#wip vtv

[bardicbeetle]

COMIC SANS RETURNS!

what do we do when dealing with natural disaster trauma? we finish the goddamn keynote powerpoint for Vee's WIP!

Thank you as always and forever to @incandescent-creativity for spawning my favorite way to introduce a project

VTV Playlist <3

WIP tag

Vee's character tag

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

and if you feel like it maybe take a look at my patreon

- stevie

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr /

@captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris /

@excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause /

@afoolandathief / @dyrewrites / @mr-orion /

[jemreboot]

My Jemverse Master-Post

Expect this to be updated as new characters are added. Existing profiles are WIP and are thus subject to change.

The Holograms

Jem/Jerrica : Kimber : Aja : Shana : Raya

The Misfits

Pizzazz : Roxy : Jetta : Stormer : Blaze

The Stingers

Riot : Rapture : Minx : The Fox

Wyld Dawgz

MC Lexi : DJ

Tinkerbillies

Rancid : Feral : Sludge

The Lunas/The Sickness

Skye : Jade : River

Other Artists

Sean : Luna Dark : Lena Lerner : Cerise Jubilee

Limp Lizards : 5th Avenue Boys

Raymond Enterprises

Eric Raymond :  Techrat :  Zipper

Video Madness Studios

Video : Graphix : Shade : Tony

VTV

Harriet Horn : Lin-Z : Hector Ramirez

5x5 Records

Elise Harcourt : Switch

House Du Voisin

Countess Du Voisin : Regine

Starlight Foundation

Ms Bailey : Joanie Stuart

Starlight Kids

Ashley : Ba Nee : Danny : Deirdre : Krissie : Terry

AI

Synergy : Silica : Entropy

Friends & Colleagues

Rio :  Clash : Danse : Astral : Craig :  Jeff : Misty : Dominic

Howard E. Sands : Richard Xanthos : Adrian Lassiter

Miscellaneous

Important Places & Objects

Lily Story Avatars

Jerrica + The Holograms : The Misfits : The Stingers

Wyld Dawgz + Adrian Lassiter & Entropy : Starlight Kids

VMS : Raymond Enterprises + Clash & Misty

House Du Voisin + Danse & Astral : Silica & The Lunas/Sickness

Limp Lizards : Guy Friends : AI : VTV + Starlight Foundation

5th Ave. Boys + Tinkerbillies: Misc Artists : Alonso Family : Misc Kids

[bardicbeetle]

vee the vampire snips - make it a mirror

“Please.”

The angel squeezes his eyes shut. If he just ignores the words—

“You offer me this and say I cannot be yours, if you would just let me in—”

Retreat. Somewhere into the depths of his own mind. His blood runs a trail from his throat to the floor. It aches. But the silence, the silence is worth whatever momentary discomfort he has to endure.

Or it would be worth it.

Were there any to be found.

The angel could end this.

Has always had the power to do so.

Any number of words could do it.

But there is guilt, and an unwillingness to give up what is familiar.

But where is the voice he is retreating from? Find something that makes sense for the last words he recalls hearing.

“You don’t want to be mine,” how often does he even speak anymore? When was the last time he strung more than a sentence or two together? Gave anything more than a destination, a reprimand, a goodbye. “you don’t want what that entails.”

These aren’t the right words.

“I do.”

Does he really?

Does he understand what he’s asking for?

Unlikely.

Could show him—fingers twitch—nails sharp—make it a mirror, make it the same. The ever present option to make him afraid again. To send him screaming. To order his mouth shut and have it be broken by the all consuming twist of flesh and bone.

The angel doesn’t want that.

Not really.

Decades of being side by side have shifted this creature in his eyes. The angel cares about him. Loves him maybe. But not the way he is wanted to. The creature is his, but that isn’t by his own doing. Hen chooses to be here, again and again. Chooses company that rarely speaks to him. Company that does not so much offer its throat as demand to be taken. Though thankfully some of the overt deference has been lost over the years, echoes remain. Direct requests are seldom denied. At least he looks the angel in the eyes now. At least he isn’t afraid to talk back.

Sometimes the angel welcomes his company, not that it changes his behavior much. He has long since stopped trying to be someone, anyone, anything resembling a person. There is a comfort in the disconnection, in cutting off so fully who was there before, and all the pain that person carried. He can’t always keep up the illusion. It is especially hard when Hen is so insistent on drawing lines between them that would humanize them both.

