn. "I'll kill her right here and now if you don't let me get back to my ship."

The princess gasped sharply as she became aware of the situation and Dakota could feel her trembling. He wished he could tell her not be afraid, that he really wouldn't hurt her, but alas, that was not an option. He needed a hostage to save himself.

The guards relented and he proceeded to drag her down the corridor and out of the castle. He sheathed his cutlass and seized her by the arm before she had a chance to pull away, racing to his ship and hopping on board. Guards cursed behind him and yelled offensive orders, so Dakota once more put the blade to her throat and nudged her to the edge of the wood for display.

His first mate, Charli was already steering them off.

"Sorry about this," he muttered to the princess when he was sure they were out of earshot. "I wouldn't really do anything to you. I just needed to get out of there."

"Don't be sorry at all," she tittered brightly, completely unfazed. "I'm excited! This is so romantic! You stole me away and now I'm gonna be your prisoner! You're going to be real rough with me and cold first, but then you're going to fall in love with me! Ahhh, I always wanted something like this to happen. My name's Laeti, by the way. Are you going to tell me your name? Or should I just call you Captain?"

"Uh..." Maybe he'd stolen the wrong princess.

50. Pepperoni

Peggy rang the doorbell and the carrot-topped girl answered, a faint flush on her cheeks and a friendly smile on her face.

"Hi again," she chirped.

"Hi..." This girl was weird. This was the fifth time Peggy had delivered a pizza to her house today. "That'll be five bucks."

The girl nodded and fished a bill out of her pocket, trading Peggy for the pizza. "Thank you."

"Have a nice day." Again.

"You too," she replied.

She wasn't shutting the door, so Peggy gave into her curiosity.

"Are you having a party or something?" There was no music coming from the apartment or the sounds of others talking, and it would be just plain weird to order all the pizza at different times, but a party was the only somewhat plausible reason Peggy could come up with for ordering so many pizzas.

"No," the girl answered, brows knitting uncertainly. "What makes you think that?"

"All the pizza." Peggy made a grand gesture with her arms. "This is the fifth one you've ordered today!"

"I really like pizza," she stammered before ducking into her apartment and shutting the door.

In truth Iris really liked the cute pizza delivery girl. She was ordering them just so she could see her, but she was too bashful to tell her so.


Finally finished the second part of this. Freaking shit, the first part was posted all the way back in January. Will fix typos later, gotta go finish requests now~