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ikemenlibrary · 2 years

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Journal Entries From Anya’s Diary - Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Vlad x Anya Nosferatu (OC)

Summary: History may have changed their story, but Anya’s diary never changes. Historians have named them the world’s most renowned couple, the setting stage for the modern day romance. This is a story of two beings who's fates easily intertwined with one another, and who were always destined to find each other, no matter how long it took to get them there.

Meant to be read with this Spotify Playlist

Notes: This is my wishing a very happy birthday to @readerinsertfanfiction. Nemo, it has been an absolute pleasure to get to know you over the past few months and I can’t wait to see how our friendship blossoms even more. I hope this next year is filled with plenty of happiness, and that all of your wishes come true.

6th June, 1887

Today, Vlad took me to a bookstore. I thought the library he had in the castle was huge, but nothing other than Father’s collection compares to this shop. From the floor to the ceiling, it was filled to the brim with books. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face!

Despite my telling him not to, Vlad would load every book I even touched into a basket. At the end, I think we ended up with 37 books. I realized halfway through what he was doing, and so I stopped touching books I knew I’d have no interest in.

Now, Vlad’s promising that he’ll make sure to help start a library of my very own for me in the castle. He said he wants a place for me to call my own other than my bedroom. He said he’ll make sure it has big windows, and will overlook the garden. I am… very appreciative of all he’s done for me.

I don’t know how to repay him. Maybe I’ll go pick some fresh strawberries for him sometime.

13th June, 1887

Charles-Henri and I went into Paris today. He was bothering Vlad, so he was sent to pick up some groceries and asked me to tag along. When he complained about being hungry while shopping, I happily gave him one of the croissants from my pocket. Charles still hasn’t figured out how I do that, and I think he’s convinced I’ve got some sort of magic powers. Truth is, I hand sew new pockets into my skirts so that I have room for some food. I don’t know if it’s because growing up I wasn’t sure when my next meal was, or if I like to keep Charles and Faust guessing, or if it’s the fact that it’s nice to have something for impromptu tea parties at times, but it’s become a habit of mine now, and not one I intend to break.

Charles-Henri is the sort of brother I always wanted but never had. Out of everyone in the castle, he and I spend the most time together. When we wake up early in the morning, he always lets me help in the kitchen, despite the fact that I am so hopeless that I can burn a pot of water! He always laughs, ruffles my hair, and fixes whatever mistake I made.

I have gotten pretty good at slicing up strawberries, however. Before, I would end up slicing my thumb and ruining the bowl of strawberries - although, Vlad usually just rinsed them off and ate them anyways - but now, I can avoid slicing into any skin and have actually even been able to cut them up to look like pathetic little flowers. Vlad loves them, and I love seeing that smile on his face when I give them to him.

30th June, 1887

I think I’m driving Vlad crazy.

Faust keeps asking me to try his experiments. I go along with it, because I’m bored, and because I know nothing can kill me. Whenever I do try something that Faust hands to me, Vlad kind of just watches from afar. He has that gentle smile on his face, the one he usually has, but his eyes burn like fire and I know seeing me put myself in danger - although never life altering - is starting to get to him.

I think he cares more about me than he would like to admit.

I think I like the idea of that.

Faust just looks on between us in utter amusement when this happens now. I think he’s more interested in his hypothesis of me and Vlad, than he is with how my body reacts to his new concoctions. I’ve noticed he’s stopped taking notes every time I eat something, and instead sits and observes Vlad’s reactions.

Vlad never gives away much. I don’t even know how much Faust gets from watching all of this happen. What I do know is that it’s always enough for me to get silly butterflies in my stomach like I’m a schoolgirl with a crush.

Maybe I need to take a page from Faust and write all of this down as well. Conduct experiments to help me come to a conclusion about my feelings.

Will come back about that at a later time.

