u/TheVampireScriptures

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The Vampire Scriptures: Nyxhaven

Ashriel de Noir, Vampire High Priest of Dracula, frontman and vocalist of The Vampire Ashriel.

He is known as Ashley Ozde to humans and that human facade has a stalker.

But just the same as the rest of his screaming fans, he will never know her name.

She's just another corpse in the glow of the neon light.

It's just another slaughterday night.

Hush hush now little fly.

Welcome to Nyxhaven, where the beautiful go to die.

Nyxhaven

The Vampire Scriptures: O Death Take Her Gently

Sanctuary's obsession has reached the end of the line.

Blinded by a romantic fairytale love story that only exists inside her head, she'll burn every bridge on the way down. Her friend group has had enough of her insanity, one by one they detach themselves.

But Sanctuary's eyes are focused only on the horizon of which she will never see the dawn.

The vocalist of The Vampire Ashriel, Ashley Ozde himself.

Soon enough, reality shatters into delusions and hallucinations.

All that remains are ghosts, violence, and the echoed screams of the past and present.

And above all, her single minded determination to make him see things her way, no matter the fatal consequences.

Only one show is playing tonight folks, and it's on the Killing Room floor.

O Death, Take Her Gently

The Vampire Scriptures: The Girl

Before she was Sanctuary, she was only a girl.

A happy little thing with stars in her eyes and syrup on her fingertips from pancake mornings shared with her siblings.

Summers smelled like saltwater and sunscreen, like her older brother's dreams etched into his notebook.

The world was still simple and safe back then.

Then came the bridge collapse.

Steel screamed as the water swallowed everything that she'd ever known as happiness.

Her sisters’ bodies were pulled from the wreckage twisted into shapes no child should ever have to remember.

After that, life became a long hallway leading downward into Hell.

By the time she was older and what remained of her family relocated to Nyxhaven, there was very little left inside her untouched by grief.

Her friends tried to help however they could even if she was pushy they still cared.

So, one afternoon, they dragged her into a small music shop tucked between rain-soaked alleyways and flickering neon signs.

There, buried among dusty records and cracked jewel cases, she found what would change her life forever.

Be Mine

The first album by The Vampire Ashriel.

The Girl

STV is this universe's MTV. I'm looking for voice actors to play Zy, Ni, La and Ente for a series of audio interviews for the band's new grunge post-punk goth album, PAY MONEY TO MY PAIN: BALLAD OF A DRUGGED OUT WHORE.

My ultimate goal is a documentary series following the band's early years and the many people they encountered or worked with along the way.

I already have a script for the first part of the doc written.

Zy rolls up to the gas station, his van growlin’ like a beast, low and menacin’. He’s been on the road for hours, all he wants is somethin’ to snack on—maybe a drink, maybe some candy, just somethin’ to kill the time. Not like he’s actually gonna eat it—he’ll just puke it up later anyway. Ni and the rest are messin’ around in the back, playing cards and rolling dice or some shit, so it’s just him alone out here. He pops the door open, steps out, his leather jacket rustlin’ as he moves, that wolf hood draped over his head like a damn crown. The second the clerk sees him, she freezes, her eyes wide like she’s starin’ down a Yakuza kingpin from a movie. Her heart skips a beat. Ain’t no doubt in her mind—he’s Yakuza. The vibe, the look, everything about him screams danger.

His long black hair streaked in Mardi gras colors accompanied by chartreuse yellow, flowed like a river over his left shoulder. She nearly choked on her own spit while staring with her mouth open.

This girl—kinda chubby, glasses sittin’ on her nose like she ain't even tryin’ to be cute—her heart just skips, and she freezes up. Her breath catches in her chest, eyes go wide as she watches him strut in, all swagger, all power. She ain't even tryin’ to hide it—her eyes scan his whole damn body like he’s some kinda god just strollin’ in off the street. His black hair, streaked with crimson and gold, fallin' just right, that gold-shinin’ cap over his tooth. Damn. She can’t tear her eyes away. The way his chest moves under that leather, how he seems to just own the whole damn place, makes her heart tighten, like she just inhaled somethin' wild.

Zy steps up to the counter, his voice smooth as hell, a growl like honey mixed with smoke. "Yo, lemme grab a couple things," he says, eyes flickin’ to the shelves behind her. He points at what he wants and tosses the rest onto the counter. He’s casual, but it’s got that command to it, like he’s used to people just doin' what he asks. She stammers, tryin’ to hold it together, but her mind’s racin’. What is it about him? Why’s she feelin’ all hot and bothered? Why can’t she breathe right? Every word he says makes her pulse race, and it’s like she can’t focus on anything else. All she hears is his voice, low, deep, making her shiver.

She hands him his snacks—cigarettes, cheap liquor bottles, one for La, one for Ente, one for Ni, two for him. A few candy bars and bags of crips. Her fingers brush his just a little too long. Her face goes hot, and she’s damn sure he didn’t even notice, but she feels it, like a spark between them. She’s caught.

Done for.

"Appreciate it," Zy says, his eyes flicking up at her for just a second. That look, that flash—it’s enough to make her heart stop. She’s not sure if she can breathe anymore. Her chest tightens, and she tries to steady herself, but it’s no use.

Zy takes the bag, that devilish grin curling on his lips like he’s already won. That smile, light damn, could set the whole place on fire. He turns to leave, but not before tossing one last smirk over his shoulder. "Ey hoe, yuh comin' wit' mi, or whuh?"

Her mind goes blank. Her head spins, her world goes black for a second, like her brain can’t process what just happened. What did he say? Was he serious? But there’s no hesitation. Not a single damn thought. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She grabs her coat, her steps quick and eager, like she’s already caught in his pull. She follows him out the door to the van.

Zy’s just smilin’ to himself, like he already knows what’s up. He don’t need to say another word. He knows she’s gonna come with him.

As she climbs into the van, the door slams shut behind her, sealing her fate. Everything else fades away—the lights, the world, the noise—it’s just her and Zy now, whatever comes next. And deep down, she knows it’s already too late. She’s his.

Her pulse kicks up, every part of her body reactin' without her even doin’ a damn thing. She feels the heat in her cheeks, her hands shakin’ a little as she reaches for the register. She’s done for, caught in his gravity like a moth to the flame. Zy don’t even notice her yet, but she feels it, deep in her gut. He’s that bad boy outta the books, the mystery that pulls you in and leaves you gaspin’. Suddenly, she’s aware of everything—the way his jacket sleeves roll up, showin' off those arms, the sharp lines of his jaw, the shine of those piercings—like he’s a walking warning sign, but she don't give a damn. He’s got this energy, somethin' dangerous and irresistible, and she’s ready to fall into it.

She swallows hard, her throat dry, and before she can ask a thing, Zy smirks and slouches against the doorframe. "Ya like what ya see, babe?" He says it casually, like he's not the one radiating so much power that she feels like she might melt right there. She doesn’t know how to answer that, so she just shakes her head a little, trying to get her bearings straight. Her breath hitches as she looks back at Zy, his piercing chartreuse eyes watching her like he’s about to devour her whole.

"Where we goin'?" she asks, her voice trembling, not sure what’s next or if she even wants to know. She glances at the guys in the back. “Are… are you guys like a band or somethin'?”

Zy leans against the side of the van, all cocky charm."Yeah, we a band. MISSING MILE," he says, his hand pointing at the red spray-painted name on the side of the black van like it’s the biggest flex. Like it’s the fuckin' highlight of their lives.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curling into that damn predatory grin. He knows what’s up, and he knows she ain’t got a clue. "Yuh e'er heard of us?" he asks, voice smooth as silk but sharp like a blade. "I be Zy, dat be Ni, La and Ente." He gestures to the other dudes in the back, but they’re just background noise to her. She focuses on Zy, he’s the one who’s center stage, the one who’s pulling all the damn strings.

But then, something changes. That grin? It don’t fade. He can feel it, the shift in her. She knows the name. She’s a fan. He can tell by the way her eyes flicker, the way her breath catches. She knows. Ain’t no way she don’t. She might play it cool, like she ain’t trippin', but inside? Inside she’s been rockin' to their tracks.

Zy chuckles, his voice low and teasing. "You know the vibe, huh?" He lets that silence hang there for a second, thick and heavy. She ain’t sayin’ a word, but the way she’s lookin’ at him now? Like she’s tryin' to keep it together but can’t quite handle the heat. He smirks again, feelin' that victory hit his chest. "MISSING MILE’s gonna get under yuh skin, gyal. Whether yuh be ta ready or nuh."

He’s right. She already knows what time it is. Even though his dialect accent was thick enough to kill a crowd of adoring fans. The name's stickin' to her like glue, deep in her bones, no matter how hard she tries to fight it. MISSING MILE? Yeah, she knows that name.

She gets in once the doors open, all nerves and jitters n shit. As the door of the van slams shut behind her, the chubby clerk glances around, still in a daze from the pull Zy has on her.

The air inside the ride feels different. It’s like the world outside don't exist no more—just her and these four dudes who feel like they just stepped out of a damn music video or somethin'. Her heart’s hammerin’ like she’s just taken a hit of something strong. Zy, the dude who’s got her trippin' already, slides into the driver’s seat, all smooth and cocky. She’s just standin’ there, caught in the middle of it, her nerves going haywire, her brain trying to catch up with what the hell just went down.

Zy grins over at her, that devilish smirk still playin’ on his lips. “Yo, relax, gyal. Yuh good,” he says, his voice low like it’s some kinda command. She blinks, tryin’ to steady herself, but the moment she hears him speak, her whole body locks up. Damn, his voice. It's smooth, rich, like a sweet poison that’s creeping under her skin, makin’ her feel like she's already in too deep. She doesn’t even know how she ended up here, but she knows she’s stuck. Freakin' stuck.

As her eyes start to adjust, she notices the others in the back. Ni, Ente, La—yeah, they’re all here, chillin' like they ain’t got a care in the world. They look like they just rolled outta some damn music video, all attitude and style, like they own the streets and the world’s just their playground.

Ni's over by the window, lookin’ like he was born to be seen. His chartreuse and white eyes shine so bright it’s like they’re glowing in the damn dark. His whole vibe is this mix of danger and style, like he’s ready to cut someone down with just a look. His body’s draped in lace and fishnet, and damn, it’s like he’s stepped straight outta some high fashion magazine. It don’t make sense, but it works, and he knows it. He raises an eyebrow, checkin’ her out with that cool, calculating gaze.

Ente’s sittin' low, legs stretched out, lean and sharp like a damn knife. He’s got that look like he’s always huntin', eyes half-lidded like he’s lookin' for someone to toy with. When she steps inside, his eyes flick over her like she’s a puzzle he’s tryna figure out, but he don’t say nothin'. He don’t need to. His eyes do all the talkin’, and right now, they’re tellin' her she’s under his radar. He don’t trust her yet, but that’s okay—she’s ready to see if she can hold her own.

Then there's La. La’s sittin' back, leanin' against the wall, arms crossed like he's bored, but there’s a hunger in his eyes. He looks like he’s ready to kill for a good time. His gaze is intense, like he's tryna get into her soul without even tryin’. When their eyes lock, she feels that pull again, that weight on her chest, like he’s the type of person who won’t take no for an answer. He ain't sayin' much, but she knows he's the one who’ll test her. Push her to the edge. And maybe she wants it.

She stands there, nervous as hell, tryin' to figure out where to sit, but Zy already knows what’s up. “Sit a couch gyal" he says, his voice a low command, and it’s like he already knows she don’t got a choice. She steps towards the seat across from them, heart racing, palms sweaty. Ain’t no turning back now.

The way his lips curl up, it’s clear he’s just playin’, but there’s this edge to his words that makes her wonder. He leans back, tapping his fingers on the side of the seat, eyes never leavin' her. She can feel the weight of his stare, and for a second, she wonders if she’s in way too deep.

Ente chuckles low, eyes glinting with something dark. “She gonna be fun,” he mutters to no one in particular, but La catches it, smirkin’.

La doesn’t even look at her, his eyes half-closed, but his voice is rough and low. “Yah, she’s gun need ta proof herself,” he says, his words hangin’ in the air like a threat, like he's already decided how this game’s gonna go down.

Zy, though? He’s just sittin' there, cool as hell, watchin' it all unfold. He ain't sayin' much, but the way he’s lookin' at her—he knows. He knows this is the test. And he's already decided she’s gonna pass. She might not know what the hell’s goin' on, but Zy does, and right now, all she gotta do is let it happen.

“Yo, gyal,” Zy says, his voice low, like he’s talking just to her. He leans in slightly, his presence fillin’ up the van, and the air feels heavier. “Yuh down for dis? Yuh down fi MISSING MILE?” His eyes flick to the others, a sly grin playin' on his lips. He knows damn well what she’s about. She might not know it yet, but she’s already wrapped up in it.

She swallows hard, nerves still running wild, but she nods. “Yeah. I’m down.”

Ni chuckles, Ente smirks, and La just gives her a long, appraising look. They don’t say nothin', but they don’t need to. She knows they’re all watchin', waitin’ for her to crack, to see if she’s gonna stay in this game or fall out. But she’s not gonna back down. Not now. She’s in it, for better or worse, and there’s no turning back.

Zy grins, leaning back in his seat, arms crossing as he looks at her. “Good choice,” he says, his voice dark with something she doesn't understand. And just like that, she knows. She’s in the ride for the long haul, whether she’s ready or not.

The tension inside the van is thick, crackling, she can feel it building. MISSING MILE ain’t just a band—it’s a way of life. And she’s about to learn exactly what that means, the hard way.

The chubby clerk’s heart’s beatin’ like it’s tryin’ to escape her chest when Zy’s sharp-ass, chartreuse green eyes lock onto hers. It's like he’s castin’ some kinda spell, pullin’ her in deep, like a moth to a damn flame. She can’t break away, not even if she wanted to—it's like her whole body’s tuned in to this dude, all her senses goin’ haywire. His vibe fills the space, like a storm’s about to hit, towerin’ over her. His golden fang caps gleam in the low light, and that grin he’s sportin’? It’s straight-up dangerous with a side of pleasure, like he’s gonna wreck her in the best possible way.

"Ya lookin’ at me like d'at ‘cause mi all fine and shit, babe?" Zy purrs, his voice thick like molasses, all smooth and slow, like he knows exactly the kinda effect he’s got on her. He leans in just enough to close that space, his breath hot against her ear, makin’ her skin prickle. "Mi could keep ya busy fo hours, but we nah got all nigh'. Yuh got any snacks back dere?"

The clerk don’t even know how to respond, brain all scrambled, thoughts runnin’ in circles. She can’t focus on nothin’ but him. The way he moves, the way he talks—hell, everything about this dude is designed to mess with her mind, to make her forget who the hell she is and why she’s even here. She’s just caught in his web, stuck in a trance.

FREE SAMPLE END.

Ashriel would never give that damn van back. Not in a million years.

To Ashriel, the MISSING MILE tour van wasn’t just some beat-up, drug-addled relic of the past. It was a symbol. A tangible piece of history that tied him to the best and worst parts of his life: his friendship with his cousin and their mutual best friend back when they were Zy, Trix, and Ash in the good old days of ZILLAH'S EYES. It was a time that, despite all the chaos and the eventual fallout, had meant something to him. But that was before everything went to shit. Before Ni's birth, before the kidnapping, before Zy found the old beat up van in an alley one night and claimed it as his permanent home on wheels. Before the MISSING MILE road trips, before the tragic deaths of Zyla and Niente.

The thing was, Ashriel didn't just steal it out of spite or some petty move against Trixxy. He took it because it meant something to him. He’d parked it in the corner of his world, on the outskirts of Nyxhaven, a place that felt as far from everything else as possible. Unless he was actively driving it. He'd made it his sanctuary, a sacred space where he could escape from the ghosts of the past and indulge in his pleasures without the weight of old memories haunting him. Zyla and his coven at the time of his death might have called it home, but Ashriel was the one who owned it now.

There are different references to different things in the first book, can you find them all?

The mob character featured for this weep is Susie! The fangirl who talked in the backstage VIP with Rios Devilfingers about other fangirls before her. She loved chewing gum.

Chewing chewing all day long.

You know how that turns out for Susie!!

If you don't, then read her fate in Tome 1 of TVS! NYXHAVEN!