It is easier to pretend he is nothing when on a hunt.

When staring into flame.

And in the case of Hen’s presence—when his heart is drained to silence.

A pity silence can’t kill emotion.

The angel does still feel.

Little though he wants to.

~*~

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause @afoolandathief / @dyrewrites / @mr-orion /

[bardicbeetle]

bite, or lack thereof - vee the vampire

“How come I never see you come back—” Cassidy cuts off, frowning like she’s trying to find the right words. “—fed." She nods toward the glass in his hand. "I’ve seen all sorts of people come out of the back room—they always look a little different than when they went in.” Another pause, frown vanishing in understanding “It’s because you’re their boss isn’t it—you think it’d be weird to bite your employees!”

The conviction she says it with startles a small laugh out of Vee. So much confidence for an incorrect answer. “No, Cassidy. That isn’t why—though I agree it would create a bit of an unfortunate dynamic if I were to bite my employees.” She’s caught him at a good moment, because he feels like giving her an actual answer for once. “While I’m aware the service I offer is a necessary one—I don’t like to partake. Be satisfied to know I have bad memories and leave it at that.”

“Wait—you don’t—you don’t bite people? Ever?”

Vee sighs. “Not in a very long time now, no.”

“Is that…hard?”

“Not anymore,” He tells her, “there were decades when it was, there are moments when it’s tempting, but it’s…” he trails off, searching for an apt comparison. “I imagine it’s alike to any minor addiction with which a person could become disgusted. Sometimes you remember fondly how it might have made you feel—most of the time you are aware it’s a bad choice no matter how you spin it.”

He’s made enough bad choices for several lifetimes. Had enough temptation for several more.

Cassidy hums, settling into the couch but still watching him more closely than he’d prefer. “Is it bad? What you’re letting people do?”

A slight smile, “What, making my kind pay for a meal—or hiring humans who happen to get off on it?” It has the desired effect, it makes Cassidy laugh, it lightens whatever questions are brewing in her head. He isn’t in that much of a giving mood.

“Gross. No—like is it dangerous for the ones doing it.”

“On occasion, there’s a reason I pay them so well.” How much value do you put on a person’s life? How much value do they put on their own? Damask isn’t cheap for those coming through the back—and likewise, those putting their lives on the line don’t walk away empty handed. “I do my best to keep casualties minimal. Mistakes happen.”

“And not mistakes.” It’s a mumble, barely audible.

Still thinking about Lauren then. Understandable.

Vee really shouldn’t have let her see that.

He won’t make the same mistake again.

“Both are dealt with in kind.” he reminds her, watching the slow repeated nod of her head. Quiet acceptance. Something like grief. What do you feel for people you don’t know? How do you sort through emotions for someone you only ever saw as a corpse?

“What’s it like?” Hesitant, soft, like when she’d asked if he was going to kill her.

“Specifics, Cassidy.”

“Getting bit, having your blood drunk, what’s it like?” She asks, “Unless you don’t remember—just ignore me if you don’t—”

“—I remember.” Vee cuts over her.

Pain and not. The rhythmic pulling of your own life leaving you. Sometimes pleasure and sometimes pressure and sometimes blinding for how it stung and later ached. The only thing grounding him for years and years and years. The moments he didn’t need to think, just bleed for other people. Not always bitten, Rin never did get used to the feeling of their teeth breaking skin—he never blamed them for going back to the blade. Scars built up only from constant use, the four points of contact in his shoulder Henry always went back to, the inner side of his forearms covered over and back over, bitten, torn, cut. Still.

The only thing that held him together back then.

Putting things out of his control.

He doesn’t say any of it.

Not tonight.

@flyingbananasaur /

@abalonetea /

@meatandboneasmr /

@captain-kraken /

@revenantlore /

@albatris /

@excessive-vampires /

@booptasticbadonkadonk /

@indecentpause /

@afoolandathief /

@dyrewrites

[bardicbeetle]

Heads Up Seven Up

I was tagged by @deanwax

rules: post 7 (ish) lines from your WIP.

This is from a maybe maybe not canon bit of VtV i'm working on.

