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Tinytopia Chapter 9: Bloodthirst (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight and my bonus beta reader for the next two chapters, @whumpsday!

In this chapter: Thistle indulges in getting cozy, but finds the house disturbed by yet another new arrival.

With respect to @whumpsday, the og of hungry vampire sadbois, and @entomolog-t, the og of tiny vampires.

***

There were now enough pixies for a pixie pile.

Thistle was ecstatic. He’d grown up sleeping in a pixie pile, and he’d missed it, longed for it, ached for it ever since his separation from his family.

Sleeping on top of Moon was nice enough, but he wasn’t a pixie. And with Marigold here, there were two pixies. Not enough for a pile.

But Jax had a pixie incarnation now. There were three pixies, which met the minimum number needed to be a proper pile.

Moon would be included, of course, even if he wasn’t a pixie. The pile would simply go on top of him.

Thistle made sure everyone had a nice, soft pair of pajamas. Enough thick, fuzzy socks. Enough blankets and soft pads to sleep on. Hot, sweet drinks to sip in the evening before falling asleep.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be perfect.

Thistle cleared enough space in his wooden castle–for once, he was worried he might not have enough room in there for something. He arranged everything just right, plumping pillows and layering blankets and smoothing out sheets. He wove small animals out of plant fiber–such toys weren’t out of place in pixie nests, quite similar to humans’ stuffed animals. They didn’t usually make them bears or cats or dogs, though–pixies had a completely different array of animals that were culturally important.

Thistle remembered his Mother’s Mother’s hive having a nest of ants in the bottom of the structure, tended to like a herd–he couldn’t remember if they’d done anything besides occasionally eating the larvae. It’d been such a long time ago that all he remembered was that they tasted quite good. Before Thistle had left, Mother had been in the process of trying to make space in their tree for clusters of honeydew-producing aphids. She’d also told Thistle that some hives knew how to rear moths or spiders for their silk, which Thistle had always longed to see, but she’d said moths were more complicated than aphids and spiders had a safety risk.

There had been that one time his older brother Oak had brought home a disfigured moth which would have died without help–its wing had gotten caught in its cocoon while trying to emerge, and now it was wrinkly, tiny, and useless for flying. Mother let Oak keep the moth as a pet, even though it had no practical use. It was fuzzy, nice to hold, and pretty to look at. Oak had named it Cattail.

He lovingly traced the memories as he wove, imagining himself making a toy for Dewdrop. Aunt Winter’s new baby, Dewdrop. He wanted to meet Dewdrop so badly. Thistle was really the only one in the hive good enough with his hands to make toys without using magic. He would have been making all the toys for Dewdrop. Had someone else been making them? Was Dewdrop wanting for toys?

He suddenly realized he’d begun crying when a tear dripped down onto the moth doll he’d been making. He slowly wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, then sniffled and straightened himself up.

There was no need to be sad. He was going to have a pixie pile again. Dewdrop was fine, and so was he.

He arranged a moth doll and an aphid doll so they were nicely on top of the covers, then stood back to examine his work. I should sell those on Etsy, too. Everyone would go wild for them. He started writing the listing title mentally. Miniature insect bug arthropod crochet doll lifelike fidget toy Micro realistic choose SET or INDIVIDUAL made to order. He could sell one for $20 or a set of three for $50. Yeah. That would be good.

He walked out and pushed Marigold’s wheelchair to the entrance of his wooden house. “Are you ready for bed, Marigold?”

He nodded.

Pixie-Jax flitted on the roof of the house, jumping down onto the ground. “I am too!”

“Shh,” Thistle said. “Speak quietly. We’re supposed to be calming down now.”

Jax nodded, looking very serious in his oversized pajamas that swallowed his hands.

Moon arrived five minutes after the agreed upon time, as always. He had an eye mask on his forehead and an extra pillow under his arm. “I stayed up late so that I could be tired precisely for this slumber gathering,” Moon declared. “Let us commence.”

“Okay,” Thistle said, trying not to get excited. He was supposed to be calming down. “Moon, you go in first, and then we’ll all get on top of you.”