Why do you think Ashriel hates the Havok Triplets? And if he hates them so much, why was he sleeping with Nixxy and why does he continue to book his concerts at their clubs?

​

By Nekrosis Hellgarden. From The Vampire Scriptures Universe:

Neon flickered across the cracked “PIXXY’S PLAYLAND” sign, painting a vampire's grin in pink shimmers that glittered in his bright, pupil free pink eyes.

They shone in the flicker, blood diamonds bleeding out their despair.

The grinning vampire was sprawled across the letters like a cat in the glow, a pink and silver candy cane colored knife twirling lazily between his fingers. His silver hair shimmered at the ends where it bled into pink ombré, framing pupil-less, glimmering dark pink eyes. A black crop top laced at the sides with pink and silver ribbons showed flashes of lean pale muscle and the silver chain around his throat, a dangling pink cat-head charm bouncing with each laugh.

He was Pixxy Havok, and currently the naturally sugar high creature was standing on the sign like he wanted to use it like a swing set. He was was one part of a group of triplet vampire brothers who ran the top clubs of Nyxhaven’s nightlife. And he absolutely loved it when his turn to host his carnival came up\~!

“Honestly, Seif,” Pixxy purred, “why insist the Ferris wheel opens first? It’s predictable. Boring. I vote for the Tunnel of Luvv. It’s romantic, you like romance just as much as I do\~!”

Seifer Devilish, who was standing somewhere above him, landed next to him. The older of the two Spectri leaned against the sign and stared at the other, smirking. His arms were folded over bare pale skin mapped in water moccasins and other deep swamp imagery tattoos that crawled from shoulder to wrist.

When he moved, so did his tattoos, like the water in the dunk tank someone was currently drowning in. Seifer’s own long hair shimmered green and purple under the glow. Piercings dotted his pointed ears, nose, lips, and his neck, several glinting from the inverted cross above his navel. Purple leather pants glistened as he shifted his weight, black sneakers crusted with fresh blood.

He had been sent by the king of their kind to watch over the carnival, and Pixxy.

“Some o’ us value structural integrity over theatrics, t’heard Havok-shi?” he drawled the honorific those with lesser domains used for those with domains that outclassed theirs. In this case, Seifer didn’t even have his own domain, he lived in the Hotel domain of his boss, Second Prince Ashriel. “An’ ‘sides… you know good as me, people come expectin’ that ol’ Ferris wheel. You just love playin’ wit’ yo food, mwen cher”

Pixxy rolled onto his side, grinning mischievously as he looked at his companion. “Mmm, predictability is poison. Chaos tastes like cotton candy dipped in cyanide that just got fucked by a big big big bomb!!!”

Seifer smirked.“You da sugar-coated poison of Nyxhaven’s club scene, cher. Neva change, or I’m gon’ start thinkin’ something done snapped inside that skull o’ yours, Havok-shi.”

Pixxy stood, shaking his hair out like a dog. “Always. And tonight, I have a special guest arriving. He thinks he’s here for a rave, we sent out invites to everyone in Bar Alley, especially near the bar where Grandpere Still works!! You remember that one place?”

The older vampire chuckled. “Heh. Better hope dis ol human meat be likin’ sweets.”

A crash echoed across the carnival as the sound of flimsy decorative fence falling hit their ears. Pixxy perked up instantly, lips smeared into a glittering, fanged, smile. “Ah! That customer is here! Perfect timing. Watch and learn, Seif. This is how a proper host greets VIPs.”

Seifer only sighed at that. “Let us hope he won’t get overwhelmed by ‘luvv’, too soon cher. Gon’ be funny as hell watching dis kinda shit”

Mariko had promised she’d go with him. He knew it was a promise and not just the bartender yelling at him that he drank too much again and needed to leave the bar.

Eddie had the flyer she gave him, pink, glittery, folded in half like a secret she was only sharing with him.

PIXXY’S PLAYLAND: Where Luvv Lasts Forever.

He had pocketed it, and for reasons that made sense only when drunk, followed it.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

That thought should’ve mattered more, but the whiskey fogged his brain just enough to make rebellion feel like adventure.

The cracked midway stretched before him past the fence like a dream someone left out in the rain. Behind the club district of Nyxhaven he stumbled toward a huge neon sign. It matched the flyer he held in his pocket. PIXXY’S PLAYLAND, it read, but he could barely focus on it as he walked.

Eddie leaned against the fence, now the second he’s encountered. He stood there, watching a carousel turning on its own in slow circles.

The fence he was leaning on was half-collapsed, easy to squeeze through. His jacket tore on a jagged wire. “This place needs…more security, works for me” he muttered, stepping inside.

The ground clung to his shoes, sticky as old syrup. Something pink stretched and snapped with every step. “God, what is that? Frosting?” He scraped his boot against a curb, leaving a wet, glistening smear.

A “CANDYLAND OF CARNAGE MAIN ENTRANCE” archway pulsed with pink light that blinked in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Like the heart on the flyer!

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. “Man, they really went all out for this… underground rave thing. Marketing is absolutely crazy I swear”

This rave was going to be way cooler than Mariko led him to believe.

He’d overheard it at the bar after she left. He’d taken time to listen as the others whispered rumors about this after-hours carnival where the drinks were “liquid sin” and the dancers glowed like angels on fire.

Of course he’d come.

He’d always come, life was already against him, bills piling up, his girlfriend acting like he had to wait in an invisible line for her attention. He was really hoping that tonight would bring them both closer together.

Little did he know.

All he could smell was sugary rust as he walked farther inside. Something faintly warm brushed against his cheek, like the place itself exhaled on him.

“Hello? I’m here for the rave!” he called out, staggering past a cotton candy stand that was still spinning on its own, a pink cloud swirling endlessly. His fingers twitched to grab a piece, but when he did, it came away damp and sticky, more like flesh than fluff. Blood coated his fingers and the substance was like wet skin that he quickly shook off onto the ground.

The drunken man could have sworn he watched it crawl away like a gyrating maggot.

He laughed again, because that was easier than thinking.

Eddie took a small sip from his flask to ease his slightly rattled nerves regardless. “Nasty, but hey, the prop department is killin’ it.”

Somewhere in the bowels of the park, two voices giggled, musical, lilting, too perfectly timed to be coincidence.

He straightened, wiped his hands on his jeans. “Hey! Yo, I’m not, like, trespassing or anything, right? You guys open?”

No answer. Only a faint shimmer of pink light curling around the edges of the funhouse mirrors ahead, and the faraway hum of what might’ve been a Ferris wheel creaking back to life.

The drunk man grinned. “Guess that’s a yes.”

He reached the entrance to the second section of the midway. It was roped off. He ducked under the rope line like a rebellious teenager sneaking into a club. The air felt electric now, buzzing against his skin like bees cooking a hornet alive. Somewhere nearby, a soft, male voice purred, “Welcome VIP guest to The Carnival Of Carnage, here at Pixxy’s Playland”

He spun around, but there was only light and movement, nothing solid. There were no people, there was nothing at all. But he could hear the sound of music, it started, slow and thudding, like a heartbeat in the walls.

“Cool effects,” he mumbled, convinced he’d stumbled onto a secret show. “Guess I really did score VIP."

The midway was impossibly long by now, he chalked it up to the alcohol and just took another drink. A sugar-scented fog rolled in, pink and silver, curling around his ankles like cotton candy smoke. He didn’t notice the ground under his feet shifting, or the faint drag marks in the dirt, the finger trails from other ‘VIPs.’

Behind him, two silhouettes watched, one silver-pink, one neon green and purple, smiling like demented ring masters about to start the show.

A sound drifted through the mist, a steady rhythm under faint carnival music. He followed it, past rusting rides and a carousel that was still turning.

“Guess someone left the generator on.”

The horses on the ride were wrong. The smell of gingerbread floated from them. They were too long in the limbs, painted smiles split too far, glass eyes seemed to be tracking him as he passed.

One of them sounded like it gave a quiet neigh.

He stumbled back, swallowing. “Okay. That’s… that’s creepy.”

Something giggled in the distance.

He turned.

Nothing.

He took a swig from his flask and grinned to no one. “Probably some weird art thing. Cakesy’s nightmare phase.”

Neon bled across puddles like spilled soda, fizzing in the cracks of the pavement. Eddie, though even he had half-forgotten his own name, kicked a plastic clown head out of his path and grinned at how it rolled away cackling. Maybe it was a motion sensor. Maybe the whiskey was stronger than he’d thought.

He’d sat at the bar while the whispers about this part of the Playland echoed in his head. Candyland of Carnage: Melt With Us Like Candy. Sounded metal enough. Not this… whatever this was. Still, he’d paid for the cab and he wasn’t about to let an empty carnival ruin his date night with Mariko.

Wherever she was.

A half-deflated purple balloon drifted past, bumping his leg. It squeaked, like a tiny scream. He stepped on it.

Pop.

Silence.

“Creepy-cute,” he muttered, voice loud in the fog. “Props department’s insane.”

The midway seemed to go on and on. He glanced at food stalls collapsing into themselves, stuffed animals hanging by their necks from nooses for prize hooks. The booth looked like it was reaching for him, toy colors melting together under the pulsing pink light.

He passed a shooting gallery where the rifles twitched on their own and yet another carousel that turned just fast enough to make its mirrors blur the fruit scented horses into streaks of flesh-colored light. Each rotation squealed like a laugh forced through metal teeth.

A gust of cotton candy-scented air brushed his cheek. “Welcome… welcome…” it whispered, maybe the wind, maybe something else.

He rubbed his arms. “Okay. Animatronics. Soundtrack. Chill."

He stumbled toward a row of arcade machines. The screens blinked awake as he approached, showing a reflection that wasn’t quite his, his eyes and smile both were too wide. He waved; the reflection didn’t.

Then all the screens burst into static that crackled with faint giggling.

Eddie barked a laugh. “You guys hiring? I could do this.” The laughter on the screens rose an octave, imitating him, then fizzled out.

He pushed on. The ground grew tacky yet again under his sneakers, like walking on spilled soda. Every step pulled at his feet a little harder. He bent down, squinting, was that sugar? It glittered under the light, pink and crystalline, but when he touched it, it clung like spiderweb on the hand in a dusty attic corner. “Ew. Gross, this place has some weird stuff in it...”

Far off, even deeper in this area of the park, came the ding-ding-ding of a prize bell.

He followed, because of course he did.

This next game booth stood perfect amid the decay: bright lights, fresh paint, bottles stacked in a pyramid. A giant white bear with one missing eye sat behind the counter. A sign read Knock Me Down and Win Your Heart’s Desire. The wording made him snort. He already had Mariko after all.

The drunken man grabbed one of the balls. It was warm. Pulse-warm and it had the weight of a jaw breaker. “Huh…Cool” he said, winding up. He threw. The ball hit the bottles, one bottle let out a tiny shriek before tipping over. The others followed in a slow cascade, wailing in chorus.

Eddie staggered back. “Nope. Nope, that’s new.” He was dazed, he took another swig of his drink, trying to clear his head.

The bear clapped its plush paws together, a dry papery sound, and its mouth creaked open just enough to whisper: “Winner…”

A prize slid forward on a conveyor belt: a heart-shaped box wrapped in red foil. The tag said Eat Me.

He laughed nervously. “Okay, that’s commitment.” He tore it open expecting chocolate, but inside was a lump of something pink and glistening. It twitched. He dropped it. The box snapped shut on its own and rolled away into the dark.

The midway lights dimmed. Somewhere, a calliope began to play, a slow, uneven tune that tried to be cheerful and failed. Eddie rubbed his eyes. “It’s just a show,” he told himself. “Interactive, like those haunted mazes.”

The tune changed tempo, chasing him as he walked. Each stall he passed seemed to wake up, popcorn machines coughing kernels that burst into white moths with gumdrop eyes. Ring-toss bottles made of chocolate caramel clinked together; a photo booth flashing images of people made of salt water taffy smiling with grins made of jagged coconut brittle. One photo fluttered out and stuck to his shoe; when he peeled it off, the picture was of him, but made of melting taffy, taken from behind.

Eddie looked around fast yet again.

And yet again, nothing.

He laughed, because that’s what you do when you’re scared and drunk and alone. “Alright, you got me! Ten outta ten ambience!”

Somewhere overhead, speakers crackled to life. A voice, candy cane-sweet and genderless, cooed like love birds settling into their nest, “Step right up, sugar-snack. Step right up for luvv eternal! Step right up, before it melts away!” Then silence.

Eddie shivered. “Okay. That’s…cute marketing.”

He veered toward the Ferris wheel. The metal skeleton loomed against the fog, each car swaying gently as if something heavy moved inside. He approached one and peered in. A shape sat there, unmoving. He raised his phone flashlight. The beam caught a mannequin dressed in formal wear, its plastic hand clutching a champagne flute. Across from it, another figure, also still. Couples, every car filled with them, frozen mid-toast. Their smiles were too wide, teeth carved from porcelain.

When he stepped back, the Ferris wheel groaned, starting to turn, slow and grinding. The mannequins’ heads turned with it, tracking him. He bolted.

He didn’t stop running until the calliope music was behind him. His lungs burned. The midway forked ahead: Games to the left, Romance Row to the right. A big pink arrow blinked toward Romance Row. The lights there were still working, steady and inviting. He swallowed hard and went that way, because empty darkness felt worse.

The booths here were themed, Heart-Shaped Hotdogs, The Kissing Booth, Soul Mate Fortunes. He paused at the fortune booth. Inside, a mechanical gypsy slumped behind the glass. Her eyes lit up as he approached.

“Press your palm to the glass,” she crooned. Her voice warbled like an old cassette. “Let Madame Melty’s Oracle see your future.”

He hesitated, the name vaguely registering as familar. “Madame who?”

“Melty,” the machine repeated, stretching the word. “Luuuuuuvv is forever.”

“Weird way...to say love…my mother used to say Madame Melty would…ugh…can’t recall now…” He pressed his hand anyway. The glass was warm, too warm. Something shifted beneath it, like fingers pressing back. He yanked away. The fortune card spat out with a ding! It read: You’ll find your match soon. Just close your eyes, and melt. The ink bled as he read it, letters running down the paper like tears.

He dropped it, backing away. The gypsy’s head followed him, hair dripping candy wax.

“Cool trick,” he muttered shakily.

The fog swirled, sweet as rotten teeth. He could taste it. His tongue felt coated in syrup. He staggered toward a flickering sign ahead, REST AREA. Perfect. He needed a bench, a cigarette, he downed another swig of his whiskey as he dragged his feet over..

The rest area was a cluster of picnic tables under a striped awning. Everything looked normal until he noticed the benches pulsing faintly, wood flexing like ribs under skin. He sat anyway; it sighed beneath him. He jumped up fast. The sigh turned into laughter, low, breathy, cruel.

Eddie held up his hands. “Okay, okay. You win. Haunted park, great prank, where’s the exit?”

No answer.

All he heard was the distant creak of the Ferris wheel turning somewhere behind the fog, and the slow thud of music that might’ve been his own heartbeat amplified.

He tried retracing his steps, but the midway had shifted. Paths curved differently. Booths had moved. The “Games” sign now pointed nowhere, hanging from a single wire that sparked pink lightning. The ground dipped under him, soft as a spongecake. When he lifted his foot, it left a print that oozed dark syrup.

He gagged. “This place is so fucking nasty...”

A stuffed rabbit dangled from a string above him, spinning slowly. Its button eyes followed his every movement. Just as the carousel horses had done, it unnerved him but his mind was too clouded to hold the feeling for long.

As he passed, it whispered in a child’s voice, “Don’t look back.”

He looked back anyway. The path behind him had closed, just mist and faint lights like eyes blinking shut.

Turning forward again, Eddie began to cough, he quickly drank from his flask. The rolling fog parted enough to reveal something new, a bridge arched over a shallow canal of pink liquid that steamed faintly. The bridge’s railings were shaped like intertwining arms. Above it, a marquee blinked,

TUNNEL OF LUVV, WHERE LUVV LASTS FOREVER

Eddie laughed shakily. “It sure does…” The booze in his system flowed as he took another drink from his flask. “Bet they’ve got dancers in there. Maybe chocolate fountains. Mariko’s probably having a fun time…”

He stepped onto the bridge. It trembled under him, flowing cheerfully to the point of hysteria. The water below burbled like laughter.

