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#oh...there's bram stoker knocking again
andy-clutterbuck · 11 months
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Don't. Let 'em turn. 5x01 | No Sanctuary
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ahomeboylives · 3 years
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it would be a hundred times easier if we were young again
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[text ID: And words, little words, not really/ soothing but soothing nonetheless./ Words too small for any hope or promise. /end ID]
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[image ID: a woman’s hand rests on the chest of a man. the focus of the image is the small cross necklace that the man is wearing. /end ID]
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[text ID: I was very young when I was cracked open.// Some things you should let go of/ Others you shouldn’t/ views differ as to which/ I kept hold of everything, just in case /end ID]
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[text ID: All I want is nothing more/ To hear you knocking at my door/ 'Cause if I could see your face once more/ I could die a happy man, I'm sure /end ID]
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[text ID: I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air. /end ID]
And I have this dream where I'm screaming underwater While my friends are waving from the shore And I don't need you to tell me what that means I don't believe in that stuff anymore
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[text ID: Why do people go to these places, these places that are not for them?/ It must be that they believe in their night vision. They believe themselves able to draw images up out of the dark./ But black wells only yield black water. /end ID]
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[text ID: [Bridge]/ I hope that you see me, because I'm staring at you/ But when you look over, you look right through/ Then you lean and kiss her on the head/ And I never felt so alive, and so dead /end ID]
Your presence somewhere else is the sad warm thing blowing around my room.
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[image ID: a dark photo of tumultuous sea. /end ID]
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[text ID: You speak to me. I trust your voice/ because it has lumps of hard pain in it/ the way real honey/ has lumps of wax from the honeycomb /end ID]
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[text ID: HANNIBAL And now? WILL GRAHAM Now my inner voice sounds like you. I can’t get you out of my head. /end ID]
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[image ID: wei wuxian attempts to reach out to jiang yanli, but she is just a hallucination fading away. /end ID
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[text ID: where do the words go/ when we have said them? /end ID]
And was it really how you sing it dear? Oh I remember worse than blood and tears And did you love me like the way you wrote? Well I'm afraid so, I'm afraid so
mitski, two slow dancers / richard siken,_ the torn-up road_ / the x-files, 3 / emily berry / kodaline, _all i want / bram stoker, dracula / phoebe bridgers, funeral song / helen oyeyemi, white is for witching / florence + the machine, hurricane drunk / joshua beckman, s_omething i expected to be different / elsa bleda / yehuda amichai (translated by chana bloch), inside the apple / hannibal, kaiseki / the untamed, episode 32 / margaret atwood, the small cabin / keaton henson, old lovers in dressing rooms
irma and lyanna. lyanna and irma. they had never been apart, not really. not until now. and nobody knew how to console irma in the midst of her grief, because nobody was practiced in grieving. her mother was helpless; royalty doesn’t often grieve, even the exiled ones. her father was stumped; his latest grief was distant, a cousin he hadn’t seen since childhood. her brothers were too young, and the one that wasn’t was too preoccupied with his new wife. the girl sat, oscillating between wailing and numbness, staring at the shop’s inventory of panflutes, when she heard barely a whisper, lyanna’s whisper. “irma?”
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masnakakabaliwako · 2 years
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THE STRANGE TALES OF THE DOCTOR
disclaimer: None of these are historically accurate and I'm not trying to be, Im just doing it for fun ^^ So if you have any criticism just be easy on me, im not that serious about this lol
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You know, there is a lot of disadvantages of being a vampire. Quite a lot. Of course, one should expect that, since vampires aren't human and well, they don't need human resources! Like Sunlight or Foods that don't contain an ounce of blood.
They also don't need friendships, because time, and time and time again, they all die. If you're a vampire who has been cursed, here is my advice for you; Never fall in love. Especially to a human. Most especially to other vampires! You see, if you're cursed, you're not just any blood-sucking fiend, you're special, but not the good kind. Because you, my friend,
Can't Die.
And this is where we differentiate "To Live Forever" and "To Never Die".
"To Live Forever" Means you get to be alive forever, until the end of time! Or until someone stabs you with a wooden stake--That is how regular vampires are.
"To Never Die", on the other hand, means no matter how many times and how many ways you might expect for Thanatos to come knocking at your door, he never,
ever,
comes.
But more on that later, why don't we focus on the more important subject:
ME!!!
My name is Dr. Doctor Doktor Dawk Tor Doch Torr- Dok Turr, and this autobiography means nothing to you!
Well, maybe it does, but whose to say! This novel is a contractual obligation and I'm forced to write it because I owe someone, but that's not the point.
Okay, listen, I'm the only true vampire. Those regular vampires that cry when there's garlic and squeal at a splinter? Those are puny little men. They do not know the true meaning of being a vampire.
I, on the other hand, was the first and last, 'Special Vampire', as I like to call it, because the other name for it is too long and hard to write.
I was also Dracula! (My name got lost in translation, something about France and Ireland) and It reached Bram Stoker! and in the next few decades, they made a movie about me, too!
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While I'll never be as handsome as Bela Lugosi, I can certainly approve their take on me, I just hope they kept my name and profession--You never get enough doctors as protagonists these days.
I'm getting carried away again, woopsie daisies!
So how did I become a vampire? Well, it's a long story, way back in 1794 of Arras, France, and I was a student of science.
I mean, I *wanted* to be a student of science and biology, but I was forced into studying law instead.
I didn't care too much about the law. There were far more competent people out there fit for where I was back then, so I constantly was absent, time and time again in my classes because they didn't interest me as much as my fascination for the macabre.
Those hours I spent skipping classes were spent on spying on the Doctor classes they were teaching at school, and everything was so...fascinating. The science behind it all, how everything was connected in ways we didn't even know they could, how everything functions as it should, it was mesmerizing to say the least.
Atoms to atoms, molecules to molecules, organs to organs, doesn't it just bring a smile to your face?
And of course, many adventures come to an end, and my adventures of leaving a class and joining the other ended much sooner than I'd like when one of the teachers caught me and reported to my reasonably upset parents.
So , I went back to studying law, and I kept failing. Over, and over again, I just can't keep all of these words and phrases and decrees all in one place inside my head, it was literally impossible! My parents noticed, and I lamented to them with all my might. I gave it all my best tears and sweat from shovelling horse shit as a punishment for failing, and finally,
Mother was able to budge and transfer my classes to Biology!
Oh, How fun it was! We got to do little surgeries on these frogs, and even on real people! can you believe it? Though, as a transferee, I wasn't able to touch a person. Yet. But I was willing to learn and wait there, to figure out how to be the best doctor.
Seems like dreams were about to come true for young me, until one june morning.
~~~
There was sudden knocking at my door, it was as the sun was rising, so I was quite irritated when I went over to carefully open the door. As it creaked open, I was greeted by my younger sister , Augé.
But something was wrong-- Her eyes were as red as her face, which was wet from her tears. A string of sobs and words jumbled out of her mouth as she clung to me, and I could only comfort her with a stiff embrace. I was confused on why she broke down like this, but as I strung the words together, the horror fell on my face;
"Mére and pére, their carriage-!"
My parents were on a trip to Reims a week ago. Turns out , the horses holding their carriage went loose as the reins weren't tied properly. The stallions bucked in fear as an animal crossed the road, causing for then to kick the carriage, and it went tumbling down, and down, and down, and...
The funeral was held the next day. They never left any money for me and my sister, so...I was in charge.
And all of it was infuriating to me- Through my tears I glared at their graves-- How could they?
I wasn't angry that they died. I was angry that we didn't inherit any of the money we needed to survive.
Our money diminished fast. I had to let go of the servants who served us for more than a decade. I had to sell the house , all to feed my sister.
The two of us were the only ones left, and I remember the day that we had to leave our house for the orphanage, Augé gripped my hands as her eyes focused so hard on the front porch, like she could burn it with only her stare.
"Alastair, do you think...Do you think things will get better?" She asks, and I gave her an unsure gaze. I don't know, and things seem to be growing worst by the minute. I only want for her to survive, even if I can't.
"Of course," I lied, "I promise you that we'll survive. I'll study hard and become a doctor for you."
"We'll never be apart?"
"Never." I gripped her hand back, and climbed on the carriage to go to the orphanage. I stared at the looming house as it became smaller and smaller, until it was gone. Just like my hopes and dreams.
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sunnydaleherald · 2 years
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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter - Sunday, December 12
Cut to Faith's motel room. There is a knock at the door. Faith opens it, stake raised and ready. She is surprised to see Gwendolyn standing there. She lowers the stake as Mrs. Post enters. Gwendolyn: A word of advice? Vampires rarely knock. Especially in daylight. Faith: Oh, right. Gwendolyn: So... this is your home. Faith: Yeah. The decorator actually just left. Gwendolyn: Faith, do you know who the Spartans were? Faith: Wild stab: a bunch of guys from Spart? Gwendolyn: They were the fiercest warriors known to Ancient Greece. And they lived in quarters very much like these. Do you know why? Because a true fighter needs nothing else. I'm going to be very hard on you, Faith. I will not brook insolence or laziness. And I will not allow blunders like last night's attack. You will probably hate me a great deal of the time. Faith: You think? Gwendolyn: But I will make you a better Slayer, and that will keep you alive. You have to trust that I am right. God only knows what Mr. Giles has been filling your head with. Faith: Giles is okay. Gwendolyn: His methods are unfathomable to me. I find him entirely confounding. But that is not important. Let him have his games and secret meetings. Faith: What meetings? Gwendolyn: Oh, I don't know. Something with Buffy and her friends. Faith: Oh, right. I guess that doesn't include me. Gwendolyn: And why does he let her socialize so much? It hardly seems... No matter. Would you like to do some training? Faith: Training? As in kicking and punching and stabbing? Gwendolyn: Yes, that's the idea. Faith: I'm your girl.
~~Revelations~~
[Drabbles & Short Fiction]
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Gone From Here (CSI crossover, Buffy, T)  by cELouise_Moore
Regina California (Buffy/Spike, G)  by Hannah
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The Writer (Spike/Reader, NR)  by charliedawn
[Chaptered Fiction]
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but i never thought i'd live to see it break Chapter 8 (Jenny/Giles, T)  by titleoftheperaltiagosextape
Buffy's Father Chapters 53 & 54 (Stargate SG-1 crossover, Joyce/Daniel Jackson, T)  by Vidicon666
Transylvanian Concubine Chapter 2 (Drusilla/Reader, M)  by thosebloodyroses (paythepiper)
What You Do Afterwards: Season Five Chapter 37 (Doyle/Cordelia, M)  by myheadsgonenumb
Gray Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, M)  by Dusty87
The Tiger is Out Chapter 52 (Buffy/Spike, M)  by Hannah
The Gift Series Complete (Buffy/Angel, T)  by obisgirl
Here We Go Again Chapter 23 (Faith/Buffy, E)  by Echo126
Closure Complete (Bram Stoker's Dracula crossover, Buffy, M)  by obisgirl
Adaptations Chapter 18 (Faith/Buffy, E)  by Echo126
Someone's Underground Chapter 8 (HP crossover, Buffy, M)  by apckrfan
Fragments of Faith Chapter 20 (Faith/Buffy, M)  by scaetterling
two roads diverged (and that has made all the difference) Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, T)  by RoseyPoseyPie
Chain of Ascension Chapter 5 (Buffy/Xander, E)  by GraeFoxx
Rest Stop Chapter 7 (Faith/Buffy, E)  by SheaMcK
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These Endless Days Chapter 11 (Buffy/Spike, PG13)  by violettathepiratequeen
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It Travels With Redheads Chapter 5 (Willow, FR15)  by Traszgo
You’re Going to Need MoreThan a Drink Chapter 3 (Multiple crossovers, FR21)  by ShadowMaster
The Real Me Chapter 5 (Young Justice crossover, FR18)  by BKain
[Images, Audio & Video]
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Graphics: TV show Folder Icon  by Appleseed79
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Graphics: one single thread of gold tied me to you (Buffy/Spike)  by 147days
Artwork: I put Buffy The Vampire Slayer into that app that makes AI...  by firemanwhenthefloodsrollback
Artwork: Unfinished doodles (Spuffy)  by glitzbtvs
Artwork: Dead Things (Spuffy)  by glitzbtvs
Gifs: Believe me, I know (Spike & Angel)  by disco-tea
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How Spike Should've died  by AngryEyes
[Reviews & Recaps]
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Buffy the Last Slayer's Villain Isn't a Vampire… (Spoilers for Buffy the Last Vampire Slayer #1)  by CBR.com
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btvs season 3 episodes ranked  by fallingtowers
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (S01E05)  by rainbowwlsparroww
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Once more with feeling-4x1 The Freshman  by Nerd Subculture
Analysing Buffy Guide | Buffy The Last Vampire Slayer Issue 1  by What the Pop
Slayer Sunday-Season 1 Wrap Up  by Jane Talks Reel
[Fandom Discussions]
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Discussion of ‘Buffy The Last Vampire Slayer’ 1  by Angel6
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If Spike’s love for Buffy wasn’t real…  by multiple authors
Episode battle: Ground State vs. Players  by BtVS Fan and Stoney
Episode battle: Shadow vs. Listening to Fear  by Multiple authors
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How would the Empty Places (7x19) confrontation have ended if Faith backed Buffy up...  by natasharost0va
Why was Drusilla so underutilized?  by JeanGreyStan143
I think Angel would've killed spike at the end of his original five episode run  by docsharkboy
Faith and Angel  by Heavy-Ambition1161
Was just watching Same Time Same Place, suddenly it seemed to make a lot of sense that maybe Amy...  by gimmesomespace
I know everybody loves Wesley post-Sleep Tight, but I much prefer him in the early seasons  by demureduchess
RIP Anne Rice  by Born_Curve_8227
Most outdated special effect  by 30rockplaza
I know I might get flak for this but i prefer seasons 4-7 over the first three seasons.  by DrJackShephardlost
Your AtS opinion that gets you a reaction like this?  by TigerJean
I would’ve loved to see Dawn flashbacks  by Lizcatherine
What would have happened if Dawn had died during one of her many misadventures?  by zanybelle
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The way Willow and Xander stopped cheating post Lover’s Walk...  by confusedguytoo
fav thing about “she plays the triangle”...  by lqvewillow
...Buffy is on some government watchlist  by sunnydalebimbo
Wow. Season 6 promo Spike is just going through it  (Video) by disco-tea
guys i think the fact that spuffy has three "first" kisses and infinite first dates is pretty sexy  by chasingfictions
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imagahub · 3 years
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Famously Creepy Sayings from Books
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Here are some of the scariest quotes of all time, drawn from books over the years. Enjoy this creepy list curated by the Imagahub review team.
“Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice.”
Inferno (Dante Alighieri)
“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.”
Macbeth (William Shakespeare)
“O little one, My little one, Come with me, Your life is done. Forget the future, Forget the past. Life is over: Breathe your last.”
Abarat (Clive Barker)
“Some teeth long for ripping, gleaming wet from black dog gums. So you keep your eyes closed at the end. You don’t want to see such a mouth up close. before the bite, before its oblivion in the goring of your soft parts, the speckled lips will curl back in a whinny of excitement. You just know it.”
The Ritual (Adam Nevill)
“Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. ‘Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, ‘art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore – Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.'”
The Raven (Edgar Allan Poe)
“Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.”
Robert Bloch
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“I laugh maniacally, then take a deep breath and touch my chest – expecting a heart to be thumping quickly, impatiently, but there’s nothing there, not even a beat.”
American Psycho (Bret Easton Ellis)
“Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!”
Dracula (Bram Stoker)
“Full circle. A new terror born in death, a new superstition entering the unassailable fortress of forever. I am legend.”
I Am Legend (Richard Matheson)
“Walls have ears. Doors have eyes. Trees have voices. Beasts tell lies. Beware the rain. Beware the snow. Beware the man You think you know.”
Songs of Sapphique (Catherine Fisher)
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
The Tempest (William Shakespeare)
“We ask only to be reassured About the noises in the cellar And the window that should not have been open.”
The Family Reunion (T.S. Eliot)
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“There are horrors beyond life’s edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man’s evil prying calls them just within our range.”
The Thing on the Doorstep (H.P. Lovecraft)
“Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn’t there, He wasn’t there again today Oh, how I wish he’d go away…”
Antigonish (William Hughes Mearns)
“The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…”
Knock (Fredric Brown)
“Naughty John, Naughty John, does his work with his apron on. Cuts your throat and takes your bones, sells ’em off for a coupla stones.”
The Diviners (Libba Bray)
“I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside.”
The Haunting of Hill House (Shirley Jackson)
“Blood is really warm, it’s like drinking hot chocolate but with more screaming.”
Zombie Haiku (Ryan Mecum)
For plenty more thrilling horror, check out Imagahub today.
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lady-plantagenet · 3 years
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I see you are inspired by my rambling huhu. 2, 19 and 25 for the history meme!
In response to: Tumblr History Ask Meme: https://lady-plantagenet.tumblr.com/post/643743359209472000/ive-seen-plenty-of-tumblr-ask-challenges-but
Umm... YES I HAVE. Thank you for that friend 💕.
2- What is your country most famous for in history?
Oh this is really really easy... Vlad the Impaler; or as we call him - Vlad the Dragon. I would also like to take this as an opportunity to say that I feel a bit uncomfortable with the West’s obsession with Dracula and, by extension, his sadism. The real figure was just so much more compelling and interesting and this caricaturisation of him is inappropriate. No beef with Bram Stoker of course, just more irritated by what grew out as a result of that novel (which I have yet to read). He was fair, penalised laziness and theft, was a byword for greatness, piety and bravery in all of Europe and had it not been for him my country would have long become an Ottoman colony. He is the single-most most revered figure in Romania to the point where he is some sort of King Arthur for us. While I am happy that he has found world renown and in the west we are primarily associated with him, I would rather it be with the real man and not Dracula. 
19 - What’s your favourite historical book?
Well, I’ve rambled about The Last of the Barons by Lord Edward Lytton-Bulwer enough to give everyone on here hives, so I’ll just give you the links to my other posts haha. One of these days when I am less stressed I will write an essay/book-review about it as a whole, though I am not worthy :(. I will give you my favourite historical non-fiction book and that is The Waning of the Middle Ages by Johan Huizinga. Mercy! When I found out they assign it as reading in some universities it restored my faith in humanity and the coming generations of medievalists. So far, I haven’t disagreed with Huizinga once, he really *gets it*, by it I mean the culture and beliefs of the 15th century (focusing almost solely on Burgundy and a little bit on France). I think it should be compulsory reading for all 15th century historical novelists even if you are setting your story in England. It is the finest example of thematic history around but also with an acute awareness of the practicalities and mechanics underpinning this system and hierarchy. It is written in a very idealistic wistful tone but doesn’t woobify the Middle Ages and idealises it past how its inhabitants would have seen it e.g. it admits that by the 15th century some parts of the pomp and such e.g. court rituals were performed with this sense of irony and even lampooned by some of its participants because they have really become overwrought and out-of-place not because the renaissance brought luxury, and end to barbarism or whatever. My Tumblr is full of quotes from his book and I am ashamed to say that I have ran into a very similar situation here as I had once with the aforementioned novel - I have not finished reading it because I am committed to only reading it when I can truly absorb what it is saying. It needs to be savoured as it is really not long. 
25 - Who is the most overrated historical figure, in your opinion?
I do not want to copy you but I was itching to say that it is Richard III. I have recently encountered some users who are a fan of him and take a very healthy approach and I greatly admire them for that and I am not knocking on their interest by saying this - I swear. Personally, The Wars of the Roses, I find to be an interesting period generally so by extension yeah I think Richard is worth a study. My only issue is... he does not appear that remarkable? If anyone wants to debate me on this go ahead, I confess I haven’t dedicated a lot of time on reading about his life 1469 - 1483 where he was an able administrator (but then again that’s not the reason why most people are interested in him anyway). Hell, people in the 15th century weren’t fawning over him like they did with Edward IV, George Duke of Clarence or Richard Neville Earl of Warwick, not only did he ultimately fail (like the latter two) but he didn’t even have that diva appeal or humanness that makes you wonder what was going on in his mind. His motivations, to be honest, seem very easily discernible. For some time I wondered whether his deposition (and likely murder) of his nephews was down to some great concern for the common weal or utilitarianism - I have seen many thesis on him being some sort of ‘people’s champion’. I was intrigued. BUT I really feel like “the people” did not see it like that. Edward, Clarence and Warwick all experienced much higher popularity during their lifetimes so really how remarkable was he in this respect (again, tell me if you have a counter-argument, hell send an ask). Besides, in his 1483 coup, he chose to ally with Buckingham. Yes Buckingham - the very symbol of the high-handed feudal baron that Edward IV was trying to weaken to promote greater stability and suffered greatly in this enterprise. So my question is, did Richard III have any strong beliefs of his own that underpinned the 1483 coup? The execution of William Hastings was very baffling for me to understand for that it provides a further contradiction to my point about Richard wanting to promote an Edward-style stability in the realm. Hastings and the Woodvilles were both essential for that and something good really could have come out of them working together for Edward V. Also, no one hit me with the ‘his life was in danger’. He had the military power to easily crush all the Woodvilles if they all banded together against him (whether that was even their intention in the first place is another story). 
Also, the historiographical debate which is what really makes him is getting very trite lately. That is not to say I am not eager to see what others have to say - I have great faith in some of the people I’ve met on this site, BUT, as a whole, what is being written in blogs, books and articles so far is hardly riveting. You could tide me over if you hit me with facts that he was unusually precocious or incredibly hard-working (both I get a sense of) but I really could not care less that he stayed loyal to his brother. Like most people did, that’s how Clarence and Warwick lost... as Hicks pointed out, he was a third son [sic fourth] there really was not other prospect for him and his advancement than sticking with Edward. Also what is with people’s obsession with loyalty on here? I get a medieval person’s concern with being loyal but this is the 21st century. So yeah he’s overrated in the sense that he is really not that special. Not in a saintly too-good-for-the-world sort of way nor in a tittilating oh-wow-he-is-sooo-evil-nice~~. He was a great man in many ways and deserves interest invested into him. Let me make this clear ~ I don’t think he’s basic or whatever. But given the proportion that this is to nowadays he is severely overrated. I’m talking millions of pounds, an ECHR trial, nearly one hundred novels, a stately funeral and all this distorts popular history’s approach to the period as a whole in a way that really annoys me - often with Clarence being made to look far more incompetent, insignificant and lame as a consequence (which admittedly is more of a me problem but then again this is an opinion meme).
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savannah-lim · 3 years
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Sink Your Teeth In || Savannah & Carrington
Timing: Current Location: Teeth Parties: @savannah-lim and @carringtonblackwood Content: Just vampire shit Summary: Savannah goes exploring in dangerous places again.  
Savannah’s ex-wife had been a huge Dracula fan. She’d even taken her to Whitby on their honeymoon so they could sit on the very bench Bram Stoker had once occupied. This town reminded her of Whitby, in some ways. It was a seaside town, although in New England rather than England itself, and it had a fascinating obsession with the Macabre. Recently, Savannah had started to figure out that there was a pretty good reason for that.