Moon ducked to go into Thistle’s house. “Good Heavens! It’s a proper cornucopia of comfort in here.”

Thistle poked his head in and watched as Moon arranged himself, pulling the covers back. Moon held his arms up. “I’m ready for dogpiling, boys. Have at me.”

“Okay, Jax next.”

Jax dashed into the wooden structure and snuggled up under Moon’s arm. “Like this?”

“Yes, perfect. Okay, now Marigold.”

Thistle lent Marigold a hand to stand up out of the wheelchair. He supported him by the elbow to help him inside. Marigold’s face twinged with pain as he went down into a kneeling position.

“You all right?”

“Yes–just a moment.”

He shifted to a position that apparently lessened his pain, then gingerly lay down under Moon’s other arm, head on the crook of his elbow.

That just left Thistle. He crouched down and situated himself on top of Moon, so Moon’s chest fluff was his pillow. “Everybody comfy?”

There was a round of assenting sounds.

Thistle reached down and pulled the blanket up, swathing them all, and turned off the light. “Good night, everybody.”

“Thistle my boy, would you pull down my eye mask? My hands are quite full.”

Thistle reached up and pulled the mask over Moon’s eyes.

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Jax.”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

No response.

“Marigold?”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Good night, Jax.”

“Good night, Moon.”

“Is this really quite necessary?”

“You’re supposed to say good night.”

“...Good night, Jax.”

“Marigold?”

No response.

“Marigold, you didn’t say good night to anyone.”

“Good night Thistle, Jax, and Moon. There.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Moon? You didn’t say good night back to Marigold.”

“Good night, Marigold. Are you quite satisfied now? Have we somehow missed a possible permutation here?”

Thistle snuggled closer to Moon, and Jax copied his motion. “No,” Thistle said contentedly. “I think that’s everyone. Thanks. Good night. I love you all.”

“I love you, Thistle.”

“I love you, Moon-”

“We are not doing all that again. I would like to go to sleep sometime in the next twenty-four hours.”

Thistle tugged on the sleeve of Moon's silken pajamas. “Just once? Just one, Moon? Please?”

Moon sighed. “I love you, Thistle.”

Thistle happily flicked his ears and settled in. It seemed like Marigold had already fallen asleep.

They dozed like that. Thistle could hardly get sleepy with how happy he was. It was so warm and fuzzy, and a soft glow of magic welled up inside him. He just lay there enjoying it.

It was a while later, after he’d finally managed to fall asleep, that he woke up. He wasn’t sure why. But-

Oh.

Oooh.

Marcy’s necklace.

It was sitting on the table–Marcy had left it there today. It was glowing. It’d been soft white all night–but now it was bright yellow.

Yellow. Yellow. What had yellow meant?

Thistle disentangled himself from the pile and snuck over to the door, peeking his head out. He didn’t see anybody.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Is somebody there?”

There came a sound, then–a sort of tittering, accompanied by light flapping. He turned his attention upwards and saw some small fuzzy creature way, way high up near the ceiling. It frantically dashed into the room and smacked into the wall, then tumbled down. When it finally stopped its erratic movements, Thistle saw it was a bat with tawny red fur.

No, not a bat–the real creature emerged from the form of the bat as soon as it touched the ground. It was a fuzzy humanoid with protruding fangs and triangular ears.

The fish tank flipped open. “Yo, Thistle!” Jewel shouted. “Are you gonna wake anyone else up and tell them there’s a fucking vampire in the house or do I need to do it?”

“A vampire?” Thistle squeaked.

“Gotta be. I mean, just look at him. Right?”

The new arrival flipped himself upright from where he’d fallen on the ground, still on all fours, ears pinned back against his head nervously.

“Thistle?” said Moon’s sleepy voice, and his head appeared out the door, eyes still half-closed. “What are you shouting about?” His eyes widened as he saw something was up. “Oh?”

“It’s a vampire,” Thistle said. He looked over. “Right?’

“Well yes but, I’m not–I don’t want to hurt you,” the creature said. His ears were still flat and his voice trembled, as though not entirely sure he would be believed.