He waits until Cassidy has shut the door to speak again. Hopes she has not stuck around to listen. “You’re pushing your luck, Earl. You walked into my home holding the head of someone I considered a friend.” Conversational, light. Threats veiled in honey. “What do you want?” “We need to talk about the nest you burnt down out by Keystone—” “—that’s outside city limits. Not my jurisdiction.” “I’m not a fool, Adam—” Vee is on him in the blink of an eye. Fingers wrap around the wrinkled skin of Earl’s jaw. Flesh he could push through without much effort, bones he could crack easier than glass. “Call me that again, and I will burn your pitiful little church to nothing.”

tagging @cwritesfiction, @dyrewrites, @magnus-sm-writes and @charlesjosephwrites + if anyone wants to play you can call this open and say I tagged you <3

[bardicbeetle]

resignation - vee the vampire

The monster returns over and over.

He doesn’t know how many times.

Only that each time it rips whatever passes for a barely formed scab from the wound it opened into his ribcage. It drinks his blood without ever piercing him with those teeth, every time. He is a tap running red. He is a well bucket full of holes. He is the leaking end of a rusted storm drain. He is going to die here.

“You don’t believe that, do you angel?” Its voice, thick and muted with his blood, sweet and metallic and cold against fevered flesh. It does this often, when it speaks, because he doesn’t. It pulls words from his skull without ever needing to hear them on his tongue.

It’s right.

Vee doesn’t believe he’s going to die.

He hopes he will.

But knows better.

He is fully aware it has no intention of killing him at this point.

It is enjoying this too much.

It knows he wants it to kill him.

So it doesn’t.

He fantasizes about stabbing it to death with his own rib—tucked carefully into a pocket—listens to it laugh at the very concept.

“You are more stubborn than I anticipated,” he can almost believe it is a person, sometimes. The bounce of its curls, the color of its eyes, the tilt of its head when it speaks. Almost. He will not be taken in again. He won’t. “tell me, angel—is there something you fear more than survival?”

Yes.

But he will not give it the satisfaction of even his thoughts.

Ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide.

“Prayer won’t save you here, angel.” Vee doesn’t expect it to. It is mostly to keep his mind busy elsewhere. Prayers, lullabies, bits and pieces of books he’s read. Anything his mind has managed to hold onto. “Tell me why you want to die.”

Because what is the alternative?

Lay here in the dark and rot in this bedroom until the hole in his side—the hole it is refusing to let heal—the hole that probably should have killed him already but hasn’t—hasn’t and he does not want to think why—what is the alternative?

He misses the sun.

He left to rescue Galen in the dark.

He knows he will never leave it.

He is a goddamn fool and he should pay for that with his life.

“Why not do it yourself, then?”

Because he is afraid.

Because he does not really want to die.

Because he does not want to be responsible for it.

Perhaps because he is still fool enough to think someone will save him.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause / @afoolandathief

[bardicbeetle]

spirit received - vee the vampire

“Could I possibly have my rib back?” What a ridiculous statement that is. But he really would appreciate having it returned. “Also—would you mind telling me how many days it’s been? It’s dreadfully hard to keep count when you're the only thing breaking the endless solitude.” He’s tired and dizzy, it’s been days again, he’s hungry, Rin has no blood with them.

“Hold your damn tongue, Callisto.”

“Was that really my name?” He asks, “I don’t think it’s mine anymore.”

“It’s not,” Rin agrees “but I dislike the Bishop’s plan, so I will continue to use it until forced otherwise.”

Oh?

Vee leans forward, shoulders protesting minutely at the change in angle, his wrists still chained to the far wall. He feels one joint threatening to pop if he pushes too far. He won’t.

“Plan?” He’s unable to stop the spark of curiosity at Rin’s words, much as he usually attempts to feign disinterest.

Rin looks to the door, pulling the heavy stone nearly closed before returning their attention to him. “I cannot get your rib back—not at present. It…” they look intensely frustrated by something, “Currently it’s considered a holy object.”

Vee’s eyes go wide, he laughs, it echoes across the stone in a way that makes his ears ring.

“Silence!” Rin hisses, “The plan is to proclaim you the return of Adam, that you were spared from the beast only by divine right—that you will be the fiery sword leading us into a new garden. Eden reborn.”

“You think it’s bullshit.” Vee says, he doesn’t need to hear confirmation, her thoughts may as well scream to heaven itself. “It made me the same, I am no more vessel for Adam than for the Lord hirself.”

“I know that, Bishop Enea knows that, he wants a figurehead and an easy Martyr.”