She wandered through the area she'd come to learn was (affectionately?) nicknamed Freak Alley, looking for somewhere to have a drink. She was sure someone online had told her to stay out of these kinds of places, but curiosity was her best friend and biggest enemy, so she walked right in, heading into what she assumed was a goth or punk themed bar called 'Teeth'. 
People looked at her a little strangely as she walked in. Maybe she wasn’t dressed appropriately. “Sorry, I forgot my black leather jacket and velvet top hat,” she said to one particularly gawpy patron as she took a seat at the bar, then she turned to the bartender. “Hi, I’ll have a Gin and Tonic.”
Carrington was having… A Night. Whether it was getting better or worse was still up for debate. Five of his six current clients had called that afternoon to cancel their appraisal walk-throughs, Walter - the fucking ungrateful, orchid-ruining excuse for an oversized Venus fly-trap - had nearly taken his hand off when Carrington had fed the vampire watermelon his biweekly meal. And to top it all off, someone had scratched his Aston. Which would cost an arm and both legs to have fixed. So Carrington was in dire need of a distraction. 
Which ‘Teeth’ was more than happy to provide. Carrington was currently enjoying a very good buzz - thanks to a bottle or two of top-shelf fae blood - when something… unusual yet strangely familiar caught his attention. As well as the attention of every other vampire in the room. There was a human sitting at the bar. A human that wasn’t an employee, and therefore not under the owner’s protection. So it didn’t take long for the vultures to start circling. 
The woman’s scent finally registered with his intoxicated brain about the time he finished his drink. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Tomorrow's headline was already flashing through his mind: FBI Agent Orders Gin and Tonic in Local Bar, Gets Exsanguination Instead. Of all the fucking nights…
“Hello again,” he said, slipping up beside her and ordering another bottle of blood. “How’ve you been? And why, might I ask, are you all alone in a place like this?” 
Savannah had felt several dozen eyes on her. Eyes she had chosen to ignore. The bartender looked at her like she was crazy, but shuffled off to fulfil her order. She looked at the menu on the wall behind him. None of these seemed like normal drinks. Maybe they all just had fancy names. A shiver passed down her spine as someone brushed past her in the crowd, a sixth sense she couldn’t quite explain. But when someone took the seat next to her, Savannah was relieved to see it was someone who wasn’t a stranger.
She paid and tipped the bartender as he returned with her drink. “Carrington, hello.” Nobody was looking at him strangely in spite of him wearing regular clothes as well. Perhaps she was missing something. “I’m well, thanks.” She took a sip of her drink. “A place like this? Just because I’m not covered head to toe in tattoos with painted black fingernails, doesn’t mean I can’t find these sorts of places charming,” she teased, giving him a small grin. “But you can fix the ‘alone’ part if you want.” She cocked her head at him. “Did you just order blood? Was I supposed to use a code word or something, you know, to blend in?” 
“That’s good to hear.” He eyed her curiously. The first time they’d met, Carrington had been absolutely certain she knew shit-all about… well… anything to do with the supernatural. It was why he’d compelled her to forget what she’d seen that night. Though things could and did change quite quickly in this town. Perhaps Savannah was one of them. Either way, Carrington’s curiosity was piqued. 
He returned her grin with one of his own, one side of his mouth slowly lifting as he realized she was serious. And if one were observant enough, they might notice that Carrington sported a set of rather sharp canines behind his lopsided smile. He likely couldn’t have put them away if he’d tried, considering his current state. But oh well. In for a penny and all that. 
“Oh, I think you’ll find the charm goes much, much deeper than just the aesthetic…” Her casual invitation earned her another slow grin. “I think I can handle that.” The asked after drink came a moment later, and Carrington’s fingers paused against the bottle. He glanced at her, trying to decide how to answer in a way that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. Finally, he settled for the truth. She was here wasn’t she? “Yes.” The word was said with a slow, almost lazy candor as he lifted the bottle to his lips. “And no. But... if you wish to blend in…” There were still several sets of eyes on them as his arm slipped idly across the back of her chair. “I could show you how.
Savannah hadn’t even finished her first drink yet, but it was clear Carrington had already had a few. She decided to drink quickly in order to catch up. She had a feeling this was going to be an interesting night. “Fae Blood,” she read from the label. “Well, that’s not very nice.” Savannah waved the bartender down, much to his irritation, and ordered a second gin and tonic and a whiskey on the rocks. “Seems I have some catching up to do.” She finished her first drink almost in one long gulp, eyeing Carrington with curiosity. 
“You’re being strange,” she said, but her tone was one of interest and intrigue. She swore she could see the strange shape of his teeth beneath the dim lights. “Blending in, how?” she asked, curious to know what he’d be showing her. “I’d like to find out.” 
Carrington was well into his cups. Which explained why he didn’t bat an eye as she read the label on his bottle, other than to give her another playful smirk. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. Besides…” He leaned towards her and pointed to a tiny bit of writing on the label. “‘No Fae were harmed in the making of this willingly-donated, generously compensated, and promise-free product.’” As if that should explain everything. And maybe it did. 
“By all means.” He watched her down her drink, raising an impressed eyebrow. The sweet smell of whiskey drifted towards him, and Carrington ordered one for himself, with a shot of A-negative. “Am I?” he asked. Her continued acquiescence was slightly surprising, but Carrington didn’t mind. Not one bit. “By doing what every other human that comes into a vampire bar comes there to do…” He gave her another curious, crooked smile, eyes slightly hooded as the implications of what he was suggesting - along with his sharply pointed teeth -  made themselves unmistakably clear. “And I’d be more than happy to oblige.” His fingers drifted up her arm to ghost over the line of her neck. “Do you trust me?”
Savannah had to be dreaming. This whole thing was almost as beyond belief as everything else she’d seen in White Crest so far. The idea of a vampire bar wasn’t strange. What was strange was that he should be so brazen about it, that he should be so open, even clearly a few drinks deep. “Why would I possibly want to try that?” she asked. She wasn’t a vampire, so she could only imagine it would taste awful. “I have my own.” She downed her whiskey and lifted the second gin and tonic. This would catch up with her soon. Maybe once it did, this would feel less bizarre. 
“How forward,” she snickered, almost a little embarrassed that this situation was - dare she say it - kind of hot. A therapist would have had a field day with that. “I’m not sure I’m drunk enough yet,” she said, her breath hitching in her throat a little turning her words into something of a sigh. “But you can show me around while I get there.” She leaned into him, whispering. “And no. I don’t trust anyone. But that doesn’t mean I won’t do something foolish.”
Carrington had no reason to hide what he was. Not here. Though his track record of making good choices when partaking of fae blood - he usually avoided it for a reason - wasn’t very good. Outside these walls, however, his identity was no one’s business but his own. And a very few trusted individuals. He opened his mouth to tell Savannah that the comment had been… well, somewhat rhetorical, but his attention quickly slipped to watching the line of her throat as she downed her drinks. 
“You asked,” he grinned, letting his fingers play over the slope of her shoulder. The way her breath hitched made Carrington’s fangs ache ever so slightly, but he was more than happy to grant the request to show her around. Before he could start what would hopefully be a very short tour on the way to something far more entertaining, she was suddenly very close. Again, she managed to surprise him with her answer, and again, Carrington didn’t question it. Instead, he laughed, the sound a low, genuinely pleased hum as he turned his head to whisper, “Good girl…” into her ear. He didn’t elaborate on which of her comments he was alluding to (it was both, actually), but pulled her and onto the first leg of the grand tour. 
A good bit later, Carrington’s head lolled towards Savannah. “Are we there yet?” he asked, grinning drunkenly, fangs on full display at this point. “Or well… are you there yet? I was there… oh-” He held up two fingers for her to see. “- three drinks ago.” 
Savannah swallowed. This was bizarre in a way that somehow made sense. It would have been beyond belief if not for the fact that it was so sensible and obvious. Savannah had no scepticism left in her. Carrington wasn’t trying to hide anything. He wasn’t a stranger trying to lure her backstage. She quivered, almost embarrassed as he whispered the words in her ear. 
She decided to see where this went, no commitment one way or the other. She explored with him, danced with him, had a few more drinks with him, and gave a low laugh when he finally asked the question. “I think I’m getting there.” She swung on his arm a little as they danced, twisting herself into his arms. “Tell me something,” she said, figuring now was her best chance to get some honesty out of him. “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t found me at the bar?” she asked. In spite of being pleasantly drunk now, her curiosity hadn’t shut off. Savannah turned back to him, hands on his shoulders. 
“Can you be gentle? Can your friends?” she used the word loosely. There were several humans in the bar. Savannah could see that now. She’d passed the human blood bags and the fang bangers that were either paid to be here or came for their own thrill and enjoyment. They seemed to be having fun, but Savannah didn’t doubt there was a seedier underbelly to all this. Accidents happened. 
Her shiver didn’t escape his notice, but Carrington simply tucked that particular tidbit away for later. After that the evening was a blur. A pleasant one, if a bit strange. But only strange because he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have to hide a part of himself from a human acquaintance. Whether out of fear of losing a friend, or fear for his own safety. Neither of those things had even crossed his mind this evening. Savannah was… taking it all in stride. Without any evidence of a nervous breakdown in the near future. 
So, as was the theme of the evening, Carrington didn’t question it. He simply endeavoured to take things as they came for once. Her laughter vibrated against his chest as she spun around, and he let his other hand slide around her waist, holding her against him as they danced. “Excellent…” he smiled against her ear before letting his lips drop lightly to her shoulder. He stayed there as they danced, enjoying her warmth and her scent along with his own pleasantly drunken state. “Anything…” he murmured to her query. Though when it came, the question wasn’t quite what he expected. Nonetheless, the evening had thus far thrived on honesty, and Carrington was loath to change that. 
“Perhaps nothing,” he told her quietly. “Or perhaps someone would’ve fed on you. Without your consent. Or worse.” 
Her next question didn’t have a black and white answer. She’d seen the varying degrees of human/vampire interaction around the bar. Though some things weren’t meant for public display. How could she not be curious? “In general? Yes,” he said, and meant it. “We’re all capable of being gentle. We’re not much different than humans in that sense. Some good, some bad. Most somewhere in between. ” 
Carrington dipped his head towards her shoulder again. “As for myself… I’m always gentle…” His lips - along with a barely there, feather-light hint of fangs - brushed her skin as he smiled lazily. “Unless you ask me not to be...” 
Savannah's next shudder wasn't so pleasant. Fed on. Or worse. Those certainly weren't the most desirable of outcomes. "Well, thanks for coming to my rescue," Savannah teased, her words dripping with irony. She remained close to Carrington, paying specific attention to his lack of heartbeat. His body was a little warm, perhaps from the bottles of blood he'd been drinking like light beers. If she hadn't already known already, she wouldn't have guessed he was a vampire. She'd have to get smarter about that. 
She exhaled, continuing to casually dance with him as he explained his species to her, at least in the vaguest of ways. She'd try and find out more later, she was sure, once she wasn't so very distracted by the feeling of his skin on hers and how good he smelled. "Good to know," she murmured against his jawline as he promised to be gentle. She swallowed the lump in her throat as his teeth scraped against the shell of her ear.
Fuck. She was an idiot.
"Then I guess we'd better go back to your place." 
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desperationandgin · 4 years
Text
Peaceful Easy Feelin’ (A Market Price One-Shot)
Rating: Explicit (or Mature? IDK.)
Author: desperationandgin
Also Read On: AO3
Summary: Jamie and Claire take their first road trip together.
A/N:  Hello, my friends! After a month of 0 writing, I'm back with an MP one shot. This is, to date, the longest single fic of anything I've written, so I have to deeply thank all of my betas. @filledwithlight, @smashing-teacups, @happytoobserve, @fierceweebadger​ and @lcbeauchampoftarth​, thank you so much. I dropped them on this yesterday and felt real bad about it, but they all knocked it OUT. A L S O thank you to @happytoobserve​ for the idea with the game! Annnnnd @fierceweebadger​ even made this GORGEOUS mood board, thank you love! This ficlet takes place after Future Expansions, and I would suggest reading (or re-reading for the tie-in) The Nearness of You afterward!
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Peaceful Easy Feelin’
Let it be known, there is nothing sexier than Jamie Fraser pumping petrol while wearing his lumberjack ensemble.
Claire fires off her text to Geillis, subtly watching Jamie’s profile in the side mirror. He’s wearing jeans that make her purposefully linger behind him when they walk; and, to be quite frank, looks as if he stepped straight out of a Barbour ad. When her phone vibrates, she glances down just as he finishes, only having enough time to read part of her friend’s response.
Yer wee fox cub certainly’d like to show ye some wood-
Coughing to hide a laugh, Claire quickly drops her phone down into the bag at her feet as Jamie slides back into the car.
“Ye alright, Sassenach? Want me to go inside, get ye a drink?”
Shaking her head, she smiles and settles into her seat. “No. I’m fine, just eager to go. My expert navigation skills have us at the bed and breakfast by supper.”
The trip from home to the quaint town they’ve read about along the coast is nearly a three-hour road trip on its own. After spending most of the day on Friday making sure things will run smoothly for Jenny and Ian at the farmer’s market, their stop for petrol has them on the lengthiest part of the drive just after three in the afternoon. The temperature is a comfortable 13 Celsius, nice enough to crack the windows and breathe crisp autumn air once they hit the open road. They chat about various things each of them have been meaning to get to (Claire reminds him about the never-ending search for the perfect bedding; Jamie floats the idea of an all-family vacation to one of the cabins near the loch for winter holiday) and weigh the pros and cons of eventually adopting a cat versus a dog.
“I can run wi’ a dog,” Jamie patiently explains, as if that alone should be the winning argument.
“Well, while you run, I can laze around with a cat reading a book and drinking tea,” she responds just as matter-of-factly. “Besides, you don’t run more than once a day, but the dog definitely needs to go out more often than that. How eager are you to put on clothes at eleven p.m.?”
“Ye do tend to have me thoroughly undressed by ten,” Jamie muses, smiling at her soft thwap against his shoulder. “Dogs alert ye to intruders, they like to play, and they can obey.”
“Oh,” Claire scoffs. “Is that what you’re looking for? Something to obey you?”
“I’m no’ generally the commanding type,” Jamie retorts. Anyone trying to command Claire Beauchamp was never going to get very far, in any case. “I only meant they can learn tae do things.”
“Well, so can cats! And they don’t need to be held by the paw to go to the bathroom. I’m right about this.”
“I dinna have anythin’ against havin’ a cheetie, ye ken,” Jamie points out. “My mam had one when I was a wee lad, I liked it fine.”
Claire turns to face him, head tilting to the side. “What was its name?”
Jamie smiles in reflection, sparing a glance at her while he drives. “Adso. He was a fierce hunter, chased away all the mice and ate what dared to linger. She loved that cat until—” He trails off, quiet for a beat before finishing. “No’ long after she died, Adso disappeared. No one remembers seeing him after that, at least.”
Out of habit, Claire rests a hand on his thigh, but as he reaches down for her she meets him halfway, tangling their fingers together. “Adso was truly your mother’s. That’s beautiful, Jamie.”
For a few minutes the memory lingers, the image of his mother curled up with the kitten suddenly swimming to the surface. He can remember the sound of her calling out sweetly for her cat, and the rediscovered memory sways his decision.
“When we’re finally settled after the honeymoon, we’ll see about a cheetie of our own,” Jamie promises, wrapping up the debate for good.
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She didn’t mean to drift, and she’s alarmed to find herself alone in a still car when her eyes open. Before she can wonder too long, Jamie appears, exiting a quaint-looking home that she realizes must be Eskview Farm in St. Cyrus: the true starting point of the road trip. They’re staying for two evenings, planning a day at the beach (in jeans and jumpers) before heading out on the 30th toward Aberdeen. From there, it’s onward to Slains Castle just in time for Samhein, the questionably haunted portion of their road trip beginning and ending with a tour of Bram Stoker’s inspiration.
Getting out of the car, Claire stretches and Jamie detours, moving to her side instead of grabbing a bag from the boot.
“You were snorin’,” he teases, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.
“If I was, it was only because I found myself quite content,” she explains, granting him another kiss as she leans back against the car. “Our first road trip.”
“First road trip. How’s it feel, Sassenach?”
She smiles as she presses her lips to his cheek, then grazes his stubble with the tip of her nose. “How it always feels to be with you.”
Jamie’s lips find the crook of her neck, one hand wandering under her shirt, caressing her back slowly. “And how does that feel?” he whispers in inquiry, dropping a kiss to her pulse.
Claire feels as though she’s standing on a swaying ship, closing her eyes as warmth blooms in her belly. “It feels like an adventure with you, Jamie. Every day.” Sinking into him, her arms loop around his waist as her face nuzzles against his shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is muffled, but she doesn’t move. “And you cannot feel me up in the parking lot of our bed and breakfast.”
“And why no’?” Jamie asks, lips trailing to her collarbone now.
Her eyes drift to the porch and the pleasant-looking elderly woman eyeing them. “Because I think the proprietor is on the porch,” she laughs softly, stifling it against his shoulder. “I’m ready for a shower, though. With company.”
Distraction accomplished (and faster than she expected), they’re shown to a room exploding with lace and doilies, a teddy bear draped in a strand of pearls sitting on the dresser. Once they’re alone, Claire stops trying to hide her laughter and raises an eyebrow. “Someone not take a glance at the photo gallery before booking?”
Jamie, having opened the closet door, stands frozen to the spot. “Sassenach, I cannae think of words tae properly describe what I’m seein’, so just come look.”
Curious, Claire goes to his side, peeking in, and lets out another bark of a laugh as a row of wooden puppets stares down at them from the top shelf. “Well, this is supposed to be a spooky road trip.”
“Spooky and creepy are verra different things,” Jamie feels the need to point out as he firmly closes the door again, tugging off his shirt.
“How so?” she asks, heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower.
He follows her, shedding shoes and jeans in his wake. “Creepy is more on the weird side, ye ken? Like perhaps a person who has that many wooden puppets has other things in her cupboards. But spooky is just aesthetic, Sassenach.”
She scoffs, looking over her shoulder and appreciating the fact that he’s made quick work of his clothing. “I must say, I feel properly educated on the subject now. Thank you.” Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pecks his lips lightly before pressing closer. “I see I’m suddenly overdressed.”
“And the shower was your idea, even. I see what yer up to, distracting me from gropin’ ye in the parkin’ lot.”
Claire laughs, delighted at him — at them — and lets him undress her, if only to feel his fingers against her skin as he exposes it. “You can grope me just as well in the shower, you know.” The last word is a soft exhale as his fingers graze up her sides, pushing her shirt up as he goes and leaving goosebumps in his wake.
“Aye, I plan to. Dinna fash about that,” he breathes out against her clavicle, hands reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, gently pushing the straps down her shoulders. As he pulls the garment away, Jamie steps back to admire her — topless, in jeans, still wearing her practical walking shoes.
Tugging at her hand, he pulls her to the mirror, grinning at her reflection. “Ye look ridiculous right now.” She’s laughing too hard to respond, shoulders shaking with it. “I mean, it is a look, Sassenach.”
“Would you shut up and get me naked, please?” Claire finally sputters, heaving out a breath as she tries to stop herself from another round of hysterics.
Laughing with her, he unbuttons her jeans, turning her around to kiss her laughing mouth as he pushes them down her body. “I could distract ye wi’ bawdy things.”
Her laughter catches and she clears her throat. “Do go on. What sort of bawdy things will you do to me while the puppets listen?”
It’s his turn to laugh and he does, loudly against her ear. “Nevermind, ye ruined it."
“We’ve wasted enough hot water,” she decides, kicking off her shoes and shimmying the rest of the way out of her jeans, even as he pushes her knickers (with wee hearts on them; a joke gift on her birthday before the real gift of the skimpiest things he’d ever bought) down her legs.
Once all offending pieces are discarded, they step into the bath-shower-combination together, realizing the tight squeeze almost immediately.
“You know,” Claire begins. “Every movie and television show I’ve ever watched would have me believe sex in the shower is effortless. Easy, even.”
There’s hardly room to turn around, let alone do any groping, and Jamie graciously steps back to let Claire have the water. “This is why we never tried it before,” he points out. “I’m no’ prepared to break a hip on vacation.”
With a smirk, Claire wets her hair while facing him. “I’m glad you’re more practical than horny. My own hips thank you.”
When she turns her back to him, Jamie wordlessly reaches for one of the decorative (but unlabeled) bottles, sniffs it, and determines based on color and smell it must be the shampoo. Lathering it into her hair, he massages her scalp in the tamest of ways, but his cock is doing very little to help with his restraint.
“If either of us breaks anything then we cannae have one another for Christ knows how long, so I’m no’ willin’ to risk it,” he supplies practically, working on her hair until she has a well-shaped soap afro and letting her go to rinse—his favorite part.
Closing her eyes, Claire reaches up, working the water through her hair. “Then I suppose we’ll be boring and wait for bed,” she teases, scrunching her nose as soap drips down her face.
Jamie reaches up to wipes the offending suds away, then looks at the high edges of the tub. “I do have an idea. No’ quite what they write in bodice rippers, but somethin’.” As she finishes rinsing her hair, Jamie pushes the shower curtain behind his body before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hips are at the perfect height, and he grins while dragging a finger over her skin.
Turning to rinse any lingering soap from her face, Claire finally finishes and eyes him warily. “What are you going to do?”
Carefully ensuring she doesn’t slip, Jamie pulls her closer and coaxes her left foot up onto the edge of the tub. When his gaze shifts to the view directly in front of his eyes, any half-hardness of his cock goes to full attention. It’s enough to make him groan, lips pressing to her stomach.
“Christ, ye have no idea how mind-blowin’ ye are.”
After his words, his tongue traces the crease where hip joins torso, feeling her shiver despite the warmth of the shower.
“I have—” her words falter, breath hitching as his fingers part her. “—you doing this. I know how to take a hint.” One of her hands pushes through his hair, and gripping a handful of said curls, she presses her hips forward against his mouth.
“Impatient,” he scolds, but the words are muffled as he’s helpless to fulfill her request. He can’t imagine what would need to be wrong with him to deny her, and he hopes to never discover it. His tongue teases around the enticing warmth of her, but his focus shifts to nerves already taut with anticipation. He waits for half a heartbeat before slowly circling his tongue around it, feeling her hand tighten in his hair, her curls brushing the top of his head as her own bows.
With one hand wrapped around her calf to keep her steady, the other moves to her opposite hip while his mouth devours her, doing all of the work. He grunts at the feel of her thigh against the side of his head, absorbing each tremble until her body pitches forward a bit. That’s when he begins listening: to the sweetest sounds that exist just for him, his own private performance.
When she’s close, when pleasure causes her hips to writhe of their own accord, she makes a keening sound; head falling back as her lips part, cheeks flushed the sweetest hue of pink, curls skimming the pearlescent expanse of her shoulders. A high-pitched cry comes next as she tenses, the skin right between her eyebrows furrowing as she chases her climax. Two letters, a gasped out “Ja—” is all the warning he has before a loud, unchecked moan fills the room, not at all drowned out by the sound of the shower. One hand is buried in his hair, while the other clutches his shoulder, leaving red half-moon marks in the wake of her pleasure.