Halfway across, he stopped and looked back one more time. The midway was gone. Only pink fog. He felt the faintest tug forward, like gravity tilted toward the tunnel’s mouth.

“Guess VIPs don’t get to chicken out,” he murmured, trying to sound brave.

The sign above the entrance flared once more, letters dripping neon syrup that hissed as it hit the canal. The boat inside rocked invitingly. Music swelled, a cake crusted heartbeat turned into carnival drums.

Eddie squared his shoulders, wiped his palms on his jeans, and whispered, “Alright, Madame Melty, let’s see what you got.”

The boats bobbed in the pink canal. The water smelled of lemon frosting soaked copper pennies.“Fucking disgusting” but he climbed in anyway. “Whatever, front row for the king, baby.”

The boat jolted forward on its own. He blinked. “Automation? Fancy.”

The tunnel swallowed him.

Pink lights pulsed like veins under the surface, the air hot and thick with sweetness.

Animatronic couples intertwined in impossible shapes, melting into each other with uncanny elasticity. But as the human gawked, the water rippled unnaturally, and faint giggles echoed from the walls, tiny, high-pitched, mocking.

He laughed, but it came out shaky. “This ride’s kinky as hell.”

Then, more giggles. Real ones. Two voices.

“Ohhh, he’s adorable,” one sang, bright and teasing.

“Look at him trying to act brave, like a disemboweled dog chasing its own tail,” another murmured, voice low and rough.

The drunk man twisted around. On the dock behind him stood two glowing figures, one pink and silver, smile too wide for his face. The other was lean, shirtless, purple and green haired, tattooed and slow-grinning.

The human’s stomach turned as the walls themselves began to twitch. Human faces made of ice cream of all flavours blinked, he shuddered.

“Welcome to the Tunnel of Luvv,” Pixxy purred, licking pinkish cupcake frosting made from human biproduct off his thumb. “Hold on tight, sugar, it’s your special night.”

The man blinked. “You guys… uh, part of the show?”

Pixxy’s grin widened. “Sweetheart, you’re the show”

The drunken man laughed nervously, gripping the chocolate ice cream cone boat rail.

An animatronic couple was on the wall, one very familiar to him. They were locked in an embrace, looks of terror on their faces as they melted off turned their half eaten faces to scream at him. “Eddie boo…” came the woman’s voice, “Ruuuuuuun!!!” They both choked out in unison, until their throats were ripped out, hot chocolate mixed with the tang of fresh blood spewing.

Something brushed his arm, soft and warm. A woman’s face pressed through the wall, syrup-slick and shimmering like eternally melting neapolitan ice cream. Her soft, melodic voice echoed. “Come…Come to me…” The man was scrambling, trying to claw his way out of the boat. The seat belt only grew tighter, crushing him into his seat.

She shone softly in the distorted light, an impossibly beautiful woman… whose multi-colored ice cream flesh shimmered, her hair like warm caramel.

Her eyes glowed a bubblegum pink and her smile was filled with bloody hot chocolate splattered candy corn fangs.

“By the way, your friend most certainly passed through here, her boyfriend too!” Pixxy cooed in a wispy giggle, “But! Mariko’s already full of luvv, so now It means Madame Melty’s awake enough to greet you!!”

Seifer gave a slow whistle. “Been a minute since she got some fresh meat.”

The melting ice cream of her face laughed as her upper body came out of the wall and wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders.

Her voice flowed thick as caramel coated death. “Come here, luvver~.”

Hands of ice cream flesh, slid out from the wall, dripping every flavor. Madame Melty hummed ‘It’s A Tiny World In The End”

He screamed, the song seeping into his brain and digging deep like porcupine quills into unsuspecting skin.

The tunnel erupted with laughter then, hundreds of voices, shrill and hysterical, gurgling like melted chocolate.

Pixxy clapped his hands. “Oh, they’re so happy to have you! Eat up my babies!”

“Help! Get off me!! Get them off me!!!” Eddie screamed, thrashing as the hands began to rip him apart.

Madame Melty’s grin widened until her face split into a dozen smiling fanged mouths. “Luvv lasts forever,” she whispered against the side of what was left of his face, gummy maggots wiggling into his ear canal. Slowly he was pulled into the wall, the ice cream texture sucking his torn body in like wet cement.

Once his feet vanished inside it, there was a wet pop, then silence. His agonized screams melted into giggles that echoed around the tunnel, joining the others.

The younger of the two leaned on the railing, licking sugar off his lips. “Mmm. Tangy.”

The green and purple haired vampire gagged a bit. “Ou degoutan, you know damn well what we use for ‘sugar’.”

Pixxy winked. “And you love hanging out with me for it.”

Eddie’s butterscotch ice cream face in the wall blinked, his eyes wide, mouth frozen mid-scream, the surface rippling around him like cooling candy.

Pixxy blew a kiss. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

The lights dimmed. The tunnel hummed. Laughter faded to whispers.

“Same time next Frightnight, hein?” Seifer asked, stretching like a bored cat, his fangs flashing like sharpened spiked pearls.

Pixxy’s grin gleamed in the dark. “Maybe next sinday, we can get personal with our next VIPs, it’ll be fun”

Seifer tapped a green painted claw to his chin in thought “You sure it gon’ be fun?”

“Fine, we’ll do the fucking Ferris Wheel this time ok?” Pixxy sighed as he spoke.

“Fuck yeah, now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Seifer replied, he and Pixxy then turned and vanished into the neon darkness.

+++PxP+++

The bar was the only place Eddie felt safe, even if it smelled like every regret he ever had. Or maybe that was the bedstories his mom used to tell him about not eating too many sweets. Everyone knows if you eat too many sweets on a friday night, she would always say, Madame Melty will appear and drag you into the Deep Freezer of Hell.

He wondered why it was always specifically only on a friday night.

Weird.

The music in the bar shook the floor hard enough to make Eddie’s drink dance in his hand, a flat whiskey soda, same as always, because he was just classy like that.

Mariko was perched at the bar like she owned the place, dress so pink it looked edible. Her hair down her shoulders like a blue and pink ice cream swirl. Every time she laughed, the bartender looked like he was trying to propose. Eddie tried not to notice. Tried harder not to care.

“Hey,” he said, sliding up beside her, trying to look casual and landing somewhere between cool guy at funeral and expired can of Axe body spray. “You look… sweet tonight.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Sweet, Eddie boo?”

“Like… dessert-sweet,” he said, immediately regretting it. “You know, in a hot way.”

Mariko laughed, she was usually laughing at him, which was good. Probably. “You’re an idiot,” she said, which, from her, counted as affection.

He grinned, showing teeth he hadn’t brushed nearly enough for this kind of confidence. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot, right?”

That earned him a smirk and a sip of her drink. “Don’t push it.”

He was about to, though. He always did.

“So uh,” he leaned closer, “what’re you doing after this? You wanna go to that noodle cart on End street? My treat. They do that thing with the egg-”

“Nah. Sorry Eddie boo” She cut him off gently, rummaging in her purse, he could swear he heard something growling inside it as she stabbed it with a lipstick tube. He shook his head, casting it from his mind and took another drink. “I’ve got plans.”

He tried not to wilt. “Oh. Cool. With who?”

She ignored the question and pulled out a glittery pink flier, glossy enough to blind him under the club lights.

On the front: a grinning cartoon heart with a knife through it and bold pink letters that screamed:

PIXXY’S PLAYLAND

RAVE UNTIL REALITY MELTS! ONE NIGHT ONLY!

‘LUVV LASTS FOREVER!’

He squinted. “What the hell is a Pixxy?”

“An experience Eddie boo” she said, waving it like it was a golden ticket. “Everyone’s talking about it. It’s like a rave-slash-carnival-slash-art thing. Invitation-only.”

“And you’re… invited?”

“Of course,” she said, like that was the dumbest question in the world. “But…”

She leaned in close enough for him to smell the blueberry lip gloss that shimmered on her lips like melting ice cream. “I can like, bring someone.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, already sweating. “Like, someone… like me?”

She gave him a look he couldn’t read, equal parts flirty and please shut up.

“Maybe,” she said, tapping the flier against his chest. “You’ve got, like, real potential.”

That was all he needed anyway.

Potential.

He could work with potential.

She handed him the flyer without really looking at him. Her blue nail polish glinted under the strobe lights, the color of blue bubblegum and lies.

“Be there, midnight. Behind the club district,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Yeah? You promise?” he asked, too eager.

Mariko just smiled. The kind of smile that could mean yes, or please stop talking before I change my mind.

Then she turned back to the bartender. “Another drink, please. He’s paying.”

+++PxP+++

He wasn’t sure when she left.One minute she was at the bar, the next she was gone, a blue and pink haired ghost in a sea of musical mistakes yet made.

The bartender slid over Eddie’s tab, which was so long it looked like a ransom note.

“She said you’d cover hers too,” he said. “You lucky or just stupid?”

Eddie grinned weakly. “Why not both?”

He stared down at the flyer again. It sparkled like it was mocking him.The back had a map drawn in what looked like lipstick. A dotted line led from the club district straight into what might have been a crime scene.

“Rave until reality melts,” he read aloud. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing since rent went up.”

He finished his drink, ignored the bartender’s pitying look, and stumbled out into the night.

+++PxP+++

Nyxhaven’s club district bled neon. The pavement was slightly wet, the air smelled, off, and the people walking past him looked like spilled candy trying to form tax deductions.

He followed the map down an alley that got progressively less reputable the longer it went.

“Mariko probably just went ahead,” he muttered, stepping over a broken bottle. “She’s like that. Spontaneous. Mysterious. Doesn’t answer texts unless I send her at least fifty times to see her reply, ‘Hi or whatever’. Totally normal.”

A rat hissed at him from a trash can. He hissed back. The rat won, he quickly stumbled along, pulling a flask from his pocket. He drank deeply before he kept walking toward where the flyer led.

After a few turns and one very suspicious puddle, he reached a rusted chain-link fence. A cracked sign leaned nearby.

CANDYLAND OF CARNAGE ENTRANCE ONE: CLOSED FOR REPAIRS.

Someone had scrawled over it in pink paint: LUVV LASTS 4EVER!

He checked the flier. The map ended here.

He checked his phone. No signal. No new messages.

He checked his dignity. Still missing. He kicked the fence lightly. It fell over.

“Free entry,” he said, because admitting this was a bad idea would ruin the moment.

The carnival beyond was waiting, and he just knew Mariko would be there waiting too.

Eddie adjusted his jacket, combed his hair with his fingers, and whispered to himself, “You got this. She’s gonna see you and realize you’re the one. The guy. The… guy she already told she’d meet here. Totally fine. Totally normal date night.”

He pulled the flyer out one last time. It shimmered like it was alive, the cartoon heart winking at him.

“So I’m about to ‘Rave until reality melts,’ huh?” he read again. “Let’s melt, baby.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/TheVampireScriptures

Greetings my Severed Tongues, the only wiki entry on this subreddit is Ache's bio, I am aware of this, I will fix it when I can get back on my computer

I am currently looking for mods.

By Nekrosis Hellgarden. From The Vampire Scriptures Universe:

Neon flickered across the cracked “PIXXY’S PLAYLAND” sign, painting a vampire's grin in pink shimmers that glittered in his bright, pupil free pink eyes.

They shone in the flicker, blood diamonds bleeding out their despair.

The grinning vampire was sprawled across the letters like a cat in the glow, a pink and silver candy cane colored knife twirling lazily between his fingers. His silver hair shimmered at the ends where it bled into pink ombré, framing pupil-less, glimmering dark pink eyes. A black crop top laced at the sides with pink and silver ribbons showed flashes of lean pale muscle and the silver chain around his throat, a dangling pink cat-head charm bouncing with each laugh.

He was Pixxy Havok, and currently the naturally sugar high creature was standing on the sign like he wanted to use it like a swing set. He was was one part of a group of triplet vampire brothers who ran the top clubs of Nyxhaven’s nightlife. And he absolutely loved it when his turn to host his carnival came up~!

“Honestly, Seif,” Pixxy purred, “why insist the Ferris wheel opens first? It’s predictable. Boring. I vote for the Tunnel of Luvv. It’s romantic, you like romance just as much as I do~!”

Seifer Devilish, who was standing somewhere above him, landed next to him. The older of the two Spectri leaned against the sign and stared at the other, smirking. His arms were folded over bare pale skin mapped in water moccasins and other deep swamp imagery tattoos that crawled from shoulder to wrist.

When he moved, so did his tattoos, like the water in the dunk tank someone was currently drowning in. Seifer’s own long hair shimmered green and purple under the glow. Piercings dotted his pointed ears, nose, lips, and his neck, several glinting from the inverted cross above his navel. Purple leather pants glistened as he shifted his weight, black sneakers crusted with fresh blood.

He had been sent by the king of their kind to watch over the carnival, and Pixxy.

“Some o’ us value structural integrity over theatrics, t’heard Havok-shi?” he drawled the honorific those with lesser domains used for those with domains that outclassed theirs. In this case, Seifer didn’t even have his own domain, he lived in the Hotel domain of his boss, Second Prince Ashriel. “An’ ‘sides… you know good as me, people come expectin’ that ol’ Ferris wheel. You just love playin’ wit’ yo food, mwen cher”

Pixxy rolled onto his side, grinning mischievously as he looked at his companion. “Mmm, predictability is poison. Chaos tastes like cotton candy dipped in cyanide that just got fucked by a big big big bomb!!!”

Seifer smirked.“You da sugar-coated poison of Nyxhaven’s club scene, cher. Neva change, or I’m gon’ start thinkin’ something done snapped inside that skull o’ yours, Havok-shi.”

Pixxy stood, shaking his hair out like a dog. “Always. And tonight, I have a special guest arriving. He thinks he’s here for a rave, we sent out invites to everyone in Bar Alley, especially near the bar where Grandpere Still works!! You remember that one place?”

The older vampire chuckled. “Heh. Better hope dis ol human meat be likin’ sweets.”

A crash echoed across the carnival as the sound of flimsy decorative fence falling hit their ears. Pixxy perked up instantly, lips smeared into a glittering, fanged, smile. “Ah! That customer is here! Perfect timing. Watch and learn, Seif. This is how a proper host greets VIPs.”

Seifer only sighed at that. “Let us hope he won’t get overwhelmed by ‘luvv’, too soon cher. Gon’ be funny as hell watching dis kinda shit”

+++PxP+++

Mariko had promised she’d go with him. He knew it was a promise and not just the bartender yelling at him that he drank too much again and needed to leave the bar.

Eddie had the flyer she gave him, pink, glittery, folded in half like a secret she was only sharing with him.

PIXXY’S PLAYLAND: Where Luvv Lasts Forever.

He had pocketed it, and for reasons that made sense only when drunk, followed it.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

That thought should’ve mattered more, but the whiskey fogged his brain just enough to make rebellion feel like adventure.

The cracked midway stretched before him past the fence like a dream someone left out in the rain. Behind the club district of Nyxhaven he stumbled toward a huge neon sign. It matched the flyer he held in his pocket. PIXXY’S PLAYLAND, it read, but he could barely focus on it as he walked.

Eddie leaned against the fence, now the second he’s encountered. He stood there, watching a carousel turning on its own in slow circles.

The fence he was leaning on was half-collapsed, easy to squeeze through. His jacket tore on a jagged wire. “This place needs…more security, works for me” he muttered, stepping inside.

The ground clung to his shoes, sticky as old syrup. Something pink stretched and snapped with every step. “God, what is that? Frosting?” He scraped his boot against a curb, leaving a wet, glistening smear.

A “CANDYLAND OF CARNAGE MAIN ENTRANCE” archway pulsed with pink light that blinked in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Like the heart on the flyer!

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. “Man, they really went all out for this… underground rave thing. Marketing is absolutely crazy I swear”

This rave was going to be way cooler than Mariko led him to believe.

He’d overheard it at the bar after she left. He’d taken time to listen as the others whispered rumors about this after-hours carnival where the drinks were “liquid sin” and the dancers glowed like angels on fire.

Of course he’d come.