Oh, he was speaking Pixish. The language a predator would typically speak if their primary prey was Pixies.

“I’ll go get Marcy,” Thistle said. He looked behind him and saw Marigold stirring in the bed, with Jax not far behind. “...I’ll stay here with Marigold. Moon, you go get Marcy?”

“Am I your messenger?”

“...Yes?”

“...All right.” Moon drew himself out of the house and spread his wings, then took off upstairs.

The new arrival watched him with wide eyes. Clearly he’d never seen one of Moon’s kind before.

“Thistle, who’s that?” Jax whispered.

“Just stay inside. I’ll handle this.” He gave a nervous wave to the creature. “Hi. I’m Thistle.”

“I’m Auburn,” he said. Pixish actually had more words to describe colors than English, with Pixie’s sensitive eyes able to see more with minute differences. He wasn't sure if vampires could see the same way, but the word he gave as his name, Kasabrua, the closest translation of which was Auburn, actually referred to the very specific shade of red in the coat of a fox’s fur. That was exactly the color his fur was, so it was fitting–it was basically the equivalent of calling him “Foxy” or “Vixen,” although Thistle knew those two words had…. connotations in English that they wouldn’t have in Pixish.

“Hi, Auburn. It’s nice to meet you. My friend Marcy is coming downstairs. She’s a human. Is that okay?”

Auburn hugged the wall, like he was afraid Thistle was going to attack him. “Yes. Yes, please, I’d like to meet her.”

Thistle and Auburn kept tense eye contact with each other as Moon came back down, followed by Marcy, still in her pajamas. “Oh my gosh, hi!” she said with restrained enthusiasm. She knelt down beside Thistle, who fluttered onto her lap.

Auburn kept his eyes on Marcy, body tense. He was clearly terrified, but he made no motion to leave.

“He speaks Pixish,” Thistle said.

“Hi,” Marcy said gently. “I’m Marcy.”

“I’m Auburn. You’re really big.” He swallowed. “Sorry, um… I'm not supposed to be seen, and I’ve never met a human before. So, so it’s a little scary.”

“She is pretty big,” Thistle said. “But she’s nice. Do you want to tell us a little bit about yourself?

“Well, um… I heard that all kinds of creatures live here together in peace, even predators. So, so I’m interested in. That.” He flattened himself against the ground, as though to disappear. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Marcy said. “Where did you hear it? Who?”

“A, um. A tree creature told me. A dryad.”

Marcy and Thistle looked at each other.

“Could it be the same dryad that told Jax?” Thistle poked his head into the house. “Jax?”

Jax crawled forward, just peeking out. “The dryad that told me was a big tree.”

Auburn shook his head. “The dryad that told me was a holly bush.”

Okay, they were definitely going to have to coerce Trilloras to come out and answer questions. They’d already tried every combination of begging, coaxing, and threatening they could think of to get her to come out, yet her sapling remained totally inert. They were starting to think that maybe she was asleep or unconscious and couldn’t hear them.

“It sounds like they’re different dryads,” Marcy said. “But that’s okay. We don’t have to talk about them. Let’s talk about you.”

Auburn nodded nervously. “Right, right. Um. I just want to live in peace. So, so if this is a place where I can do that. Then I want to stay here. If that’s okay.”

“Sure!” Thistle said brightly, absolutely delighted. “Sure, we’ll figure out a way you can live here.”

Auburn drew forward slightly. “Real, really? Um, mostly I was worried about…where I would hunt. Um, since–if–it seems like everyone here–”

“We can figure that out,” Thistle said. “We have a trick.”

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” Moon said. “I’m not ready to be awake yet.”

“Right!” Auburn squeaked. “Sorry, sorry for interrupting. Um, you can, you can go back to sleep.”

Marcy looked from Auburn to Thistle, then sat on the couch. “I’ll stay down here.”

“Okay,” Auburn said bashfully. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just to watch things. You’re probably not tired because it’s night, huh?”

“I’m… tired. I could sleep.” He sounded dejected.

“Okay. Um. How do you sleep?”