Lapping at the fruits of his labor, Jamie hums in contentment, tongue lazily gliding along warm, slick flesh before nosing at soft curls and finally kissing her hip. As everything in her eases and relaxes, he gently lowers her leg, his arm sliding around her waist as he stands. He gathers her close, standing sideways with her in the shower as his lips find hers for a series of soft, tender kisses. Without prompting, he reaches for the soap and washes her, slowly bringing her down from her high with more touch, this time soothing instead of lust-filled.
When she can finally move again, Claire reaches out to cradle his face in her hands, smiling in blissed-out contentment. “I think I might have to marry you.”
Having previously deemed the shower too dangerous for more strenuous activities, they finish washing and step out, lazily drying in favor of kissing and touching again.
“I cannae be near ye and not want ye,” Jamie confesses against the hollow of her throat as she leans back against the vanity. After a brief pause to plant a kiss over her heart, his mouth envelops a nipple, the warm curve of her breast still damp from the shower.
With one hand braced behind her on the bathroom counter, her other reaches out to drag up and down his back. Claire’s eyes close, head tilting back as she encourages him. “I don’t have it in me to mind.” Her final word is said on a sharp gasp as the tip of his cock presses insistently against her. His mouth hasn’t stopped, moving to the opposite breast to shower it with the same affection as his hands begin lifting. She expects to be moved to the counter, but instead, he coaxes her legs around his waist once he comes up for air.
“Tell me I can have ye now,” he pants across her cheek, beginning to make his way out of the bathroom toward the bed.
“You can have me, Jamie. You can always have me.” Her lips fuse to his, and in a display of exactly how weak he is, she finds herself pressed against the wall, feet from the bed. Before she can tease him, he’s inside of her, and whatever thoughts she once had are replaced by a series of white bursts of light behind closed eyelids. Her hands grasp at his shoulders, frantically trying to find solid purchase on the scarred terrain of his back as he anchors her between his body and the wall.
Forgetting that they aren’t, in fact, in their own home, an unrestrained moan tumbles from her lips, so loud that it makes his own ears ring. Jamie slams forward, doing nothing to help keep her quiet as he sinks deeply into her. His loud groan is swallowed by her mouth, though there’s no resemblance to a kiss thanks to both of them gasping for lungfuls of air. He can tell that she’s focused again by the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and digs her heels into his lower back. She’s close, but not close enough, which has him sneaking a hand between them, only just able to reach her clit with his thumb. It’s plenty; she jerks as though touched by a live wire, and as her body contracts around him, he holds a thrust while burying his face against her neck. Letting her carry him with her, both of them breathlessly whimper the other’s name as waves of pleasure begin to recede.
It’s firm knocking on the door that brings first Jamie, then Claire, out of their post-sex stupor, still slumped against the wall. He lowers her gently to the ground, and when her legs are no longer as wobbly as a new foal’s, he steps back, tossing on jeans and answering the door sans shirt. While he does, Claire revisits the bathroom, cleaning herself up a bit until she hears the door close and lock.
“What was that about?” she asks curiously, making her way to the bed and crawling in naked.
“We’re deviants,” Jamie replies casually, laying on the bed and shifting so that she can drape over him. “It was the person next room over. Apparently, ye sound like a dying coo, Sassenach.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didna say it! The woman next door did. I politely disagreed, and she told me that to answer the door in such a state of undress was a mark on my puir soul.”
“Was she about eighty years of age?” Claire mutters, blushing a little.
Laughing, Jamie pulls her closer, kissing her forehead. “Closer to eighty-five, I think. I promised her we’d be leavin’ after breakfast in the morning and until then, no more rude noises.”
“You think they’re rude?”
“I happen to find them verra adorable. Sexy too, if it helps,” he playfully taunts.
She huffs, pretending to be greatly put out. “And what if I wanted to try and get you to make rude noises before 5 a.m?”
With a smirk, Jamie curves a hand around her hip. “If ye’re awake before 5 a.m. on our vacation, Sassenach, I’ll make all the wee noises ye’d like.”
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Morning comes (but not either of them, thanks to Claire sleeping straight through the alarm), and after a few impolite stares from other breakfast goers, Jamie and Claire wander along the beach, properly freezing before driving into town to shop (Jamie buys a ridiculously priced book of Scottish poems printed in the 18th century, Claire sneakily buys cufflinks to give Jamie before their wedding), have lunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon at a whiskey distillery in Aberdeen. Research, he says, and she agrees to a point—until they walk out more than a few pounds lighter. Still, there isn’t much to worry about as the day begins to fade and they make their way back to the bed and breakfast.
As politely as they can, they rush through supper before escaping to their room; both of them miss the look of contempt shot at them from their neighbor in the corner.
Once their road trip resumes, Claire takes over the driving, opting for an Eagles playlist as the low background music. A half-hour in, Jamie reaches behind Claire to retrieve a bag from the backseat, rummaging while he explains himself.
“I told Jen we were goin’ on this trip and she suggested we borrow a game she bought a while back.”
“A game?” Claire asks with suspicious wariness, glancing at him as he settles back in his seat with a plastic bag full of small square cards.
“Aye, she bought it for a dinner party, when we started havin’ vendors to the farm for get-togethers. To break the ice, ye pick a card and ask the room whatever the question is and everyone answers.”
“It sounds like something you do when you work in a business office and go to company retreats,” she says dryly, looking behind her to change lanes. “And I’m driving, I can’t stop to read.”
“Come on, Sassenach, it’ll be fun. I’ll read them all, but every other card, I’ll answer first. Deal?”
“What could you possibly not know about me by now?”
Jamie takes that as his cue to draw a card and read it off. “‘Have ye ever bought anythin’ from a TV infomercial?’” He looks at her expectantly. “Weel?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, and I’m not ashamed of it like that question implies I should be.” There’s a slight huff at the end, but when he looks over, he sees the corner of her upper lip twitch as she tries to suppress a smile in favor of mock annoyance.
“What was it then? Can I guess?”
Now it’s impossible to hide her smile. “You can try. But it was years before I met you and I don’t own it anymore.”
“Oh, so it worked sae well ye got rid of it?”
“No. I lost track of it during a move and never bothered to replace it. Tell me what you’re thinking it could be,” Claire retorts, deciding maybe the game is alright after all.
“A kitchen gadget?” he attempts on his first try, then goes through various electronic gadgets, home remedy devices, and articles of clothing before giving up.
“A towel,” Claire tells him succinctly.
“A towel? One single towel ye ordered off of television?”
“Specifically for drying my hair. It had a tab in the back to secure it like a turban until these curls were as dry as they could get without assistance,” she explains. “What have you bought from an infomercial?”
“Nothin’ at all, I can honestly say. Do they even have them anymore?”
“Towels?”
“No, ye wee brat. Infomercials.”
Laughing, she shrugs in genuine ignorance. “If they do, I haven’t seen one in a while. What’s the next question?”
Glad to see her seemingly into the idea of the game, he pulls another card. “Alright. I’ll answer first. The question is ‘do ye possess any of the qualities of yer astrological sign?’ Claire, I couldna tell ye at all. I ken I’m a Taurus, but after that, ‘tis a mystery.”
“Geillis is really into horoscopes, you know. She told me that apparently you’re supposed to be devoted and responsible, so lucky me. Stubbornness happens to be a trait of your sign, and the more we talk, the more I think there might be something to that. You know what else a Taurus likes?”
“No, but I’m interested to hear,” Jamie declares, wondering when this conversation with her neighbor happened.
“Apparently, and I wouldn’t know anything about this, you’re supposed to be good with your hands.” When she glances at him, her grin is so toothy that they both laugh, spending a few seconds recovering from it.
“I’m ashamed to admit I’m no’ even sure what your sign is. What are you supposed to be like, accordin’ to October twentieth?”
“I’m a Libra. You’ll have to tell me if I’m gracious, diplomatic, and indecisive, with a love of the outdoors.”
Leaning back as if to appraise her, Jamie ponders it. “I’ve never kent ye to be indecisive. Careful to choose, perhaps, but no’ unable to make up yer mind. And either ye love the outdoors or the acting ye do at the farm is award-worthy.”
Claire smiles, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm for a second. “I love it. All of it, everything that comes with you and Lallybroch.” Her life before him of simply waking up and going to work was status quo for so long that the moment James Fraser stepped into her life, it was as if an entire world had opened up to her. Family and togetherness, love and warmth. Every single bit of her happiness comes from that farm.
“Next question?”
Pulling a card, his face softens. “What’s the most beautiful drive ye’ve ever taken, Sassenach?” She smiles at him sweetly; it’s a quick glance that feels as though it lasts forever, a moment neither of them wants to forget, and so it seems to stretch on. In unison, they answer.
“This one.”
“‘Which American landmark would ye most like to see?’ The Grand Canyon I think, aye? We’ve both talked about that one,” Jamie answers first.
Humming her agreement, Claire adds on to the wishlist. “I want to see the older parts of the country. The original Colonies, where it’s all the most historic.”
“Perhaps in ten years or so, we could take a trip, visit museums and the like,” he offers.
In confusion, she balks. “A decade? Why are we waiting a decade to visit America?”
His shrug is easy as he draws another card. “Our first bairn would be school age, able to appreciate it more, aye?”
As Claire stops at an intersection, she takes the time to look at him, eyes moving over his face and expressing a dozen things she doesn’t say aloud. Instead, as she begins to drive again, she agrees with him. “According to your rigorous baby-making schedule? Yes, we’ll have a nice school-aged child and probably two others by then.”
Jamie’s laughing as he looks at the next card, then makes a noise in the back of his throat as he really reads what he’s pulled.
“What’s the hardest thing ye’ve ever done, Sassenach?”
The air in the car shifts as she thinks, straightening up in the seat. It’s with that question she realizes maybe he doesn’t know some things. The things she doesn’t talk about, the things she’s pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind in favor of not sinking into pieces of her past.
“I can draw another,” he offers after her silence stretches for a full minute.
Shaking her head, Claire wets her lips. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it, really. I mean, I haven’t thought about it—” She pauses again and looks at him from her peripheral vision before focusing on the road. “The first time I told someone their loved one didn’t make it. It was only my fifth surgery, a young man. He was twenty-three; he’d been biking with his friends and swerved to avoid a pothole, but his rear tire caught it.”
It really wasn’t her fault he died on the table. She knows that now; but then, younger and hearing the single monotone beep after her hands had been trying to save a life, it felt as though she’d killed him herself.
“He crashed into a metal fence, the kind with the sharp point at the tip? One went right through him, and I did the surgery. Everything went fine, I thought. I had no idea there was a nicked artery and he was bleeding elsewhere. When he died...telling his parents, his beautiful young wife…that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Jamie watches Claire as she speaks, watches her face, her hands on the steering wheel. He checks to see if she’s white-knuckling it at any point, and listens as she checks herself for wobbles in her voice. He knows her, knows her heart, and realizes that must have taken a toll. “But ye got through it?” he asks quietly, reaching over to rest his hand on her leg while she drives in a show of quiet support.
“It took a long time,” she admits, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Those don’t get easier, ever, but the first one is always the most difficult. And the hardest part was convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault.” She’ll never forget any of the wails she’s heard, will never forget the people waiting at the hospital alone who had no one to comfort them but her.
Exhaling again, she drops her hand to squeeze his. “Your turn.”
Even when she replaces her hand on the steering wheel, Jamie keeps his own on her leg as he answers. “Watching my da slowly lose it after my mam died.” His eyes move to the window, unable to look at Claire as he speaks. “I’ll always think he died of a broken heart, dinna care how cliche it sounds.”
“I don’t think it sounds cliche. I think he lost the most important person in his life,” she soothes. Once she’s on a long stretch of straight road, her hand drops again to cover his.
“He truly didna want to go on wi’ out her. Her death, Willie’s, they broke him, and he was never going to be the same. When he died, it was almost a relief, Sassenach,” Jamie confesses quietly. “To ken he’d be wi’ her again, that he was no longer here in a state of perpetual grief. He tried to be brave. You would have liked him, I think. I ken for sure he would have loved ye, Claire.”
“I wish I could have met him. Your father sounds like he was a wonderful man, Jamie.” A wonderful man who raised an incredible son. Claire isn’t sure what she believes — if her parents and uncle will be waiting to greet her when she dies — but she does know one thing for sure. “If I ever lost you, I don’t know if I would be any different.”
His hand squeezes around hers before raising it to his lips in a soft kiss against her inner wrist. “I’ll try to never go where ye cannae come wi’ me, Sassenach.”
She doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Then I promise the same.”
They can’t — not really — but the words are sweet, the sentiment real.
Time melts away and she loses track of how many questions they’ve answered before she warns him they’re ten minutes away from the castle.
“Last one then,” he concludes. “If ye could do something dangerous just once, with no risk, what would ye do?”
Claire has to think about it, then hedges her answer. “Where are we on the danger scale?”
“I would jump out of a plane. Or perhaps let NASA launch me into space.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she retorts with a scoff. “You’re never jumping out of a plane or anything close to it. Especially not with your plan for ten children.”
Jamie snickers as he puts the cards away, spying a road sign to Slains Castle. “I do have a different answer if ye’re interested. No’ really dangerous physically, but it could be a financial disaster if it doesna go right.”
She knows this has to be about the farm, and she looks at him curiously after making the final turn of the trip. “What is it?”
He hesitates, and she’s pulling up to the dilapidated ruins before he answers. Once the car is in park, he turns to look at her fully. “I want to expand into America. Once we finish wi’ the distillery, I want to market to restaurateurs and chefs in the States.”
She can tell he’s nervous about broaching it; she knows it will take a lot of late nights and frequent travel on his part. She studies his face for a moment before unbuckling her seatbelt in order to reach over and cradle his face in her hands. It’s an awkward position thanks to the center console, but she’s determined to make it work.
“You should do it. Do it because you’re afraid. Do it because I’ll be here to help along the way.” She pauses to kiss him softly. “Do it because I know you won’t go through with anything you don’t believe in, Jamie.”
A swell of emotion makes his eyes narrow a bit, the underlying surprise turning into a small, pleased smile. “Ye dinna think it’s too risky?”
Claire kisses him again before she pulls back to turn off the car, opening the door as she answers. “It’s going to be the riskiest thing you’ll ever do with our money,” she corrects, but after walking around to the passenger side of the car and opening the door, she waits until he’s out to finish her thought. “I’m not going to say ‘no risk, no reward.’”
“Oh, thank Christ. It’s uninspired.” His hands come to rest on her hips as his eyes study her face intently. “You’re serious, though? About looking into expanding, what it would take?”
Looking around at the currently unoccupied grounds, she walks with him toward the unattractive, not at all well-kept castle—a rarity for historical buildings in Scotland, as far as she’s observed. “I’m serious, Jamie. You’d never be happy knowing you could be doing more. You should look into it, find out what Ian thinks, and see about getting in touch with your cousin Jared? It’s different than wine, but he might have some useful contacts in the liquor business.”
Jamie has to stop solely to reach for her, ignoring the scenery around them and focusing on this woman he’ll be calling his wife in six months. With his hands at her sides, his forehead presses to hers. “You have no idea how incredible ye are. Everything I’ve done and all that I want to do, I’m no’ ever worried it’s too much to put ye through.”
“Silly man,” she says with a soft smile, nuzzling the side of his nose with her own. “Nothing about you could ever be too much.” Kissing him with a quiet, content sigh against his lips, she reaches for his hand after stepping away. “Now. Explore a castle before sunset with me?”
Following her lead and seeing a grand total of three other tourists while exploring, he listens while she tells him everything she knows about the castle, including that it was once difficult to determine which areas had been outdoor spaces and which were actually interior rooms. It was a confusing space, and as they cross the property to look out at the cliffs, she stands close enough to Jamie that an arm winds around her without thinking much about it.
“Are ye pleased wi’ yer Samhein road trip, Sassenach? Is this terrifyin’ enough for ye?”
“It isn’t what I thought it would be after reading the book,” she notes idly. “I had no expectations, and the view is beautiful. The drive was worth it. This just feels...I don’t know. Cold.”
“Could be that it’s currently freezin’ out,” Jamie notes, getting an elbow to the side for his wit. “Could ye imagine livin’ in a castle? Having meals in great rooms, wandering the stone halls wi’ a torch.”
“Is that how you imagine us? Living in a castle with a staff to wait on us hand and foot?” They walk to the interior of the castle now, stopping in a room with a fireplace. “This could have been a bedroom, for all we know. Imagine a large bed with four posts. A crackling fireplace.”
She’s stepped away from him to look into various nooks and crannies, and it gives him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind. “I’m certainly imagining a few specific things,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the side of her neck.
“Of course you are,” she says with a smile so large he can feel the way her body relaxes with it.
“I’m thinking of making love to ye on the floor wi’ a bear skin rug beneath us. A fire going in the hearth.”
Closing her eyes, she tries to picture it, the way the room would have looked and felt; dark, probably, with the hearth doubling as warmth and light. “Would you mind it much? Not having electricity or modern conveniences?”
“If you were wi’ me? Nah,” he murmurs as he turns her to face him, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Dinna think I would mind much at all, so long as we were together.”
Pressing closer to escape the chill, her arms wrap fully around him as he reciprocates and both of them sink into one another.
“Are you happy?” Claire suddenly inquires, whispering the question as they stand together in the ruins.
“I dinnae ken if how happy I am can be measured properly. I’m happy to be here wi’ ye right now. Happy to do all of this driving, happy to be marrying ye, Claire.” Moving his fingers under her chin, he tilts her head up in order to deepen their kiss.
She gives in easily, lips parting as his tongue does a very thorough exploration of her mouth. As he does, her hands wander, dragging to the button of his jeans. “We may not have the furs or the fire, but I could certainly see about making you a little happier,” she offers with a coy grin, then pauses. “Unless there are qualms.” Her raised eyebrows suggest she knows there will be exactly zero qualms.
“If I tell ye to stop, it’ll only be on account of unexpected company. But at some point, my brain willna work and ye’ll be on yer own.”
“Well,” she begins, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down as her hands cup equal handfuls of a heavenly sculpted backside. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” When she kisses him, she can feel his laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“You. How long have ye been thinkin’ about this?”
“Honestly?” she asks, backing him up a couple of feet until he can brace against what she hopes is a sturdy wall.
“Aye, of course.” His eyes follow her movements as she sinks to her knees in front of him, but she delays answering to softly kiss along the line of his pelvis. It’s enough to convince his cock as one hand reaches for her hair.
“On the cliffs.” She licks her palm, wraps her hand around him, and begins a slow stroke. “You were taking a picture of the view.”
“Really got ye goin’?”
Instead of saying anything in return, Claire presses her lips to the tip of him before using both mouth and hand to show him exactly how inspirational she found his body in profile. Dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, she hums in response to his long, low groan as one hand holds onto his thigh.
“Christ, Sassenach, do that again,” Jamie requests, panting, eyes so dark they nearly look black as he watches her intently.
She does as he asks, letting her tongue travel the length of him, slower this time. The way he shudders makes her own arousal ache pleasantly, so she indulges in the action once more. After repeating the action a fourth time, her mouth moves away in order to kiss along his inner thighs softly, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Each shaky inhale is a point of pride, and when he least suspects, Claire’s mouth moves around him again, this time finding a rhythm and not moving away.
With one hand pressing flat against the wall behind him, the other tangles in her hair. He doesn’t move her, but rather uses her curls to anchor himself. He focuses on the feel of them, the way they stretch but spring back to life instantly. He thinks of anything to keep from coming too soon, though she certainly is hell-bent.
“I’m no’—” he curses in Gaelic, wondering if this is how she feels when he’s greedy for her. “Mas e do thoil e, Sassenach,” he pleads, and the hand against the old castle wall attempts to clutch the stone as his body begins to tense.
It’s impossible to resist when he says please, and so she moves intently, closing her eyes as she focuses not on what she’s doing necessarily, but on him. The way the pads of his fingers grip her shoulders instead of his nails (she offers no such courtesy), and the way he’s careful not to actually pull her hair. His breathing, where before he took controlled but shaky breaths, is now panting gasps, each sound beginning to hitch. When she knows he’s going to come, one hand drags its way up his inner thigh to feel the way his muscles tighten, and the loud groan of her name is enough that she can feel the vibration from his body to her palm.
He loses it completely after that, head dropping back as his vision darkens and he’s sure he’s left his body. When pleasure begins to ebb and his heart seems content not to pound out of his chest, Jamie still can’t open his eyes. Her hands are warm on his body, but eventually she tucks him back into his boxers and jeans before standing. It’s then that he finally looks at her, a lopsided and lazy grin greeting her.
“Are you happy, Sassenach?”
As his arms envelop her, Claire rests her head so that she can listen to the now-normal beat of his heart.
“Aye, Jamie,” she replies, kissing his chest tenderly before raising her head to look at him. “I am.”
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Text
Sola Gratia (7/?)
Rating / Warnings : General audiences, no particular warnings.
Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.
Part 7/? (2219 words)
Author’s notes : Rated A for Angst
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“Won’t you invite me in ?”
I slowly turned my head to face him, the tip of my nose touching his for a second.
“Do you think this is how it works ?”, I whispered. He inched back, probably picking up the anger I tried to conceal in the softness of my tone. “Do you think you, who has haunted my every nightmare, every dark corner, every space behind my back, for months-” I took a shaky breath. “Do you think you can invade a place I feel most safe in, threaten my dearest friend, threaten me, and hope a gift will make up for it ?”
I clenched my jaw. His expression, as he has leaned back into his seat, was unreadable.
“I have spent days in the hospital, terrified that you would find me and finish the job. And I couldn’t tell- I couldn’t tell anyone why I felt so unsafe because frankly, who would believe me ?”
Tears welled up in my eyes, still he said nothing. Had he spent so much time apart from any humans he forgot how to understand emotion ?
“I am terrified, right now, because I know you could… snap my neck, or bleed me dry, and I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything about it !”
I started to cry silently, unable to stop the flow of tears running down my cheeks. He seemed almost paralyzed. I took the chance, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Fumbling for my keys, my fingers were so shaky I dropped them. As I picked them up, I heard the other car door open, and froze, slowly turning back to face him. He circled around the car, but kept a distance between us.
“I cannot begin to imagine what you went through because of me.” He looked and sounded completely serious, which was a strange color on him. “There is nothing I can say that would be close to an acceptable apology, but I do want to make amends.”
He handed me the box, keys still on the lock. The chain glimmered under the streetlamp’s lights.
“I won’t invite you in”, I maintained.
“And I will not insist.”
I hesitated a little, and first pulled the key from the lock, slipped it into my pocket. As I took the box, my fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Are you cold ?”
                   I could have a fire lit, if you want.
“I’m fine”, I replied, once again having no time to protest as he put his jacket on my shoulders. “I’m literally ten feet from my door, Vlad-”
“Hah, she called me Vlad !” A semi-triumphant look plastered on his face.
“This doesn’t mean I trust you, or like you, for all that matter”, I snapped at him.
“And I will make my peace with that.” He put a hand over his heart. “For now.”