2nd July, 1887

We got an invitation in the mail today. An old friend of Vlad’s is throwing a ball for her 326th birthday. She invited Vlad, Charles-Henri, and Faust. I wasn’t on the invitation, but Vlad says that you’re always expected to bring a partner to events like this, so he asked me to come as his. As this was happening, Charles was pouting. I think he knows that if I end up going as Vlad’s partner, that he and I will not be able to sneak off to explore around and get drunk. That does sound tempting, but I accepted Vlad’s offer.

Something about showing up in a public setting as his partner just sounds so… inviting. I know that by his side, I will have a great time. I always do.

Vlad insisted on taking me to get a new gown for this ball. I told him that wasn’t necessary; I have plenty of nice things to wear. He brushed off my concerns, and we agreed to go into town tomorrow to a dress shoppe, and he promised to take me out to lunch afterwards.

I’m looking forward to spending this extra time with him.

12th July, 1887

The ball was wonderful. It was elegant, joyous, and filled with… romance! It was just like something out of one of the novels that Vlad purchased for me.

Vlad ordered two different carriages; one for him, Charles-Henri, and Faust. The other for me. He insisted he didn’t want to see me all dressed up before he was able to bow before me and ask me to dance. Charles informed me of this with a wicked grin on his face, almost like he knew of a secret he was keeping from me.

When I had arrived, Charles met me outside and escorted me out of my carriage, informing the staff at the front gates that I was Vlad’s partner. They bowed for me, and let Charles show me the way in. The music was already lively and there were couples twirling all around on the dance floor, yet I was barely able to glance at them before Vlad was standing in front of me.

He bowed, his gleaming eyes never left my face. If I had a heartbeat, I’m sure I would have heard it rushing in my ears.

It felt like a fairy tale.

Without even speaking, he held his hand out to me and I grasped it. And then he pulled me in, whisked me onto the dance floor and I had never felt more safe and loved than I ever had in that moment.

Before the last song played, Vlad pulled me in close, his lips brushed my ear and he admitted his love for me. Before I could respond, he started dancing again, our bodies even closer than we were before.

I’ll never forget that bright smile on his face as he finished the dance with one last vow. Nor will I forget the feel of his lips against mine in the carriage ride home.

12th July, 1987

100 years spent loving each other, and yet I still find more reasons every day to love him.

100 years spent loving each other, but it still feels like only 10.

I will never take this love for granted. For all we’ve been through, for all we’ve lost, for all we’ve gained, nothing will be as special as the bond we’ve built together.

In honor of our anniversary, Vlad had 100 blood red roses preserved into a picture frame and hung in our shared bedroom, right over the headboard of our bed. In my many centuries, this was one present I will be able to cherish forever, without worrying about it fading away with time.

Vlad is currently downstairs, all of the staff members of the Castle are being worked around like crazy while he tries to get the ballroom set up just the way he would like. While our dear friend is turning 426 years old today, he threw this party specifically to celebrate our century of love. We of course had to tell most people that we’re celebrating only a decade together, although even that seems hard to believe for some people, since we look so young.

He had the dress I wore on the night he confessed his love to me altered so it would fit in during this day and age. Vlad said he wanted to relive that night the best he could.

I relive it every time I close my eyes. It still feels like almost yesterday.

Happy anniversary, my love. I’m hopeful for many more.

#my writing #vlad ikevamp #ikemen vampire vlad #genre: supernatural #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfic

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mainsspots · 2 years

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Love at first bite game

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9 of 10 found this interesting Share this. If you enjoy this game then also play games Love Hina Sim Date RPG and Pokemon Clover. Love at First Bite has 2 likes from 2 user ratings. This online game is part of the Point & Click, Simulation, RPG, and Miscellaneous gaming categories. Also from 1979 were the vampire movies Thirst (1979) and Salem's Lot (1979). Love at First Bite is a high quality game that works in all major modern web browsers. The films are Dracula (1979), Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), Love at First Bite (1979), Nocturna (1979) and Dracula Blows His Cool (1979).