“And what of my rib? Are we expecting a woman to burst fully formed from its ashes?” He cannot keep the sharp edge off his words, it’s a hopeless pursuit, he won’t even bother. “Am I to walk in during mass? Take communion? Will a throat be slit for me in advance or as I am knelt upon the steps? God in heaven—” he laughs again, he cannot help it, it bubbles out of him like panic, every breath he releases brings more. “—where does the sword point, Rin? To those who do not attend? To the hungry masses? The monsters we already seek? To myself? Am I to be the walking end of days? An angel of death set to flesh and blood?”

He falls forward, limp muscle held in place by chain. He hears the sickening pop of his left shoulder vacating its socket. He’s too hungry to care.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires are/ @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause / @afoolandathief

[bardicbeetle]

vtv snips - from the dead

“What did I say about that name?”

Hen’s gaze dropped immediately to the floor, head inclined so slightly it would have been missed by anyone else. “Apologies—I, what would you have me call you?”

“Call me nothing. Do not refer to me. Speak to anyone else.” He could not think beyond the heartbeat in his ears. Once comfort, once life, now only a reminder of the lie, the monster in hiding, the blood of the dead on his tongue.

Th-thump.

Th-thump.

Th-thump.

Stolen blood in his gut, in his veins, in that traitor of an organ beneath his ribs.

Come now, angel. Where have those manners of yours fled to?

He was not Meara.

Nor was the man before him, despite any passing resemblance.

Heaven above, he was kinder than this once. Where had all of that mercy gone?

Died. Died with Callisto in that rot-filled room, feeling blindly in the dark only to find the head of the man he’d considered near enough his father. Died with fingers clutching bone. Died with his throat slit and his blood given to the faithful masses.

“I did not intend to anger you—”

“—then stop talking as though I’m your damned superior.” Th-thump. His own words still as though from below water, drowned out by the sound.

“You—” Hen stopped, though his thoughts did not.

You are, you made me, I chose this, I follow you, I walk with you towards salvation.

Th-thump.

One heartbeat. Only his own. Silence from the man before him, unfed and afraid to look him in the eyes. Callisto died in the dark. There was nothing left of whoever he had been. What fragmented pieces remained were too sharp to hold.

The angel lifted Hen’s chin sharply, forced it with fingers against his jaw, thumb resting under his chin. “Salvation is beyond us.” He believed the words then, would believe them as he burnt his way across three countries. “There will only be fire.”

Until the ashes cooled. Until the sound could be drowned out.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr /

@captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris /

@excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause

@afoolandathief / @dyrewrites / @mr-orion / @oldestenemy

[bardicbeetle]

down, up - vee the vampire

“No hospital.” Cassidy growls the word, cradling her lacerated hand away from him as though that will somehow help her statement. Maybe it will. She hopes it will. She is not going back there. “Swear it or I’m not coming any closer.”

Angelface pinches the bridge of his nose like this whole situation is an annoyance at best.

“Cassidy, surely it would be easier to—”

“—I’m. Not. Going.”

A moments silence.

Just the drip of her own blood as it falls from her palm to the floor.

Finally, a sigh.

“Alright—alright, god above. No hospital, please just—just sit down, I’ve got some things—”

“—Swear.” She says again, not moving.

Angelface fixes her with the look again, the god damnit Cassidy would it actually kill you to listen to me? one. Which she’s becoming what is probably concerningly familiar with. “I swear, you won’t even leave this room.”

Cassidy smiles, wide enough that her vision goes a little hazy—

—ah.

That isn’t the smile doing that.

The room spins, and goes dark.

~*~

“Fuck…” her head is throbbing when she comes back to herself. Her hand is…not. Somehow. It feels almost numb instead. Pain dull and distant. There is a pulling that goes along with it, the tugging of skin and—shit is he actually stitching her up?

“I hate you.” Angelface says from where he’s kneeling next to her on the floor. “You know that? I told you to sit down.”

Cassidy tries to lift her head and knocks it immediately back into the floor, a throbbing at the base of her skull sending the ceiling above swimming in circles again. She looks over with just her eyes, seeing her hand resting on a plate and a pile of washcloths, the top few of which had begun staining pink and red. She looks back up to Angelface, who—almost comically—is lined up with one of the ceiling lights behind his head, shining in her hazy vision like a malformed halo.