“On the ceiling.” He looked morosely up at the ceiling. “But there aren’t any footholds.”

Marcy tapped her chin. “Oh! Hold on, I know.” She went into the next room and retrieved Colin’s pullup bar, mounting it in the doorway. “There, like that?”

Auburn clung to the wall with his creepy little hands, shimmying up it until he was far enough to push off and jump into the air. His arms transformed into wings as he flapped them, and he propelled himself up to take hold of the bar.

He hooked his feet around it and hung upside-down, ensconcing himself in his wings like a blanket. “This, this is wonderful. Thank you. I can stay up here?”

“Yeah,” Thistle said. “That’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

Auburn seemed peaceful enough, but Thistle was still glad that Marcy was nearby.

Despite being too tired to function, he wasn’t sure if he would sleep much with a vampire hanging over the room.

***

The pixie pile did manage to get a decent amount of rest in the end. Thistle woke up feeling recharged and energetic–ready for a day full of art. Because that would be step one to welcome a new resident: it was his responsibility to befriend Auburn so he wouldn’t have to hunt. Now that he’d already done it with Severa and knew it was possible, it didn’t seem so daunting. If anything, it was exciting.

True, Auburn was scary. He was almost as tall as Moon. His fangs poked out of his mouth. He clearly was a lot stronger than Thistle. He slept overhead, hanging menacingly. And he drank blood–probably, they hadn’t seen that yet. He’d probably attacked and maybe even killed people. But he was already here peacefully and seemed willing to do what they asked. This couldn’t be harder than Severa, surely.

Auburn was still in the same place hanging from the pullup bar in the morning–true to his word, he was fast asleep and looked exhausted when everyone else was stirring. Teddy and Colin came down, and more introductions were had. Teddy very valiantly hid her disquiet at seeing Auburn, while Colin was concerned about rabies. Marcy reassured them it was safe and that she would handle it, although privately she was also a little bit worried about rabies.

Thistle made the rounds to gather a group for a painting session. Marigold, Jax, and Severa were on board without needing any cajoling. Moon declared he was going to try it, since he was warming up to Thistle’s silly projects. Jewel said he didn’t want to do anything involving paint, since it got all over his skin and felt bad in the water, even if it was nontoxic. Violet couldn’t be coerced to come out even though Petunia definitely would have enjoyed it, but whatever.

“Art is a great way to bond,” Thistle said, laying out his paints. He had Marcy lay out some canvases for them to paint. “It’s a great activity to do together, and you can talk while you do it. This will be a great way to get to know each other.”

“I admit I thought it quite useless at first,” Severa admitted. “But I am starting to enjoy it more.”

“It’s growing on me, too,” Moon said.

Auburn knelt next to the paints, touching one of the tubes. “Great! Um, so, what, what do I do?”

“You, um…” At this point Thistle noticed that Auburn’s hand was shaking. “Hey, are you okay?”

Auburn drew his hand back, then gave a pained smile. “Oh, sorry. Um, I haven’t, um, I’m pretty hungry, that’s all.”

Thistle felt like he’d been smacked in the face. That was why Auburn was tired enough to go to sleep last night? He simply hadn’t eaten and therefore had no energy? He’d been sitting there hungry enough to start trembling and didn’t say anything?

“Hey, we can’t have fun and bond on an empty stomach,” Thistle said gently. “Come on, let’s take care of that first.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Auburn said quickly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“We want to, though. We wouldn’t tell you to stay here and then make you starve.” Oh whoops, Thistle had said that and then remembered that Auburn would presumably have to drink someone’s blood. Thistle certainly wasn’t eager to volunteer himself for that.

Fortunately, Severa spoke first. “I will help you. You drink blood, yes? I have plenty of blood, and my magic is strong.”

Auburn practically wilted with relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Severa reached down and pried one of the scales on her abdomen back, exposing vulnerable, soft flesh. Auburn crept near. “It’s really okay?”

“Yes.”

Auburn leaned over, shaking, and gently made a soft cut with his fangs, then clamped his mouth over the wound, taking small sips.

Severa put her hand on his head. A tear leaked from his eye.