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"Love at First Bite" joins 12 other web-based shows on the HSTV platform, including the popular "Cake This!" series showcasing Hy-Vee cake designers and "The Beard Behind the Bar," with Des Moines mixologist Jeff Naples. One of five Dracula movies made and released around 1979. “Billions of hours are spent consuming video on platforms like YouTube and all of the social media platforms, and I think we saw that as an opportunity to engage with our consumers in a completely different way, creating content for them that would help them through their everyday lives," Canady said. More: Hy-Vee set to expand in Indiana, SoutheastĬanady said the streaming network seemed like an opportunity for the grocery store chain to connect with its customers outside of traditional advertising. Last October, the network relaunched as a dual streaming and shopping network, where viewers can directly purchase products that hosts demonstrate on the shows. Hy-Vee first launched HSTV in October 2018, adopting an educational format with cooking explanations and bartending tips and tricks. “Participants will meet at Hy-Vee for the first time, they’ll shop for groceries together, make a meal, and we’ll be able to experience what that connection looks like.” “It brings the dating show concept to a new playing field with the grocery store,” Canady said. More: Hy-Vee joins other grocers in lawsuit alleging price-fixing by pork processors, higher costs for consumers Made with pixel art illustration. "Love at First Bite" producer Kristian Day previously worked on the production team for "The Bachelor." Inspired from the retro video game box art and classic popular video games in the 80s era mixed with pizza food illustration. The first season of the show, "Love at First Bite," includes eight episodes around 10 minutes long with a different couple cast in each.Ĭontestants go on a blind date, and they must shop for Hy-Vee groceries before preparing a meal together, according to Sara Canady, vice president of HSTV. FIRST BITE, a vampiric visualnovel, is included in the Steam and itch.

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In February, the West Des Moines-based grocery store chain plans to start filming a dating show series for release on Hy-Vee’s digital streaming platform, the Helpful Smiles TV network (HSTV). I JUST started this game, and Im already so in love with these beefy bois. All ingredients used in our baked goods are hand-picked to ensure that it meets our quality standards. Which is more romantic: the produce aisle or the meat counter? We pride ourselves in using quality ingredients to bake our desserts, creating flavors that can only be achieved through proper preparation and love.

#Love at first bite game

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entomancy · 4 years

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(Fic) Daywalkin’ in Vegas

...let’s be honest, this ‘short backstory fics’ thing has done what my writing tends to do, and Escalted. So let’s escalate.

Title: Daywalkin’ in Vegas (Wattpad) Setting: Increasingly not even serial-numbers-off-VTM. VTM infact exists in-world as a gaming system, which really annoys Fancy Vampires. Warnings: Gore; depictions of violence/ death against a child. Words: 6537 Summary: A failed siring gets the attention of two very different parts of Vegas Below; and a young blooded nosferatu puts herself in the centre of a dangerous balance.

Beep.

Twenty-eight forty.

Beep.

Thirty-one seventy.

Beep.

Nox watched the till display tick up, comparing the total to her mental tally. She had enough; she knew she did. It might have been in tattered bills, tarnished coin rolls and bits of change so old they were chipped like gears around the edges, but she was always real careful to plan these trips down to the grubby dime. In and out, as unobtrusive as possible.

Beep.

A final bag passed, the green-yellow numbers flickering one final time. The cashier smiled in customer service plastic as she read out the total, then followed it with a look of awkward concern.

“That’s all for you? We - er – we have some good specials,” she said hesitantly, nodding towards the little stack of brightly-labelled packages beside the register. It was mostly sweets and tampons, and Nox bit back on a grin at the sight. Nice thought, but that hadn’t been her ‘bloody’ problem for a while now.

“That’s it,” she replied, adding: “Thanks, though.” Sure, it was an upsell, but a kind one. The girl even managed to keep back any disgust at the state of some of the cash; it had been cleaned up, but people didn’t tend to drop crisp ones into a cup on the sidewalk.

