modern neutral

03 of 05 - Modern Compendium: Neutral - The Center Cannot Hold - Fairy Valiant Little Tailor

Another landmark event – the Tailor here is our very last Fairy! It’s pretty gratifying for me to see one of the largest families in the Compendium finally come to a close after all these years. Holy crap, this is really ending, isn’t it? @_@

Anyway! One of my favorite fairy tales, the Valiant Little Tailor is a story about a mild-mannered tailor who sits down to eat some jam, gets frustrated by the flies buzzing around his head, and manages to take seven of them out with one swat of the fly swatter. So impressed by this feat, he begins bragging to anyone who will listen that he, quote, “Took seven at one blow!” Which, naturally, everyone assumes means seven MEN. So stories of the Tailor spread far and wide, and eventually reach the ear of the king, who brings the Tailor to his court and assigns him a series of tasks – no problem, he assures the Tailor, for a man who can defeat seven men at a single stroke! Of course, at this point, the Tailor realizes he’s in deep shit. And for many fairy tales, this would easily and cleanly end with the Tailor being gobbled up by some hideous monster for his bravado, but this one takes the far more interesting path of having the Tailor survive. He goes on to actually complete the king’s request, and several others besides, not through brute strength, but by *thinking* his way out of the problem. The Tailor goes on to marry the princess and become a king in his own right, and all’s well in the world.

One reason I love this story is because, for all its fairy tale trimmings, it’s basically a Looney Tunes cartoon. The King sends the Tailor out to kill a pair of giants, and the Tailor goads them into fighting each other. The King sends him out to trap a Unicorn, and the Tailor tricks the beast into running headlong into a tree, at which point the Tailor might as well be Bugs Bunny in the bullring. Heck, the Tailor’s entire fight against a wild boar is just this side of a battle against the Tazmanian Devil. All of which is part of the reason the Valiant Little Tailor is so popular – everybody loves a story about the underdog winning, especially if they do so with their own innate brains and cunning.

The Valiant Little Tailor ends up near the top of the Fairy family, and gets some very useful skills – it’s one of the only demons in its family to get access to piercing damage. When designing the Tailor, I tried to keep things as simple as possible, so I kind of based it on the designs of some NES heroes, like Milon’s Secret Castle or even Link himself. Personally, I can totally see the Valiant Little Tailor as an NES-style platformer, with particularly nasty bosses. ^^

For more information on this and every other demon in the Modern Compendium, have a look at our extensive Data File, right over (here).

I haven’t found any Rp sites so I’m just gonna dump my ad here and see what happens.

I’m lookin’ for an RP buddy. Here’s my criteria.

  • Gotta be 18+. I’m not interested in Rping naked bedonkadoo, but I’m thirty one and anyone younger than that would feel odd.
  • A neutral modern fantasy setting is a plus, but I’m pretty flexible.
  • Please be sane and not possessive or controlling. Been there, done that, not a fun or healthy experience for anybody.
  • My free time usually falls around 8 pm central to 4 am central (USA time). I work evening shifts, so it’s been hard finding someone in that time frame.
  • My usual go to character is Jacky. My other OCs bleed in over time.

Lastly, I am so flakey. I’ve been KINDA OKAY lately about replying to posts or at least apologizing and explaining when I don’t but I’m a work in progress. This is why I’m looking for new faces. I’ll hate myself if I flake out on my friends again. Also, meeting new blood is kinda cool.

Just comment or send me a message or whatever works. I may not be able to respond to everyone ;; but I’m gonna check this post!

*Just sayin’ y’all should add to your comments whether or not you want to RP with others because you could potentially use my post to shop for more RP partners.

01 of 05 - Modern Compendium: Neutral - The Center Cannot Hold - Haunt Phantom Train

There are many accounts of ghostly trains in human history, and frankly, it’s not at all surprising. Trains are kind of spooky. The long, low whistle engineered to travel great distances, the  deep chugging of the engine, the huge fog-like clouds of exhaust that come from the smokestack… I’m not entirely convinced trains weren’t invented with the intention of becoming haunted.

However, today’s demon is based on one specific vehicle – the funeral train of Abraham Lincoln. See, after he was shot in Ford’s Theater in Washington DC, Lincoln laid in state in the East Room of the White House, and was then loaded onto a train. The train traced back the steps the president had taken on the way to Washington after first being elected to the office, making stops in places like Philadelphia and New York City to allow people to view the body.