“You are insufferable. I’m going to bed.”
He still had a somewhat… sheepish look to him, head slightly tilted to the side, like a grounded puppy. Still. I couldn’t move past the flashes of teeth, blood and feral growls layering over his face. I suddenly had to inhale a sharp gust of air, and turned back, the box held against my chest by my injured hand, the other looking for my keys. I turned back, and climbed the short flight of stairs to the entrance of my building.
“Sleep well, Lady Cetero.”
Can’t promise anything. I buzzed myself in, and hurried to the stairs without a second look behind me, turning all light on as I went by. As I climbed the steps to the fourth and last floor, I felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest. Not only because those stairs were a nightmare, though. On the doorstep, the meowing on the other side of the door had me smiling. That little monster was going to be unbearable.
Giving the usual kick to the door panel to get open, it creaked on its hinges, yet the incessant yelling of the hairball at my feet covered most of the noise.
“Hey, shut it, dumbass, you’ll wake the whole building”, I told him, locking the door behind me.
Following his little strut to the kitchen, I gave him his much expected dose of kibble.
“You fat idiot, you need a diet. I love you so much. Babie.”
He purred hysterically as he ate, and I kept on my incoherent baby talk for a while, mindlessly running my hands through his shaggy fur. God, what a day. I sat on the floor, removing my heels, and resisted the urge to throw them out of the window. Gift from Leah, gift from Leah, I muttered under my breath as I put them away in the hall closet.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Leah’s number, who picked up before the first ring. I reassured her, told her I was home, safe, and tired. As soon as she started taking her usual gossip-y tone, asking about Vlad, I bid her good night, and hung up on her crystalline laugh.
I dragged my feet to my bedroom, throwing the jacket on my desk chair.  I grumbled as I tried to unzip my dress. God, who decided to make clothing you can’t take off by yourself ? Rich people, probably. Or people in a relationship. As I finally succeeded to pull the tab down, I heard knocking on my window. A panicked scream escaped my mouth as I noticed the dark silhouette standing on the emergency staircase, outside. Him, again. I sighed, and climbed over my bed to open the window a crack.
“What the hell do you want now ?”, I barked at him.
“You forgot your briefcase”, he told me, holding it up for me.
“Oh. Thanks.” I hesitated before opening the window wider. “This is not an invitation.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he smiled as he passed me the worn leather bag. “Although, if you still need help with your dress-”
“Get out of my balcony.”
I could swear he winked before he disappeared. By that I mean, literally vanished. I leaned out of the window, and felt a soft stroke against my cheek, and a bat, flying off. Well. Something to add to the list. I closed the window, and sat back on my mattress. Sleeping was going to be a challenge, tonight.
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The sound of my alarm dragged me from sleep. Buried in my thick duvet, head incased in my pillows, I groaned for a good minute before I found the energy to set my phone off. Outside, everything was still dark, which made getting up that much harder. Zardoz meowed in indignation when I had the nerve, the hubris to move him from my legs, where he’d spent the night.
My hand felt sore, and I figured I had to redo the bandages, if only to assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad, two cuts to my palm, and one across my thumb, the rest being small, superficial scrapes. I disinfected the whole, and carefully placed fresh bandages, making sure I’d be able to actually use my hand this time.
I dragged myself to the kitchen, and the sacrosanct bean juice machine. It did make disgusting coffee, but then again, I was very much used to it. As it rumbled, having the whole table vibrating, I served His Royal Majesty his morning dose. This time, I set it into a training ball, so that he’d have minimal exercise. God, I could barely picture the sorry state I’d found him in. A small, half dying kitten, at the corner of my building, now a year and a half ago. His harrowing mews of distress attracted me, and after a significant amount of vet bills, he was mine. Leah had the idea for his name, as we were in a weird movie binge-watch party, and Sean Connery’s red underwear made some lasting impression of us. By that, I mean she almost choked to death laughing.
Bringing my cup back to my bedroom, I threw some clothes on, and slipped my feet into my boots. Thursdays were usually not that busy for me, but my absence during the seminar meant I had to catch up on some classes, both to my dismay and that of my students. I finished my coffee with a wince. The things we do for energy. At least, wasn’t coke. I checked the contents of my briefcase, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and was out, but not before a final kiss on Zardoz’s belly, who endured with minimal complaints.
Greeting Mrs. Mills, checking her mailbox way too early as she always did, she asked if I had any breakfast, and cursed at me when I answered by the negative, as she always did. And as I always did, I wished her a good day, before storming out. I climbed down the stairs, checking my watch for the next train, and froze as soon as I raised my head back up.
“What the hell are you still doing here ?”, I exclaimed, my voice coming out a bit more squeaky than I would have liked.
“Good morning to you too”, the Count cheerfully replied, handing me a paper bag.
“What’s that ?”
“Oh, don’t sound so suspicious, it’s breakfast”, he sighed.
Squinting at him, I took the bag, and peeked inside. Warm, buttery looking croissants.
“I didn’t know what to pick, I went for ‘timeless classic’. Is that alright ?”
He seemed to genuinely care. I sighed.
“What isn’t alright is you standing at my front door at six thirty in the god forsaken morning. The croissants are fine.”
“Well, perfect then !”, he exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
He opened the passenger door once again.
“What do you mean, you’ll drive ? I’m going to class. I don’t have time for whatever shenanigans you have planned.”
“I know, I’m driving you there.”
Knowing I wouldn’t win this argument, being still half asleep and on an empty stomach, I threw my head back, sighed, letting out a “FINE” that seemed to satisfy him, as I slipped into the car. He sat behind the wheel, my university’s address already in the GPS. Worried me a little. How much exactly did he know ? Was it all in my blood ? Gods, that would be very telling of my academic situation. I leaned back onto my seat, deciding that if I had to put up with him, I didn’t need to make conversation.
“Are you angry, for some reason ?” He really did seem puzzled.
“Dear Lord, you actually have no idea, do you ?”, I sighed.
“I thought it would be gallant.”
“In the twenty-first century, waiting for a woman you barely know, whom you tried to murder a few months ago, is considered a bit creepy, my guy.”
He remained silent, excluding an outraged mouthing of “my guy”, which almost sent me in a fit of laughter.
“Maybe you will have to ‘update’ me on your modern manners, then”, he proposed after a short silence.
“Yeah, maybe.”
What in the goddamn fuck was happening. Three days ago, I had nightmares about the guy, and he was now my glorified chauffeur. Well, not that it really did much for the lingering feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.
“So, did you just wait in front of the building, hoping I’d come out eventually ?”
He laughed. “Would you call me a stalker again if I did ?”
“Obviously.”
“Then no.”
I had to say, he was a little funny. Not that I would admit it under torture, but still. The sky started to take a pink color, lighting the few clouds in bright orange.
“You don’t burn in the sunlight. What’s up with that ?”, I asked.
“I don’t sparkle either, if you want to know.” He didn’t let me enough time to react to the terrible implications of that sentence. “Maybe it’s easier to believe you are only unsafe in the dark.”
I sat back, watching the first rays of sunlight come through the windshield, giving his eyes an almost silver color. I noticed a soft smile form on his lips. He wasn’t horrible to look at, when he wasn’t in a bloodthirsty frenzy. A sharp profile, that commended authority, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. His hair was still long, in controlled, soft waves, mostly slicked back, except for a few strands, falling casually in front of his face.
“Lady Cetero, you will have me blushing soon”, he teased.
Ah. Fuck. “I don’t like you clean-shaven. It looks weird.”
He laughed, and I turned my eyes to the road, trying to ignore the rising heat to my face. Curse me for blushing so easily.
“I’ll let it grow back, then”, he told me, almost apologetic. Soft.
I shifted further into the leather seat, a smile forcing its way to my lips. “Hrm.”
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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder
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darksunrising · 4 years
Text
Sola Gratia (13/?)
Masterlist
Rating / Warnings : No particular warning.
Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.
Part 13/? (3475 words)
Author’s notes : Final episode of Act II ! I’m taking a little break to work on the plotline and real life stuff, but trust that I’ll stay active, and will be back soon with more chapters !
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The Dark Knight came up to me, and Leah gave me a knowing look. The fiend. I stood up, nervously glancing around me, and handed him my handkerchief. He took hold of it, and carried it to his helmet as to kiss it. The crowd cheered loudly. They must have thought it was part of the entertainment. I still felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Gods, maybe it actually was a calculated plot, damn Leah and her scheming. If I trusted the look of the 'Royals', over on the opposite bleachers, not everyone knew... He tied the scarf around the grip of his lance, and I could swear I saw two lights gleam into the darkness of the helmet. I sat back down as he left, feeling dozens of looks on me as I tried to maintain some composure. Act the part. Be a noble lady. Think... Catherine de' Medici. There.
Vlad had his horse come into place with ease, as I barely saw him touch the reins. His adversary, ironically, was wearing red, mounted on a white horse, and looked massive compared to the slender, elegant silhouette of the dark rider at the other end of the jousting lists. I couldn't help but feel worried. He supposedly didn't risk anything, but the lances were wooden, for hell's sake. That's just taunting the Devil. Or God, maybe, in his case. Taking a deep breath, I waited anxiously for the sound of the horn.
The riders spurred their horses. They passed each other, once, twice, and a third time. The Red Knight made a move, and I saw his lance miss Vlad by inches. Not miss, exactly, as I saw him lean slightly to the side. I could picture his smug smile. That poor guy had no idea what was coming. Turning back in a cloud of sand, glimmering in the air, they galloped to meet again. This time, Vlad ran his spear into the Red Knight's pauldron, nearly having him fall off his horse. He caught on at the last moment, and I could swear I heard Vlad laugh.
They waited a second at the end of the lists, the Red Knight making his shoulder roll, brushing off his coach as he apparently came to make sure he was alright. He sent his his horse full speed at the sound of the horn, his best efforts insufficient to avoid him the lance that crashed into his shield, throwing him back into the dust, almost into the stands, which had a few people stand back.
Without a second look for his adversary, Vlad untied the handkerchief from his lance, and raised his arm in the air in celebration, under the loud cheers of the crowd. He jumped down from the horse, giving the steaming beast an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He walked straight towards me, and took off his helmet. The dark waves of his hair cascaded onto his shoulders, prompting a few audible gasps. I could feel my heart close to beating out of my chest. He was a conqueror, a cocky smile on his lips, the sun playing on his hair and the gold on his armor. He discarded his gauntlets and gloves, leaving them behind in the dust, eyes locked on mine. I stood up, almost knocking over my chair, playing into the role I had been given. He dropped his helmet at my feet with a loud clang of metal, and knelt down. He held up the handkerchief, and I laid my hand on his, allowing him to rise. He gently placed the shawl on my shoulders, lingering along my neck, enough that I could feel my veins pulsing against the tip of his fingers. His eyes hadn't left mine since he took off his helmet, and even under the midday heat, I felt goosebumps spread all over my body. He trailed along my arms, and took hold of both my hands, which he kissed, still not breaking his gaze. My chest heaving, I understood a little bit better why ladies tended to faint more often in corset-wearing time periods.
He then stepped back, leaving the jousting area after a last look, a wink, and a hand gesture at a young groom, who rushed to pick up his discarded pieces of armor after him. A bit overwhelmed, I sat back down, as the presenter closed the event over the cheering of the crowd.
“He wanted it to be a surprise”, Leah told me, eyes glimmering.
“Well, it certainly worked.”
She laughed, and dragged me along to the contender's tents. I caught a glimpse of the Red Knight, armor off. His shoulder had a massive purple bruise, and I couldn't help but wince. I sympathetically smiled at him, and he responded with a little wave. A bit further along, in a white and blue tent, the groom was helping Vlad undo the last pieces of armor, and carefully packing them up in a suitcase similar to the ones that had been Leah and I's dresses. He noticed us and flashed us a smile.
“That was great, Vlad !”, Leah exclaimed, coming up to give him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. “Damn, you didn't even break a sweat, did you ?”
“It takes a lot for that to happen”, he smugly replied, taking off his gambeson.
His shirt was open, and I found myself staring at his chest.
“Is everything alright, Eris, darling ? You seem a bit... hot”, he mocked, slipping on his vest.
“I'm fine”, I replied, looking away from both of them, as Leah seemed to revel in the whole situation.
He buttoned himself up, and I couldn't help but sneak a few peeks.
“Where did you learn to joust anyway, Vlad ?”, Leah asked, understandably curious.
“Well, I enjoy horseback riding, and the Middle Ages, what can I say ?”, he replied as the groom clasped on his livery collar.
The kid looked up to him in awe, which had me a bit suspicious. I narrowed my eyes at Vlad, and stepped closer to him, putting myself so that Leah couldn't see my gestures. I pointed at the boy with a nod, discreetly tapping on my neck. He took an almost wounded expression for a second.
“Eris, I care about my diet, I don't run around taking drinks from stable boys”, he whispered, falsely offended.
I hummed, not entirely convinced, and he draped himself in his cape.
“Aren't you guys hungry ?”, Leah asked, putting down the bracer she was trying on. “I'm starving, and I heard there's a huge buffet in the castle hall !”
“I have to say, I worked up my apetite”, Vlad replied, looking down on me.
I loudly sighed, and took his arm, following Leah outside.
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The rest of the day was tiring, at least for me, as Vlad obviously didn't ever feel fatigued, and Leah was endlessly fueled by what could only be rainbows and kitten unicorns. Night started falling the sky taking vivid colors as we made our way to the town square, lit by candles and a large bonfire. A band was playing dancing music, and the air was filled with indistinct chattering and laughter. Leah holding onto my arm, Vlad taken in one of his heist stories, my heart felt so full, I was physically unable to stop smiling.
“Oh, I see something that needs my attention”, Leah suddenly exclaimed. “See you later, you two.”
She let go of my arm, freed a few strands of hair to frame her face, and cheerfully strolled to the bar. Her confidence astounded me.
“I like her”, Vlad told me with a little laugh.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Tell me, did you ever get to practice your dancing ?”, he asked, innocently.
“Oh, no.” I tried to get away. “I'm not dancing ! You got me once, but not twice !”
“Oh, I think I am.”
He caught my hand, and brought us close to the fire, indifferent to my protestation. Once arrived, he had me spin around, and brought me back against his chest. Feeling his breath against my neck, I forgot how to speak a second.
“Follow my lead, I promise I will be less... Boorish than last time.”
I groaned, and relaxed in his arms. I had to focus every fiber of my being not to trip on the pavement with my shoes, but Vlad actually supported me so much I felt half my weight was lifted off. I never liked dancing, to be honest. I had a terrible sense of rhythm, and it reminded me awfully of some family gatherings I'd rather forget.
With Vlad, it felt... Different. Not great, mind you, it still was a bit aggravating, but I started to understand why people like it so much. Vlad picked me up like I weighed nothing, and spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh, and he joined me. His eyes were gleaming with the light of the flames. The music faded out to a slower tune. Vlad slowly put me down, keeping a hand on my waist, the other looking for mine. I intertwined my fingers with his, letting him pull me close, trying to breathe away the erratic beating of my heart.
“I can hear that, you know”, he teased.
I pouted at him. “Then close your ears, it's embarrassing.”
“I would rather say endearing.”
I looked up at him. He wanted to look smug, but most of his expression was tender, calm. I could have looked into his eyes for hours, the deep blue, washed over with the bright gold of the fire. Every step, he kept me close, only letting me go to spin me around, slowly, only enough to make the skirt flare. It might have looked beautiful to watch, if we hadn't been the only two people there, dancing around the candles.
“I want you to feel safe, with me.”
His voice was gentle, his gaze, even more so.
“I do”, I told him, moving my hand from his shoulder to cup his face.
He closed his eyes a second, leaning into my palm. I brushed my thumb across his cheekbone. Cold, soft.
“I have come to... care a great deal about you”, he continued.
“I can see that happening, me being a giant, walking Bloody Mary”, I retorted.
“Do you always resort to humor when someone tries to be serious with you ?”
He was smiling.
“I just- I don't know how to respond to that-”
“Then don't.”
He let go of my hand, leaving it placed on his chest, and slid his into my hair.
“You're going to mess up the-”
“I don't care.”
Freeing his arms, he lifted me up. I was so close I couldn't focus on the details of his face. The tip of his nose brushing against mine, his breath, short, trembling. He was waiting, expectantly. Whispered my name. My feet hovering above ground, my heart beating so hard in my chest it was almost painful, I closed my eyes, and- got a phone call.
“It's Leah's ringtone”, I said.
She never called if it wasn't urgent. Vlad put me down, and I glanced around. She was nowhere to be seen, which would explain why she felt the need to call at that exact moment. When I reached my phone through the layers of fabric, it already stopped ringing.
“It's not like her”, I started, starting to get nervous.
“Eris, do not panic”, Vlad told me, his voice somewhat calming my nerves. “She was with someone, wasn't she ?”
I did get a glimpse at her, while we were still dancing. She was at the bar, chatting up a woman in men's period costume.
“Yeah, but not well. She had very long, silver-ish hair, I think. Fair skin.”
If it was possible, Vlad paled, and gripped my shoulders.
“Call her again, now.”
His tone beckoned urgency, and I obeyed immediately. She picked up fast, but her voice didn't greet me.
“She looks so pretty, don't you think ? Better run fast, before it flows out. Garden overlooks, ten minutes.”
The hanging up tone knocked the wind out of my chest, and I almost fell to my knees. Vlad enquired about the call. I didn't even reply, and ran to the bar, asking for a map of the city, almost hysterical. Someone handed me a folded over leaflet. I thanked him, and quickly tried to find my way around the maze of streets. Right, left, left, up stairs, big door, left, and straight across. I tucked the map in the lacing of my dress, and started running, Vlad following without question. I cursed when I almost fell, and slipped off the cursed shoes, running barefoot into the streets. Thankfully, most of the tourists were gone, and no one crossed my way.
“Tell me where to go, I can get there faster”, Vlad told me.
“Garden overlook”, I hissed.
He nodded, and next thing I knew, he vanished. I kept on running, cursing at the corset making my breath short. I don't think I ever climbed stairs that fast in my entire life, and hurried through the huge door, carved into the high walls surrounding the gardens. As I tried to work the handle, to find it locked. Fuck !
Considering the height of the wall, I looked around for another way in. Luckily for me, it wasn't higher than a dozen feet, and I was a decent climber. Hiking up my skirts, I  placed a foot on a ledge, and caught on to a space made by a missing brick. As I was almost halfway up, the door creaked on its hinges, and Vlad appeared in the frame.
“What in the name of all things Unholy do you think you are doing ?”, he cursed.
“Finding a solution !”
He urged me to jump down, and I did, leaving him to catch me. Not losing any time, we rushed into the gardens. Left, straight across. I finally found two silhouettes, standing next to the wall, on the overlook. I tried to cry out Leah's name, came out empty. As I arrived, she turned to face me, a look of utter incomprehension on her features. She was fine. Fine ! Panting, I tried to catch my breath. She let go of the other woman's hand, and rushed towards me, putting her hands to the sides of my face.
“Eris, what happened ? What's wrong ?”
What's wrong ? Leah, you- Oh. I can't speak. I tried breathing in, wheezing, and  started feeling lightheaded. Vlad's arms wrapped around me, and I noticed I was falling. Going limp, I looked over at Leah. Her lips were moving, yet I couldn't hear her words. I felt a cool hand slip under my bodice, a ripping sound, and air rushed to my lungs. I took a moment to take my breath back, and glanced around. Vlad was holding me, but his look was directed elsewhere. Sitting on the parapet, the woman stared right back. The more I regained consciousness, the more I could make out her features. She was athletic, tall, and had incredibly long, silver hair, gleaming under the moonlight. Her eyes were an icy blue, and her pupils were two tiny specs of light at the center of the iris. A glance, and she terrified me. As I took some of my strength back, I slipped my hand into my skirts, and pulled out my gun. Leah had an exclamation of surprise, and I directed the barrel directly at the woman.
“Oh, Eris”, she laughed. “You must be much more naïve than I thought, to think this would do you any good.”
She hopped off, and started walking toward us.
“And you, too cocky”, I replied, pulling the hammer back, finger on the trigger.
“Carmilla, stop.”
Vlad's voice was much darker than I had ever heard it. I had never heard him angry, and I never really wanted to. The woman, obeyed, standing at a respectable distance from us. I didn't lower my weapon, still leaning against Vlad for support. For once, Leah seemed completely speechless.
“What do you want ?”, he asked, seemingly calm, holding an arm around me.
“What do I want, Drac ?”, she purred, taking a step forward. “Well, for starters, some introductions. If I didn't know you better, I'd almost think you didn't want me meeting your latest pets.”
“Don't”, he snapped at her.
“Fine, your friends, if that's what you call your snacks, these days”, she sighed, shrugging.
“Carmilla, I am giving you one, and only one warning. Leave.”
I felt his hand clench.
“Leave ? I'm not here because I enjoy your company, especially when you're in one of your phases, Drac.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her face taking a deadly serious expression. “I'm here because the Council sends me, because they know I'm the only one who has the slightest chance of making you come to your fucking senses.”
“What I do in my free time is no concern of the Council, which I preside, might I remind you ?”
He spoke through his teeth, seething with anger. His arm coiled tighter around me, almost hurting me.
“That you presided, past tense”, she jabbed. “Since that stupid fucking incident, more than a century ago, you haven't gone to any meeting, any reunion, not even responded to any damn fucking letter ! I had to do your job, while you what ? Sulked and brooded in your castle, and flirted around with mortals ?”
“Do not push me, Carmilla.”
She ran her hands through her hair, grasping at it, and started pacing.
“No, I think I will push you !”, she shouted. “You left us alone, for your own selfish fucking reasons, and the moment you finally decide to get out of your what, ongoing midlife crisis ? You start wreaking havoc, and putting MINA back on our asses, when we spent decades putting them off track !”
“'Wreaking havoc' ? You call going to Renaissance faires 'wreaking havoc' ?”, he snapped with a dry laugh.
“I call butchering mortals by the dozen wreaking havoc !”
She was seething with anger, but her face betrayed a complete, and utter disbelief. She thought it was him too. Vlad seemed to have regained some composure, his grip on me softening as evidence.
“Does everyone here think I am some sort of rabid animal ?”, he asked.
He was met with silence.
“I don't, but again, I don't understand what the fuck is going on”, Leah intervened.
“Well, that's one out of three”, Vlad sneered.
“Are you denying it, Drac ?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I am neither an idiot, nor some kind of un-tamed blood-thirsty beast”, he snapped. “I haven't killed anyone in some time, actually, if that's of any interest to you.”
Carmilla seemed to consider Vlad's response. My hand was shaking from holding the gun so long. She threw her hands up.
“Fine. Let's say I believe you.” She stepped forward, glowering at me when I raised the gun again. “I've seen the pictures, I've been to half the scenes. No mortal was behind those murders.”
She suddenly looked worried, and Vlad softly had me lower the gun. A glance at him made me realize he had the same look, which was not reassuring.
“In truth, I wanted to believe it was you”, she admitted. “I didn't want to think about the alternative.”
“It is impossible, though”, Vlad flatly stated. “We made sure of it.”