Nox carried everything out to the repurposed shopping cart that she’d left just inside the little bodega’s doors. The thing was unbalanced and took corners like a drunk, but it was better than playing pack mule herself. The new bags settled down on top of the day’s earlier buys: bulk discount batches of toilet roll, bleach and superglue, along with cheap fabric for bandages. Plus, now, thirty-eight dollars and eighty-six cents’ worth of the cheapest mince and frozen shrimp available within a four-mile radius.

There had been a time when she’d had to worry about dietary fibre. Or vitamins.

The cart’s wheels creaked and rasped on sidewalk dirt as she headed it away, hunching down over the handle as she pushed; partly for more control, mostly to keep her face in shade. Her battered baseball cap and hoodie did a pretty good job – accompanied by garish plastic sunglasses and a stained bike mask – but every little helped. It also added to the overall ‘bag lady out on an afternoon shuffle’ aesthetic she was going for. The trick was to inspire just enough awkward pity to be invisible, but not enough to be a target.

Apparently, her act was off today. She’d just turned a laborious corner, distracted by trying to keep the bags all stacked, when she felt a hand clamp down onto the top of her head and yank hard. She didn’t move, but the hood pulled away and she heard a yelp of disgust even before she swivelled around. Two young men stood behind her, gawking in revulsion at the revealed state of Nox’s scalp, in all its piebald, peeling, erratically-thickened glory. A thin braid slithered down her face, torn too-easily free along with the hood.

She gave the scene one more heartbeat to really settle in, before grinning widely. Faced with a mouthful of teeth like broken ivory, the youths managed to look even more horrified.

“Aye, that’s how I caught it too!” Nox cackled theatrically, before snatching the hat back from now-unresisting fingers and jamming it back into place. “Don’t go scratching yerself anywhere pretty fer a bit, eh?”

The lad – and his already-retreating backup – hesitated, then let out a string of bravado-born obscenities. Freak – gross – blah blah blah I-have-a-tiny-dick blah. He kicked at the cart as he started follow his friend, and Nox let just enough spill out to sate the petty spite.

Once they had gone, she picked up the packets again and began to fix her hood. The exposed skin was stinging and smarting already, a poison-ivy prickle that calamine wouldn’t touch. At least it was late enough in the afternoon that she probably wouldn’t blister from the exposure. More annoying was the missing chunk of hair, and she probed at it gingerly. No deep wound, thankfully; which probably meant that the straggly braid had been almost ready to fall out anyway. She tended to keep about half a head of hair going, on average; so it’d grow back.

The lads were long gone by the time she was ready to set off again. With any luck she’d be nothing more than an awkward moment in a day of shoving their weight around; quickly forgotten. Being gross in the eyes of idiots wasn’t a Breech, after all.

The rest of the trip back was uneventful. Streets gave way to alleys, sidewalks to cracked paving, to rotting asphalt, and even the graffiti began to wane as she got closer to home. The main occupants of this ass-end of nowhere – a ghetto’s dumpster of a place – didn’t exactly make it their business to advertise where they were. Those that needed to know; knew. Those that knew, generally didn’t care – which was honestly a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Nox had heard the stories of what it had been like only twenty years ago. It was strange to feel that there was any sort of luck to her history, but six years wasn’t twenty.

Reaching a gap in an otherwise unremarkable wall, she glanced around quickly, making sure that no one was watching. Then she straightened up, gripped either side of the overloaded cart, and hefted it up through the broken brickwork in one smooth movement. She vaulted in after it, dropping down into cool shade, and let out a sigh of relief as the accepting touch of Karloff’s Invitation washed across her. The sense was like a door opening in welcome; like taking the first familiar turn towards home after a long day’s drive. It also meant no more unwanted attention – without that explicit permission, you’d never be able to recognise the entrance, or even keep your attention on what you were looking for. She was as invisible now to all other turned-aside eyes as everything else within the Invitation’s borders.