After a moment, he drew back, wiping his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Severa pushed the scale back down, wincing but not complaining.

“There,” Thistle said. “Everyone is okay and feels good. Right?”

Severa and Auburn both nodded.

“Good. Now let’s get painting.”

Thistle guided Auburn, Severa, Moon, Marigold, and Jax through laying out their canvas and starting to apply the paint to it. Marcy participated too, sitting on the floor with a proportional paper.

“So,” Thistle said conversationally as they worked. “Auburn, can you tell us a bit more about yourself? What made you decide to seek us out? Why did the dryad tell you to come here? If you know.”

“Oh, um.” Auburn had red paint all over his hands and was putting paw prints all over his canvas. “Well, my family kicked me out of my colony. So, so I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“That’s horrible!” Jax cried. “I can’t imagine if Thistle kicked me out! Why would they?”

Auburn’s ears drooped, and the motions of his hands became slow and unenthusiastic.

“Jax, he might be sensitive about it,” Thistle chided. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Auburn.”

“No, it’s okay.” He dipped his hands in yellow and started making yellow pawprints. “Well, I’m, um, I’m a Worthless, so when things got tight, I was the first to go.”

The exact word he used was Struntajo, which meant roughly worthless, but he said it like it was supposed to mean something more. Thistle had never heard anyone use it that way.

“What’s that mean?” Jax said, once again failing to understand what a sensitive topic is.

“We can talk about it later if you want,” Thistle offered, wincing.

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize you’d have no way to know what that is, I guess.” He clasped his paint-laden hands together. “Um, when prey is plentiful, vampires will sometimes have an extra pup in their litters that’s small and weak. If there’s enough to go around, the runt gets enough food to grow up strong. But, but if there isn’t, then the runt is there to take the hit when they have to make sacrifices if things get worse.”

“Sacrifices?” Severa said.

Auburn shuffled his feet. “Leave it to die, usually.”

“That’s horrible,” Severa said, utterly horrified. “They have an extra baby on purpose for the sake of having something to sacrifice if their gamble doesn’t pay off?”

“I mean, it makes sense if you think about it. At least, I mean. My siblings all contributed more to the colony than I did. So, so when resources started getting scarce, it’s better that they could cut me off rather than someone who actually helped. You know? As soon as I became an adult they made it clear I had to leave if I didn’t contribute more. It wasn't a surprise or anything.”

Severa clenched the paintbrush she was using so hard that it snapped in half. “That is a horrible way to think about it. I could never dream of even considering sending someone I’d raised from a little baby out to die just because they weren’t useful enough.”

Auburn shrunk away from the anger in her voice. “Er, well, if there isn’t enough to go around…”

“Then you get more, or you yourself go hungry. That’s what being a mother means, not this- this perversion where children are seen as an investment you expect returns on in the future.”

Auburn rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, well I’m not a parent, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re right,” Severa snipped. “You wouldn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said, trying to rein the conversation back in. “That sounds very difficult. So that’s why you were looking for somewhere else to go?”

Auburn nodded. “I’m bad at hunting. I’m small, weak, not a strong flier, and not good at magic. My family got tired of helping me, so I haven’t been back to the colony.… I’ve been.” Tears welled up in his eyes again. “I’ve been just barely hanging on. You’re the first ones who have been nice to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Marigold said. “I’m surprised to find myself sympathizing with a predator at all, but I truly can’t imagine what I would do if my family were like that.”

Thistle was intimidated to think about Auburn being a runt, considering how very large he still was. Thistle very bravely stood near him. “Do you want a hug?”

Auburn nodded miserably.

Thistle wrapped his arms around Auburn’s midsection, and Auburn’s arms came around him gently.

“Ooh, you’re soft,” Thistle said into his fur.

Auburn chuckled. “Glad there’s something good about me, at least.”

“I am not jealous,” Moon announced mechanically. “I am also soft, and it’s fine that there are multiple soft people in the house that Thistle likes to touch. It does not reflect on my worth as an individual.”

Thistle sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Good job, Moon.”

Moon gave him a thumbs up.

***

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