“I’m fine.” She mumbles before closing her eyes again, “S’all good.”

“Completely fine, barring the hand.” Angelface replies, “Along with your ongoing and very apparent lack of survival instinct.”

“It’s a fucking cut.” she draws out the last word like a whine.

“You passed out, Cassidy.” Oh he does not sound happy with her.

She wants to laugh, but she’s worried the shaking might interfere with whatever it is he’s doing to her hand. She knows he’s sewing it shut, back together, whatever. Doesn’t know where he learned how to do stitches, probably won’t get an answer if she asks. “What’s your name?” she asks instead, because she knows she won’t get an answer for that either.

“Angelface.” She can picture the look on his face. The half-irate resignation to her questions.

“No it isn’t.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Cassidy smiles to herself. “Can I give you one?”

“Excuse me?” The rythmic pulling and piercing against her palm stops. She opens her eyes again, and catches a glimpse of an expression she doesn’t think he meant her to. His eyes flicker, flat black in a way she rarely sees, then back to warm brown. He looks so lost. It’s gone the second he catches her staring.

“You gave me Cassidy,” she tells him, “I’ll give you something.”

His gaze drops back to her hand, the feeling returns.

“No.”

“I’m not calling you Angelface—I refuse, and I’m sick of thinking it.”

“Cassidy.”

She is trying to keep the smile at a normal level. She is trying very hard. It’s not working. The grin hurts, makes the throbbing at the back of her head even worse. It’s worth it. “You’re gonna hate it,” she tells him, she knows it, but it doesn’t matter. He hasn’t got a say. It’ll grow on him. Even if it’s just for her. “I’m gonna call you Vee.”

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause / @afoolandathief

[bardicbeetle]

new chains - vee the vampire

There is one benefit, Vee thinks, to being locked in a cell made of stone.

And that is the suppression of sound.

He can’t hear the blood surrounding him until it is within reach. As a result he doesn’t spend every waking hour trying to direct his thoughts away from the ache of hunger or the way his teeth sharpen and smooth over with every passing set of footsteps.

He wonders vaguely how long it will take him to starve now. Rin probably knows. They have probably studied things like that. They probably know more than half the hunters who go out do. Different skills. Knowledge is power, all of that garbage. He cannot ask them, they are not here, he is alone, so much time now is alone. He has been alone more often than not since the moment he left Lys and Adrienne.

Don’t.

Alone here is barely different from any of the other solitude he has experienced lately. Only in that he knows where he is, deep in the bowels of the church, where cells become tombs for things like him.

He hears the heartbeat on the other side of the door before it opens.

The rush of fresher air comes with the iron tang of blood.

And there is a moment where he’s gone.

Where he is nothing but limbs straining against metal and feet scraping uselessly against stone.

Where he no longer exists.

The only thing left in his place is need.

Is hunger.

Is red.

“Control yourself or it stays here with me.” Rin’s voice is cold and sharp, not dissimilar to the liquid they’d forced on him—a week ago? more?

Time is hard to gauge when all he does is sit in the dark and wait.

Still.

He bites his own tongue.

Blood pooling slow and too thick in his mouth.

It’s the only thing stopping him from begging.

His thoughts clear, barely, a hairs breadth from madness.

But it seems to be enough for Rin to approach him fully, to tip the goblet in their hand against his lips. The red within mingles with Vee’s own already on his tongue. It’s warm, something beyond the metal and salt that reminds him of a garden, of sun-warmed tomatos and the snap of fresh pepper. It’s divine. It is life made liquid, it lets his heartbeat echo in his own ears for the first time since—

—don’t think about Lys.

Don’t don’t don’t.

The cup runs empty.

He is not sated by any means.

But he is not starving.

“Thank you,” thick with the blood still in his mouth, on his tongue, coating his throat “thank you.” it is more desperate than he wants to sound. He cannot help it.

“Don’t. It’s safer for me when you’re not starving. That is all.”

Rin is small. Rin sees less light than most here. Rin has been here since Vee was a child. Always in the depths of stone and iron, always surrounded by monsters in varying states of alive or otherwise. They do not cut an imposing figure. They are not intimidating. They look to anyone as non-threatening as someone could conceivably be.

Vee knows better.

He has heard the screaming.

There are reasons he never brought anything back alive.

He would not wish the cost of their knowledge on anyone.

Monster or otherwise.