A few more rattling corners later, Nox finally turned into the Homestead grounds. The whole area had once been a crammed-in mess of squat apartment blocks, copy-paste civic solutions built without charm to fill the need for cheap rooms. The Homestead was the only one of its kin still standing, now surrounded by an opened-out area of recent amateur demolition and scrap-built fencing. Bright splashes of street art cut across sagging concrete and the blacked-out eyes of the windows, although the tags and themes chosen indicated the difference between these creators and the more standard ones of the world outside. Most of this had been painted at night, for example, with rather more variety on the theme of ‘hands’ grasping the tins.

There was a lot more inside, and below, but she felt a particular warmth at these murals. Out here, on the surface. Bright in sunshine that most of them could never see. The Nosferatu might be Vegas Below’s crusty little secret, but they were damn well there.

Bits of cracked paving clicked and skittered beneath the cart’s wheels as Nox made her way through the fences and to the big, bolted main doors. There was a rough porch built around the frame, mostly to give extra shadows, and she looked up at the tiny glints of watchful glass sunk into the surrounding wall. She waved.

“Dimestore-Blade’s grocery delivery,” she announced, and listened to the familiar rattle of bolts start on the other side of the door. A few moments later it swung open and a hunched figure peered out, wincing back from even the thick porch shade. This was Max; an older woman than Nox in both kinds of age, who managed her marks via a combination of extensive bandaging and even more extensive needlepoint. Watery black eyes looked past her, squinting through a gap in the heavily-embroidered scarf wrapped around her head.

“All okay?”

Nox nodded and lifted the trolley over the threshold.

“Fine.” She didn’t mention the youths. Didn’t seem a lot of point. “Let’s get this lot into the freezer before it can walk on its own, yeah?”

Safely inside the slightly-fetid gloom of the entrance, Nox took the opportunity shed her bag-lady layers. True, she couldn’t actually overheat, even on a Nevada afternoon, but being swathed in that many layers was still claustrophobic. Beneath the mismatched fabric strata was an increasingly-threadbare pair of yoga pants and a dark vest, and Nox gave a small sigh of relief as she folded up the rest of her daylight-drag, shoving it onto a shelf nearby.

“Right,” she muttered, as much to fill the air as anything else, and turned back to the trolley. Max had already transferred much of it into precarious piles in her own arms. Her scarf had slipped down, revealing a hairless head webbed with splitting skin; much of it made whole again with patterned patches of colourful thread. The fabric discoloured over time, of course, but it reduced the leaking.

Balancing their burdens, the pair made their way further into the Homestead. Closest to the entrance was the most decrepit part, occupied mostly by shelves and old furniture crammed full of clothes and patched umbrellas for venturing out, and with years of dumped debris building up in corners. Rooms with windows – even those as thoroughly blacked out or bricked up as these were – mostly housed the rat runs or storage, because no one wanted to spend a lot of time somewhere where crap mortar could result in dayburns. Similarly, the roof and most of the top floor was given over to pigeon roosts and No avoided them whenever possible. She’d never much liked pigeons before this, and she still held that even their vitae tasted of garbage, somehow. Still, they were much dumber than rats, and they did lay eggs, so that helped.

The really lived-in part of the Homestead was underground. Everybody knew Nosferatu lived in the sewers, right? Okay, so Nox would admit she hadn’t much understood the difference between ‘sewer’ and ‘storm drain’ before her life had taken its scabby turn, but she sure did now. Vegas had extensive storm drains – large concrete tunnels that lay under much of the city, designed to quickly shift heavy rain away from the tarmacked surface above – and they were ideal: underground, dark, not monitored.

And not actually full of shit.

The arrangement used to be… messier, Karloff had told her. When they hadn’t been so organised; when they’d lived closer together with others who had slipped through the cracks Above. Some of the Family had started off as those same ‘unfortunates’ after all; those who were aftermath-sired in a broken frenzy, or from the bloody jaunt of some fuckfang cutting through the ranks of those who wouldn’t be missed. Splitting their claimed tunnels off from the main circuit and establishing the Homestead proper had happened later, after the Vegas Accord had given the Nosferatu a Clan-status, and hunting them for sport stopped being an acceptable weekend activity.