He’d always come, life was already against him, bills piling up, his girlfriend acting like he had to wait in an invisible line for her attention. He was really hoping that tonight would bring them both closer together.

Little did he know.

All he could smell was sugary rust as he walked farther inside. Something faintly warm brushed against his cheek, like the place itself exhaled on him.

“Hello? I’m here for the rave!” he called out, staggering past a cotton candy stand that was still spinning on its own, a pink cloud swirling endlessly. His fingers twitched to grab a piece, but when he did, it came away damp and sticky, more like flesh than fluff. Blood coated his fingers and the substance was like wet skin that he quickly shook off onto the ground.

The drunken man could have sworn he watched it crawl away like a gyrating maggot.

He laughed again, because that was easier than thinking.

Eddie took a small sip from his flask to ease his slightly rattled nerves regardless. “Nasty, but hey, the prop department is killin’ it.”

Somewhere in the bowels of the park, two voices giggled, musical, lilting, too perfectly timed to be coincidence.

He straightened, wiped his hands on his jeans. “Hey! Yo, I’m not, like, trespassing or anything, right? You guys open?”

No answer. Only a faint shimmer of pink light curling around the edges of the funhouse mirrors ahead, and the faraway hum of what might’ve been a Ferris wheel creaking back to life.

The drunk man grinned. “Guess that’s a yes.”

He reached the entrance to the second section of the midway. It was roped off. He ducked under the rope line like a rebellious teenager sneaking into a club. The air felt electric now, buzzing against his skin like bees cooking a hornet alive. Somewhere nearby, a soft, male voice purred, “Welcome VIP guest to The Carnival Of Carnage, here at Pixxy’s Playland”

He spun around, but there was only light and movement, nothing solid. There were no people, there was nothing at all. But he could hear the sound of music, it started, slow and thudding, like a heartbeat in the walls.

“Cool effects,” he mumbled, convinced he’d stumbled onto a secret show. “Guess I really did score VIP.”

The midway was impossibly long by now, he chalked it up to the alcohol and just took another drink. A sugar-scented fog rolled in, pink and silver, curling around his ankles like cotton candy smoke. He didn’t notice the ground under his feet shifting, or the faint drag marks in the dirt, the finger trails from other ‘VIPs.’

Behind him, two silhouettes watched, one silver-pink, one neon green and purple, smiling like demented ring masters about to start the show.

A sound drifted through the mist, a steady rhythm under faint carnival music. He followed it, past rusting rides and a carousel that was still turning.

“Guess someone left the generator on.”

The horses on the ride were wrong. The smell of gingerbread floated from them. They were too long in the limbs, painted smiles split too far, glass eyes seemed to be tracking him as he passed.

One of them sounded like it gave a quiet neigh.

He stumbled back, swallowing. “Okay. That’s… that’s creepy.”

Something giggled in the distance.

He turned.

Nothing.

He took a swig from his flask and grinned to no one. “Probably some weird art thing. Cakesy’s nightmare phase.”

Neon bled across puddles like spilled soda, fizzing in the cracks of the pavement. Eddie, though even he had half-forgotten his own name, kicked a plastic clown head out of his path and grinned at how it rolled away cackling. Maybe it was a motion sensor. Maybe the whiskey was stronger than he’d thought.

He’d sat at the bar while the whispers about this part of the Playland echoed in his head. Candyland of Carnage: Melt With Us Like Candy. Sounded metal enough. Not this… whatever this was. Still, he’d paid for the cab and he wasn’t about to let an empty carnival ruin his date night with Mariko.

Wherever she was.

A half-deflated purple balloon drifted past, bumping his leg. It squeaked, like a tiny scream. He stepped on it.

Pop.

Silence.

“Creepy-cute,” he muttered, voice loud in the fog. “Props department’s insane.”

The midway seemed to go on and on. He glanced at food stalls collapsing into themselves, stuffed animals hanging by their necks from nooses for prize hooks. The booth looked like it was reaching for him, toy colors melting together under the pulsing pink light. He passed a shooting gallery where the rifles twitched on their own and yet another carousel that turned just fast enough to make its mirrors blur the fruit scented horses into streaks of flesh-colored light. Each rotation squealed like a laugh forced through metal teeth.

A gust of cotton candy-scented air brushed his cheek. “Welcome… welcome…” it whispered, maybe the wind, maybe something else.

He rubbed his arms. “Okay. Animatronics. Soundtrack. Chill.”

He stumbled toward a row of arcade machines. The screens blinked awake as he approached, showing a reflection that wasn’t quite his, his eyes and smile both were too wide. He waved; the reflection didn’t.

Then all the screens burst into static that crackled with faint giggling.

Eddie barked a laugh. “You guys hiring? I could do this.” The laughter on the screens rose an octave, imitating him, then fizzled out.

He pushed on. The ground grew tacky yet again under his sneakers, like walking on spilled soda. Every step pulled at his feet a little harder. He bent down, squinting, was that sugar? It glittered under the light, pink and crystalline, but when he touched it, it clung like spiderweb on the hand in a dusty attic corner. “Ew. Gross, this place has some weird stuff in it...”

Far off, even deeper in this area of the park, came the ding-ding-ding of a prize bell.

He followed, because of course he did.

This next game booth stood perfect amid the decay: bright lights, fresh paint, bottles stacked in a pyramid. A giant white bear with one missing eye sat behind the counter. A sign read Knock Me Down and Win Your Heart’s Desire. The wording made him snort. He already had Mariko after all.

The drunken man grabbed one of the balls. It was warm. Pulse-warm and it had the weight of a jaw breaker. “Huh…Cool” he said, winding up. He threw. The ball hit the bottles, one bottle let out a tiny shriek before tipping over. The others followed in a slow cascade, wailing in chorus.

Eddie staggered back. “Nope. Nope, that’s new.” He was dazed, he took another swig of his drink, trying to clear his head.

The bear clapped its plush paws together, a dry papery sound, and its mouth creaked open just enough to whisper: “Winner…”

A prize slid forward on a conveyor belt: a heart-shaped box wrapped in red foil. The tag said Eat Me.

He laughed nervously. “Okay, that’s commitment.” He tore it open expecting chocolate, but inside was a lump of something pink and glistening. It twitched. He dropped it. The box snapped shut on its own and rolled away into the dark.

The midway lights dimmed. Somewhere, a calliope began to play, a slow, uneven tune that tried to be cheerful and failed. Eddie rubbed his eyes. “It’s just a show,” he told himself. “Interactive, like those haunted mazes.”

The tune changed tempo, chasing him as he walked. Each stall he passed seemed to wake up, popcorn machines coughing kernels that burst into white moths with gumdrop eyes. Ring-toss bottles made of chocolate caramel clinked together; a photo booth flashing images of people made of salt water taffy smiling with grins made of jagged coconut brittle. One photo fluttered out and stuck to his shoe; when he peeled it off, the picture was of him, but made of melting taffy, taken from behind.

Eddie looked around fast yet again.

And yet again, nothing.

He laughed, because that’s what you do when you’re scared and drunk and alone. “Alright, you got me! Ten outta ten ambience!”

Somewhere overhead, speakers crackled to life. A voice, candy cane-sweet and genderless, cooed like love birds settling into their nest, “Step right up, sugar-snack. Step right up for luvv eternal! Step right up, before it melts away!” Then silence.

Eddie shivered. “Okay. That’s…cute marketing.”

He veered toward the Ferris wheel. The metal skeleton loomed against the fog, each car swaying gently as if something heavy moved inside. He approached one and peered in. A shape sat there, unmoving. He raised his phone flashlight. The beam caught a mannequin dressed in formal wear, its plastic hand clutching a champagne flute. Across from it, another figure, also still. Couples, every car filled with them, frozen mid-toast. Their smiles were too wide, teeth carved from porcelain.

When he stepped back, the Ferris wheel groaned, starting to turn, slow and grinding. The mannequins’ heads turned with it, tracking him. He bolted.

He didn’t stop running until the calliope music was behind him. His lungs burned. The midway forked ahead: Games to the left, Romance Row to the right. A big pink arrow blinked toward Romance Row. The lights there were still working, steady and inviting. He swallowed hard and went that way, because empty darkness felt worse.

The booths here were themed, Heart-Shaped Hotdogs, The Kissing Booth, Soul Mate Fortunes. He paused at the fortune booth. Inside, a mechanical gypsy slumped behind the glass. Her eyes lit up as he approached.

“Press your palm to the glass,” she crooned. Her voice warbled like an old cassette. “Let Madame Melty’s Oracle see your future.”

He hesitated, the name vaguely registering as familar. “Madame who?”

“Melty,” the machine repeated, stretching the word. “Luuuuuuvv is forever.”

“Weird way...to say love…my mother used to say Madame Melty would…ugh…can’t recall now…” He pressed his hand anyway. The glass was warm, too warm. Something shifted beneath it, like fingers pressing back. He yanked away. The fortune card spat out with a ding! It read: You’ll find your match soon. Just close your eyes, and melt. The ink bled as he read it, letters running down the paper like tears.

He dropped it, backing away. The gypsy’s head followed him, hair dripping candy wax.

“Cool trick,” he muttered shakily.

The fog swirled, sweet as rotten teeth. He could taste it. His tongue felt coated in syrup. He staggered toward a flickering sign ahead, REST AREA. Perfect. He needed a bench, a cigarette, he downed another swig of his whiskey as he dragged his feet over..

The rest area was a cluster of picnic tables under a striped awning. Everything looked normal until he noticed the benches pulsing faintly, wood flexing like ribs under skin. He sat anyway; it sighed beneath him. He jumped up fast. The sigh turned into laughter, low, breathy, cruel.

Eddie held up his hands. “Okay, okay. You win. Haunted park, great prank, where’s the exit?”

No answer.

All he heard was the distant creak of the Ferris wheel turning somewhere behind the fog, and the slow thud of music that might’ve been his own heartbeat amplified.

He tried retracing his steps, but the midway had shifted. Paths curved differently. Booths had moved. The “Games” sign now pointed nowhere, hanging from a single wire that sparked pink lightning. The ground dipped under him, soft as a spongecake. When he lifted his foot, it left a print that oozed dark syrup.

He gagged. “This place is so fucking nasty...”

A stuffed rabbit dangled from a string above him, spinning slowly. Its button eyes followed his every movement. Just as the carousel horses had done, it unnerved him but his mind was too clouded to hold the feeling for long.

As he passed, it whispered in a child’s voice, “Don’t look back.”

He looked back anyway. The path behind him had closed, just mist and faint lights like eyes blinking shut.

Turning forward again, Eddie began to cough, he quickly drank from his flask. The rolling fog parted enough to reveal something new, a bridge arched over a shallow canal of pink liquid that steamed faintly. The bridge’s railings were shaped like intertwining arms. Above it, a marquee blinked,

TUNNEL OF LUVV, WHERE LUVV LASTS FOREVER

Eddie laughed shakily. “It sure does…” The booze in his system flowed as he took another drink from his flask. “Bet they’ve got dancers in there. Maybe chocolate fountains. Mariko’s probably having a fun time…”

He stepped onto the bridge. It trembled under him, flowing cheerfully to the point of hysteria. The water below burbled like laughter.

Halfway across, he stopped and looked back one more time. The midway was gone. Only pink fog. He felt the faintest tug forward, like gravity tilted toward the tunnel’s mouth.

“Guess VIPs don’t get to chicken out,” he murmured, trying to sound brave.

The sign above the entrance flared once more, letters dripping neon syrup that hissed as it hit the canal. The boat inside rocked invitingly. Music swelled, a cake crusted heartbeat turned into carnival drums.

Eddie squared his shoulders, wiped his palms on his jeans, and whispered, “Alright, Madame Melty, let’s see what you got.”

The boats bobbed in the pink canal. The water smelled of lemon frosting soaked copper pennies.“Fucking disgusting” but he climbed in anyway. “Whatever, front row for the king, baby.”

The boat jolted forward on its own. He blinked. “Automation? Fancy.”

The tunnel swallowed him.

Pink lights pulsed like veins under the surface, the air hot and thick with sweetness.

Animatronic couples intertwined in impossible shapes, melting into each other with uncanny elasticity. But as the human gawked, the water rippled unnaturally, and faint giggles echoed from the walls, tiny, high-pitched, mocking.

He laughed, but it came out shaky. “This ride’s kinky as hell.”

Then, more giggles. Real ones. Two voices.

“Ohhh, he’s adorable,” one sang, bright and teasing.

“Look at him trying to act brave, like a disemboweled dog chasing its own tail,” another murmured, voice low and rough.

The drunk man twisted around. On the dock behind him stood two glowing figures, one pink and silver, smile too wide for his face. The other was lean, shirtless, purple and green haired, tattooed and slow-grinning.

The human’s stomach turned as the walls themselves began to twitch. Human faces made of ice cream of all flavours blinked, he shuddered.

“Welcome to the Tunnel of Luvv,” Pixxy purred, licking pinkish cupcake frosting made from human biproduct off his thumb. “Hold on tight, sugar, it’s your special night.”

The man blinked. “You guys… uh, part of the show?”

Pixxy’s grin widened. “Sweetheart, you’re the show”

The drunken man laughed nervously, gripping the chocolate ice cream cone boat rail.

An animatronic couple was on the wall, one very familiar to him. They were locked in an embrace, looks of terror on their faces as they melted off turned their half eaten faces to scream at him. “Eddie boo…” came the woman’s voice, “Ruuuuuuun!!!” They both choked out in unison, until their throats were ripped out, hot chocolate mixed with the tang of fresh blood spewing.

Something brushed his arm, soft and warm. A woman’s face pressed through the wall, syrup-slick and shimmering like eternally melting neapolitan ice cream. Her soft, melodic voice echoed. “Come…Come to me…” The man was scrambling, trying to claw his way out of the boat. The seat belt only grew tighter, crushing him into his seat.

She shone softly in the distorted light, an impossibly beautiful woman… whose multi-colored ice cream flesh shimmered, her hair like warm caramel.

Her eyes glowed a bubblegum pink and her smile was filled with bloody hot chocolate splattered candy corn fangs.

“By the way, your friend most certainly passed through here, her boyfriend too!” Pixxy cooed in a wispy giggle, “But! Mariko’s already full of luvv, so now It means Madame Melty’s awake enough to greet you!!”

Seifer gave a slow whistle. “Been a minute since she got some fresh meat.”

The melting ice cream of her face laughed as her upper body came out of the wall and wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders.

Her voice flowed thick as caramel coated death. “Come here, luvver~.”

Hands of ice cream flesh, slid out from the wall, dripping every flavor. Madame Melty hummed ‘It’s A Tiny World In The End”

He screamed, the song seeping into his brain and digging deep like porcupine quills into unsuspecting skin.

The tunnel erupted with laughter then, hundreds of voices, shrill and hysterical, gurgling like melted chocolate.

Pixxy clapped his hands. “Oh, they’re so happy to have you! Eat up my babies!”

“Help! Get off me!! Get them off me!!!” Eddie screamed, thrashing as the hands began to rip him apart.

Madame Melty’s grin widened until her face split into a dozen smiling fanged mouths. “Luvv lasts forever,” she whispered against the side of what was left of his face, gummy maggots wiggling into his ear canal. Slowly he was pulled into the wall, the ice cream texture sucking his torn body in like wet cement.

Once his feet vanished inside it, there was a wet pop, then silence. His agonized screams melted into giggles that echoed around the tunnel, joining the others.

The younger of the two leaned on the railing, licking sugar off his lips. “Mmm. Tangy.”

The green and purple haired vampire gagged a bit. “Ou degoutan, you know damn well what we use for ‘sugar’.”

Pixxy winked. “And you love hanging out with me for it.”

Eddie’s butterscotch ice cream face in the wall blinked, his eyes wide, mouth frozen mid-scream, the surface rippling around him like cooling candy.

Pixxy blew a kiss. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

The lights dimmed. The tunnel hummed. Laughter faded to whispers.

“Same time next Frightnight, hein?” Seifer asked, stretching like a bored cat, his fangs flashing like sharpened spiked pearls.

Pixxy’s grin gleamed in the dark. “Maybe next sinday, we can get personal with our next VIPs, it’ll be fun”

Seifer tapped a green painted claw to his chin in thought “You sure it gon’ be fun?”