“Callisto.” Rin says quietly, hesitating in the doorway, goblet held slack and downturned. It’s dripping remnants to the floor that will leave him dizzy with the scent later. The vision of it now still threatens to send him spinning.

“What?”

“Your name. It was Callisto.”

And stone scrapes stone.

Leaving him alone in the dark once more.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause

[bardicbeetle]

Vee the Vampire - things that should be let lie

“Oh christ—Adrienne I found him—shit…”

The candlelight spilling in from the open doorway is more than Vee needs to see anymore. Standing in it now are a pair of his comrades, Lys and Adrienne. Lys is staring at him in what he can only describe as horror. Which is upsetting for a multitude of reasons, not least of which being he’s barely even capable of moving right now. Maybe it’s horror for him, not at him.

Right.

Hilarious, that.

He can hear every little breath they each take. Every beat of quickening hearts in the vacant space where his own should sound. Adrienne says something—it sounds like a name—it’s probably a name—it doesn’t really reach his ears. There’s too much in them already.

“I’ll make it quick,” he does hear Lys say that.

Vee snarls, lips pulling back over sharp teeth as Lys comes closer. He’s still chained to the floor, arms behind his back—it hadn’t felt dangerous alone, but it does now, exposed and easy and—

—he’s struggling to reign that fear in. Struggling to think through what is barely more than survival instinct. Lys kneels in front of him, and while the horror isn’t gone there is something pained about the look on his face. Something that’s almost guilt.

“Careful, Lys—God look at him—” Disgust, that’s what he’s hearing from Adrienne. That makes sense. He can’t blame her. “—we shouldn’t have let him come alone.”

Let him.

As though he hadn’t run off in the middle of the night like an idiot.

As though either of them could have stopped him, or changed the outcome.

Maybe all three of them would be dead in that case…

That might honestly have been a blessing.

“I promise I’ll be fast,” Lys is talking to him, not Adrienne, Vee wishes he wasn’t. Wishes he wouldn’t. “it’ll be over in a moment—”

It certainly will.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @albatris / @excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk

[bardicbeetle]

damask, 2005 - the second return

“Oh…uh, hi?” There was a girl standing in the hallway, her cropped blond hair stuck out in every conceivable direction, and nothing in her demeanor felt…

Expected?

Normal.

Typical of a human seeing Henry in a well lit room.

He'd watched as she noticed him, the sleep in her limbs solidifying into a stance that almost looked accusatory. There wasn’t any fear. There was just…annoyance. Like he was the one intruding.

“You’re one of Vee’s friends? Clients? Employees? Haven’t seen you up here before.”

Who?

Exactly what had gone on in his absence?

“Vee?”

“I’m not fuckin’ calling him Angelface,” He watched the girl scrunch up her nose in disgust. “anyway—it was only fair.”

Henry heard the quiet postscript that didn’t make it past her tongue. The silent he named me. He tried to reach out and catch the thread, find the name, find any kind of context. But he’d never really been good at that with anyone aside from…

Well.

“Anyways,” the girl started again as she stepped out of the hall towards the little kitchen, making sure to keep at least six feet or so between them both the whole way—though she didn't seem bothered enough to keep eyes on him. “Are we actually gonna get to the part where you tell me who the fuck you are? Because if you kill me Vee’s gonna be pissed—and I’m gonna haunt you for like a million years.”

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr /

@captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris /

@excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause

@afoolandathief / @dyrewrites / @mr-orion / @ashirisu

[bardicbeetle]

mysteries - vee the vampire

“Do you want that in English or Italian? I might be able to stumble my way through Latin, if you’re patient.” Vee says with a half smile. Rin had thrown a rosary into his cell and told him to pray it aloud.

They didn’t look pleased with the response.

“English it is.” He gets through thirty-two beads before they tell him he can stop. The beads are slightly rough to the touch, a deep muted pinkish brown. He can smell them, old as they are, the lingering of the roses that made their clay is still present. If only just. “Funny isn’t it—the lies we all believe.”

“Lies or anomaly. We’ll see which one you prove to be—careful with your words, I may still decide to test your resilience to the sun.”

“I wish you would.”

“Which is why I haven’t.” They have gotten good at this little back and forth. This isn't to say he looks forward to it, but it does break the scraping hours of silence quite nicely.