“Alright, are you ever going to tell us what the fuck is going on ?”, Leah snapped, fists on her hips.
Carmilla turned towards her, lowly hissing.
“What is going on”, Vlad interrupted. “Is that the Elder is back.”
“The Elder ?”, I asked, not sure I really wanted a response.
“He created most of us”, Vlad explained. “I have no idea how old he is, could be millenia. He started going mad, wanting more power, and planned a human genocide.”
“He turned Vlad to be his most powerful weapon”, Carmilla continued. “The legendary Impaler, infused with the strength and unending life of immortals. As for me, I was made by one of the Elder's first creations. As I was apparently the only one figuring out that a world without humans let very little dinner opportunities, I knocked some sense into this one, and we murdered the Elder.”
“Not very well, it seems”, Vlad somberly commented. He held me a bit tighter against him.
“Well, at least, the reason why he came back now is obvious”, Carmilla stated, looking straight at me. “He found the perfect way to torture you.”
She took a pause, and looked up at him, a hint of disappointment behind her cold eyes.
“He finally found someone you love.”
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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy @lost-girl-inc
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ask-the-phan-site · 4 years
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Phan Cam: First Day, First Year
REMINDER: Keep in mind that this takes place in a fictional version of the world where things are a little different, but some real-world problems do happen here. So please forgive us if this brings up any hurtful subjects.
NOTE OR WARNING: Tokyo University is very strange to the other admin who is an American and doesn’t understand it. Like there being more than one campus in the city or which teaches what. So we’re just going to make it up as we go. But you can give him more clear and simple information on our sister site. Also, this post may get a bit long.
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>The University of Tokyo, Komaba Campus. Our first day of college at last. Partly because of the coronavirus, they started the year late.
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Everyone, we have arrived.
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You bet! Never thought I’d make it.
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I know. You’re usually good at sports and music. And to get in on a music scholarship just for being an Idol, just make it amazing.
Skull: (a little offended) Hey, I resent that.
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Either way, we’re here.
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I know. We’re so happy. We can be together again.
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Not all of us.
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I know. I hope Futaba and Sumire are doing fine without us.
Joker: And I left Morgana with Boss. He hired him to work at the cafe.
>We hear a ring on our phones. We check them.
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Good luck at college, you guys.
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We’ll be rooting for you.
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We know you can do it... Especially you, Lady Ann.🍀
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Have fun studying!🏫
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That’s so sweet of them.
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We’ll have to thank them when we can.
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I’m sure we will.
>We all were nearing the entrance when we were nearly hit by a van.
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OH MY!
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Hey, watch it, dip shit! You almost hit us!
>The car door opens.
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Sorry about that. I guess somethings haven’t changed.
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Urashima Sensei!?
Panther: You know this guys?
Queen: Yes. This is Keitaro Urashima, he’s an archaeologist here. He also  an assistant to Seta Sensei and substitutes for him in his class...
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And seeing you here in Seta’s van means something is not right and your are substituting for him today.
Keitaro Urashima: Yeah, Seta’s being tested for the coronavirus today. I haven’t got any news yet, but until then, he asked me to fill in for his class.
Queen: I see. I wonder what if the rest of the faculty will be fine.
>Suddenly, a huge gust of wind blows. We’re nearly knocked down when we look up.
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As I live and breathe.
>The woman in the blue coat and red hat came closer and closer down with her umbrella until she finally landed and closes it.
Woman with English Accent: (no picture at her request) You really should remember which side of the road they drive in Japan, Keitaro, you nearly ran over these students who are just hear for their first day. Mr. Amamiya, Mr. Sakamoto, Ms. Takamaki, Mr. Kitagawa, Ms. Nijima, Ms. Okumura, Detective Akechi, you need to be more aware of your surroundings despite standing in awe, you were lucky you heard the van coming otherwise you would have to spent the first day of the new year in the hospital which is already full at the moment. And Mr. Sakamoto, you really need to watch your mouth, there might be children nearby who may hear you.
>We all just stood there in silent about how a complete stranger knows our name.
Joker: You know who we are?
???: Of course she know. She’s Mary Poppins.
>We turn quickly to see Ryu and Wolf.
Crow: Oh, good morning, Ryu san, Zenckichi san.
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Hello, all.
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Good morning. You, too, Ms. Poppins.
Mary Poppins: Mary.
Wolf: Who else?
Mary Poppins: No. Mary Poppins. Never ever just Mary or Ms. Poppins.
Wolf: Forgive me.
Mary Poppins: It’s quite alright.
Keitaro Urashima: What brings you here? You know we’re in a state of emergency at the moment.
Mary Poppins: I can assure you that I have been thoroughly check. I am not carrying the coronavirus. However, the English Literature teacher, Mr. Dokusha, tested positive. Fortunately, it was a minor case and is expected to recover very soon. But in the meantime, I shall be substituting for him. But I am still first and foremost a nanny, so I’m only available certain days while also looking after children.
Queen: I see. But they does not explain why these two are here.
Ryu: You know which child she’s nannying? Kuri. I know Hase will be taking online classes this year, but with Inaba doing deliveries, he needs a little more help then the other tenants can offer.
Wolf: And I’m here to make sure things will be fine with Ms. Mary Poppins since she is English and the state of emergency has cautioned international travel.
Mary Poppins: I am very glad you are here for that. Thank you.
Wolf: You’re welcome.
Mary Poppins: Now, inside. The Dean is about to speak and we shouldn’t stand outside for too long. Spit Spot.
>We followed Mary Poppins inside while Ketaro goes to park the van.
>After a speech from the Dean gave a speech about how we have to stay strong in times like these (especially since more or less of the student body chose to study from home) and to make the most of it, we gathered together discuss the mysterious Mary Poppins..
Crow: I have heard her name a few time back at the apartment. I was told she stayed there a couple of times. I guess she just arrived to day...
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By umbrella, no less.
Panther: I wonder what kind of teacher she’ll be like.
Fox: Me and Ren will find out soon enough, we have her first.
Skull: Wish we could join ya, but I’ve got my own class. (sad) Why’d it hafta be Math?
Panther: I have Acting Class.
Noir: I need to get to Agricultural Studies.
Queen: History of Law is up for me and Akechi.
Crow: Right, so we’ll see each other at lunch.
>We agree and go our separate ways.
>Fox and I arrive at our classroom. Not many student were there, but there were cameras and monitors for students studying from home. Me and Fox sit together (probably the only ones who are). Then, Mary Poppins comes.
Mary Poppins: Welcome, class. As the Dean had already announced, I will be teaching this class for a time. Now, for the book we will be starting with is one of my favorites: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Holmes has appeared a number of times in Sir Doyle’s works. There is even a museum dedicated to him on the real life 221B Baker Street in London, England. Of course, there have been a few times when when Holmes went on many cases and adventures with characters from other works. Such as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the dual-personality doctor of Robert Louis Stevenson, Count Dracula of Bram Stoker, and even, though it only in a video game... a famous thief. Does anyone here know who that thief is?
>I have a feeling she’s looking at me.
Mary Poppins: How about you, Mr. Amamiya? Do you know the famous thief of another work who went against Holmes?
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>Carmen Sandiego >>Arsene Lupin >Lupin III >James Moriarty >The Phantom Thieves >Ishikawa Goemon
Mary Poppins: That is correct. You seem to know much about this gentleman thief.
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You could say we have a... close connection.
Mary Poppins: Yes. I have a feeling as such. (she winks back)
>Fox and I just stare at each other for a moment in confusion.
Mary Poppins: Anyway, yes, Arsene Lupin, who was created by Maurice Leblanc, once went up against Sherlock Holmes. As for the rest of you, if you thought for a moment that it was James Moriarty, that is the wrong answer. Moriarty was also created by Sir Doyle as the nemesis of Holmes.
Male Masked Student: No way. He got it right.
Female Masked Student: It actually quite smart to know something like that. Maybe I should get his number.
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He’s already taken.
Female Masked Student: (surprised) Really? The two of you are together?
Mary Poppins: If we can get back on subject. Now, I wish you all to write a short report about what you think of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. You have until the end of class. Don’t worry, those studying from home, we have a printer and you can email it to there. I will collect it from there.
>We spent the remainder of the class writing down our thought about Sherlock Holmes.
>The bell rang and it was time for our next class.
Fox: I’m afraid this is where we must part. I have Art Class next.
Joker: Archaeology for me.
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Until we meet again, I will be thinking of you.
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And I of you.
>We hug... and go to the wall-hanging hand sanitizers.
>I arrive at the front of the class room where Archaeology is taught. I was just about to enter when someone runs into me. We are both knocked down.
???? ????: OW! Sorry!
Joker: It’s okay. I should have been looking where I was going... Hold on.
>I pick him up. I look at his hair...
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I recognize that hair anywhere. You’re him, aren’t you? ... The King of Games.
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Yeah, I get that a lot.
Joker: I know. What are you doing here?
NOTE: We know that Yu-Gi-Oh!: The Dark Side of Dimensions was released some years this post, but for the sake of the Phan-sites’s storyline, we’ve changed a few things. Please forgive us if you don’t like it.
Yugi Muto: It’s my first year here at Tokyo U. I know I said I would work at my grandpa’s game store and create games of my own, but I thought I’d still go to college to improve those skills. And you... I know you. You’re friends with Ryuji Sakamoto of KUROFUNE. I saw you perform at the talent part of Dream FES.
Joker: Yes. Ren Amamiya, at your service, Yugi san.
Yugi Muto: You know, you can just call me Yugi.
>We both head inside. Just like in the last class, there were more or less people here while cameras and monitors helping us connect to students from their homes. Keitaro Urashima comes in.
Keitaro Urashima: Hey, everyone. I’m Keitaro Urashima. But, you can call me Keitaro if it makes you feel comfortable. Welcome to Archaeology. Here, we will learn about the ancient world. Now, according to Seta’s notes, we’re to start with the basics of the basics. First off, a short history of archaeology. Archaeology was first introduced in the 16th century Europe. They say that it first began when Nabonidus, the last king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, became interested in the past so he could align himself with past glories. However, an early investigation of the past could be traced back to Ancient Greece... You, the one with the glasses next to the odd-hair young man.
>He’s talking to me.
Keitaro: Do you know the name of the Ancient Greek historian who had an interest in investigating the past?
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>Socrates >Plato >>Herodotus >Homer
Keitaro: That’s right! You must have a real interest in this stuff, Amamiya kun. The Greek historian and scholar, Herodotus, was the first historian to collect his material systematically, test their accuracy, arranged them in a well-constructed narrative. Plato and his disciple, Socrates, were philosophers and Homer was an author who wrote the Odyssey. Herodotus was known as the “Father of History”.
Long Haired Girl in Mask: That’s amazing!
Masked Young Man with Piercing: I can’t believe he got it right.
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As am I. You’re amazing
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He always is.
Keitaro: Alright, alright, settle down now. By the way, Amamiya kun, who you all recognize from Dream FES’s Talent Show, isn’t the only celebrity here. We also have Hifumi Togo the Shogi champion, Yugi Muto the King of Games, and Rei Ryugazaki the top track runner and swimmer.
Rei Ryugazaki: I mostly do swimming these days.
>Did he really have to bring that up? Hifumi looks at me with contempt.
Yugi: Are you okay?
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I’d rather not say.
Keitaro: Now, we will begin discussing about the earliest known archaeological digs.
>We spent the rest of the class learning about some of the early digs in archaeology.
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>Beef Bowl Shop Ore no Beko. Normally, we would have lunch at our favorite diner, but they have closed due to it being too small to avoid infection and have switched to deliveries. This place, luckily, is still open, through they close early. Me, Fox, Skull, and Panther were discussing the classes we had. Skull was just in Math and Poetry and Panther had Acting and Science. Two others then come in. It was Yugi, Rei Ryugazaki, and a young man with thick blonde hair and an almost menacing face. I can only guess this is Katsuya Jonouchi... But for popular reasons and to make things more easier, we’ll call him by his western name: Joey Wheeler.
Yugi: Oh, Ren!
Joker: Hi, Yugi.
Panther: (confused) You know Yugi Muto and Rei Ryugazaki?
Yugi: We’re in Archaeology together.
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Holy shit, you’ve even got Joey Wheeler here!
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Ya seem surprised. Glad to meet a fan of mine.
Skull: Well, I mostly like Tea Gardner (Anzu Mazaki) since we’re both performers, but yer cool, Joey san.
Skull and Joey Wheeler: Ya better think twice before ya mess wit Joey Wheeler, da Godfada of Game!
Rei Ryugazaki: (irritated by that stunt) We thought we’d stop for lunch some. I guess you had the same idea.
Fox: We would normally go to the diner across the street, but due to the state of emergency, they can only deliver until they’re sure it is safe to reopen.
Skull: My mom said that they’ll reopen as soon as they make sure it’s safe. It’s always been one of our favorite hangouts.
Panther: I hope so. By the way, Ryuji, you’re mom’s a nurse, right? How are things with her?
Skull: Well, because of her job, she said I can’t stay in the apartment with her in case I get sick. Well, I was already movin’ out after graduation. I currently stayin’ with Akechi at his place ‘til I can find one of my own.
Rei Ryugazaki: Speaking of which, if you’re friends with the Detective Prince, isn’t he here?
Panther: He and our other friends have classes at the Hongo Campus. They’re having lunch elsewhere. But we’re suppose to meet up with them and our other friends from Shujin after classes.
Yugi: That’s good. I wish we could meet up with the others, too. But, they have their own paths to follow and we have to keep our distance.
>We all sat down and enjoyed our lunch.
Panther: That reminds me, if you’re here Rei san, does that mean the other members of your swim club is here?
REMINDER 2: We don’t know the exact timelines of most of the shows, cartoon, movies, video games, and anime. We’re just making it up as we go.
Rei: No. They are attending different colleges. I’m the only one who came to Tokyo University. Haru senpai’s at Hidaka University. Mako senpai’s at Meijo Chuo University here in Tokyo, I was hoping to visit him, but I can’t due to the lock down. Nagisa’s taking online courses because of the lock down as well. So is Gou.
Joker: Just have hope, Rei kun. You’ll see them again. I’m sure of it.
Rei: ... (smiling) You might be right. Thank you, Ren san.
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Just promise the next time you guys so swimming, you’ll invite us.
>After we finished our lunch, we returned to the campus. My next class was Music with Skull. After that, my last class was Geography with Panther and Hifumi. Normally, college hours would last longer, but because of the state of emergency, classes end early each day
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>Cafe Leblanc. Boss closed it early for us. We, including Wolf, talked about what happened today.
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Sound like you guys had quite the day today. I can’t believe you actually eat lunch with the King of Games himself. I used to love to play Duel Monsters.
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Same here. Me and Kasumi used to play together between recitals. Hey, Senpai, did you play Duel Monsters in the past?
Joker: I did. But I lost interest as I go older. But I might get back into it someday.
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I have that feeling.
Queen: So, how was your day?
Oracle: Same as usual. Ms. Chouno was being saucy, Mr. Hiruta trying too hard to be charming... Mr. Ushimaru threw a piece of chalk at a student.
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And you’ll never guess who it was and dodged it.
Joker: Who?
>The cafe door opens.
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We’re closed.
??????: Aw c’mon, I thought this place was allowed to open again!
>We turn to see who was there.
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You?
REMINDER 3: The other admin is still not a good artist. Sorry if the next few sprites look like they were made and don’t look good.
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(removing his surgical mask) Surprised? I guess you never saw this coming.
Queen: (indeed surprised) You three are in Shujin Academy now?
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Yeah. We would have told you, but we didn’t think we would go this year because of the pandemic.
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But, I managed to talk them into it.
Bruno: (whisper) And by that, he means he annoyed us into it.
Makoto: (who heard that) Hey, I resent that!
Bruno: Just telling it as it is.
Boss: I see. Well, I suppose I can make some more curry. Don’t forget to wash up, first.
>We got our curry and my phone rings. I answer to see Sophie.
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Good evening, everyone! How are you?
Oracle: Hi, Sophie!
Adi: Oh, you must be the AI the others talked about.
Sophie: Yes, my name is Sophia. But you can call me Sophie. I’m humanity’s best friend.
Bruno: That’s nice to hear.
Wolf: She helped us that team with EMMA.
Adi: I heard.
Makoto: Thanks for taking care of that Iron Man Wannabe. Even Tony doesn’t like him. He says he gives billionaire geniuses like him a bad rep.
Skull: Tell Stark you’re welcome. I just wish you guys coulda been there.
Bruno: We will.
Joker: So, you managed to dodge Mr. Ushimaru’s chalk? He used to do the same with me.
Adi: I did. I guess all that training I did with Hawkeye really paid off.
Bruno: I was there. I saw it. Me and Adi are in the same class.
Makoto: (disappointed) I wish I could have seen it. How could I end up a first year?
Bruno: Because you’re biologically 15 and 15-year-olds start in first year in Japan.
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Personally, you still act like a kid.
Makoto: (irritated) What was that?
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Are you threatening your senpai?
Makoto: (scared) Sorry, ma’am.
Queen: That reminds me, is Chloe also a student at Shujin.
Bruno: No, she’s chose to study at home. She was originally going to go to Coles Academic High School with Kamala, but due to COVID-19, they had to change their plans.
Panther: Yeah, she told me just before we left Eternia.
Wolf: I wish I could have gone. Maybe next time.
Adi: We can only hope this pandemic ends. At school, the place was almost empty.
Bruno: I know. I was worried when I saw this. I know I won’t be infected since I’m half machine, but Adi and Makoto aren’t.
Violet: Same here. I learned they canceled gymnastics today because one of the students tested positive.
Queen: I’m sorry to hear that.
Violet: It’s okay, he just has a minor case and is expected to recover in a couple of weeks.
Noir: That’s good to hear.
Joker: How’s Chloe, by the way? Knowing that she can’t go with Kamala, she must be very unhappy.
Makoto: Yeah, she’s pretty bummed out.
Adi: Unless Mr. and Mrs. Khan say it’s alright, they can only see each other on video chat.
Noir: I see. That must be hard on both of them. I just wish there was something that we can do.
>Noir’s right. I think for a moment... I got it!
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I know what might help.
Adi: You do?
Joker: Before returning here, I got a message from Mishima. We just got a new request on the Phan-site. We may be leaving again soon.
Queen: Do we really have time for that? The school year just began.
Skull: I’m sure we’ll be back in time. Don’t worry.
Adi: I see. I guess I can ask her.
Makoto: Can the rest of us come, too?
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Maybe next time. Right now, I think taking Lady Chloe with us might do her some good.
Bruno: I’m sure it will.
>The clock rings.
Wolf: It’s getting late and we’re all under curfew. We’ll talk more about it as soon as we can.
Adi: I’ll let Chloe know when we get back. See you all soon.
>With that, we separate for now.
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>My room. I decided to get in some work-out time before going to bed.
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Are you done up there, Ren? It’s rather lonely down here.
Joker: 98... 99... 100. That should do it.
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Nice going, Joker!
>I get down from the beam, dry myself off, and change into my lounge clothes.
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Nothing like pulling yourself up and down from an old wooden beam on the ceiling that looks like it could come down at any moment to get you ready for a good-night’s sleep.
Fox: Indeed.
>I get into the bed with Fox. Mona get on.
>After what happened with those pictures, we set a rule for Mona when Fox moved in: If Mona wants to sleep in the bed with us, he has to be in cat form unless we say it’s okay, otherwise he’ll have to sleep on the couch or in his cat house.
Mona: Can’t I sleep with you guys in human form tonight?
Joker: Not tonight. We’re pooped. Maybe another time.
Mona: Suit yourselves. Good night.
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>I look over to Fox. I know it has already been some time since he moved into the attic with me and Mona, but still...
Fox: So here we are.
Joker: Our new lives together.
Fox: I know our love is not in the original game, it’s not even in Royal, but still, I’m so happy this fanmade timeline lets us be together.
Joker: Yeah, I wish ATLUS would have realized that a romantic route like this is okay. And there have been other fanmade timelines in which I’m with Ryuji, Akechi, or even Mishima. I was even told they showed us what Christmas is like. But right now, in this timeline...
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I think I was born to meet you.
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I am happy to hear that.
>We both share a passionate kiss. It is a really good feeling.
Fox: Good night, Ren. I love you.
Joker: Good night, Yusuke. I love you, too.
>I take off my glasses and we both fall gently asleep.
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>We slept for some time...
>I open my eyes and I realize I”m not in my room anymore.
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Welcome to the Velvet Room.
Joker: Lavenza? Why am I here?
Lavenza: I know about your newest heist. And this deals with some old friends of this room’s previous guests.
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Yes, that would be the case.
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Y- You... Aren’t you...
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It appears we have surprised him, sisters.
Lavenza: Yes, you have already met my older brother, Theodore. But that is too long, so I ask that you call him Theo.
Theodore: Your name is as long as yours.
Woman in Blue: And we meet for the first time. My name is Margaret. I am Lavenza and Theodore’s older sister. We are denizens of the Velvet Room just as Lavenza is.
Joker: It’s nice to meet you. But what brings you here?
Margaret: We are here as Lavenza had said.
>Suddenly, a couple of cell doors open and someone comes in.
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Ren?
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Yu?
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Narukami san? And Ren Amamiya san? If you are here... Mitsuru san was right. You are the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.
Joker: Pretty much.
Margaret: We have gathered you here because of that request.
Joker: You know who sent it?
Theodore: Indeed we do.
>Theodore opens the Compendium and shows us.
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Yu: (reading it) The Clockwork God?
Aigis: (also reading it) The Clockwork God is the embodiment of death and one half of the deity, Chronos. That does sound familiar.
Margaret: It is... And here is why.
>Margaret turns the page.
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Yu: ... Zen...
Aigis: And Rei san... How do we know those names? Have we met them somewhere before?
Yu: We must have. They’re wearing the Yasogami High School uniform. But I can’t seem to place them anywhere.
Margaret: Because you met them in a different Yasogami High School. You met them within a haven in the rift, a floating island adrift in the sea of the unconscious. When you left, Zen and Rei went to a new existence and your memories of your time together was gone. However, we in the Velvet Room remembered because it was recorded in the Compendium. And it appears the time has come to restore those memories.
Yu: You can do that?
Margaret: I cannot... But she can.
>The cell door opens again.
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I think this is where I come in.
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I know you. You’re Naminė.
Naminė: I’m glad you know who I am, Ren Amamiya. I’m here to restore the memories that were lost. I know my powers are normally limited to those who are connected to Sora, but thanks to everyone in the Velvet Room, I can do it with everyone as well. And it will only take a second. It sort of makes me wish I had this kind of assistance sooner.
>Naminė closes her eyes. In a flash, many things cam flowing into my head. None of it involved this Zen or Rei... But something else.
Yu: I... I remember! We met Zen and Rei in a different version of Yasogami. Rei was dead and Zen was suppose to take her to the afterlife. They got trapped and we helped them.
Aigis: I remember as well.
Naminė: Your friends have remembered as well. You might need their help.
Joker: I remember something. It’s not about your friends...
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Something about... movies.
Aigis: I also remember that.