“Fine, we’ll do the fucking Ferris Wheel this time ok?” Pixxy sighed as he spoke.

“Fuck yeah, now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Seifer replied, he and Pixxy then turned and vanished into the neon darkness.

+++PxP+++

The bar was the only place Eddie felt safe, even if it smelled like every regret he ever had. Or maybe that was the bedstories his mom used to tell him about not eating too many sweets. Everyone knows if you eat too many sweets on a friday night, she would always say, Madame Melty will appear and drag you into the Deep Freezer of Hell.

He wondered why it was always specifically only on a friday night.

Weird.

The music in the bar shook the floor hard enough to make Eddie’s drink dance in his hand, a flat whiskey soda, same as always, because he was just classy like that.

Mariko was perched at the bar like she owned the place, dress so pink it looked edible. Her hair down her shoulders like a blue and pink ice cream swirl. Every time she laughed, the bartender looked like he was trying to propose. Eddie tried not to notice. Tried harder not to care.

“Hey,” he said, sliding up beside her, trying to look casual and landing somewhere between cool guy at funeral and expired can of Axe body spray. “You look… sweet tonight.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Sweet, Eddie boo?”

“Like… dessert-sweet,” he said, immediately regretting it. “You know, in a hot way.”

Mariko laughed, she was usually laughing at him, which was good. Probably. “You’re an idiot,” she said, which, from her, counted as affection.

He grinned, showing teeth he hadn’t brushed nearly enough for this kind of confidence. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot, right?”

That earned him a smirk and a sip of her drink. “Don’t push it.”

He was about to, though. He always did.

“So uh,” he leaned closer, “what’re you doing after this? You wanna go to that noodle cart on End street? My treat. They do that thing with the egg-”

“Nah. Sorry Eddie boo” She cut him off gently, rummaging in her purse, he could swear he heard something growling inside it as she stabbed it with a lipstick tube. He shook his head, casting it from his mind and took another drink. “I’ve got plans.”

He tried not to wilt. “Oh. Cool. With who?”

She ignored the question and pulled out a glittery pink flier, glossy enough to blind him under the club lights.

On the front: a grinning cartoon heart with a knife through it and bold pink letters that screamed:

PIXXY’S PLAYLAND

RAVE UNTIL REALITY MELTS! ONE NIGHT ONLY!

‘LUVV LASTS FOREVER!’

He squinted. “What the hell is a Pixxy?”

“An experience Eddie boo” she said, waving it like it was a golden ticket. “Everyone’s talking about it. It’s like a rave-slash-carnival-slash-art thing. Invitation-only.”

“And you’re… invited?”

“Of course,” she said, like that was the dumbest question in the world. “But…”

She leaned in close enough for him to smell the blueberry lip gloss that shimmered on her lips like melting ice cream. “I can like, bring someone.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, already sweating. “Like, someone… like me?”

She gave him a look he couldn’t read, equal parts flirty and please shut up.

“Maybe,” she said, tapping the flier against his chest. “You’ve got, like, real potential.”

That was all he needed anyway.

Potential.

He could work with potential.

She handed him the flyer without really looking at him. Her blue nail polish glinted under the strobe lights, the color of blue bubblegum and lies.

“Be there, midnight. Behind the club district,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Yeah? You promise?” he asked, too eager.

Mariko just smiled. The kind of smile that could mean yes, or please stop talking before I change my mind.

Then she turned back to the bartender. “Another drink, please. He’s paying.”

+++PxP+++

He wasn’t sure when she left.One minute she was at the bar, the next she was gone, a blue and pink haired ghost in a sea of musical mistakes yet made.

The bartender slid over Eddie’s tab, which was so long it looked like a ransom note.

“She said you’d cover hers too,” he said. “You lucky or just stupid?”

Eddie grinned weakly. “Why not both?”

He stared down at the flyer again. It sparkled like it was mocking him.The back had a map drawn in what looked like lipstick. A dotted line led from the club district straight into what might have been a crime scene.

“Rave until reality melts,” he read aloud. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing since rent went up.”

He finished his drink, ignored the bartender’s pitying look, and stumbled out into the night.

+++PxP+++

Nyxhaven’s club district bled neon. The pavement was slightly wet, the air smelled, off, and the people walking past him looked like spilled candy trying to form tax deductions.

He followed the map down an alley that got progressively less reputable the longer it went.

“Mariko probably just went ahead,” he muttered, stepping over a broken bottle. “She’s like that. Spontaneous. Mysterious. Doesn’t answer texts unless I send her at least fifty times to see her reply, ‘Hi or whatever’. Totally normal.”

A rat hissed at him from a trash can. He hissed back. The rat won, he quickly stumbled along, pulling a flask from his pocket. He drank deeply before he kept walking toward where the flyer led.

After a few turns and one very suspicious puddle, he reached a rusted chain-link fence. A cracked sign leaned nearby.

CANDYLAND OF CARNAGE ENTRANCE ONE: CLOSED FOR REPAIRS.

Someone had scrawled over it in pink paint: LUVV LASTS 4EVER!

He checked the flier. The map ended here.

He checked his phone. No signal. No new messages.

He checked his dignity. Still missing. He kicked the fence lightly. It fell over.

“Free entry,” he said, because admitting this was a bad idea would ruin the moment.

The carnival beyond was waiting, and he just knew Mariko would be there waiting too.

Eddie adjusted his jacket, combed his hair with his fingers, and whispered to himself, “You got this. She’s gonna see you and realize you’re the one. The guy. The… guy she already told she’d meet here. Totally fine. Totally normal date night.”

He pulled the flyer out one last time. It shimmered like it was alive, the cartoon heart winking at him.

“So I’m about to ‘Rave until reality melts,’ huh?” he read again. “Let’s melt, baby.”

By Nekrosis Hellgarden. From The Vampire Scriptures Universe:

Neon flickered across the cracked “PIXXY’S PLAYLAND” sign, painting a vampire's grin in pink shimmers that glittered in his bright, pupil free pink eyes.

They shone in the flicker, blood diamonds bleeding out their despair.

The grinning vampire was sprawled across the letters like a cat in the glow, a pink and silver candy cane colored knife twirling lazily between his fingers. His silver hair shimmered at the ends where it bled into pink ombré, framing pupil-less, glimmering dark pink eyes. A black crop top laced at the sides with pink and silver ribbons showed flashes of lean pale muscle and the silver chain around his throat, a dangling pink cat-head charm bouncing with each laugh.

He was Pixxy Havok, and currently the naturally sugar high creature was standing on the sign like he wanted to use it like a swing set. He was was one part of a group of triplet vampire brothers who ran the top clubs of Nyxhaven’s nightlife. And he absolutely loved it when his turn to host his carnival came up~!

“Honestly, Seif,” Pixxy purred, “why insist the Ferris wheel opens first? It’s predictable. Boring. I vote for the Tunnel of Luvv. It’s romantic, you like romance just as much as I do~!”

Seifer Devilish, who was standing somewhere above him, landed next to him. The older of the two Spectri leaned against the sign and stared at the other, smirking. His arms were folded over bare pale skin mapped in water moccasins and other deep swamp imagery tattoos that crawled from shoulder to wrist.

When he moved, so did his tattoos, like the water in the dunk tank someone was currently drowning in. Seifer’s own long hair shimmered green and purple under the glow. Piercings dotted his pointed ears, nose, lips, and his neck, several glinting from the inverted cross above his navel. Purple leather pants glistened as he shifted his weight, black sneakers crusted with fresh blood.

He had been sent by the king of their kind to watch over the carnival, and Pixxy.

“Some o’ us value structural integrity over theatrics, t’heard Havok-shi?” he drawled the honorific those with lesser domains used for those with domains that outclassed theirs. In this case, Seifer didn’t even have his own domain, he lived in the Hotel domain of his boss, Second Prince Ashriel. “An’ ‘sides… you know good as me, people come expectin’ that ol’ Ferris wheel. You just love playin’ wit’ yo food, mwen cher”

Pixxy rolled onto his side, grinning mischievously as he looked at his companion. “Mmm, predictability is poison. Chaos tastes like cotton candy dipped in cyanide that just got fucked by a big big big bomb!!!”

Seifer smirked.“You da sugar-coated poison of Nyxhaven’s club scene, cher. Neva change, or I’m gon’ start thinkin’ something done snapped inside that skull o’ yours, Havok-shi.”

Pixxy stood, shaking his hair out like a dog. “Always. And tonight, I have a special guest arriving. He thinks he’s here for a rave, we sent out invites to everyone in Bar Alley, especially near the bar where Grandpere Still works!! You remember that one place?”

The older vampire chuckled. “Heh. Better hope dis ol human meat be likin’ sweets.”

A crash echoed across the carnival as the sound of flimsy decorative fence falling hit their ears. Pixxy perked up instantly, lips smeared into a glittering, fanged, smile. “Ah! That customer is here! Perfect timing. Watch and learn, Seif. This is how a proper host greets VIPs.”

Seifer only sighed at that. “Let us hope he won’t get overwhelmed by ‘luvv’, too soon cher. Gon’ be funny as hell watching dis kinda shit”

+++PxP+++

Mariko had promised she’d go with him. He knew it was a promise and not just the bartender yelling at him that he drank too much again and needed to leave the bar.

Eddie had the flyer she gave him, pink, glittery, folded in half like a secret she was only sharing with him.

PIXXY’S PLAYLAND: Where Luvv Lasts Forever.

He had pocketed it, and for reasons that made sense only when drunk, followed it.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

That thought should’ve mattered more, but the whiskey fogged his brain just enough to make rebellion feel like adventure.

The cracked midway stretched before him past the fence like a dream someone left out in the rain. Behind the club district of Nyxhaven he stumbled toward a huge neon sign. It matched the flyer he held in his pocket. PIXXY’S PLAYLAND, it read, but he could barely focus on it as he walked.

Eddie leaned against the fence, now the second he’s encountered. He stood there, watching a carousel turning on its own in slow circles.

The fence he was leaning on was half-collapsed, easy to squeeze through. His jacket tore on a jagged wire. “This place needs…more security, works for me” he muttered, stepping inside.

The ground clung to his shoes, sticky as old syrup. Something pink stretched and snapped with every step. “God, what is that? Frosting?” He scraped his boot against a curb, leaving a wet, glistening smear.

A “CANDYLAND OF CARNAGE MAIN ENTRANCE” archway pulsed with pink light that blinked in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Like the heart on the flyer!

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. “Man, they really went all out for this… underground rave thing. Marketing is absolutely crazy I swear”

This rave was going to be way cooler than Mariko led him to believe.

He’d overheard it at the bar after she left. He’d taken time to listen as the others whispered rumors about this after-hours carnival where the drinks were “liquid sin” and the dancers glowed like angels on fire.

Of course he’d come.

He’d always come, life was already against him, bills piling up, his girlfriend acting like he had to wait in an invisible line for her attention. He was really hoping that tonight would bring them both closer together.

Little did he know.

All he could smell was sugary rust as he walked farther inside. Something faintly warm brushed against his cheek, like the place itself exhaled on him.

“Hello? I’m here for the rave!” he called out, staggering past a cotton candy stand that was still spinning on its own, a pink cloud swirling endlessly. His fingers twitched to grab a piece, but when he did, it came away damp and sticky, more like flesh than fluff. Blood coated his fingers and the substance was like wet skin that he quickly shook off onto the ground.

The drunken man could have sworn he watched it crawl away like a gyrating maggot.

He laughed again, because that was easier than thinking.

Eddie took a small sip from his flask to ease his slightly rattled nerves regardless. “Nasty, but hey, the prop department is killin’ it.”

Somewhere in the bowels of the park, two voices giggled, musical, lilting, too perfectly timed to be coincidence.

He straightened, wiped his hands on his jeans. “Hey! Yo, I’m not, like, trespassing or anything, right? You guys open?”

No answer. Only a faint shimmer of pink light curling around the edges of the funhouse mirrors ahead, and the faraway hum of what might’ve been a Ferris wheel creaking back to life.

The drunk man grinned. “Guess that’s a yes.”

He reached the entrance to the second section of the midway. It was roped off. He ducked under the rope line like a rebellious teenager sneaking into a club. The air felt electric now, buzzing against his skin like bees cooking a hornet alive. Somewhere nearby, a soft, male voice purred, “Welcome VIP guest to The Carnival Of Carnage, here at Pixxy’s Playland”

He spun around, but there was only light and movement, nothing solid. There were no people, there was nothing at all. But he could hear the sound of music, it started, slow and thudding, like a heartbeat in the walls.

“Cool effects,” he mumbled, convinced he’d stumbled onto a secret show. “Guess I really did score VIP.”

The midway was impossibly long by now, he chalked it up to the alcohol and just took another drink. A sugar-scented fog rolled in, pink and silver, curling around his ankles like cotton candy smoke. He didn’t notice the ground under his feet shifting, or the faint drag marks in the dirt, the finger trails from other ‘VIPs.’

Behind him, two silhouettes watched, one silver-pink, one neon green and purple, smiling like demented ring masters about to start the show.

A sound drifted through the mist, a steady rhythm under faint carnival music. He followed it, past rusting rides and a carousel that was still turning.

“Guess someone left the generator on.”

The horses on the ride were wrong. The smell of gingerbread floated from them. They were too long in the limbs, painted smiles split too far, glass eyes seemed to be tracking him as he passed.

One of them sounded like it gave a quiet neigh.

He stumbled back, swallowing. “Okay. That’s… that’s creepy.”

Something giggled in the distance.

He turned.

Nothing.

He took a swig from his flask and grinned to no one. “Probably some weird art thing. Cakesy’s nightmare phase.”

Neon bled across puddles like spilled soda, fizzing in the cracks of the pavement. Eddie, though even he had half-forgotten his own name, kicked a plastic clown head out of his path and grinned at how it rolled away cackling. Maybe it was a motion sensor. Maybe the whiskey was stronger than he’d thought.

He’d sat at the bar while the whispers about this part of the Playland echoed in his head. Candyland of Carnage: Melt With Us Like Candy. Sounded metal enough. Not this… whatever this was. Still, he’d paid for the cab and he wasn’t about to let an empty carnival ruin his date night with Mariko.

Wherever she was.

A half-deflated purple balloon drifted past, bumping his leg. It squeaked, like a tiny scream. He stepped on it.

Pop.

Silence.

“Creepy-cute,” he muttered, voice loud in the fog. “Props department’s insane.”

The midway seemed to go on and on. He glanced at food stalls collapsing into themselves, stuffed animals hanging by their necks from nooses for prize hooks. The booth looked like it was reaching for him, toy colors melting together under the pulsing pink light. He passed a shooting gallery where the rifles twitched on their own and yet another carousel that turned just fast enough to make its mirrors blur the fruit scented horses into streaks of flesh-colored light. Each rotation squealed like a laugh forced through metal teeth.

A gust of cotton candy-scented air brushed his cheek. “Welcome… welcome…” it whispered, maybe the wind, maybe something else.

He rubbed his arms. “Okay. Animatronics. Soundtrack. Chill.”

He stumbled toward a row of arcade machines. The screens blinked awake as he approached, showing a reflection that wasn’t quite his, his eyes and smile both were too wide. He waved; the reflection didn’t.

Then all the screens burst into static that crackled with faint giggling.

Eddie barked a laugh. “You guys hiring? I could do this.” The laughter on the screens rose an octave, imitating him, then fizzled out.

He pushed on. The ground grew tacky yet again under his sneakers, like walking on spilled soda. Every step pulled at his feet a little harder. He bent down, squinting, was that sugar? It glittered under the light, pink and crystalline, but when he touched it, it clung like spiderweb on the hand in a dusty attic corner. “Ew. Gross, this place has some weird stuff in it...”

Far off, even deeper in this area of the park, came the ding-ding-ding of a prize bell.

He followed, because of course he did.

This next game booth stood perfect amid the decay: bright lights, fresh paint, bottles stacked in a pyramid. A giant white bear with one missing eye sat behind the counter. A sign read Knock Me Down and Win Your Heart’s Desire. The wording made him snort. He already had Mariko after all.

The drunken man grabbed one of the balls. It was warm. Pulse-warm and it had the weight of a jaw breaker. “Huh…Cool” he said, winding up. He threw. The ball hit the bottles, one bottle let out a tiny shriek before tipping over. The others followed in a slow cascade, wailing in chorus.