@flyingbananasaur / @abalonetea / @meatandboneasmr / @captain-kraken / @revenantlore / @albatris / @excessive-vampires / @booptasticbadonkadonk / @indecentpause / @afoolandathief

[bardicbeetle]

OC Interview Tag

I was tagged by @charlesjosephwrites (like two months ago, i am slow) thank you!

I'm gonna answer these for Vee, of Vee the Vampire/Damask

And much like anything fully character based you're getting answers somewhat as though this is a roleplay blog, because sometimes it's nice to jump back to my roots.

tagging @magnus-sm-writes, @authoralexharvey, @multi-lefaiye and anyone else who wants to snag the questions!

~*~*~*~

Are you named after anyone?

"Not as far as I'm aware. But I don't have many memories left of my life before, so if Callisto came from anyone in particular I no longer know." Vee shakes his head, a slight smile on his face as he continues "And as far as the 'Vee' moniker Cassidy gave me, it was almost definitely her choosing something as a joke she knew would stick."

When was the last time you cried?

A long moment of silence, eyes casting to the ceiling in thought. "I'm not sure I remember. Half a year at least?"

Do you have kids?

"That depends entirely on your definition. If you want to follow the archaic rules, technically I have and have done away with near two hundred of my own blood." a grimace, a pause "But I think the closest you'd get to a child in the sense you likely mean is Cassidy, and even then she's more like a younger sister."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"No, I would never." Every word drips with it.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Vee hums, leaning on the bartop as he thinks. "The way they speak, usually. The things they say without words. If the way they carry themself is at odds with whats coming out of their mouth."

What’s your eye color?

"A soft kind of brown, so long as they haven't changed over the years. Admittedly I haven't seen my eyes since I was human. I've been told they go solid black at times," --as if in response, his eyes do briefly flash from brown to solid shiny black-- "though again, I've never actually seen it."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings." it's immediate, "The world is heavy, I've had enough stress and suspense on my own--I prefer escapism when I can get it."

Any special talents?

"Again that depends somewhat on your definition. If we're going to ignore the obvious perks of vampirism--I'm an exceptional mixologist, an accomplished vampire hunter, and am at least half decent at a number of other things by sheer virtue of being alive for too long."

Where were you born?

"Locana, a small village in the mountains outside of Turin in northern Italy."

Do you have any pets?

"Not at the moment. I've taken in strays every now and then, but it's just not a good idea to keep animals here, so they typically go home with Evelyn and she finds someone to adopt them permanently."

What sort of sports do you play?

"Absolutely none unless you count hunting--and I really don't."

How tall are you?

"Below what I believe is considered average. I'm 168cm, or about 5'6" on a good day."

What was your favorite subject in school?

"I don't think my education was really standard, but I enjoyed--and still enjoy--any kind of storytelling."

What is your dream job?

"I have it. I spend my evenings talking to people and hearing about the parts of the world I can no longer see from a hundred thousand perspectives. I listen to music when I feel like hiring someone, I invent drinks, I keep the local count of death by exsanguination to a minimum."

Are you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye color?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

Do you have any pets?

What sort of sports do you play?

How tall are you?

What was your favorite subject in school?

What is your dream job?

[bardicbeetle]

🔮Precognition & 👁️Enhanced Senses for knack ask game!

Gonna do these for Vee, because I'm on a kick.

🔮Precognition: If your OC could get a glimpse of what was to come, would they want to know? Would it do them any good?

Honestly I think if you gave Vee a glimpse of the future back when he was still Callisto it would just cement things all the more, because he would throw himself harder into the church in his attempts to Avoid Becoming a Vampire and it would backfire immediately into the mess that got him here: Trying to rescue Galen alone and getting fucking tortured about it.

It wouldn't do him any good, it wouldn't change things, it would just amplify the parts of him that used to be worse.

👁️Enhanced Senses: If your OC had to give up one of their five senses, which would they choose?

Vee, the more I think on it, would give up touch. He likes the rest of the things he experiences too much, thrives on sound and lights and taste, and taste goes hand in hand with smell. He'd go numb to the world just to keep the handful of things that really make him still feel alive.

Thank you!

[bardicbeetle]

“You don’t believe that, do you angel?” Its voice, thick and muted with his blood, sweet and metallic and cold against fevered flesh.

I am consumed by this story, I am losing my mind, there is nothing else in this silly little skull of mine.