Six years sure ain’t twenty.

Max chatted away as they walked; an idle litany of gossip, social media tidbits and reports from watchers all over the city, woven together into what Nox tended to think of as ‘Radio Max’. Spying on people was apparently another nos stereotype; but honestly when you didn’t really sleep, were functionally invisible to large portions of society, and had worked out how to divert half-decent broadband from badly-secured leisure networks overhead, it wasn’t difficult to get ahead on current events.

Plus the rats, of course.

Information was power, and they had precious little of any other. Although Nox sometimes wondered how much of those scant threads of power that Karloff put such value on would diminish if Clanpires in general figured out how to just Google things.

They had reached what she thought of as ‘mainstreet’ of the Homestead tunnels – a long space with concrete pillars linking floor to ceiling every thirty feet or so, quite cheerfully lit by a mishmash web of light fittings rigged up overhead – when yelling broke out further down. Nox and Max shared a look of alarm at the commotion, but it was when her name became suddenly clear in the shouts that Nox’s stomach dropped.

“Get this stuff away, will you?” she muttered, carefully setting her packages down beside Max, and turned to meet the oncoming figures. Even wrapped in a heavy coat and thick gloves, she knew the loping form of Skaad instantly.

With features which sagged so violently that his bruise-yellow skin frequently tore at the edges, and a mouth like a lipless sharps bucket, Skaad was nonetheless gifted with some of the keenest senses in the clan, plus a damn-near eidetic memory. Which meant he spent most of his time skulking in hidden places, listening to things he shouldn’t, and following people who thought they were alone in their secret business. Having him sprinting towards you, so fast his eyelids were visibly flapping, wasn’t a great sign.

Back in the world Above – before her life had gone to hell in a weirdly specific way – Nox had been a paramedic. It was useful in the day-to-day, being the closest thing this bunch of ragged immortals had to a resident doctor, but there was only really one sort of actual emergency left down here.

Skaad skidded to a halt, and grabbed her arm with a worrying urgency.

“Got a phresh one. Get yer kit!”

Fuck. A fresh one meant one thing: someone had found a dumped fledgeling, one who’d been showing signs of the Change going wrong and been tossed aside by their disgusted sire. Intervening quickly could help, particularly getting a pigeon smoothie down them fast, but the panic on Skaad’s drooping face didn’t line up with -

“What’s so – ?” she started, but he shook his head, steering her towards the plastic-covered tunnel they used as a makeshift clinic. He leaned in to shove her again, but lowered his voice and muttered just before he did – and the words sent ice down her spine.

“It’sh a kid.”

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

You didn’t turn kids.

When your working knowledge of vampires had been a general pop-culture miasma and some blurry memories of teenage Buffy marathons, finding yourself on the other side of the supernatural coin came as a shock in various ways. One of which was the weird sensation that you should have studied it all harder, somehow. Nox had certainly felt stupid, in her early days, as a man with a face like a charred wasps’ nest listened to her stutter her way through half-remembered fiction and worse-remembered reality. But she’d apparently got a few things right, and somewhere in that muddle had been the idea that you shouldn’t turn kids.

There were all kinds of theories as to why – from the debauched to the practical – but she found that in many ways it didn’t matter. Whatever fucked-up intention you had, it wouldn’t work. Too young just… didn’t take. And when a siring didn’t work, there was every chance the result would end up on her table.

She scrabbled through the assortment of old drawers and boxes that stored her gear, pulling out anything she thought might work. Bandages, thread, craft superglue, repurposed bottles of hard spirits that would do in a pinch for sterilising. The best-case scenario things. And the rest. Old herb pots of fine powders; thrift-store silver cutlery hammered and polished and changed into a very different set of tools. Sharpie-labelled bottles of liquids that moved weirdly in the light, and a range of refillable lighters that definitely didn’t contain hydrocarbons anymore. All the things she’d picked up in the last six years that fitted in with other sort of medicine.