Eddie staggered back. “Nope. Nope, that’s new.” He was dazed, he took another swig of his drink, trying to clear his head.

The bear clapped its plush paws together, a dry papery sound, and its mouth creaked open just enough to whisper: “Winner…”

A prize slid forward on a conveyor belt: a heart-shaped box wrapped in red foil. The tag said Eat Me.

He laughed nervously. “Okay, that’s commitment.” He tore it open expecting chocolate, but inside was a lump of something pink and glistening. It twitched. He dropped it. The box snapped shut on its own and rolled away into the dark.

The midway lights dimmed. Somewhere, a calliope began to play, a slow, uneven tune that tried to be cheerful and failed. Eddie rubbed his eyes. “It’s just a show,” he told himself. “Interactive, like those haunted mazes.”

The tune changed tempo, chasing him as he walked. Each stall he passed seemed to wake up, popcorn machines coughing kernels that burst into white moths with gumdrop eyes. Ring-toss bottles made of chocolate caramel clinked together; a photo booth flashing images of people made of salt water taffy smiling with grins made of jagged coconut brittle. One photo fluttered out and stuck to his shoe; when he peeled it off, the picture was of him, but made of melting taffy, taken from behind.

Eddie looked around fast yet again.

And yet again, nothing.

He laughed, because that’s what you do when you’re scared and drunk and alone. “Alright, you got me! Ten outta ten ambience!”

Somewhere overhead, speakers crackled to life. A voice, candy cane-sweet and genderless, cooed like love birds settling into their nest, “Step right up, sugar-snack. Step right up for luvv eternal! Step right up, before it melts away!” Then silence.

Eddie shivered. “Okay. That’s…cute marketing.”

He veered toward the Ferris wheel. The metal skeleton loomed against the fog, each car swaying gently as if something heavy moved inside. He approached one and peered in. A shape sat there, unmoving. He raised his phone flashlight. The beam caught a mannequin dressed in formal wear, its plastic hand clutching a champagne flute. Across from it, another figure, also still. Couples, every car filled with them, frozen mid-toast. Their smiles were too wide, teeth carved from porcelain.

When he stepped back, the Ferris wheel groaned, starting to turn, slow and grinding. The mannequins’ heads turned with it, tracking him. He bolted.

He didn’t stop running until the calliope music was behind him. His lungs burned. The midway forked ahead: Games to the left, Romance Row to the right. A big pink arrow blinked toward Romance Row. The lights there were still working, steady and inviting. He swallowed hard and went that way, because empty darkness felt worse.

The booths here were themed, Heart-Shaped Hotdogs, The Kissing Booth, Soul Mate Fortunes. He paused at the fortune booth. Inside, a mechanical gypsy slumped behind the glass. Her eyes lit up as he approached.

“Press your palm to the glass,” she crooned. Her voice warbled like an old cassette. “Let Madame Melty’s Oracle see your future.”

He hesitated, the name vaguely registering as familar. “Madame who?”

“Melty,” the machine repeated, stretching the word. “Luuuuuuvv is forever.”

“Weird way...to say love…my mother used to say Madame Melty would…ugh…can’t recall now…” He pressed his hand anyway. The glass was warm, too warm. Something shifted beneath it, like fingers pressing back. He yanked away. The fortune card spat out with a ding! It read: You’ll find your match soon. Just close your eyes, and melt. The ink bled as he read it, letters running down the paper like tears.

He dropped it, backing away. The gypsy’s head followed him, hair dripping candy wax.

“Cool trick,” he muttered shakily.

The fog swirled, sweet as rotten teeth. He could taste it. His tongue felt coated in syrup. He staggered toward a flickering sign ahead, REST AREA. Perfect. He needed a bench, a cigarette, he downed another swig of his whiskey as he dragged his feet over..

The rest area was a cluster of picnic tables under a striped awning. Everything looked normal until he noticed the benches pulsing faintly, wood flexing like ribs under skin. He sat anyway; it sighed beneath him. He jumped up fast. The sigh turned into laughter, low, breathy, cruel.

Eddie held up his hands. “Okay, okay. You win. Haunted park, great prank, where’s the exit?”

No answer.

All he heard was the distant creak of the Ferris wheel turning somewhere behind the fog, and the slow thud of music that might’ve been his own heartbeat amplified.

He tried retracing his steps, but the midway had shifted. Paths curved differently. Booths had moved. The “Games” sign now pointed nowhere, hanging from a single wire that sparked pink lightning. The ground dipped under him, soft as a spongecake. When he lifted his foot, it left a print that oozed dark syrup.

He gagged. “This place is so fucking nasty...”

A stuffed rabbit dangled from a string above him, spinning slowly. Its button eyes followed his every movement. Just as the carousel horses had done, it unnerved him but his mind was too clouded to hold the feeling for long.

As he passed, it whispered in a child’s voice, “Don’t look back.”

He looked back anyway. The path behind him had closed, just mist and faint lights like eyes blinking shut.

Turning forward again, Eddie began to cough, he quickly drank from his flask. The rolling fog parted enough to reveal something new, a bridge arched over a shallow canal of pink liquid that steamed faintly. The bridge’s railings were shaped like intertwining arms. Above it, a marquee blinked,

TUNNEL OF LUVV, WHERE LUVV LASTS FOREVER

Eddie laughed shakily. “It sure does…” The booze in his system flowed as he took another drink from his flask. “Bet they’ve got dancers in there. Maybe chocolate fountains. Mariko’s probably having a fun time…”

He stepped onto the bridge. It trembled under him, flowing cheerfully to the point of hysteria. The water below burbled like laughter.

Halfway across, he stopped and looked back one more time. The midway was gone. Only pink fog. He felt the faintest tug forward, like gravity tilted toward the tunnel’s mouth.

“Guess VIPs don’t get to chicken out,” he murmured, trying to sound brave.

The sign above the entrance flared once more, letters dripping neon syrup that hissed as it hit the canal. The boat inside rocked invitingly. Music swelled, a cake crusted heartbeat turned into carnival drums.

Eddie squared his shoulders, wiped his palms on his jeans, and whispered, “Alright, Madame Melty, let’s see what you got.”

The boats bobbed in the pink canal. The water smelled of lemon frosting soaked copper pennies.“Fucking disgusting” but he climbed in anyway. “Whatever, front row for the king, baby.”

The boat jolted forward on its own. He blinked. “Automation? Fancy.”

The tunnel swallowed him.

Pink lights pulsed like veins under the surface, the air hot and thick with sweetness.

Animatronic couples intertwined in impossible shapes, melting into each other with uncanny elasticity. But as the human gawked, the water rippled unnaturally, and faint giggles echoed from the walls, tiny, high-pitched, mocking.

He laughed, but it came out shaky. “This ride’s kinky as hell.”

Then, more giggles. Real ones. Two voices.

“Ohhh, he’s adorable,” one sang, bright and teasing.

“Look at him trying to act brave, like a disemboweled dog chasing its own tail,” another murmured, voice low and rough.

The drunk man twisted around. On the dock behind him stood two glowing figures, one pink and silver, smile too wide for his face. The other was lean, shirtless, purple and green haired, tattooed and slow-grinning.

The human’s stomach turned as the walls themselves began to twitch. Human faces made of ice cream of all flavours blinked, he shuddered.

“Welcome to the Tunnel of Luvv,” Pixxy purred, licking pinkish cupcake frosting made from human biproduct off his thumb. “Hold on tight, sugar, it’s your special night.”

The man blinked. “You guys… uh, part of the show?”

Pixxy’s grin widened. “Sweetheart, you’re the show”

The drunken man laughed nervously, gripping the chocolate ice cream cone boat rail.

An animatronic couple was on the wall, one very familiar to him. They were locked in an embrace, looks of terror on their faces as they melted off turned their half eaten faces to scream at him. “Eddie boo…” came the woman’s voice, “Ruuuuuuun!!!” They both choked out in unison, until their throats were ripped out, hot chocolate mixed with the tang of fresh blood spewing.

Something brushed his arm, soft and warm. A woman’s face pressed through the wall, syrup-slick and shimmering like eternally melting neapolitan ice cream. Her soft, melodic voice echoed. “Come…Come to me…” The man was scrambling, trying to claw his way out of the boat. The seat belt only grew tighter, crushing him into his seat.

She shone softly in the distorted light, an impossibly beautiful woman… whose multi-colored ice cream flesh shimmered, her hair like warm caramel.

Her eyes glowed a bubblegum pink and her smile was filled with bloody hot chocolate splattered candy corn fangs.

“By the way, your friend most certainly passed through here, her boyfriend too!” Pixxy cooed in a wispy giggle, “But! Mariko’s already full of luvv, so now It means Madame Melty’s awake enough to greet you!!”

Seifer gave a slow whistle. “Been a minute since she got some fresh meat.”

The melting ice cream of her face laughed as her upper body came out of the wall and wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders.

Her voice flowed thick as caramel coated death. “Come here, luvver~.”

Hands of ice cream flesh, slid out from the wall, dripping every flavor. Madame Melty hummed ‘It’s A Tiny World In The End”

He screamed, the song seeping into his brain and digging deep like porcupine quills into unsuspecting skin.

The tunnel erupted with laughter then, hundreds of voices, shrill and hysterical, gurgling like melted chocolate.

Pixxy clapped his hands. “Oh, they’re so happy to have you! Eat up my babies!”

“Help! Get off me!! Get them off me!!!” Eddie screamed, thrashing as the hands began to rip him apart.

Madame Melty’s grin widened until her face split into a dozen smiling fanged mouths. “Luvv lasts forever,” she whispered against the side of what was left of his face, gummy maggots wiggling into his ear canal. Slowly he was pulled into the wall, the ice cream texture sucking his torn body in like wet cement.

Once his feet vanished inside it, there was a wet pop, then silence. His agonized screams melted into giggles that echoed around the tunnel, joining the others.

The younger of the two leaned on the railing, licking sugar off his lips. “Mmm. Tangy.”

The green and purple haired vampire gagged a bit. “Ou degoutan, you know damn well what we use for ‘sugar’.”

Pixxy winked. “And you love hanging out with me for it.”

Eddie’s butterscotch ice cream face in the wall blinked, his eyes wide, mouth frozen mid-scream, the surface rippling around him like cooling candy.

Pixxy blew a kiss. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

The lights dimmed. The tunnel hummed. Laughter faded to whispers.

“Same time next Frightnight, hein?” Seifer asked, stretching like a bored cat, his fangs flashing like sharpened spiked pearls.

Pixxy’s grin gleamed in the dark. “Maybe next sinday, we can get personal with our next VIPs, it’ll be fun”

Seifer tapped a green painted claw to his chin in thought “You sure it gon’ be fun?”

“Fine, we’ll do the fucking Ferris Wheel this time ok?” Pixxy sighed as he spoke.

“Fuck yeah, now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Seifer replied, he and Pixxy then turned and vanished into the neon darkness.

+++PxP+++

The bar was the only place Eddie felt safe, even if it smelled like every regret he ever had. Or maybe that was the bedstories his mom used to tell him about not eating too many sweets. Everyone knows if you eat too many sweets on a friday night, she would always say, Madame Melty will appear and drag you into the Deep Freezer of Hell.

He wondered why it was always specifically only on a friday night.

Weird.

The music in the bar shook the floor hard enough to make Eddie’s drink dance in his hand, a flat whiskey soda, same as always, because he was just classy like that.

Mariko was perched at the bar like she owned the place, dress so pink it looked edible. Her hair down her shoulders like a blue and pink ice cream swirl. Every time she laughed, the bartender looked like he was trying to propose. Eddie tried not to notice. Tried harder not to care.

“Hey,” he said, sliding up beside her, trying to look casual and landing somewhere between cool guy at funeral and expired can of Axe body spray. “You look… sweet tonight.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Sweet, Eddie boo?”

“Like… dessert-sweet,” he said, immediately regretting it. “You know, in a hot way.”

Mariko laughed, she was usually laughing at him, which was good. Probably. “You’re an idiot,” she said, which, from her, counted as affection.

He grinned, showing teeth he hadn’t brushed nearly enough for this kind of confidence. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot, right?”

That earned him a smirk and a sip of her drink. “Don’t push it.”

He was about to, though. He always did.

“So uh,” he leaned closer, “what’re you doing after this? You wanna go to that noodle cart on End street? My treat. They do that thing with the egg-”

“Nah. Sorry Eddie boo” She cut him off gently, rummaging in her purse, he could swear he heard something growling inside it as she stabbed it with a lipstick tube. He shook his head, casting it from his mind and took another drink. “I’ve got plans.”

He tried not to wilt. “Oh. Cool. With who?”

She ignored the question and pulled out a glittery pink flier, glossy enough to blind him under the club lights.

On the front: a grinning cartoon heart with a knife through it and bold pink letters that screamed:

PIXXY’S PLAYLAND

RAVE UNTIL REALITY MELTS! ONE NIGHT ONLY!

‘LUVV LASTS FOREVER!’

He squinted. “What the hell is a Pixxy?”

“An experience Eddie boo” she said, waving it like it was a golden ticket. “Everyone’s talking about it. It’s like a rave-slash-carnival-slash-art thing. Invitation-only.”

“And you’re… invited?”

“Of course,” she said, like that was the dumbest question in the world. “But…”

She leaned in close enough for him to smell the blueberry lip gloss that shimmered on her lips like melting ice cream. “I can like, bring someone.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, already sweating. “Like, someone… like me?”

She gave him a look he couldn’t read, equal parts flirty and please shut up.

“Maybe,” she said, tapping the flier against his chest. “You’ve got, like, real potential.”

That was all he needed anyway.

Potential.

He could work with potential.

She handed him the flyer without really looking at him. Her blue nail polish glinted under the strobe lights, the color of blue bubblegum and lies.

“Be there, midnight. Behind the club district,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Yeah? You promise?” he asked, too eager.

Mariko just smiled. The kind of smile that could mean yes, or please stop talking before I change my mind.

Then she turned back to the bartender. “Another drink, please. He’s paying.”

+++PxP+++

He wasn’t sure when she left.One minute she was at the bar, the next she was gone, a blue and pink haired ghost in a sea of musical mistakes yet made.

The bartender slid over Eddie’s tab, which was so long it looked like a ransom note.

“She said you’d cover hers too,” he said. “You lucky or just stupid?”

Eddie grinned weakly. “Why not both?”

He stared down at the flyer again. It sparkled like it was mocking him.The back had a map drawn in what looked like lipstick. A dotted line led from the club district straight into what might have been a crime scene.

“Rave until reality melts,” he read aloud. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing since rent went up.”

He finished his drink, ignored the bartender’s pitying look, and stumbled out into the night.

+++PxP+++

Nyxhaven’s club district bled neon. The pavement was slightly wet, the air smelled, off, and the people walking past him looked like spilled candy trying to form tax deductions.

He followed the map down an alley that got progressively less reputable the longer it went.

“Mariko probably just went ahead,” he muttered, stepping over a broken bottle. “She’s like that. Spontaneous. Mysterious. Doesn’t answer texts unless I send her at least fifty times to see her reply, ‘Hi or whatever’. Totally normal.”

A rat hissed at him from a trash can. He hissed back. The rat won, he quickly stumbled along, pulling a flask from his pocket. He drank deeply before he kept walking toward where the flyer led.

After a few turns and one very suspicious puddle, he reached a rusted chain-link fence. A cracked sign leaned nearby.

CANDYLAND OF CARNAGE ENTRANCE ONE: CLOSED FOR REPAIRS.

Someone had scrawled over it in pink paint: LUVV LASTS 4EVER!

He checked the flier. The map ended here.

He checked his phone. No signal. No new messages.

He checked his dignity. Still missing. He kicked the fence lightly. It fell over.

“Free entry,” he said, because admitting this was a bad idea would ruin the moment.

The carnival beyond was waiting, and he just knew Mariko would be there waiting too.

Eddie adjusted his jacket, combed his hair with his fingers, and whispered to himself, “You got this. She’s gonna see you and realize you’re the one. The guy. The… guy she already told she’d meet here. Totally fine. Totally normal date night.”