Few American presidents have been mythologized as much as Lincoln, to the point where practically everything he came in contact with is said to be haunted, from his bedroom in the White House to the theater where he was murdered. The train that carried him is no exception, but curiously it’s not the actual train itself that is said to be haunted, but rather the places where it stopped. People living in areas that once held train stations where the funeral train stopped are said to have yearly visits from the ghost of the train, which phases through walls along where the rails used to run, its ghostly horn wailing in the darkness. Afterwords, the only evidence of the phantom engine is a trail of stopped clocks.

The Phantom Train is a personal favorite of mine, in part because my hometown is one of the places where it is seen. Lincoln’s train stopped in Columbus, Ohio on April 29th, 1865, in Union Station, a major landmark which was torn down in the 1970s. Today, the district where it stood is one of the most artsy, bourgeoisie bohemian places in the entire city – hell, the lot where the station itself used to stand now houses, in part, a gay bar and several antique shops. So in dark moments, I like to imagine a ghostly train zipping through the walls of an antique warehouse, the owner cursing as he has to come back through and reset all the clocks once a year because of that damn ghost train.

For more information on this and every other demon in the Modern Compendium, have a look at our extensive Data File, right over (here).

Remember? (Lafayette x Reader)

Pairing(s): Lafayette x Reader (and mild Alex + John because I’m actual trash).
Request (@spnavengelock): Do you mind writing a Lafayette x reader with the prompts 10, 35 and 36?
Prompt(s): “I might have had a few shots.”—“Before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you.”—“Did I say that out loud?”
Title: Remember?
Word Count: 1350.
Time Period: Modern.
Reader Gender: Neutral.
Warning(s): Drinking, implied violence, swearing, very mild sex jokes.
Notes: Thank you for the first request! xx

> > >

“I might have had a few shots.”

His English was somewhat more broken than usual and you shook your head as you slipped into the booth beside him, sliding across his lap to situate yourself into the corner. Lafayette was unmistakably drunk.

“A few?” You questioned playfully, raising an eyebrow as he lazily threw an arm around you with a confident nod.

The two of you weren’t together, but displays of affection such as this were all too normal. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a ridiculous fondness for the Frenchman.

John, who was planted between Alex and Hercules across from you, let out what almost sounded like a giggle. “A few!” He threw an arm listlessly behind Alex’s back, mimicking your position. “A few, he says, Alex!”

Lafayette squawked indignantly as Hercules and Alex both joined John in a chorus of laughter. You chuckled from beneath Lafayette’s arm and shook your head.

You were often the sober friend among the group, and if it wasn’t you then, well, really, nobody was sober, except maybe Herc. It was just one of those nights when you’d rather watch on and be able to laugh at the ridiculous antics of the four, with the added bonus of being able to bring everything back up to jog their fuzzy memories in the morning. You prided yourself on that part being your duty.

“Well, if it isn’t the orphan himself!” The laughter at your table was immediately ceased as you turned to see Thomas Jefferson, his hands gracefully resting on his hips as he cackled, clearly having had ‘a few’ himself. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” He spoke sideways, basically shouting in the face of James Madison, who was with Thomas near constantly during these outings.

James threw a glance towards you and rolled his eyes, evidently having also made the decision to be the sober friend for the night. You chuckled in response but cut the laugh short when you felt Lafayette move from beside you.

“Alexander is no orphan!” He all but shouted, putting a hand over his chest for emphasis. “Il est notre enfant!” He made a wild gesture towards the four of you who were still sitting at in the booth, and John immediately burst into obnoxious laughter, throwing his head back as Alex blinked in somewhat adorable confusion.

You felt left out of the joke, even moreso when Thomas shot back in French with a smirk. “Eh bien, monsieur, vous avez soulevé un chien!”

You swore you heard Lafayette growl, like, actually growl, and you were ready for punches to be thrown, a fairly normal occurrence not worth any worry, but you didn’t expect Lafayette to turn back around, kneel on the seat of the booth and come incredibly close to your face.

“Before I do this,” he spoke with full seriousness and his warm breath tickled your nose. “I need you to know that I have always loved you.” With that, he planted a chaste kiss upon your lips before throwing himself out of the booth.