Yu: Me, too... But I think we should save that for another time. Right now, it sounds like Zen san and Rei chan are in trouble again. What happened to them?
Margaret: After our adventure with them, they went to a part of the Sea of Souls known as the Soul Society... But the rest you will have to hear from Rei.
Lavenza: It is time you return to your world and enjoy whatever rest you have.
Aigis: (smiling) I do not have to worry. As a machine, I do not require sleep. But, I should return and tell the Mitsuru san what has happened.
Maraget: And one more thing I must tell you. Naminė has restored all of your friends’ memories. This is because you may need their assistance. However, to avoid the place you are going to from also being effected by the changes bought on by the virus that now covers your world, you can only take one member of your team with you.
Yu: That’s true, we don’t want this place to have the coronavirus. Well, if I am going to have to take only one member of the Investigation Team, of course I’m going to choose Yosuke. He’s my partner. Always and forever.
Aigis: I do not wish the same thing, either. So, I suppose I shall bring Labrys, my sister. Since we are both machines and neither of us can get the virus, it should be fine.
Joker: I would like to bring someone, as well.
Theodore: Then it is settled.
Lavenza: The time as come.
>Everything went dark.
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Now I bet you’re wondering where I was in all of this. Well, my parents insisted I take classes online to keep me from catching COVID-19 and stay safe. But, it’s not so bad. Think of it this way: This just means I can work on the Phan-site a little more...
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So much for my Phantom Thieves documentary. It’ll have to wait.
But don’t worry. I'm not done yet. I hope you all still support the Phantom Thieves in all of this. I know I will. And as the admin of this site, you have my word.
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Just leave it to me!
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andy-clutterbuck · 9 months
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4x03 | Isolation
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quillsareswords · 5 years
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Smoke | VI: What Once Was
SUMMARY: After vanishing for four years, you return to the place you once called home, to the people you once called family. We all carry our baggage in different ways, using different techniques to hide it. You just happen to hide it in cigarette smoke.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: As it turns out, you aren't the only piece of yours and Damian's past that went up in smoke. Damian extends an invitation you meet with hesitation.
SERIES WARNINGS: cigarette smoking; underage drinking; gang activity; violence; swearing; blood; self-hate
MASTER LISTS in BIO
When you first arrived in Gotham, it was one of the first places you had seen.
Only three years old, you marveled at the grand building as your father drove by it, your wide [E/C] eyes skimming over every single blurred detail of the aging white and gray metal and brick.
You twisted in your car seat when your father's car passed the last pillar, so you could see it once more. When you turned back around to tell your mother how beautiful it was -- despite the fact that she, too, had seen it -- you stopped short.
"Mom! Mom!"
Your mother turned around to peek at you over the shoulder of her seat. "What, sweetheart?"
You pointed chubby fingers excitedly to the building you were about to pass. You couldn't read the sign, nor any of the words painted on the windows, but you could see the books and antique toys on display behind aged glass. "Look!"
Your mother turned back around to see it from her window. "Granny Crockett's Old Reads," she read allowed. "Do you wanna go in sometime?" She turned back to you with a smile.
You beamed, nodding excitedly. At such a young age, you didn't have too much of an inclination to books, but you knew that there must be more toys inside.
It had also been on your route to school everyday. You always drive passed it, waiting to see what new wonders were in the windows.
It had been there for shelter, too.
You shrieked as the water rushed down on you and Damian and Nick, desperately trying to shield yourself from the icy droplets with your backpack.
Nick shouldered the door open a few steps ahead of you, allowing the two of you in first. You ducked under his arm and into the little bookshop, Damian on your heels.
You laughed as your brother closed the door, futility trying to brush any remaining water off of his school uniform. He may have only been two years older than you, at 12, but that didn't make him any smarter. Damian had a deep scowl set across his face, staring down distastefully at his wet clothing.
You distantly wondered if he regretted agreeing to come home with you.
You even distinctly remembered walking past the old, dusty windows on your first date, when Jerry Thompson nervously walked you to the closest theater in 7th grade, your mother happily trotting along behind you.
The point is, Granny Crockett's Old Reads had been a familiar landmark on your mental map of Gotham for as long as you could remember.
If you thought hard enough, you could still smell the distinct scent of old paper and cedarwood candles, along with the rough jingling of an old bell. You still had your dogeared copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula, and a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Maybe this was the reason you hadn't felt right when you returned. You hadn't driven this street, because you knew it would be smarter to take the long way around for a quiet entry, even if it had been midnight.
Today, with an empty schedule and a longing for some not-so-fresh Gotham City air, you decided to venture out to the humble used book store.
You regretted it presently.
You gently kicked at a patch of Ash and brick just outside the bright yellow caution tape. Your hands were deep in your pockets, one set of fingers picking and pulling an old straw wrapper apart.
It was cold out, and you knew it probably wasn't wise to stay out too long, but despite the biting cold air seeping into your clothing from around the neck and bottom of your leather jacket, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the sight.
It was obvious that the building had burned down from the back, leaving Granny Crockett's and four other stores in ruins. However, the glass windows still stood, dark with grime and smog, but there were still there. The letters were scratched and faded, but you could easily still read the words; Antiques, Used Books, Old Toys, Much More.
Yet another reminder that things had changed.
You were beginning to doubt your place here, now more than ever. Since Nick had returned, the rest of the Pack hadn't exactly been as supportive of your return as they had been when they were left without a choice.
You were glad you had chosen to get your own space. You didn't think you could take another person stopping themselves mid-sentence, tacking on a quiet "oh, you weren't there."
Maybe it would be best if you just left. Maybe you were only overcomplicating things.
If you did it right this time, maybe you could come back every once in a while. Maybe you wouldn't have to switch out burner phones ever other month. Maybe you wouldn't have to deal with the guilt as much.
You debated it, eyes searching the charred rubble of what once was for answers. Answers to what questions, you didn't know. Part of you hoped and expected something out of a movie: Granny Crockett showing up to drag you out of your own mind, offering life changing advice before vanishing once again to fight the forces of evil, or whatever it is Granny's do on a nothing Tuesday morning.
But, no one came. In the end, it was you who forced yourself away from the damaging sight, with a rock-hard realization that added a new weight to your shoulders.
You lit a cigarette, clamping it between your teeth to keep your hands from shaking from something other than the cold.
Nothing was ever going to be the way you left it. You had to decide if you were going to suck it up and move on, or shake it off and leave.
~
Damian knew something was up. You could tell by his posture, the look on his face, and the constant prompting in his tone.
You shifted in your metal chair, meeting his intense stare. "Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to ask me something?"
His eyes fell to his plate. "I would ask, but you don't seem in the mood to talk about it, whatever it is."
You pushed the ice cream around in your paper bowl. "I might be."
He paused, fingers wrapped around his paper coffee cup. "Alright then," he withdrew his hand, "what is it?"
You released a deep breath through your nose. "I went to Granny Crockett's yesterday."
He cocked an eyebrow. "That building burned down."
You bobbed your head. "Yeah, well, I meant I visited the rubble," you corrected. "When did it happen, anyway?"
For whatever reason, you noted that he didn't have to think before he answered. "Two years ago. It was a candle in the next store. An employee knocked it over on some fabric."
Again, you nodded. "Do you know what happened to Doreen?"
"Mrs. Crockett moved in with her son a week after the fire," he answered. He looked at her, deeply this time. "She asked about you."
"What do you mean? After I left?"
Now he was nodding. "Often, actually. She asked where you'd gone, when you'd be back." He stopped there, but seemed to remember something. "She gave me a few books," he stopped to get a sip of coffee, "she asked me to give them to you when you came back."
You felt guilty for asking, but your curiosity got the better of you. You pointedly stared down at your ice cream. "Do you still have them?"
"I do," he replied. "I'd be happy to bring them to your apartment tonight."
"That'd be great," you smiled. "Thank you."
He nodded.
You expected the conversation to end there. You expected a short silence, or for him to change the subject, but he didn't miss a beat.
"What else is bothering you?" He set his fork aside, lacing his fingers together, bracing his elbows on the table.
Your eyes bore into the bottom of your cup. You hesitated, but your promise echoed in you head. No secrets.
"I've been thinking about leaving again," you finally stated. You could have sworn you caught something flickering in his eyes. You continued, "I wouldn't just be gone this time, though. I'd be sure to stop by and say goodbye before I left, and I'd come back every once in awhile, of course. It wouldn't be like last time."
He was quiet for a long few moments, staring contemplatively at the remains his salad. Finally, he met your eyes again and spoke, "May I ask why?"
Now you were quiet. You turned your gaze away from your bowl, taking far greater interest in the park across the street. You set your bowl back on the outdoor dinning table, instead crossing your arms and reclining further into your chair.
Damian recognized your tells: you were pulling away from him and the situation, crossing your arms in an effort to close yourself off.
You were watching a small family sit at their picnic blanket when you finally spoke. "Things have changed since I left," you began. "I knew that when I came back, of course, but . . . I just don't know if I belong here anymore, Damian."
When he didn't make any move to reply, you went on. Still, you did not look at him. It was easier to speak that way. "I've been gone for too long. I've grown between every city, except this one. This city has grown without me." Now you let the family be. You turned your stare instead to your lap. "I can't make up for this much lost time, Dame. I've wasted three months to figure that out."
For a long time, he was quiet. Soaking in your words became a weighted task, one that distracted him from the things going on around him.
He missed you stealing glances at his face, skimming over his furrowed brows and void eyes. He wasn't frowning, but he was close.
"What gives you that idea, [L/N]?"
You felt your ears twitch when he finally spoke. "What?"
He repeated himself, finally meeting your eyes. "Why do you feel that you don't belong here any longer?"
You drew up your shoulders and slouched in your seat, a futile effort to fight against the cold breeze. "Come on, Damian. You of all people should know the answer to that." You gave up, pushing your chair out to stand. "Nothing is the same. What once was is no more."
You swore his eyes sparked a second time, and when he stood to meet your posture, he seemed clumsy and off balance. You shrugged it off as the bone-chilling cold tightening his muscles.
"When will you leave then?" he asked. "Where are you planning to go?"
You walked inside the cafe side by side, with you fishing out a few dollar bills from your wallet, and Damian retrieving his card from his jacket pocket. "I don't know. I'm not even sure if I will leave."
He nodded sullenly.
Back outside, as you were pulling out your pack, Damian turned to you once again. "I hope you'll be around long enough for the winter charity ball."
You paused, cigarette pinned between your teeth, hand cupped around an unlit lighter. You flicked the switch and lit your end. You took a long drag before you answered. "You know I hate those things."
His lips quirked up at the ends. "I do. Still, I thought I'd extend the invitation, anyway. It begins at six o'clock on the twelfth."
You raised an eyebrow. "Plus one?"
He bowed his head in a silly effort to hide a smile. "Of course."
You took another drag. You spoke through smoke, "I'll think about it."
He chuckled, "That's all I ask."
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Ivory Kisses
You saw him whilst reading in the bookstore.
You had been sitting in the comfy overstuffed chair for the past hour, lost in the words of Bram Stoker, occasionally sipping your now long-cold tea. Lemon and honey. You had been deep into the story, when you felt that telltale frisson of awareness, telling you that you were being watched. This was odd in and of itself because normally it would take “World War III”, as your sister laughingly said, to distract you whilst you were deep in an interesting story.
You glanced over your book, and there he was. You looked back down at the words, then up through your eyelashes, so that you could examine him without his notice. He was still staring–not a rude stare–just a pensive, albeit smouldering, gaze. You felt a blush being slowly drawn out of you.
He was a beautiful man, just the type that you had always dreamed about, but to whom you had always been too shy to talk. Even leaning against a bookshelf, you could tell that he was tallish, probably about 5’9", you surmised. His hair, a thick, wavy, gleaming ebony, reached down past the collar of his black silk shirt. His skin was pale, with a pearlescent luminescence. Ebony and ivory. He had thick, black eyebrows that arched like quizzical wings, a proud, poetic nose, and a sharp jawline. His mouth was a deep red, with a full, sensuous bottom lip that promised gentle kisses, but it was his eyes that mesmerized you. Even from this distance, you could tell that they were a rich, warm, wet chocolate brown. His mouth slowly curled up into a provocative smile, making your realize that he knew that you too, had been staring. You blushed an even deeper crimson.
You became flustered, knocking over the dregs of your tea as you reached for it. Standing up quickly, you put down your head to let your long, curly, auburn hair cover your flaming face. Through the screen of hair, you saw him straighten and mentally gasped. 5’9"? Try 6'1". You backed up, bumping into the armchair. He didn’t stir, but stood there following you with his eyes. You decided to take the only logical avenue of action. You grabbed your purse, and went home.
***
He watched with lazy amusement as you hastily retreated from the room. Looking down, he noticed that you had left something behind. Walking over with feline grace, he flipped it into his hand. A slow smile melted its way across his features. Your wallet. He opened it and saw your name, emblazoned across your ID. Anyone looking at him now would have decided to make it an early night. After all, one would have to be awfully tired to imagine a man whose smile… Something else caught his eye–ah, yes, the book that you had been reading. He left it there; his sharp eyes had already picked up the title whilst he was across the room. Dracula. Pocketing your wallet, he sauntered out of the bookstore, into the crisp autumn night. 
***
Once home, you made a beeline for the bathroom. You needed a long, hot bath to wash away all thoughts of the mysterious, handsome man. You cut on the water and poured in the jasmine scented bubble-bath. Sitting on the side of the tub, you braided your hip-length hair, and then wound it into a messy bun, while your tabby cat, Artemis, wound herself between your ankles. Picking her up, you went to the kitchen to pour her some goat’s milk, crouching down to stroke her soft, furry back. Artemis purred her feline pleasure. Laughing, you wandered into the living room to choose some soft, soothing music. ‘Let’s see, Shankar, Liszt, Barber, Tchaikovsky, and…’–you ran your finger lightly over the titles—'Hm, well, why not?’ you thought—'The Bram Stoker’s Dracula soundtrack. As a matter of fact,‘—here you grinned ruefully—'why not make it a night?’ Biting your generous lower lip, you discarded some of your earlier choices and chose the Interview with the Vampire soundtrack, as well as the Queen of the Damned score, and placed them into rotation on your CD player.
As the first strains of music drifted through your flat, you wandered back into the bathroom, cut off the running water, took off your clothes, tossed them into the hamper, and climbed gratefully into the steaming, scented water. Sighing, you leaned back and let the water engulf your weary body. Your mind drifted off…and ran right into that infuriating man. The way that he had been looking at you with those delicious eyes…you shivered. Like he had wanted to consume you alive… You tried valiantly to turn your thoughts to more mundane matters, but soon admitted defeat. Taking the sponge and loofah, you proceeded to bathe yourself, intent on the looming oblivion of sleep.
Stepping out of the tub, you pulled the plug, and absentmindedly watched the water run down the drain, your thoughts drawn to the man in the bookstore. He had been just so…tall. You had always loved tall men, the taller the better. And his hair…you sighed. You had always loved dark-haired men, as well. Your hands positively tingled with your desire to run your fingers through his luxurious raven mane. Not to mention his lovely eyes… Standing up, you went over to the mirror, looking deep into your own forest green eyes, whilst you brushed your teeth, wishing idly that it was his dark ones into which you were gazing. Walking over to your bathroom closet, you took out your aloe lotion and began to rub it into your already soft skin. The comforting, familiar motion began to lull you into a softly sleepy state.
You walked into your room and rummaged in your drawer for underthings and pajamas. Pushing aside your comfortable flannel, you reached for your scarlet silk pajama bottoms. Your hand stopped. You looked down at your choice and chuckled ruefully. 'Ah, well,’ you thought, 'as long as I already have them in hand…’ Donning a matching sleep bra, you moved over to your bed to draw back the curtains, and turn down the sheets. Artemis sauntered in, leapt upon the bed, curled up, and began to purr. As you started to walk away, she lifted her head, uttering a single, “Mew?” “I’ll be to bed in a bit, love,” you crooned. Striking a fireplace matchstick, you glided from candle to candle, lighting all of them, breathing deeply as the scents of lemon, jasmine, and various others began to waft throughout the room.
“Move over!” you laughingly exclaimed to Artemis. Indignantly stretching, Artemis stood, arched her back, and sauntered over to the opposite pillow, plopping ungracefully down upon it with a look of feline defiance. Lying back against the soft, rosemary scented pillows, you once again allowed your mind to wander…and wander it did, right back to the man in black. You sighed, relenting. You snuggled underneath the covers, the crisp breeze from your open window playing with the escaped curls of your hair. You began to drift off to sleep, with thoughts of his gorgeous red mouth…
******************************
A sharp knock on the door jarred you awake. You sat up, blinking sleepily at the clock–10:30–you had only been asleep for a half hour. Another rap at your door brought you fully to your senses. You pulled back the curtains, and stumbled out of bed, yelling, “Just a minute!”. Shuffling to the door, with Artemis at your feet as your self-appointed bodyguard, you muttered, “Who is it?”
“You left your wallet,” a delicious baritone voice intoned. Instantly jarred awake, you leaned against the door, knowing–just knowing–exactly who it was. Looking through your keyhole, you discovered that your surmise was correct.
“Oh,” was all that you could think of to say.
He held up your wallet to the peephole. “See?” he inquired.
“Just a minute!” you called.
Walking over to your armoire you withdrew a dagger and slipped it into the back of your pants. He may be Eros incarnate, you chuckled to yourself, but you weren’t stupid enough to open the door completely unprepared–a dagger and your proficient experience in not a few martial arts should take care of most problems. You walked back to the door, took a deep, steadying breath, unlocked and opened it…and stared into a black expanse of silk-clad shoulder. You had always been proud of your height, but compared to him, you were almost average. You looked up, and were immediately arrested by his eyes, just as vibrant as you remembered. Eyes like two steaming cups of coffee with cream. The motion of your head caused your to catch a whiff of his scent. Clean laundry, some sort of shampoo, and….another breath…him. 'Wow,’ you thought pensively, 'What are they putting in the laundry detergent these days?’ “Hi,” you managed.
“Hi.” He gently smiled down at you. After a few beats he said “Your wallet?”, and held it out to you.
“My wallet. Right.” You stood back and leaned against the door, the movement prompting his eyes to slowly travel down your body. You blushed as you remembered that you had failed to put on a proper top. You straightened your back, embarrassment causing a full body flush, as you vainly sought to cover yourself without seeming obvious about it. His eyes once again met yours, but there was no trace of disrespect, no leer. “Well?” you prompted.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” At this Artemis hissed and growled deep in her throat.
“Invite you…('How quaint.’ you thought.) Right. Yes. Of course. Please, come in.”
Smiling kindly, he swept in and you closed your eyes, breathing in his scent. Opening them quickly, lest he catch you, you closed the door. He handed you the wallet. Artemis ran at him, hissing, but was quickly scooped up by you, who walked over to your bedroom and tossed the cat gently on the bed, closing the door.
“Thank you,” you softly murmured as you returned.
“You’re welcome.” He gave a small bow, eliciting a laugh from you.
“Oh, by the way, my name is–”
“I know your name.”
“Oh, right. Wallet. So…what’s yours?”
“I’m Chanyeol.”
“Chanyeol. That’s a lovely name. Can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” he admitted.
“You can sit. I’m afraid that all I have is juice, milk, and water. I don’t drink wine.” For some odd reason, this caused him to throw back his head, cover his mouth, and laugh. You peered at him quizzically.
“It’s just that, I noticed that you had been reading Dracula in the bookstore and one of the most famous lines is, “I–”
“–don’t drink…wine,” you finished together, laughing.
“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what do you want to drink?” you inquired. “I have pomegranate juice, grape juice, cranberry juice…” your voice trailed. His eyes caressed your face, and quickly flickered down before he said,
“Ice-water is fine, thank you.”
“One ice-water, coming right up.” You turned to leave, when he said,
“What’s that in your pants?”
“A hairbrush,” you lied, not missing a beat. You made a detour to your bedroom and, as soon as you opened the door, Artemis escaped, disappearing somewhere in the flat. Shrugging, you went in and rummaged in your drawer for the matching top to your bottoms. You then went into the kitchen to procure the water, and a glass of cran-grape juice for yourself. Walking back into the living room, you handed him his water, which he gracefully stood to accept, once again looming over you. You sipped your juice, and then stopped, noticing that his eyes had fixed on you, with that same intensity that he had demonstrated in the bookstore, seemingly concentrating on your drink. “What is it?” you asked.
“Well, it’s just–red hair, red mouth, red pajamas, red drink. Let me guess, your favourite colour?”
“Elementary, my dear.” you laughed.
“It’s your colour.”
“Well, thanks.” Putting down your empty glass, you suddenly noticed that he hadn’t had any of his water. Following your eyes to his glass, you asked, “You’re no longer thirsty?”
“More than ever.”
'Of course,“ you thought, 'Water, who wants water? He was just being polite and you’re acting like–’ but he was suddenly moving…leaning down until he was on your eye level. "So, is there anything else that I can get you to drink?”
“Actually, yes.” His mouth was a thought away from yours. You slid your hand behind your back, to the dagger. “You.”
Jumping away from him, you pulled out the dagger and took a defensive stance. He straightened and gave you an amused glance. You blinked and suddenly the dagger was gone and he was behind you, one arm around your waist, the other around your breasts in a tight embrace. You opened your mouth to take a breath, to fight, and he moved his arm from your breasts to place his hand gently over your mouth. You indignantly stood there, offended that he thought that you were cowardly enough to scream. “You just…do not want to scream,” he whispered in your ear. He lowered his hand.
“Wasn’t planning on it!” you snapped, head-butting him.
He stumbled back, letting go of you as you ran for your weapon, your hair coming out of its bun and trailing behind you like a flag. Just as you were about to reach for it he was in front of you, between you and your dagger. Blast, he was quick. He didn’t move, just stood there, as if he had all of the time in the world. Diving over the couch, you reached your armoire, heaved open the doors and pulled out your staff, swinging it around just in time to connect with some part of him that made a funny noise as down he went. Leaping back just in time, you kept yourself from being thrown off balance by his scissoring legs. He leapt up, laughing and growling.
You went on the defensive, holding the staff as he slowly circled you. He suddenly made a feint to the left that you anticipated, turning as he planned to catch your off guard on your other side. You pretended to fall for it, then turned and swung at him as he went for you. Your back was to him as you felt the full impact of the staff hit something. You knew that you had made contact, but there was no thump of him falling to the floor. You spun around, only to find that he had caught the end of your staff in his hand and was holding it lightly! The amount of force behind your blow should have shattered the bones of his arm all the way up to his elbow. He grabbed the staff, throwing it out of your reach.
“You are quite strong,” he conceded with a tilt of his head. He started towards your and you spun, hitting him in the middle with a kick that took him back several feet. He straightened, brushing off his stomach as if nothing had happened. “Very fast, as well, I see.” He smiled and you saw that both his canines and lateral incisors had lengthened into points. Sharp and white. Suddenly he was behind you again, this time squeezing deliberately until you began to pant from the lack of air. He loosened his hold slightly and there was no sound other than your sharp, staccato breaths and the quiet strains of Eliot Goldenthal’s “March Funabre” from the Interview soundtrack.