He pulled the flyer out one last time. It shimmered like it was alive, the cartoon heart winking at him.

“So I’m about to ‘Rave until reality melts,’ huh?” he read again. “Let’s melt, baby.”

​

4 Years before The Vampire Scriptures: Nyxhaven....

The tour van, black with the words MISSING MILE spray painted in red on the side, rattled down the dark highway, its battered frame a testament to countless miles traveled and endless stories lived.

978 year old Zy de Caliborn, a prince of the Spectri vampire race and Ashriel's first cousin, gripped the steering wheel tightly. He hummed to himself as his snake pupil chartreuse-green eyes fixed on the horizon.

It was hard to say whether he was focused on the road or lost in his own thoughts.

Beside him, Ni, his 67 year old Moros son and mate.

Ni was sprawled across the passenger seat, all long legs and lazy. His wild purple and chartreuse green hair fell over his shoulders. There were ornaments and decorations, chains and more in his hair.

His son stretched, one black clawed milky hand trailing up his see-through blouse covered stomach, showing off gold-dusted skin and the ridges of the piercings on his chest.

Zy’s eyes flicked over him, hunger sparked low and hot like fresh blood in his belly.

“Aye, Daddy,” Ni drawled, ash purple painted lips pursing, his voice a heavy slur from the Elysian in his system. He reached over, pressing his fingers into Zy’s thigh, slow, possessive. “How muh longer? Mi been ridin’ in dis bitch foever. When we gettin dere?"

Zy smirked,  his own emerald green painted lips twitching, gold fang caps glinting when his fresh blood fed purple tongue flicked out. "Why yuh ac'in like mi nah gi yuh nuttin fi ride pon, baby bitch?” His voice was deep, just as lazy, a tease wrapped in gravel.

There were parts of the human hitchhikers they picked up earlier stored away. They were stuffed under a tarp in the back of the van next to a neatly folded, larger blood smeared one.

Ni laughed, all breath and stolen heat, only possible due it only being an hour since they fed. The warmth they borrow from their food, those dead humans in the back for example; only lasts for two or three hours. “Tru, tru…” He shifted, pressin’ close, lips brushin’ Zy’s ear. “Buh yuh know I’m be greedy.”

Zy exhaled hard through his nose, vampires didn’t need to breathe,  gripping  the wheel tighter.  “Yah, mi nuh. Greedy lil’ ting.” His free hand moved, sliding slow over Ni’s thigh, up under his ripped-up shorts, fingers ghosting over skin, over the place only he got to touch.

The van was full of the intoxicating smell of Elysian smoke. Zy started driving with his foot so he could take a swig from the chartreuse bottle they had.They only had one bottle left from their last van ride, a gig out in the bayou, where their band played for the Swamp dwelling blues focused Devil's Violin Sept.

The bayou was Zy's favorite venues.

They played in dive bars, old vampire honky tonks, motorcycle clubs and more. He could chill, smoke with his coven, get drunk  and relax out there. His favorite thing? Solo hunting the humans from the villages in the bog. It was always the best, snorting coke mixed with Elysian's Glow Dust form from off some dying bitch's cracked open skull; jacking off in the hole just to watch his cum liquifey her brain; fun times.

Growing up, he was supposed to sink into his status and wealth after a while, unless aiming for a higher prince ranking.

Zy had refused, left and formed Zillah's Eyes with his cousin Ashriel de Noir and their mutual best friend, Trixxy Havok. They stayed together as a coven, as a band, for years. Until Zy felt the need to reproduce.

He found the perfect incubator, a pretty little warm meat businessman named Hiroshi. Hiroshi worked at the law firm the royal family vampire lawyer worked for. Like every buisness in nearly every country on Wallachia Continent, it was secretly owned by vampires. The elder vampa had wooed the human and impregnated him before he felt himself instinctively lose interest in the relationship.

He kept an eye on Hiroshi, but not close enough. Ashriel had gotten to him and...worst of all Trixxy didn't even pick a side, he just stayed the fuck out of it. Come to find Trixxy had fucking been there with Ashriel, and had fucked his baby mama right alongside.

They were supposed to be coven. Coven don't fuck each other's pregnant baby mamas. The oldest of the 3 never spoke to either of them ever again.

And he held good on his word to Trixxy a bit ago. He had to get permission from his grandmother, The Grand Preacher and his great grandmother, The King, and clear it with good ol Royal Excecutioner great great grampa RIKU. Then he had to do a ritual and pray to the Dark Father Dracula, who gave a sign of approval. So,in the end, and it took years to get clearance, he was able to breed Trixxy's mother.

He fucked the father too, jus because he fucking could.

The chartruese eyed prince didn't touch Pixxy though, not after Grandmother told him that his adoptive uncle had taken Pixxy as his mate. His adoptive uncle was a succesful vampire lawyer from an old noblevampa branch line extremely distantly related to both their family and the Phantom star Idol Sept to which the Havoks belonged.

Nixxy was too busy to play though, but Zy'd hit him up next weep.

He hoped the Trixxy motherfucker liked his new octuplet baby brothers. Zy took another swig from the bottle then poured some down Ni's open mouth, his boy's elongated purple tongue reaching out to let it flow easier. He didn't want to think about any of it.

But he was reminded every time he looked into Ni's ghost white eye. The de Caliborn line all had chartreuse green eyes.The de Noir had heterochromatic eyes, the left was always chartreuse green. Havok traits don't show up until 80 years old when mixed with royal blood. He hissed to himself and kissed Ni to block out his own thoughts. Zy thought about The Dog Pits instead.

The Dog Pits, a place in the area of Nyxhaven where he grew up with the rest of the de Caliborn line, underground, learning things they needed for streetwise royal life.

His home turf, Missing Mile.

The Dog Pits were always a bloody good time. Where Spectri Magnus like himself fought to death or knock out in their huge wolf forms in a literal pit. The crowd of spectri and lunareth elves and other Nightkind  sat in bleachers and placed bets.

Human thralls were kept muzzled, naked on leashes with collars and made to crawl on all fours. The judges were a set of ten pompous but psycho assholes who sat on chairs in high boxes and watched the fights.

Noblevampa all of them but they kneeled when his main family would drop by to watch him fight, bring him power buff elixirs he only used if he was too high to think.

He had always appreciated the fact his birth coven respected his wishes for independence.

Ni downed more of the Chartreuse and yawned.

In the back, La was running his mouth, pinkish orange eyes wild from the bootleg Elysian ripoff called Sunny he had been hitting. His shoulder length fiery orange hair was a mess, pupils nothing but pinpricks, his whole body buzzed like a live wire.  “Aye, Ni too fine ta be sittin’ up there wit’ ‘is Daddy all nigh',” La slurred, grinning sideways at Ente. “He should come back here, keep us, company.”

Ente chuckled, deep and grimy, his electric-blue hair pulled back into a short ponytail. His grayish blue eyes stared at Ni like he was meat as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “Yeah… beh he sweet as hell wheh he nah runnin’ d'at smart-ass mouff”  His bloodshot eyes glimmered as he scratched at his yellowing, scaley skin.

One of hundreds of sides effect of Sunny.

Zy didn't move, but the whole energy in the van shifted.

Ni, still resting against Zy, tensed just a little. He was not scared, he never was, but he knew. Knew how Zy got when anybody so much as thought about taking what was his. Like what happened 50 years ago...He shook his head free of the thoughts. The van jerked to the side as Zy slammed the brakes, throwin both La and Ente back into their seats like rag dolls.The tires skidded against the cracked road, dust and gravel spitting up in protest.

Zy turned to glare at them both, his long black hair with purple, red and chartruese green ombre a flag of death. His angry chartreuse eyes glowing like hades fire in the dark.

He wasn’t smiling a smile, his lips peeled back in a vicious hiss to reveal both sets of fangs. The illusion of molars spectri used to blend in faded away and his mouth lined in four rows of jagged, deadly canine and serpant like fangs appeared.

“yuh muss be out yuh dracdamn minds, scraps” he said, voice smooth like cut glass. “Talkin’ ‘bout muh baby like d'at.”

La held up his hands, grinning all stupid, tryna play it off. “Chill, Zy. We juss playin’.”

Zy didn’t even bother to blink. “Yuh tink mi Yuh tink mi be playin' bout 'im, scrap?” He tilted his head toward Ni, who was sittin’ pretty, lips pursed, watching it all unfold.

Ente sucked his own fangs, looking off to the side. “Shit, we nah mean nuttin’ by it.”

“Yuh fi sho?” Zy leaned back against the seat, running his tongue over his fang caps. “So if mi cut yuh’ tun's out fi d'at shit, it nah nuttin’, righ'?”  he stared at La through the overhead magic mirror.

They locked eyes, La’s face twitched, but he looked away from Zy fully. The van started rolling again, the hum of the road the only radio. Ni smirked, sliding his hand up Zy’s arm, claws scratching light over his skin. “Yuh al'ays so dr'matikk, Daddy.”

Zy chuckled, low and dark. “An yuh al'ays so dracdamn reckiss, baby. Mi tol' yuh ta stop leh dem posers he'p yuh hunt” He lifted Ni’s hand, pressed his lips against the back of it, then against his wrist, right where his pulse would have been if he or any of them had ever been mortal. “But yuh mine. Always gon’ be mine.”

Ni shivered, leaning into him. “Yeah, Daddy. Yurs. Al'ays. Gimme a baby....Yuh promised we a try again...S'been years since...”

Zy kissed him to quiet his coming blood tears. Ni had suffered over 70 miscarriages so far, their species gestated quickly. Neither of them knew why, but they were not going to stop trying. "Mi noh, Ni. An mi promise ya, righ'?"

Ni pressed his face into his chest, eyes closed.

The van drove on.

Outside, the world was dark and endless, but inside, the fragile bonds of Missing Mile were already beginning to fray.

Ni curled closer to Zy, resting his head against his shoulder. “Do yuh tink we gone  find it?” he asked, his voice dreamy from the Elysian haze.

Zy hesitated, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The bioluminescent scaling all elder Spectri (600+) had gave off a soft sheen on his chest under the passing street lights. It was on the backs of his hands, up his neck and under his chin and a flicking downward facing pointed ear.

It used to be chartreuse green, but it had turned Elysian gold long ago. “We half ta,” he said finally. “s'out there, waitin fo us. can feel it. We al'ost dere.”

Ni smiled, trusting his father and mate implicitly. Whatever they were searching for, as long as Zy was with him, he believed they would find it.

In the back, La and Ente exchanged glances, their resentment simmering beneath the surface. Their highs from the Sunny were starting to fade, leaving behind the gnawing hunger for more.

Zy looked in the glove box to look at the little wingy dude he shoved in there an hour ago.

He was a bunny or a dog or a whatever, Zy couldn't remember,  he was always ranting that his species were 'Outer Gods from the terror fear ring' or whatever and were trapped  in these macabre plushie forms.

They all ate drugs in order to sustain themselves on this plane of existence on planet  Jaguara, the planet Zy and everyone else lived on.

As for their food, as far as he knew, he just fed Sprinkles vodka, whiskey, cigarettes and weed, and garbage at times.

Zy loved the cute heart on Sprinkles forehead.

"ZY! YOU AND YOUR STINKING FUCKING VAN, LET ME OUT YOU STUPID FUCKING JUNKIE!!"

"Shah da fuhk up, Sp'rinkuhs."  Zy shoved a Gleam into his little wingy dude's mouth and slammed the glove box door shut.

The van’s rattling engine was the only constant as the night deepened, the tires rolling over endless stretches of cracked asphalt.

Zy kept his focus on the road, his free hand resting on Ni’s thigh.

Ni was relaxed, head tipped back, eyes half-closed from that slow-burn Elysian buzz. His fingers were  idly messing with the hem of his ripped-up blouse, eyes glazed over. In the back, La was leaning forward, elbows braced on the edge of the seat, his wild-ass grin stretched wide, bloodshot eyes gleaming yellow from too much Sunny.

His nose was bleeding a thick yellow fluid. Ente was slumped against the van wall, yellow mucus coming from his peeling skin where he just shot up. He was dead eyed, muttering nonsense, his high turing sloppy,  loose like he didn’t have bones.

La’s gaze drifted over Ni, slow, lingering too long. He licked his lips.

“Aye, Ni,” he called, his voice syrupy, slurred.

Ni didn’t move at first, just blinked tiredly then turned his head a bit “Fuhk yuh wan'?”

La’s grin stretched wider. “Jus’ wonderin’… whuh it like, huh? Bein’ wit’ yuh daddy like d'at? He teach yuh all 'is tricks, or yuh  juss git by on d'at pretty lil’ face?”

The van went dead silent. Ni stiffened, that easy posture gone, stiff in discomfort. Zy didn't even let him get a word out.

SCREEECH-!!

The van stopped hard, brakes slamming the whole ride into a violent halt. Rubber screamed against asphalt, La and Ente flyin’ back like rag dolls, Ente’s head cracking against the van wall with a dull thud. La was sent face first into the other wall of the van. La sat up, groaning, rubbing his side where he hit the seat. “Zy, chill-”

“Nah, scrap ass” Zy cut him off, tilt of his head like a wolf about to pounce. “I ain't chillin’ shit. ‘Cause see, yuh fo'got sum. Sum REAL FUCKIN IMPO'ANT.” He reached out, sliding a hand through Ni’s hair, fisted it tight, yanking his head back just enough to expose his pale throat.

Ni let out a soft sound, lips parting but he didn't resist. Zy gave him a soft look that said, ‘Juss let Daddy handle it.’

“Mine. Zy barked this, his voice deep, "Nah fi no sharin'. Nah fi no borrowin’. Nah fi no nuttin’ buh mi and who mi decide he can take as a lover, nah gunna EVER be either a ya'll disrespekkful asses!”

Ni sighed, smiling a bit, riding the possessiveness. “‘S true,” he murmured.

Ente sucked at his own yellowed fangs, sitting up, wiping at his busted lip. “Damn, Zy, yah always acting like we tryna take ‘im frum yuh"

Zy hissed viciously, ears flat back against his skull "it nah bout whuh yuh tryin ta du. It bout how ya nah gone neva. Dis mine, mine, mine, yuh nuh touch, nuh look, nuh t'ink 'bout mi boy"

The silence stretched. La and Ente knew better than to push it now, but Zy could smell the resentment on them.

The older let go of Ni’s hair, sliding his hand back down, fingers ghosting over Ni’s throat, his piercings, his drug flushed skin. He turned back to the wheel, settling in, like that whole moment didn't just happen. “Sit a couch, shuh da fuhk up, an keep smokin’ dat weak-ass Sunny d'at yuh poser asses keep shootin'. We al'ost dere.”

La muttered something under his breath, but he ain't say shit out loud. Ente just leaned back, pulling out another joint, eyes darting to Ni, then back to Zy.

Ni smirked, pressing himself closer to Zy, whispering in his ear, “Love when yuh put ‘em in dey place, Daddy.”

Zy chuckled deeply, the black wolf's head hoodie he wore falling off his head as he kissed him,  grip tightening on Ni’s thigh. “Gon’ do it ev'ry time, baby. Yuh mine.”

Ni purred, nuzzling against him, ear flicked back in joy. But…Ente started flapping his jaw. “Yah nee quit all dis shit Zy, juss face  fakk d'at one nigh' yuh nah gunna be  ta be dere fo ‘im, nah  hard, he nee ta hop on a real vampa dick…”

Zy threw the chartreuse bottle with enough force to dent the van back doors as it exploded next to Ente's head. Before the spray of the glass and liquor even settled, Zy was on Ente. A flash of movement, then BOOM! Zy’s fist connected, straight to the blue haired vampa’s jaw. His head snapped back, smashing into the van wall, cracks spider-webbed the metal from the force.

Ni didn’t even flinch. Just sighed, rolling his eyes, like he had been expecting it. “Yah muhfuckas al'ays tawlkin’ stuhpid wheh yuh high.” He stretched, long and slow, putting his whole body on display. He glanced up at Zy, smirking. “Daddy, dey ‘on’t nuh whuh dey talkin’ ‘bout, du dey?”

Zy was already smiling again, and for the other two, that was always more dangerous. “Nah, baby. dey really ‘on’t.” Zy grabbed Ente by the front of his shirt, yanking him close, his chartreuse eyes blazing in pure hate.

