I have no OTPs. Rather I have several smaller ships. I wrote up three of them.

Striking Fear

Claws flurried, ripping through fragile human defenses. Red red eyes burned through the darkness, lighting nothing, everything in a demonic glow. White hair splayed down against blackness, blue skin against pale. Red blood trailed in lines as he gave himself to the sensation, the pain, the pleasure...

He cried out into nothingness, a black-gloved hand coming up to muffle the sound. Held down by the weight, oppressive heat inside and out as he was taken, spread apart, opened and violated in the best way. Snarling purrs in his ear brought by the hottest of breaths snorting against him like an animal's growls.

It changed in pitch, growing lower as the movements grew desperate. As growls morphed into a long possessive snarl. He bared his neck as fangs stabbed in, ripping into his shoulder to mark, to incapacitate, to hold, to rip and tear and feed...

Blue eyes opened to darkness.

Vlad Masters sat up in his empty bed, sweat sticking his silk sheets to his naked skin. He reached up to rub his aching neck, the punctures of Plasmius's fags still burning even through the veil of reality.

Vlad dropped back into bed and sighed. He stretched out in the soft silk and satin before curling up with a feather pillow.

Everyone who claimed to care was so worried about how he was always alone. But they were wrong.

He was never alone.

College Pacman

Vlad nursed his longneck at the bar. Another date gone horribly wrong when the girl asked about his major. As if physics wasn't nerdy enough to these humanities types he had to go and admit to his work in paranormal studies. Which of course led to the expected "oh..." and the girl excusing herself to the washroom so she could sneak out the back way. Vlad finished it the traditional way, hitting the bar so he could use the payphone to drag his two housemates out here to toast another failed date.

And as usual only one showed up. Vlad leaned into the bright orange arm draped over his shoulders as Jack ordered another round for them both. Vlad caught the eye of the bartender and shook his head, gesturing at the three other rounds Jack had ordered for him but he hadn't even gotten to yet.

"C'mon, V-man, drink up," Jack slurred. "Thish is an occasion! To another con-con... another one who gots away."

Vlad sighed.

"An' where ish Maddie anyway?" Jack asked, squinting around the bar. "Wasn't she coming?"

Vlad groaned and let his head fall on the bar. "Jack..."

Jack took a deep swallow of his beer and then fixed Vlad with a wide-eyed puppy look.

Vlad glared. "Jack, she's not... I mean... She's... Oh how do I say this..." He took a deep draught of beer to steady his nerves. "Jack, she's not coming because she thinks we're gay for each other and wants us to get on with it."

Jack turned to stare at the mirror behind the bar. Vlad went back to drinking, finally finishing a beer and starting on the backlog of rounds. So... Maddie thought they were... But they weren't... Were they? Jack watched Vlad in the mirror. The skinny man had a big streak of gray in his hair; he'd forgotten to dye it before this date. He didn't fit all that well in his nice clothes; they were too big around the shoulders and it made him look small. He looked so lonely...

"I suppose we could try it," Jack suggested.

Vlad's eyes drifted to the mirror, catching the reflection of Jack's. He sighed and held out his beer bottle. Jack clinked his against Vlad's and they both drank. Jack tried not to smile as he felt Vlad lean closer against him.

They could give it a shot.

Box Ghost/Lunch Lady (the ship name is painfully dumb)

The whoosh of the thermos was deafening in his ears as he was sucked inside. He fell into it, into that cramped hole where he'd spend who knows how long, braced himself for impact with the hard unyielding bottom...

"OOF!"

Weird. This wasn't hard or unyielding at all. "I, the Box Ghost, am not alone in this horrible cylindrical container?" he asked.

"No, dearie, you're not."

The Box Ghost looked up to see a ghost he'd met only in passing. Beautiful blue skin, wild white hair, a vengeful mercurial mood, and such power... "I, the Box Ghost, have been trapped here often but I have never met such a beauteous creature here. How was one so powerful as you captured?"

The Lunch Lady blushed. "My, my, you're a charmer," she said. "It was the girl. It's always the girl and her refusal to accept that meat is necessary for a proper diet! It's no wonder she's so thin and scrawny. She'll never develop properly without a proper diet. And what about you?"

The Box Ghost sighed. "Phantom relies on my greatest weakness! For I, the Box Ghost, am master of all that is corrugated and square. I cannot control a cylindrical container such as this."

There was a beep and suddenly the pressure changed. The thermos was about to be emptied into the Ghost Zone. "It's been fun," the Lunch Lady said. "But we're about to be separated."

"I, the Box Ghost! Shall find you again! If I have to be captured a hundred times I will find yoooooo-" His voice faded away as they were both flung to far edges of the Ghost Zone.

The Lunch Lady sighed. He was such a nice ghost, flattering her power, interested in her obsession. She wondered if she'd ever see him again.