'How appropriate,’ you thought.
“Chanyeol, please–” you began.
“Oh, no, no, no, no,” he whispered seductively into your ear, rocking you slowly back and forth, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Don’t beg. That comes later.” He spun your around to face him, pressing your trembling body close to his and you saw that his pupils were vertical slits, like a cat’s, his irises a warm burning gold. He gently brought your head to his shoulder and lazily began to unwind your braid. Still rocking back and forth he caressed your hair. Your heart pounded against his cold body.
Taking the nape of your neck in one hand, he gently pulled your head to one side and lowered his mouth to your neck. You closed your eyes. Several beats passed and still he didn’t move. Finally, he whispered, “You smell…absolutely lovely, but you know one thing that I’m not scenting? Fear. Now, why is that?” You didn’t answer. He buried his face in your soft hair, inhaling deeply, his eyes slightly rolling back in his head. You just held your body as stiffly as you could. Holding you against him, he began to sensuously laugh. “Ohhh. I see, then. You are afraid, just not for your life, but for something else…what is it?”
Suddenly he thrust you at arm’s length, looking admiringly down over your body, then into your eyes. He narrowed his own, as understanding dawned over his face. “You’re a virgin!” He smiled. “And you’re afraid that I will…relieve you of that particular malady.” His sarcasm made you flinch. He brought you slowly back to him. “Relax. I’m not going to rape you,” he said in a singsong tone. You allowed your body to loosen slightly. He went on, “No, that would be entirely too kind,” you stiffened once more, “letting you play the martyr.” He laughed out loud. “I wish that you could have seen the look on your face. False hope,” he sighed. “I love it. No, my dear,” he crouched down, looking into your eyes on your level, and lifted an eyebrow, “I promise you that you are going to enjoy this. There, there, dying’s not so bad. I’ve done it once, myself,” he drawled.
With that he swept you up into his arms and began to take you into your bedroom. Artemis shot out and stood in his way, legs planted, your back arched, every hair on end, hissing loudly. Growling, he bared his teeth at her.
“Wait!” you called out, “Do not hurt her!” He chuckled.
“At an obvious disadvantage and still giving orders. I like you. Fine.” Bending down, he scooped up the scratching, biting Artemis with one hand, tossed her gently out the window onto the fire escape, and deftly closed it, with you still in his arms. You had planned on trying to escape, but he really was quite fast…
Chanyeol set you gently down on the foot of your bed, crouched over you, one arm on either side of you, and looked into your eyes. His own had returned to their normal chocolate cherry, the pupils reassuringly round. He leaned over you, bringing his face closer and closer to yours, causing you to crawl backwards towards the head of your bed to try to get away. He crawled after you, like a cat, until your back bumped the pillows. Bracing himself with one arm against the wall, he took your chin with the other and lowered his mouth to yours. You closed your eyes, determined not to react.
He nibbled the sides of your mouth, and then gently kissed you. His lips were soft and he didn’t apply any pressure, just kissed you tenderly, as if he could spend the rest of your life kissing you. A sharp bolt of electricity ran from your mouth down to your stomach, causing your breath to quicken involuntarily. As soon as you opened your mouth to gasp, he used his lips to suckle your bottom lip. Moving his hand from your chin to the nape of your neck, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue slowly into your mouth, drawing out yours, tickling it with his own. You pulled away your mouth to try to breathe. Chanyeol moved to your ear and breathed into it, eliciting an involuntary shiver from you. When he snaked out his tongue and traced the seashell curve of your ear with it, then dipped it inside, you bit your lip as a wave of sensation rose over you. He moved his head lower, placing his mouth over your neck. You tensed, waiting for the bite. He opened his mouth and something powerful brushed your throat–it didn’t hurt–but shards of light exploded behind your lids and a tremor ripped through your body, making you feel weak and feverish. You gave up. If it was going to happen anyway, why not enjoy it?
You ran your hands through his hair, bringing his mouth to yours, and kissed him with all of the passion built up in you from years of yearning.
Your flavour and scent sent all the blood his body had to spare right to his cock, which was throbbing so hard that it hurt. He moved back slightly and then began kissing down your throat, to the top button of your shirt. He moved one leg so that his thigh was between yours and deftly undid the buttons, kissing your heated skin after each came free. When he reached your navel, he ran his tongue around the small silver barbells that resided there, causing you to arch slightly. Moving to one side, he undid the string holding up your pants and, looking into your eyes, drew them off with a gentle tug. Climbing back to his original position, he undid the clasps on the front of your bra, cupping your breasts as they emerged from the carmine fabric. He ran his thumbs over the dusky rose tips, huskily whispering, “Is this how you like it?”
An involuntary gasp was ripped from your throat and you arched your back, driving your breasts into his palms. You felt his cock pulse against your thigh. Sitting up, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt, with little success. Chanyeol ran his hands over your breasts, whilst biting your earlobe, and you ripped his shirt with a small cry of surprise. Pulling his shirt over his shoulders, you accidently brought your breasts to his surprisingly warm chest, creating just enough friction to make you close your eyes and squeeze your thighs around one of his. He closed his eyes in silent appreciation when he felt your hot sex open like a flower on his leg.  Running your hands over his chest, you were surprised to feel the chill of metal running through his nipples. Nipple rings. “Pain for pleasure…” he whispered against your mouth. The cold of the metal combined with the rasp of his chest against your sensitive nipples caused you to rake your fingernails down his back, making him growl and rub his thigh between your legs in retaliation.
He kissed you deeply, leaving you in a daze as he backed away and quickly finished undressing himself. Taking you into his arms again, he slowly licked and nibbled down your neck and chest until he got to the tip of your right breast. He bit your breast, whilst you writhed in pleasure under him, squeezing your thighs around his. Suckling softly, he let your nipple fall from his mouth, only to suck it back into the wet warmth. Moving to your left breast, he repeated his delicious ministrations, all the while stroking his hands softly over your waist and thighs, whilst you weakly ran yours through his thick, glossy hair.
You felt his erect cock brush against your leg, and stiffened. Looking down, you emitted a small gasp and closed your eyes. Correctly guessing the cause of your sudden alarm, he chuckled. “I promise I won’t hurt you.  I’ll make you feel good,” he whispered. You turned your head and just lay there, keeping your eyes tightly shut, afraid of what else you might see.
Looking down at you, he seemed to come to a decision. He deftly, but gently, tied your arms to the head-posts with some of your discarded clothing. You struggled ineffectually against your bonds until he lightly cupped your swollen sex in one hand, slowly stroked it until you squirmed and he said, “Relax, pet.  This is merely to ensure that I do all of the work.” Moving between your legs, he placed a pillow under your pelvis, pulled down your white cotton bikini briefs, and discarded them. Making himself comfortable, he proceeded to tenderly open your legs.
“What are you doing?” you quavered.
Chanyeol bit you on the sensitive hollow just above your hipbones, eliciting a deep appreciative purr. He kissed and licked your thighs, breathing warm, moist air over them, and your untouched sex. You shivered as you felt his soft hair tickle your sensitive inner thighs. After a few moments, you started to become rather uncomfortable having a man’s head between your legs and tried to pull away, but he pulled your hips back to him and nuzzled you for a while, until you calmed down again. He began to lick you with long, slow, hungry strokes. Chanyeol soon found that a wide, flat tongue sliding over your lips, from your tight, wet sex, to just below your clitoris was rewarded with your halting sighs. Not wanting to neglect the silken soft crescent under your lips, between your opening and clit, he lavished slow, delicious, lingering strokes that almost included your swollen pearl itself…but not quite. He then teasingly gave it, and the smooth lips around it, soft little kisses from his parted lips. Moving back a pet, he slid his tongue up your inner lips then moved it to first one side, then the other, just in the vicinity of your little jewel. Slipping upward beside it, up over your hood, he paused, and then slipped down the opposite side. Your restless squirms and undulations drove him to bite your precious hood and the prize inside with his lips, whilst sucking you into his burning mouth.
Sensing your excitement, Chanyeol drew back to allow you to calm down, nuzzling your thighs once more. Leaning forward, he breathed on your swollen, wet heat, drawing a deep breath to savour your aroma, and then exhaling onto the soft peach fuzz on top of your pubic bone. Then he began to kiss you. He kissed you slowly and softly, over, and over. You began to swell even more and lifted your hips to meet the next kiss…and the next…and the next…and the one after that…
Moving to your swollen pearl, he placed his tongue over it, whilst moving his head in small circles. As your breathing became ragged once more, he closed his lips and sucked you into his mouth. Chanyeol pursed his lips around your throbbing clitoris and ran his tongue over it, back and forth, first slowly, then flickering with heightened speed, only to slow down once more. Moving down, he moaned against your lips, sucking them into his mouth, and slowly rolling his tongue just inside of you, giving you a light French kiss. When he moved back to your pulsating pearl and moaned whilst gently lapping against the top of it, the vibrations from his baritone voice finally threw you over the edge. You felt it begin as a tingle in your extremities that quickly flowed into a sudden burst of pleasure as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Your body arched uncontrollably against his head and a sudden moan was pulled from you, your soprano voice mysteriously manifesting itself in husky alto tones.
Chanyeol untied a now pliant you, kissing and nibbling your wrists where the bonds had been. Kissing your closed eyelids, he whispered, “Wake up, wake up. We’re not finished yet…” Moaning softly against his mouth, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought your face to his. Your sleepy pleasure turned into passion, as his long, slender fingers found the still swollen pearl that his mouth had so recently vacated, and begin to pay their own homage. Moving his mouth against yours, he slid two fingers into you, just as his tongue slipped past your yielding lips. His hands stroked your soaked slit and just inside of your burning sex, as his tongue slipped over yours and dipped into your heated mouth.
He began to softly tease your g-spot, whilst running his thumb in a circular motion around your hard little clit. When he dipped his head to your neck to nibble and suck on the pulse at the base of your throat, you climaxed once more, your arching driving your clenching sex into his hand, your thighs clamping around his wrist. Chanyeol lay quietly against your breasts, fighting for control, as your body slowly began to relax once more. He pulled slightly away from you, trying to ignore the almost painful throbbing of his hard cock, the memory of just how tight you were against his two fingers, and how your teeth had sunk into your plump bottom lip as you came. He looked at you–at your golden skin flushed to a rosy hue, at your swollen red mouth, at your full, rounded breasts with their small, sensitive tips, at your thighs pressed closely together, and at the intersection between them, with its soft, wet hair glistening temptingly. This little visual odyssey was doing nothing to alleviate his raging hard-on. You finally opened your eyes, and looked at him, smiling slowly, your eyes raking over his body. He bent his head to yours just in time to notice a blush suffusing your already rosy cheeks.
You put your hand on the nape of his neck and drew him close to you for a surprisingly passionate kiss. Running your other hand down his body, you toyed with his rings, pulling and twisting them just enough to make him moan against your mouth. Your hand drifted lazily lower, as you ran your nails lightly over his happy trail, causing him to cry out his surprise into your mouth, whilst you nipped at his lower lip and sucked his tongue hard into your mouth. He knew that he was going to have to move back soon, or lose his precious control, when you broke off the kiss. You looked into his eyes and he felt a hot, delicate hand slip around the base of his pulsating cock. He went perfectly still. You squeezed and ran your hand up the length of his manhood to the head, causing Chanyeol to involuntarily buck and shoot a few spurts of cum into your hand. He moved away from you and your maddeningly exploratory little hand, and closed his eyes.
After a stabilizing moment, he looked back at you. You slowly opened your legs to him. He crawled over you, until he was between your soft, strong thighs. He could feel the moist heat of you against his swollen erection. He moved his hips slowly, letting the head of his cock tease your heated, wet sex. Your body undulated under his, making him feel the scorching blushes under your skin. Slowly, he began to enter you.
He hadn’t gotten far when he felt the barrier of your virginity. He paused. Guessing the cause of his delay, you arched to meet him. “Wait,” he growled. You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed your breasts tantalizingly over the front of his chest. “Don’t. Move,” he ground. With a wicked chuckle, you pulled his head down to yours and suckled his earlobe, then moved down to his neck and bit. Growling, he quickly thrust past the offensive barrier. You stiffened as a sudden white-hot pain pierced you. As suddenly as it had come, it was gone and Chanyeol’s big, thick prick was impaling you. You wrapped your long legs around his hips and roughly sucked on the bite that you had inflicted. Chanyeol wrapped his arms around your back, pulled you closer and drew your nipple into his mouth. After he had you moaning and writhing, he drove his cock home to the hilt, deep into your tight opening. Chanyeol couldn’t believe how tight you were. He gave you a few gentle thrusts; nipping at your nipples, he continued to plow his hard cock in and out of your virginal sex. Your body quivered as you gasped with each thrust. That huge cock pistoning into your felt so like it was stroking every inner inch of your body…
Before long, you was moving in conjunction with Chanyeol, arching your sex to meet each of his thrusts as your breathing became shorter and more ragged. You felt his lips against your ear. You felt his breath, hot and wet as he moaned to you, “You’re sooo tight.” His hot tongue found your neck–his hands, kneading your waist and moving down. He worked in slowly, groaning with pleasure. “Mmm…I can tell that you like it. Tell me how much you like it.” Your voice was soft and breathy, “I love it…”
“That’s it, lover. I knew you wanted it the first time I saw you…” Chanyeol held onto your waist, and pushed into you deeper, and harder. He grunted, reaming your sex hard and fast, until you let out a cry. “That’s it.” He slammed into you deeply, forcing you an inch or two up the mattress. You groaned. He slowed down to kiss you deeply. “You’re so young. So young and sooo tight.” Then the words turned into sounds…
“That’s right, make that tight little…arrrggghh” he panted, “…grab my big cock, lover…” Chanyeol was burying the length of his shaft and grunting with each and every thrust now. “Yes, you tight little wet, ohhh…yes, you like my cock deep, ugh, inside, mmfh, your tight little cunt, don’t you?” He pumped his cock hard into you. “Oh, yes, you have the tightest mmm…I have felt… ” His breathing quickened and became a little labored. You finally heard him start to groan and grunt. You began moaning incoherently as Chanyeol pumped his hips furiously, ramming his cock inside.
As you built up momentum, you felt the cock inside of you swell and you knew it was only a matter of time before Chanyeol came.
He actually had been constantly on the verge of cumming since he had first sunken his cock into your tight sex. How much longer he could hold, he didn’t know, only that release was imminent. “Oh yes…” Chanyeol moaned. His nuts tightened and he knew he was going to fill up his little kitten. You could feel his balls tighten as he was about to cum. You clenched down deep inside, squeezing his cock. That spurred him on, and he rammed three or four more times inside your sex before grabbing your hips and releasing what felt to him like a gallon of cum to flood your tight opening. As he came he bit into your shoulder, slamming into you, shooting your already drenched sex full of cum. He moaned, “Yes, take it lover, take all my cum inside of you…” Your body spasmed. You shook as the orgasm tore through you. You rode Chanyeol, his cock pumping your cunt as you both climaxed…
“And now, for the ivory kiss…” Chanyeol whispered. He leaned down to your neck and felt your body stiffen. He backed away in surprise and pain. Looking down, he saw the stake protruding from his chest. He looked at you, toppled over and was a pile of dust before he ever hit the bed. You stretched, sauntered over to the window, and let Artemis back into the flat. “I really do wish that they would clean up after themselves,” you thought ruefully. Climbing back under the covers, you winced as you felt the tingle inside telling you that your hymen was beginning to heal. By tomorrow morning, you would be completely healed. In all your centuries of Hunting, you had yet to meet a vampire who could resist the allure of a virgin. Tonight had been especially fun. “Tomorrow,” you decided sleepily, “tomorrow, I’m going back to being the Hunter, instead of playing the prey.”  Chanyeol had been fun, but too easy to catch, and that vampire with the kitten nose, blade-sharp jaw, and dancer’s body looked like he could keep you occupied for days.  Artemis curled up at your waist and watched you drift to sleep…  
A/N:  If you want to follow me, then please do so at my main blog @vampwrrr​, as I always update there, first.
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terrayoung · 5 years
Text
A Delicate Balance
A @dctvsecretsanta fic for @drnathanielheywood, who asked for: team legends stealing Christmas presents through time and Nate/Mick. It’s in Nate’s 2nd person p.o.v.
Fic is under the cut - I hope you enjoy!
"Pleeeeeeeaaaaaassssseeee?" Ray asks, holding out a bowl full of paper slips. "Wally and Mick already agreed - though Mick might've just done it to get me to leave him alone - and I'm sure the others will, too!" He widens his eyes. "I'd really appreciate it! Secret Santa is just the kind of bonding activity we need right now!"
You sigh. Damn those puppy-dog eyes. "Okay, fine. But you owe me an Indiana Jones marathon. And I mean all the movies - even Crystal Skull."
"That's fair."
Ray thrusts the bowl even closer to you. You close your eyes, pray that you get someone easy to shop for, and rummage around in the bowl for your lucky slip. Fingers on your free hand crossed, you unfold the paper. In scrawled black writing is two words and an emoji, "Mick Rory :)". Ray's looking at you expectantly, so you force a smile on your face.
"Didn't get myself, buddy, so I guess that's good," you say. 
"Yep!" Ray beams. "Oh, and before I forget - Mick suggested being able to steal the gifts. Long as you don't take it/them from the less fortunate, it's fair game." He pulls you into a brief, one-armed hug. "Thanks, Nate!"
You watch as Ray leaves your room, then finally let the smile slip off your face. "What the fuck do I do now? Um, Gideon?"
"Yes, Dr. Heywood?" Gideon asks.
"Any ideas on what I could get Mick for the Secret Santa?"
"I'm afraid Dr. Palmer requested that I not give anyone advice about their giftees." She almost sounds regretful. "He said it would be considered cheating."
"Gee, thanks a lot," you mutter.
"You're welcome!"
"Damn AI."
"I heard that," Gideon warns. 
You throw up your hands in frustration and flop onto your bed. After a few seconds, you roll over so you can scream into a pillow. You roll over again a few seconds after that since the lack of oxygen is getting to your head. 
What on Earth could you possibly get - or steal - for Mick? You put too little effort into this and he'll burn you to a crisp, but putting too much effort in would be like a neon sign telling him about your crush. Anything fire-related is too obvious and you know nothing about what he'd need for crime. It's probably too soon to give Mick a new rat and he could just fabricate himself some beer. What does he even like to do?
...Wait. You vaguely remember Mick being super gung-ho about vampires - he was even reading a special edition copy of Dracula. Maybe that's something you can work with. 
 XxXx
  You knock on Sara's door the next day. It takes a few seconds for her to open it, by which point you're already rocking back and forth on your heels. 
"Can I help you?" Sara asks, rubbing at her eyes. 
You nod. "Mind if I borrow the jump ship for a few hours? I think I know what to get my Secret Santa."
"Promise to never wake me up at..." She grabs your wrist, drags it towards her, and checks the time on your watch. "At 6AM ever again?"
"What if there's a life-threatening emergency?"
"If it's before 9AM, I don't care."
"Then, yes, I promise," you say, giving Sara a mock solute.
Sara releases your wrist and waves you away. "Fine. Go. Have fun shopping or stealing or what-the-fuck-ever. I'm going back to sleep."
"Sleep -" You're cut off by Sara sliding the door shut on you- "well." You run a hand through your hair. "Next stop, late nineteenth century." A few steps towards the jump ship remind you that you're still wearing your slippers. "After a trip to the fabrication room."
 XxXx
 You're barely out of the fabrication room - and still trying to fix your tie - when you run into Mick. Literally. Your forehead slams right into his chin. You stumble back, clutching your head, while he just stands there like a brick wall. A very well-muscled brick wall...
You shake your head - causing it to ache some more - to get your brain back on track. Mick raises an eyebrow. 
"You okay there, Pretty?" Mick asks. His gravelly voice rattles through your bones. "Sounded like you hit me pretty hard."
You rub your forehead one last time, then let your arm drop. "Think I'm gonna have one hell of a headache, but I'll live. How are you not in any pain?"
"I am." Mick shrugs. "But I've lived through worse." He stops, stares at your chest, and then rolls his eyes. You have two seconds to blink before Mick's closer than you'd ever hoped he'd get. 
"Umm, Mick?" You'll swear on every bible in the country that your voice didn't just crack. "What's goin' on?"
"Fixing your stupid tie," Mick mutters. 
There's a spark each time his hands brush against your chest. Mick's face is so close to yours and it takes every bit of your willpower to not lean in for a kiss. You don't even realize that you were holding your breath until Mick steps back and it all rushes out of you. 
Mick smirks, proud of his handiwork. "There ya go." He looks you up and down. "Where're you going? Didn't think we had a mission today."
"We - we don't," you reply. "I'm going to go get my Secret Santa's gift." You run a hand through your hair. "No idea how Ray managed to convince all of us to do that, by the way."
Mick just grunts and shrugs. 
"Anyway, um, I'm going to go do that -" you gesture vaguely in the direction of the jump ship -"and I'll see you later?"
"...Sure." Mick steps around you and heads down the hallway. He calls over his shoulder, "Long as you don't get yourself killed."
You're not sure if Mick thinks you're likely to, or if this is his own way of showing concern. It's been a couple of years since you met him and you're no closer to having him figured out. Luckily, you've always been a fan of mysteries. Not as much as histories, but -
You shake your head. Now is really not the time for your train of thought to run off the tracks. You give yourself a few seconds to remember Mick's closeness, then return to heading off to the jump ship. You've got a gift to track down. 
 XxXx
 "Why couldn't this have been a normal trip to Ye Olde Bookshoppe?" You mutter. "Oh, wait, normal flew out the window once I stepped onboard a freaking timeship!" 
"Be quiet!" Van Helsing - Abigail Van Helsing - hisses. "Unless you want the vampire to get us!" 
You hold up your hands, then mime zipping your mouth shut. Van Helsing just frowns before turning to look out of the alleyway. 
You'd started out going to buy an original copy of Dracula for Mick, planning on getting it signed by Bram Stoker himself. But then a fucking vampire had literally crashed the party! Then Van Helsing followed it through, announced she would take care of the beast, and then chased after it. You'd declared your intention to help, and well, here you are now. Somewhere in the middle you've managed to figure out that Dracula was loosely based on a true story. Very loosely, if Van Helsing being named Abigail instead of Abraham and the vampire not having much in the way of sentience are any indication. 
"It's coming," Van Helsing whispers. "You distract it with your "powers"-" how is she able to sound like she's miming air quotes a century before they were a thing?- "and then I'll stab it in the chest. Is that understood?" 
You nod, then steel up. Van Helsing's eyes widen. As soon as you hear the vampire scuffle past, you step out of the alleyway. The sun gleams off of your silver skin and attracts the vampire's attention. You slowly back away to lure it closer and closer to Van Helsing. Once you've moved far enough, you give her a thumbs-up. 
Van Helsing may not recognize the gesture, but she knows a signal when she sees one and jumps towards the vampire. There's a bit of a struggle - most of which is on the vampire's end - and then it's over as soon as it began. Van Helsing brushes the dust off her knife. 
"Thank you," Van Helsing says after a moment. "That would have been a lot more difficult without your help."