“Naow.” he cleared his throat then hissed like a pissed off cat in Ente’s face.

“Da fuhk did yuh juss say!?”

Ente coughed, blood drippin’ from the corner of his mouth, but that stupid-ass smirk was still there.

“Damn, Zy,” he slurred, “I’m juss makin’ conversation…Juss lotta jokes n shit..yah noh?-”

WRONG ANSWER.

Zy's hand went straight through Ente's chest. He grabbed his heart, and tore it out, making the other shriek and hiss at him in pain.

Zy spit in his face, gold flecked blood-spit splattering. “Yuh nah talk like dat,” the coven leader snarled, his glowing eyes narrowing to furious slits. “Yuh nuh tha weren’t nah joke, yah worthless junked-up bastard!!"

Ente’s smirk faltered, but his defiance lingered.

But it was La who started yapping next, “Whuh  da problem, Zy? He old enuff ta makk 'is own choices, nah he? He ner'a 67 years old. Or is Daddy afraid sumelse migh' giff 'im whuh he really lookin fo?”

Zy tossed Ente across the van and flash stepped to glower down at La.

The next thing anyone knew, the crack of Zy's bloody fist meeting La’s jaw echoed in the confined space of the van.

CRACK.

Another fist, straight to the ribs. La choked, coughing up blood, his whole body folding, but Zy didn't let him drop.

“Zy…” Ni sighed as he watched.

Zy’s eyes were seething in anger. “Yuh eva,” he growled, “speak  like d'at again…look at him wrong, an' me a rip yuh fuhkin’ t'roat out an makk Ente eat it”

La coughed, wheezing, but finally, he didn't have shit to say. Zy let go, shoved him back, body hitting the seat like a bag of trash.

He threw Ente’s heart over  at him and turned away. “Yuh lucky Ni be ‘ere,” Zy muttered, voice cold. “Naow shahh yuh fuhkin’ mouffs ‘fore mi makk sho yuh nah got one no mo. Mi say again,  smoke dat shit ya’ll smoke, sit a couch and vibe o I tear yuh limb from limb, let yuh regenerate unda tha tarp mi use fi da mor'id obese Combo Meals”

Ente stayed down, one hand clutching his bloody chest and torn shirt, lips twisted in quiet rage. In the corner, La was snorting Sunny off the floor to distract himself.

Zy walked back to settle into his seat, hands back on the wheel like nothing happened. Except for the way his shoulders shook with still-bubbling rage.

Ni reached out, slid his hand over Zy’s knuckles, touch soft. “Daddy…”

Zy exhaled to calm himself, shoulders relaxing just a little. He turned his head, eyes meeting Ni’s, the rage softer now. “It a'righ, baby,” he purred deeply, lovingly. "Nahbody ever gon’ touch yuh. I'm al'ays protekk ya.”

Ni let out a purr,  pressing his forehead to Zy’s shoulder, feeling the tension melt just a little bit.

In the back, La nursed his split lip as Ente put his own heart back in. They both glared at the couple, the tension hung like dead bodies in the air.

Ni was sittin’ sideways in the seat, all curled up, leaning into Zy like he belonged nowhere else. His  eyes were half-lidded, blissed-out from the Elysian humming through his system.

Ni licked his lips slow, lazy. “Weh we even headin’, Daddy?” His voice was sweet cream heavy. “Yuh nah tell me shit.”

Zy smirked, hand sliding up a little higher, pressing against the icy mist between Ni’s thighs. “Tol yah al'ady, baby. We goin’ out dere, ta find it, i’on’t nuh wheh it be, but daddy gone find it, it callin ta I muh baby bitch, callin loud n clear”

He kissed Ni as he slid his hand into the glovebox, Sprinkles handed him the vial of Gleam, the golden crystal capsules glimmering even in the dim light. He popped the cap with one hand, tipped a few into his palm, and tossed them back like he’d done a thousand times before.

His throat burned, but the high started hitting as that shit melted down.

Ni sat next to him, eyes all wide, watching Zy like he’s was the only thing in the world worth watching. Ni could feel that energy shift, feel the way Zy’s pupils started to blow up as the Gleam worked him. Zy grabbed another vial from Sprinkles before shutting the glovebox. This one was one full of Liquid Lust, the syrupy shit looking like liquid rainbow with how it glittered.

He cracked the cap and poured it slow, letting that shit drip down onto his leather pants, the wetness looking slick and sinful. “Come here, mi baby bitch,” Zy’s voice low, all smooth with that growl to it.

Ni slid up quick, knees hitting the floor between Zy’s legs like he knew what was coming. Long fingered hands rested on the older’s thighs, lips opening as he leaned in, the smell of that Liquid Lust, the pheromones of it hitting him, every inch of him going weak from it.

Zy smirked, hand grabbing Ni’s hair, guiding him where he wanted. “Dass it. Gud boy. Take all o it. Lick it up fo daddy”

In the back, La and Ente were sitting there, watching.

Their mouths twisted in envy but they toked at new joints, trying to keep their cool. La stared blankly, eyes burning with jealousy. “Lucky muhfucker,” he muttered, resentment like the stars in the sky above.

Ente chuckled low, still staring at Zy and Ni, eyes glazed over. “Yeah, buh he nah even share. Selfish ass.”

Zy shot them both a glare, eyes glowing like he was ready to snatch somebody’s soul. “Keep tawlkin’, and I leave yuh asses on side o'muhfuckin road.”

Ni didn’t falter, his lips sealing over the last drop of Liquid Lust as he began to suck his father’s engorged cock once freeing it from his pants. He looked up at Zy, his cheeks flushed, Elysian filling veins becoming visible, eyes glowing softly, the drug already working its way into his system.

Zy cupped Ni’s chin, staring into his eyes. “Perfekk,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over Ni’s lips. “Just da way I like yuh, no witch muhfucker tink dey can steal yuh frum me fo years n i not do all i gotta to keep deez two pricks away frum yuh.” Ni nodded, swallowing Zy's dick with a low moan. The memory of that time was fuzzy in Ni's mind, it was nearly 50 years ago, but it was wound all the same.

Ente scoffed, leaning against the van’s damaged wall. “Yuh really tink he gonna stay loyal ta yah foever, Zy? He gonna get curious about taking dick that's nah 'is daddy's one nigh'.”

Zy’s smile was dangerous, his voice laced with venom. “Curious bout who? Yuh? Nah makk I laff, Ente, he noh he nee muh permission fo otha lovers first”

Ni pressed closer to Zy, his slender frame trembling with a mix of excitement and the drug’s effects.

Zy’s smirk widened as he moved to press a possessive kiss to Ni’s lips.nHe then pulled a way and carded his hand through his own hair. “Like I keeps sayin, ya brain dead muhfuckas bakk dere. It nah gone be either o yuh asses, eva” Zy said this without looking at them.

Ni purred at him and then got back to work suckling at his cock with a whimper as Zy pet his head.

La and Ente exchanged a glance, their envy burning as Zy and Ni’s bond remained unshakable.

Zy was driving with his foot as he kissed at Ni’s neck and face.

The van shook when it hit another pothole, the dim interior filled with the faint hum of its old engine.

The only other sound was the sharp crackle of La and Ente lighting another round of Sunny. The pungent, chemical-sweet aroma of the bootleg Elysian filled the air, swirling like a ghost around their heads.

La  exhaled a cloud of glowing smoke that hovered before him, his grin lazy and faded away. Ente, seated beside him, rolled the joint between his fingers before taking a deep drag, his eyes glassy with intoxication.

“Guess da old Vampa’s too good ta share,” La sneered, his gaze flicking toward Zy and Ni in the front. “Bet he bout ta do sum even mo o'er da top ta show us up.”

Ente chuckled, though the sound was low and bitter. “He al'ays do. Nah eva let us haff even a bite”

Zy ignored them, his focus solely on Ni, who was sprawled out across the passenger seat, his slim chest bare and pale.

Zy’s fingers dipped into a small bag he’d grabbed from Sprinkles, scooping up a pinch of shimmering Glow Dust.

“Stay still, baby,” Zy murmured, his voice dark and commanding, licking over his gold fang caps.

That fine powder shimmered like crushed moonlight, and Zy wasted none.

Ni nodded. His decorative, uneeded breaths shallow, arching his back just enough for Zy to do what he needed. That cool powder hit his drug warmed skin like ice, making him shiver as Zy drew a line of it down his chest, the coolness mixing with the heat of his high.

Zy moved his head down, pressing a finger to one side of his nose, his color streaked hair fell like a curtain as he brought his face close to Ni’s skin.

Without hesitation, he inhaled.

The Glow Dust disappeared into his nostril in one smooth motion. He lingered for a moment, the glow fueled warmth of his decorative breath ghosting over Ni’s chest, before exhaling with a low groan as the drug flooded him.

“Fuhk,” Zy growled, his glowing eyes locking onto Ni’s. “Yuh mi sweetest high, baby.”

Ni shivered under his gaze, his hands gripping the edges of the seat to steady himself. “Anyting fo yuh, Daddy,” he whispered, his voice soft and reverent.

Zy kissed up his chest "Yuh got da best smile, most precious laff, da cutest dick, tigh'est muss intoxicatin pussy...can't geh enuff o yuh baby boy...Could bury dis fat cock all up in yuh sweet sweet glowing frosty pussy fo eternity..." He devoured Ni's mouth, kissing him ruthlessly before he could reply, leaving Ni clinging to his mate, whimpering into the kiss.

Zy’s foot was on the steering wheel, he didn’t actually need to look at the road, his heightened senses kept him alert. But at a moments notice he’d switch back to his hands. For now? He needed to enjoy himself.

The van rolled through the black like a shadow with teeth, engine coughing up growls every time it hit a pothole. Inside, the air sat humid with drug coated crimson sticky sweat, smoke, and the slow-burning embers of bad blood.

Once again Zy was kissing at Ni, he was floating but still wanted higher. Reaching into the glove box, Sprinkles reluctantly handed him a baggie of cocaine laced with Elysian. It glimmered like gold dust from a fairy tale in winter snow.

Opening the bag, he made a line on the back of his hand and snorted it, eyes closed, tomlet the high wash over him.

When they popped open, the pupils were  blown wide like neon signs in the rain. “Damn, baby,” he murmured, sniffing hard, tongue swiping over Ni’s bottom lip. “Yuh swe'er than a Blood Moon ova da Spires.”

The younger vampa shivered, hands gripping the seat like he’d slip right outta reality if he let go. “Luv ya..”

Zy smirked, tilting Ni’s chin up, pressed a slow, possessive kiss to his lips, letting the last traces of Glow Dust melt between them. Ni purred raggedly, like he was made to be held in Zy’s hands.

In the back, Ente watched the display with a mix of irritation and fascination. “Do he even nee da Dust, or is he juss using it as excuse ta get 'is mouff on 'im?”

Shrugging, La passed the joint back to him. “Do it matta? Either way, it a show. Tink bout it scrap fo brains, why yuh askin’ dumb shit? Look at ‘em. They nah nee excuse, Zy a fuhkin prick ass muhfucka fo never lettin us hit…It be OUR backside the fuhker be hittin..freak"

Ente grumbled "Coven suppose ta fuhk, it da way o our kind yea, but he never let us fuhk Ni. It piss I off how he tink he can treat us like we be 'is bitches too.."

The other nodded "Mi hate dat muhfucka 'is dick too big and 'im doing  d'at ta us on instinct and we all three Magnus, biologically be mean he see us as lesser den 'im yuh fuhkin scrap ass moron!" The blue haired vampa was heated as he stared at Zy, he slammed his fist against the side of the van. “Yah could at least pretend we part o diss coven, Zy!” he snapped. “Or is we juss da ones keeping the van rolling while yuh git ya dick wet while shooting up? Yuh always shoot up afta snortin d'at shit”

Zy’s head snapped around, his expression cold and menacing. When his eyes landed on Ente, they were sharp as switchblades; glowing like streetlights in the fog. “Yah  here because mi allow ya ta be Ente, who drag yo broke asses outta da Dog Pitz? ME. Who saved ya lives when ya was gunna get kilt by d'at fairy who crack rocks ya stoleded out 'is hideout in fae town wit dah uzi? ME" he hissed in commanding contempt. “Nah yuh eva be foget dat while ya tawlk a big tawlk”

La huffed out a laugh, flickiing ash off his joint. “Betta wash ya mouth, Ente. Kee yappin’ an he migh' really leave us out ere in fuckin’ dark.”

Zy grinned, all fang, fingers slidin’ through Ni’s hair like he was touchin’ silk. “Exactly. Dis van? Dis coven? Mine. Yuh nah like dat? Dere a fuckin’ doe scrap. Open it fo yuhself.”

He pointed a clawed finger at the van doors with contempt.

Ente scratched at his oozing neck,  muttered somethin’ under his breath, took another pull of Sunny just to keep from getting himself tossed out.

The van rolled on, hummin’ low and mean, wrapped in smoke, tension, and the slow, possessive way Zy’s fingers traced over Ni’s skin.

An hour later and Zy was driving with his hands again, for now. Said hand was lazily gripping the wheel while the other rested almost instinctively on Ni’s thigh. Lime green flicked between the road and the Moros beside him, piercings glowing faintly in the street lights filtering through the van's tattered curtains.

Zy licked over his gold fang caps.“Come 'ere, muh baby bitch,” Zy purred, eyes and veins visibly glowing with Elysian high.

Ni glanced at him, his own glowing eyes and veins flickering as he hesitated, but the hunger in his pupiless white and chartreuse eyes betrayed his excitement. With a soft nod, he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed onto Zy’s lap, straddling him.

The van swerved slightly as Zy shifted his focus from the road to Ni, gripping his waist firmly to steady him.

“Gud boy,” Zy murmured, dragging his hands down Ni’s sides. His touch was possessive, almost reverent, as he pulled Ni closer, their bodies pressed together intimately as the coven leader pulled himself out and yanked Ni’s shorts down. He kissed him, guiding his heavy ice cold into Ni’s bloody wet freeze.

In the backseat, Ente’s gaze darkened as he watched the display, his jaw tightening. He took another drag of Sunny, the glow in his eyes sharpening as his jealousy bubbled to the surface.

“Seriously?” Ente muttered under his breath, loud enough for La to hear. “He gone fuck him while driving, AGAIN!? Like we nah even 'ere?”

Smirking around his joint, La sighed, eyes half-lidded as he blew a cloud of smoke. “Whuh did yah expekk? Dat his boy, 'is mate. Royal annouce o day matin wuh 20 year ago. Yuh juss is mad it nah  yuh up dere balls deep in Ni’s pussy, shit, yuh al'ady nuh I’m be fuhking pissed”

Ente bristled, his grip tightening on the Sunny joint. “It nah juss d'at,” he snapped. “It... disrespekkful. We supposed ta be coven, nah spectators ta dey fuckfest.”

Zy chuckled darkly, his pointed pierced ears catching every word despite the hum of the van and the music of their band now  playing faintly on the radio, a song called “My Sweetest High” which was a love song Zy wrote for Ni a few moons back. “If yuh nah like da view, Ente, yuh can always close yer eyes,” he said, his tone mocking.

Ente’s fists clenched, but he said nothing, his gaze fixed on Ni as the Moros began to move against Zy, the sounds of Ni’s blood lubed pussy squelched in the air.

They growled as he moaned, as it stretched around Zy’s massive pierced cock. The intimacy between them burned brighter than the Sunny Ente was desperately inhaling.

La nudged Ente with his elbow, smirking. “Face it, man. Yuh nah not neva be what Zy is ta him. Migh' as well enjoy dey fuckin”

Ente growled low in his throat, his jealousy threatening to boil over. “Yuh one ta tawlk muhfucker"

La looked away, grunting.

Ente continued speaking "One nigh'” he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with frustration. “One nigh', d'at smug bastard gone choke on 'is own arrogance. Till he get whut comin ta um”

Up front, Zy paid no mind to Ente’s bitter muttered jealousy, his attention solely on Ni as the Moros rode him with growing fervor. The van’s interior filled with the sounds of their sloppy  blood-wet fucking, drowning out the quiet rage cooking like rancid human flesh under the sun in the back.

"One nigh'" La agreed.

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FULL RELEASE