The plastic curtain behind her was yanked back and a sound she had been trying not to hear finally demanded her attention. It wasn’t even a scream, and Nox hated, hated hated hated that she recognised the cadence there perfectly: raw, animal agony of sound torn from a throat that was violently reforming around it. She turned to see Skaad forcing flailing limbs down, looping thick restraints around rippling flesh, and finally allowed her full attention to turn down to the spasming form.

Gore looked different through vampire eyes. It was hard to describe exactly how – partly because wordsmithery had never been one of her strong points, but more because trying to compare feelings from now and then was always going to have a huge fucking hurdle of shifted species in the way. She’d still probably seen more human blood in nine years on the ambulances than during the half-dozen in and out of Vegas’ shadows, and but everything afterwards had been… different. Displaced. Detached. Just didn’t seem as visceral as it used to do.

But this did.

Acid tightened in Nox’s throat as she stared down at the shuddering mess in front of her. Blanched skin bubbled and writhed, tearing as it pulled away from the muscles beneath; themselves little more than contorting ropes of livid tissue that pulsed under dying heartbeats and spilled black fluid from ever-widening rents. The throat was gone, now a bubbling pit of desperate breaths, sucked past exposed tendons that wriggled like furious worms. Half-clotted ichor was pooling from gashes along the arms, down the stomach and further: the marks of peri-sire wounds, those that had been still fresh as the invading blood forced itself into collapsing veins. The eyes were side-to-side a sickly crimson-yellow, bloating out from a face that was collapsing in on itself, and throughout it all, the kid screamed.

It was revolting. Nox had to bite down on the vicious spikes of fight-flight that were going off in her mind, so violently she could feel her hands trembling from the horror and her disgust at her own reaction. It was an instinct, an unbidden response to a failing siring – she knew that – but understanding it didn’t make it easier. Everyone down here had ‘gone nozz’ during their own Turn. Hell, a few of those brought to her were walking around now, not seeming any weirder than any of them, but she’d still felt that awful surge of fundamental wrongness about them before they stabilised.

Nox gritted – all of – her teeth, and slammed her kit down on the table.

Instincts can fucking blow me.

“Let’s see what we can do.”

It turned out what they could do, wasn’t much. Cleaning, sewing, cutting, sealing – nothing held. Stitches fell from uncertain skin, or tore great new holes as fresh spasms pulled at the edges. Wet rags soon littered the floor, sodden with black and yellow fluids that turned the rough concrete into a slippery, stinking mess. The bleeding wasn’t slowing, even as the body seemed to be crumpling in on itself, gradually liquefying around the bones.

The sound had gone quieter, if not softer, and Nox didn’t have much hope it would stop soon. It might be days yet, before the final sparks of vitae or life or cruel continuation finally went out.

Too young. The kid – the girl, most likely, going by anatomy – had been just… too young.

They had to have known that.

“I’m outa tricks,” she said, although the words felt thick and sharp in her mouth. She wanted to keep going. She wanted to, so fucking much. But somebody had done this. Somebody who knew this would happen.

“I’m gonna make her comfy,” she continued, then hesitated even as she pulled out the frankly-horrific cocktail of morphine and street drugs that might make a dent in a system caught somewhere between undead and alive. Skaad looked at her, and held out a clawed hand.

“Want me…?”

“Nah.” Nox shook her head, and swallowed. “You can get the others outta upstairs, though. I need to – to make a call.”

Skaad stiffened, his jaundiced eyes flicking between her and the table for a moment, before he let out a low hiss and ducked away through the curtain. Nox administered the mix and tried to convince herself it would have any sort of palliative effect. Then she went back to the drawers and rummaged again, right at the back, until her fingers closed on the ridged plastic of an old nokia.

There weren’t many numbers in the phone, but it was the first one she selected, under B.