You shrug before de-steeling. "No problem. Mind if I ask you a question?"
"I suppose I owe you that much. What is it?"
"Do you know where I could find Bram Stoker?" You hold up the now slightly battered copy of Dracula. "I've got a book for him to sign."
 XxXx
 Bram Stoker looks from you, to Dracula, and then back to you. "You want me to write a dedication to someone I've never even heard of?"
"Yes, please," you answer. "He's a huge fan - uh, admirer - of your writing, and would greatly appreciate your signing the book. I'm planning on giving it to him for Christmas."
"A rare thing for two unrelated men to do," Stoker replies, "but not an unappreciated one. What is your young man's name?"
"He's not young - or mine - but -" You take a breath- "Mick Rory."
Stoker nods. He thinks for a moment, dips his pen in an inkwell, and jots down a few words. "Here you go, Dr. Heywood." Stoker pushes the book back to you. "I hope Mr. Rory takes to this gift."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Stoker!" You barely glance at the dedication before snapping the book shut. "I have to get going, but it was very nice to meet you!"
"Same to you."
 XxXx
 The next person you literally run into is Zari, as you're exiting the jump ship. It affects her more than you, but neither of you get too hurt. Which is great - you still have a lingering headache from your encounter with Mick. 
"Thanks for that," Zari snarks. "Long as you're here, though - any ideas on what to get Hunter? I've only met the man twice, so I'm kinda at a loss."
You snort. "That's a first." You sober up at Zari's withering glare. "Um, I didn't really know 'im too well either. Think I remember someone mentioning he's really into Wild West stuff? That and antiques."
"So shop for you, but lean towards cowboy crap," Zari summarizes. "Got it." She gestures to the jump ship. "Just leaving or just returning?"
"Returning." You step out of Zari's way. "Go right ahead." Before she can get too far, you hold up Dracula and add, "For Mick - what do you think? It's an original copy and it's signed."
Zari shrugs. "He should like it. May even get you that kiss you want."
"Kiss? Why would I want a -" You slump. "How'd you know?"
"You're nowhere near as subtle as you think you are," Zari answers. "Surprised he hasn't noticed - I'm aromantic and I picked up on it ages ago." She hangs in the doorway. "Good luck, though."
"Thank -" Zari shuts the door- "you." You run a hand through your hair. "Why does that keep happening to me?"
 XxXx
 Ray knocks on your door just as you're putting stuffing the last of the tissue paper into the bag containing Mick's gift. You tell him to let himself in, then scribble a note on the to/from sticker. Hopefully your handwriting isn't too distinctive. 
You sit up, expecting Ray to start info-dumping about some new science fact or his latest project, but he's pacing silently instead. It takes about five minutes for concern to override just letting him be. 
"Uh, Ray?" You begin. "You okay there, buddy?"
Ray hesitates before shaking his head. He then leans against the closest wall. 
"What's up? Do you need some paper to write on?"
"Nah," Ray answers. "Just figuring out what to say - I'm not non-verbal atm." He sighs. "Um, I already got my Secret Santa's gift, but... ButIwasthinkingofgettingNoraagifttoo."
You stand up and rest a hand on Ray's shoulder. "I'm totally here for you, but would you mind repeating that for me? My ears can't process your words when you're speaking at a hundred miles an hour."
"Sorry. I said I was thinking of getting Nora a gift, too," Ray confesses. "But I don't know where she is, how to get it to her if I did, or if she even celebrates Christmas. Or how she'd react." Ray smiles sheepishly. "Y'know, with her being a former bad guy and all."
"Yeah, I had the same problem with Mick."
Ray jerks his head up so quickly, you fling your hand out in shock. You can feel a blush spreading across your cheeks.
"Okay, if you agree to ignore the implications there, I'll agree to ignore you implying that you still have a thing for Nora," you say. 
"Fine by me." Ray smiles. "For what it's worth, I think Mick likes you back. I mean, he does call you "Pretty"."
You shrug. "Thinking I'm hot doesn't equal feelings, but thanks. And good luck with Nora. I don't think she's the best person to crush on, but you do you, Ray." You smirk. "Or her." Ray jokingly punches you in the arm. "Hey!" 
"So, assuming I find Nora, you think I should get her something?" Ray asks. 
"Yeah, man. You could always pass it off as a "just because" gift if she's not a Christmas person." 
Ray pulls you into a brief hug. "Thank you for the advice and friendly ear." 
"No problemo."
Ray shakes his head, still smiling, and exits your room. He gives you a wave as the door closes.
 XxXx 
 A few days later, it's finally the moment of truth. Or to put it less dramatically - the day you all exchange your Secret Santa gifts. The result of you shoving in the tissue paper is a bag that's a little messy and half-hazard looking, but you feel it's appropriate. There's more to it than its rough exterior - just like Mick. 
You're the first one on the bridge. You place your gift by the center console and then pour yourself a drink. Maybe it'll help calm your nerves. 
"Great idea, Pretty." Mick's rumbling voice makes you jump - you hadn't heard him approach. Thankfully the glass didn't spill any more than a couple of drops. Mick brushes past you to pour himself... something. You're too busy trying not to shudder from that brief moment of contact. 
"Hey, um, Mick," you finally reply. "Have any trouble finding a gift?"
Mick shrugs. "Wrapping it was the worst part. Ended up just shoving it into a box."
"Yeah, I -"
Whatever you were about to say next is cut off by a deluge of Legends flooding onto the bridge. Several different conversations overlap as people try to put their gifts by the console without tripping over each other. You decide to find a comfortable spot to sit before all the good ones are taken. To your surprise, Mick grabs the one next to you. 
"So, who wants to go first?" Ray asks, once everyone has settled down. 
Sara nods at him. "It was your idea." 
Ray stammers and protests for a bit, but gives in once everyone starts chanting his name. He picks up a small, thin present that has dark blue wrapping paper with silver atoms. Ray tears through the paper less gently than expected to reveal a frame with a photo inside. It's a candid shot of him and a brunette woman - Anna, maybe - sitting on a park bench somewhere and laughing. Ray hastily wipes away a few tears. 
"Thank you," he begins, "whoever, um -"
Rip raises a hand. "I always wished there were more photos of Miranda and myself after she..." he clears his throat. "I hope it's alright that I-"
Before Rip can finish his sentence, Ray all but tackles him with a hug. Rip awkwardly pats his back for a bit, then gently pulls back. 
The rest of the gifts are less emotionally fraught, though no less meaningful. Ava receives two photos - one of her and Sara and one of her with the team - and a hug from Ray. Wally opens an awkwardly wrapped meditation fountain from Ava and gives Sara a set of throwing knives. Sara gives Zari a blanket with various video game symbols and characters, and Zari in turn gives Rip a hat and book from the Old West. Only you and Mick are left, which grants you both significant looks from everyone else. 
"Guess it's pretty obvious who yours is from," you joke to Mick. He grunts and goes to pick up one of the two remaining gifts. 
Your heart is in your throat as Mick carefully pulls out the tissue paper. He frowns at what's inside, but it smooths out once he picks up Dracula. 
"Original edition?" Mick murmurs. "Nice."
You swallow hard. "Look inside the front cover."
Mick does so, his eyebrows lifting as he reads whatever message Stoker left him. "Huh. Thanks, Nate."
Hearing someone call you by your first name usually doesn't send butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but your thing for Mick isn't that usual to begin with. 
"My turn, then." You stand up, grab the sole remaining box, and settle back down in your spot. 
The box is wrapped in simple silver paper and topped with a red bow. You stick the bow to your shirt before unwrapping the gift. First in the box is a photo of Harrison Ford in full Indiana Jones gear, complete with jacket. Underneath that, carefully folded up, is the exact same jacket in surprisingly good condition. 
"Is this -? Did you -?" You're at a loss for words. 
Mick avoids your gaze. "Stole it off the set. I added the picture so you could tell it's the same one."
"Thank you so much." Before you can stop yourself, you pull Mick into the best sideways hug you can manage. Your skin tingles all over when you finally let go, which almost distracts you from noticing that Mick's cheeks are a bit red. Huh. 
Sara pulls you from your thoughts by tapping something - a pen? - against a whisky bottle. "Now that the presents are done with, let's get drunk!"
Most of the team cheers and makes a beeline for the drink cart. Ray switches on some music after clarifying that it's secular Christmas/winter-themed songs only. Mick stands up and nods towards the drinks. 
"You want anything?" Mick asks. 
'A kiss' is what you want to say. What actually comes out of your mouth is, "Not right now. Thanks, though."
Mick grunts in the affirmative before leaving you alone to stew. Which lasts all of five seconds due to Wally zooming over to capture the newly open spot. 
"Y'know, I could get some mistletoe over here without Mick noticing," Wally whispers. "Wouldn't even take two seconds." 
You shake your head. "And make Mick mad at the both of us? Nah. I've known him for this long without him making good on his threats. A little longer would be nice."
Wally face palms, then leaves without saying anything more. He rushes back and - sue enough, there's a mistletoe hanging above where you're sitting. You roll your eyes and go to take it down. Unfortunately, tearing it off causes you to fall back from the amount of force you'd used. You're caught by strong arms before you can hit the ground. 
You look up to find that Mick's your timely rescuer - hero, a part of you whispers - and hastily right yourself on your own two feet. "Uh, thanks, Mick."
"What was that about?" Mick raises an eyebrow. "You shouldn't be drunk already."
"I'm not! It's just -"
"Just...?"
"Wally was trying to play a prank on us," you explain, "and I nearly fell over trying to get it down." You hold up the mistletoe and feel a blush start to spread across your face. "Funny, right?"
"What's funny? You nearly cracking your head open?" Mick asks. 
"No, um, uh-" you look down at the floor- "Wally thinking that making us kiss was a good idea for a prank. I mean, the idea of you and me -"
Mick catches your chin in his hand, tilting it up so your gazes meet. "'S not that bad an idea, actually."
"What - You - I -"
Before you can embarrass yourself even further, Mick pulls you into a kiss. You freeze for a moment, then surge forward to deepen it. Your hands settle on Mick's waist to tug him even closer. 
And then someone wolf-whistles. 
Mick sighs into your mouth, then gently pushes you away. "Should prob'ly continue this where we can have some privacy."
"My room's good," you reply. "Much closer than yours." You can't resist giving Mick another kiss. 
"Works for me, Pretty." Mick steps even farther back, then gestures to the nearest door. The two of you all but run out as you try to ignore all the teasing from the rest of the group. Sara shouts out to not do anything she wouldn't do. Like that's even that long of a list. 
...Which may have been the point. 
 XxXx 
 "Wait," you say, once you and Mick are finally in your room, "hang on a second, okay?"
Mick frowns but complies. "Y'not want to do this anymore?"
"For now?" You nod. "For now. It's just -" You run a hand through your hair. "I don't know if we're on the same page here, or if you even like me or anything."
"Would I kiss you if I didn't like you?" Mick asks.
"I mean, like me, like me. I mean -" moment of truth, here- "I'm in love with you. Have been for a while. Even when I was with Amaya, I think I felt something like that for you." Your eyes widen. "Not that I didn't love Amaya! It was just... both of you, I guess. Amaya and I were just starting to talk about it right before she, um, left." You pause to take a breath. "If you don't feel the same, that's fine, but - I don't want to do a friends with benefits thing if you don't. I don't think my heart could take it." It's a while before you can meet Mick's gaze. "So, that's where I'm at. How 'bout you?"
Mick folds his arms. "I'm not good at this feelings crap, but..." He sighs, then waves a hand around. "I feel the same. I think. 'm willing to give it a chance, anyway. Is that enough?"
"Yeah." You smile broadly. "Yeah, it is."
Mick shakes his head fondly - for him, at least - and then pulls you into another kiss. 
15 notes · View notes
pharaoh-writes · 6 years
Text
Blood so Sweet
Damien awoke up the next day after party feeling weird. He doesn’t remember if he drank, but last night he could not recall. Strangely enough there is a bite mark on his neck and he still has his clothes on.
-----
Chapter One of the Vampire au. The next chapter will have Darki. 
I thank foxtamer113 for all the wonderful ideas. I probably wouldn’t have written this without you~ Sorry for my writing though, haven’t really wrote in years...but i tried *jazz hands*
warnings: blood, duh.
Chapter Two: Blood so Bitter
@foxtamer113
“How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men--even if there are monsters in it.” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula
Everything hurt; His head, his neck, his whole body. The rays from the morning sunlight beaming from the window sting Damien’s eyes as he opened them.  He found himself laying on his stomach and still in his black suit from last night. It must have been one heck of night, Damien thought to himself, but yet I don’t remember drinking. Thinking about it, he didn’t drink at all last night. He is the mayor of this town, he has an image to uphold he couldn’t be drinking at all. Sitting up slowly, his mind scrambled to recall last night until the pain in his head pound harder.
Damien moved out of bed and went to the bathroom. Entering, he stood in front of the mirror cabinet baffled. He couldn't see his reflection in the mirror, but shrugged thinking it a side effect from the hang over. The mayor opened the cabinet, grabbing the bottle of aspirin. He took a couple of pills before wincing at the pain near his throat. Damien's hand touched his neck feeling what seemed to be a bite mark on his base of his neck. How did that get there? Did someone bit him? Why would someone bite him? This morning kept adding questions.
Damien moved back to his room, he had to change out of his crumpled clothes. While changing to a fresh clean suit he couldn't help but touch the bite mark on his neck again. Questions flow through his head, wishing he knew who bit him in the first place. Damien would have to solve the mystery later as he had to hide it now from work. The collar of the white dress shirt with the bow tied around it would help. No one will know.
----
 "Mr. Mayor?" Damien's eyes snap open upon hearing the secretary call him from his doze. Last night must have taking a long toll on him.  He lifted his head up, "yes Miss Katherine?"
 "It's lunchtime, the chef brought your food up," She announced. Damien nodded, "Bring it in," 
 Katherine brought in a tray of a sandwich and drink. She set the tray on the mayor's desk, then she left him alone again. Damien picked up the sandwich, taking a bite as he when back to doing paperwork. The sandwich tasted a bit bland, didn't fill him up like it usually did. Chef must be having a off day with her cooking. Later on, Katherine returned to clean up the dishes on the desk. She picked up the tray, but accidentally drops the glass cup, shattering on the floor. Damien glances up from the papers and offered to help. Katherine tells him to don't get up as she starts picking up the glass.  She finches as the glass cuts her finger. Damien freezes, the smell of blood tickles his nose from where he sat. He glanced to where the scent came from an aroma so sweet, so... delicious. The secretary quickly moved out of the room apologizing as she went to retrieve a band-aid. The intoxicating smell left with. The mayor took his head, getting out of the weird trance he was in. Strangely, he felt more hungry after that. 
 Things kept getting weird after that. Damien still couldn't see his refection in the mirror. He thought it was a trick of the eyes but it wasn't. When he needed a breathe of fresh air, he would go outside. Damien loved the outdoors, free and less stuffy than a crowded city building. He loved the sun, the way it warmed his skin but it made him feel ill. He couldn't be outside long as he used to be. There was more but the main thing that scared Damien more was his hunger. Food tasted a bit off but it never filled him or give him strength. Yet the smell of blood entranced him, it smelled so scrumptious . Whatever wrong with him, it frighten him. He picked up books to read, most symptoms where from fictional stories about vampires. Damien dropped a book, panicked thinking of needed one more piece of proof.
 Late night, Damien went the hospital telling the staff he wanted to visit. The nurses thought it was weird but ended up not caring. The mayor wandered around visiting a few rooms until no one pay attention to him. Too many people were asleep so he sneaked off unnoticed. He found the refrigerator where the hospital kept the blood packages. Keeping the room lights off so no one would know he was there, only a flash light lit where he wanted to see. Damien took a bag, trembling as he held it. Slowly and carefully, he opened the packet. The smell made him drool, like kid seeing candy. He couldn't take it anymore as he placed his lips at the edge of the bag and greedy drank all the blood in it. He felt his strength return after these days of feeling weak. Damien licked the bag a bit before realizing what he had done. He dropped the packet, his trembling gotten worse. This was not true, this was impossible. He couldn't be, vampires were fictional. Yet all the signs are there, he was a vampire now. What will the people of the city will think about this? What would Mark, the Colonel and the D.A will think?   No, the people could not find this out, his own friends too. He is the mayor and his citizens wouldn’t want a vampire as a mayor. If news got out, his life would end.
 Blood had gotten on his white shirt, noticeable to anyone now. Damien had to get out of here. He cleaned up his mess on the floor to leave no evidence. Grabbing a few packages of blood in a bag left in the room, he crawled out the window, heading home. 
--
 Months past and being a newborn vampire wasn't easy, control was the main issue. The scent of blood drove him crazy because deep inside he wanted to ponce on the person bleeding. When he hasn't ate in a long time, the smell of people would get to him. Damien would bite his lip, trying to ignore the smell of delicious human. Oh how he would love to bite into their skins...No, no, he shouldn't be thinking this. He didn't want to hurt anyone, it’s wrong. Damien already felt bad sneaking into hospitals, stealing blood from people who need it more. He needed it to survive and to give energy for his body and mind to continue his duties as mayor. At times, he would not eat for a couple weeks, which were tough for Damien would be super weak but he had to be careful not to steal tons of blood and give suspicion to the city. Still, he had to do what he has to do. 
---
 Another party had arrived, Damien had to ready. He made sure of eating a little blood before so his vampire instincts wouldn't take over. Wishing he didn't go but as mayor he had to. He kept control while chatting with almost everyone. After a while, Damien found a moment to escape. The mayor went to balcony, staring out at the beautiful night sky. Dark outside was peaceful and quiet from the din of the party. 
 "Mr. Mayor, tired already? Bully, I thought you never take a break," a voice he hadn't heard in so long spoke behind him. Damien turned hastily and grinned, "Colonel!" 
The mustache man walked over, embracing the mayor. Damien happily hugged back, taking the very sweet scent of the Colonel in. He never noticed what his friend smelled like until now but Damien loved it. The man's scent was better than any other human he smelled before, reminded him of bubblegum. The mayor snapped back into reality, pushing the Colonel a way bit fearing for his friend. He tried to force a smile as he shook, "I-It's good to see you. It's been a long time." William chuckled, goofy grin on his face, "It has. I had to come to town and see my good friend after all this time."
The mayor smiled sadly, the colonel happen to notice this. Something seemed a bit off, his friend’s eyes told a painful, sad story while he was gone. He didn't bother to ask since it's he rather talk good times. They chatted to catch up, forgetting the party inside. Stories they told were never the whole truth, but lies were better than the truth for now.  Damien decided he had to go back inside, the mayor can't be missing for long. William went back inside as well. After a while, there was yelling coming from one of the guest and the Colonel. Ended up with fist being drawn. Damien ran over, ordering to two to break it up. Too late, the man punched William in the nose, knocking him back. Security had got to the scene and grabbed the man who threw the punch while the mayor helped his friend out. He could smell the blood, so fresh bleeding out of his friend’s nose. He froze feeling hunger was kicking in. The Colonel noticed his face again, Damien really seemed to be off. The mayor pulled away quickly and gotten the heck out of there. William got up, wiping the blood off his nose and followed. "Damien, what's wrong? You usually get upset with me when I get into fights but defend me too. What I just saw on your face...it was fear. That's the second time I saw fear from you tonight." 
 Damien looked down at the floor, not wanting to look at Will. He mumbled, "It's nothing." The Colonel growled, "Bullshit! Something is bothering you and..."
 Damien stopped and faced him, raising his voice, "I said it nothing!"
Just as they stopped, something caught William's eyes, a mirror. He stared at the mirror behind the mayor. There was no reflection of Damien, just the Colonel himself. He pulled back, shocked. This must be a trick, a joke, why is his friend's reflection not showing? Damien didn't realize a mirror was behind him until he saw Will frighten stare. He moved immediately from the mirror and ran down to a far room a way from everyone. William chased him, "Damien, don't you run!"
 He grabbed the door before the mayor tried to shut and lock it, slamming wide open. Damien backed off , "Go away, please. I don't want to talk about it."
 The Colonel shut the door, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me. Especially what I just saw now. You have no reflection in the mirror! Are you playing tricks?"
 "N-No, i'm not. I will never..." The mayor hands gripped his cane.
 "Then what Damien? What wrong with you?"
 "I'M A VAMPIRE, OKAY!" there was a moment of silence between them. William decided to speak,  "A vampire, is that a joke?"
 "No, it not," Damien sat down on the bed, elbows on his legs and hands in his hair. "It started months ago, at a party. A vampire bit me. I don’t remember who but I woke up the next day bite on the base of my neck. I didn't know at first but all the signs were there. I became weak because I didn't drink blood. Sun light makes me dizzy if i'm outside in it for too long. Mirrors never show me. I'm a monster, Colonel and I can't let anyone know!" He sobbed, his whole body shaking.
William keeled down in front of his friend. He reached out, touching Damien's shoulder. He didn't know what to believe if vampires exists, but these emotions from his friend was real. "Damien, I'm sorry. I really care about you. I promise I will not tell a single soul about you being a vampire."
The mayor removed his hands from his face to look at the colonel, his face wet with tears. William pulled him into a hug. Damien clung to him in response, trembling. Will rubbed his back, calming his friend down. His fragrance, bubblegum sweet, relaxed the vampire as he buried his face in Will's neck. He really does love his scent. Minutes past, Damien pulled himself away from his friend. "T-thank you." 
 The Colonel smiled softy, "Your welcome." He stood back up, while Damien squirmed a bit in on the bed. He gotten a bit curious now he knows his friend is a vampire. "Do you still have a bite mark on your neck?"
 Damien nodded. He removed his bow off then a few buttons his shirt, enough to pull show the scar on the base of his neck. Will's hand touched the scar, it must have been deep to remain. Damien's face was a little flustered. William pulled away, "you really need to feed on blood now? did the smell make you hungry?"
 Damien gotten more uncomfortable, he did feel a bit peckish now. "Only a little. I-I don't eat much since I don't want to harm anyone. I have to sneak in and steal blood packets from hospitals."
 William frowned, "Damien, you need to eat. I know you care too much about every living thing but you shouldn't be starving yourself. People need a strong mayor. Let me help you, you don't have to do this alone." He rolled up his sleeve on his right arm, presented his wrist to the vampire. Damien stared in shock, "W-Will..." 
"Don't say another word, please eat what you need. I'll be fine." William gave him a reassuring smile. Damien hesitated but he moved over, grabbing Will's arm. Will was intrigued seeing the fangs extend before they pierce his skin. Blood spilled out of his wrist and into Damien's mouth. To the mayor, the blood tasted better than what he drank from the packets. It was sweeter and flavorful. After a few minutes, the Colonel started to feel a bit dizzy. Damien noticed and stopped, mouth pulling a way from Wil's wrist. 
"Colonel!" William fell on the floor. The vampire keeled beside him and checked his pulse. Colonel giggled a bit like he was drunk, "i'm fine, Dames. Nothing a man like me can handle." Damien sighed, helping the man up onto the bed. He laid his friend on the bed then sat down next to him. He smiled, brushing Will's hair from his face. "Thank you, Colonel."
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