You watched, unmoving, as he smoothed down his clothes and threw his shoulders back before, with a yell, he leapt towards Thomas, crying, “C’est mon fils!”

Soon enough, Alex and John had joined the now one-on-three fray, and James slid into the booth beside Herc, who was apparently more sober than you’d initially gleaned.

He smirked with a raised eyebrow. “Since when have you and Frenchie been a thing, (Y/N)?”

You blinked, still surprised by the kiss and Lafayette’s words, and waited a second too long to answer. Hercules did for you.

“Oh, they’ve been dating for years now.” He waved his hand dismissively in the air, smiling innocently at you. “They just didn’t know it until tonight.” He smirked, but the expression died when the fighting beside the three of you was interrupted and you watched the owner kick the ragtag four out of the bar.

You pursed your lips and glanced back between James and Hercules. “Guess we’d better go get our children?” You joked, rolling your eyes with a small laugh and rising out of your seat, forgetting, through the distraction, to deny Hercules’ words.

> > >

The next day, you woke up in your apartment, which, while your own, was in the same building as all of the other’s respective apartments, to a myriad of texts from the group chat, ‘Hamilsquad’. It had initially been Alexander who was the four-way mutual friend that brought you all together, so it was only fitting—that said, it had also been Alex who’d chosen the name.

As you read through the messages, it became apparent that you’d slept in somewhat. It was already 11am, and you’d missed the first wake-up-and-oh-remember-what-you-did-last-night messages, which you’d usually have instigated. It seemed Herc had done so for you.

Hercules: So, who remembers last night?
John: Oh, I remember everything.
Hercules: Everything?
John: Everything ;)
Alexander: (Y/N) did you turn my fucking volume all the way up again because I swear to god, these messages ensure that I do not need an alarm clock and I hate you all.
John: Oh, sorry, did we wake you up? :P
Hercules: That was me, btw.
Alexander: Oh, good. I love (Y/N) too much to murder them, but you. You, I can consider.
Hercules: Yeah, okay, but do you remember last night, man?
Alexander: Oh, I’m more interested in whether or not Laf remembers.
John: We’ll just have to make him remember. It’s been too long coming.
Alexander: Preach.
Hercules: Well, James already thinks they’re dating, so.
John: That’s honestly not even slightly surprising.
Lafayette: I remember everything and want to remember nothing.
Alexander: It’s okay, daddy.
Lafayette: Fuck you, Alex.
Hercules: I was under the impression that you were waiting for (Y/N), Laf.
Lafayette: Fuck you all.
John: What did I do? :O
Lafayette: Certainly not Alex, yet.
Hercules: Wait.
Lafayette: WAIT.
Hercules: Seriously?! How did we not know?!
John: Laf is too focused on (Y/N), and you’re too focused on Laf and (Y/N).
Alexander: “And (Y/N) isn’t focused enough on me.”
Lafayette: Wait, did I say that out loud? Merde.

It was at this point you decided to cut in.

(Y/N): Uh, excuse me?
Lafayette: I swear I didn’t actually say that.
(Y/N): I’m calling absolute bullshit.
Alexander: He definitely said it, (Y/N). He’s sitting right beside me, take my word for it.
(Y/N): I would take Laf’s word over yours literally any other day, but I’m kind of hoping he did say it, tbh. I’m also hoping he remembers last night.
Alexander: You wound me—but you also might want to prepare yourself because Laf is on his way up there right now. Just a heads up.

Your eyes widened and you freaked out, jumping out of the bed and dropping your phone in the process, ignoring it as you raced to the front door just as Laf entered, no knock as usual.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi.” He responded.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before he spoke again.

“So, about last night,” he began to form a justification of his words but you interrupted him.

“Did you mean it?” You asked. “Or was that just drunk Laf?” You felt yourself grow flustered as you looked down. “Because I mean, it’s totally okay if it was just drunk Laf, but…” You stopped as his feet entered your vision, and you looked up to see him standing before you, eyes still groggy with sleep upon closer inspection.

“Do you want me to have meant it, or do you want it to have been drunk Laf?” He asked carefully, speaking softly, his accent thick.

You blinked a few times. “I want you to have meant it.” You stated simply, tearing away the usual theatrics of it all.

His lips met yours in a soft kiss that lasted all of 2 seconds.

“I meant it and I’ve meant it for years, mon chou.”