- SUMFCK SIRED KID. ITS BAD -

She threw the phone back into the drawer and hurried out, past the plastic sheet and into the tunnels, leaving sticky footprints in her wake. Not a great look, but everyone would already know what was happening. Nosferatu gossiped like – well, like a society of insomniac, semi-immortal shut-ins.

Overhead, an erratic cluster of repurposed pipes trailed down through the domed roof, emanating from the rat runs above. Drainpipes, corrugated plastic, bits of plumbing, and all of them shaking slightly with the constant pass of tiny feet within. They opened out onto tiny highways of shelving that lined the walls, all heading in the same direction as she was. Pairs of black-beady eyes glanced at her as they passed, and with so many concentrated here, she could feel the faintest flick of Attention in each one. They were all headed to a squat metal door at the end of an offshoot passageway. The rats passed freely back and forth narrow holes punched in either side of the door; but Nox knocked. She knew she was already expected and entered after a respectful moment.

Karloff’s chamber was bigger than it looked like it would be from the doorway. Nox wasn’t sure what the space had originally been – some kind of maintenance room? – but it was now dark, and warm, and smelled less of rats than might be expected given the constant rodent tide. Shelves lined the walls, full of books and occasional pieces of recycled pet furniture. One floor-ceiling tower was filled entirely with old radios, police scanners, walkie talkies and the like.

The old man himself lay where he usually did, propped up in a nest of pillows and blankets in a box-like bed in the centre of the room. He presented an impossibly gaunt figure: papery-brown skin layered like peeling paint across sharp bones, with eyes so thickly clouded they sat like grey-milk marbles in unclosing sockets. His face looked scorched, blackened at the edges of the old dry wounds that had taken his nose, torn away most of his lips, and presumably shattered the broken fangs that jutted from his mouth. There was – as usual – a huge white rat lazing across his chest, nearly the size of a terrier and wearing a dark silken ribbon, and its sharp crimson eyes fixed on Nox as she entered.

She bowed her head, and tried not to leave bloody footprints on the rug.

“I need a temporary Invitation,” she said. It was blunt, but there was no point in dancing around it. He’d already know anyway. As she spoke, the huge rat sat up. It’s pale paws were clasped in front of it, folded in a strangely human-like gesture, but Karloff himself turned his head only slightly.

“’Belton,” he said softly, in the throat-based hush of his voice, and Nox nodded. Her fingers twitched into fists, and she felt the sticky remnants of gore slide between them.

“I… I’m running out of options, and she – ” the words were sticker than her fingers, getting caught on her lips “ – she’s real bad.”

The rat cocked its head and Karloff drew a slow breath.

“You will not do it?” he asked. Nox’ throat tightened.

“If I gotta. But I want him to see her, cos I – I could do this, but I ain’t got a snowball’s chance of doing anything about it.”

Karloff’s head turned further, and the clouded eyes passed over her with an intensity that Nox could feel, as if they skipped sight entirely and went right into her heart instead. There was another stretched moment of silence, then the pressure dropped and the rat turned away, curling itself neatly under its master’s chin.

“It is done,” Karloff said. The long fingers on one hand twitched slightly, and the faintest hint of a frown dug into his face. “...take care with the old death. You have seen little of him.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you,” Nox added before she headed out again; first to check that the cocktail of drugs had at least calmed the kid’s screams, then back into the upper house. A few rats followed her as she slid into the squeaking, busy dimness of the runs to use the sink that still stood in one corner, using brownish water to at least scrub some of the stains from her hands. Then she set to wait, pacing with nervous energy.

No one joined her. By now, everybody would know what was happening, and no one wanted to be around when he came calling.

The problem – okay, so one of the problems, in a dreadful, tangled ball of ever-more layered problems – was that it was very, very difficult to kill a fledgeling in any way that could be considered humane. A body already in the process of tearing itself apart was resistant to most damage for the same reasons that you couldn’t punch a fog. Getting any kind of drug to land in an even-partly vampiric system was difficult enough at the best of times, and this…

Well, there was sunlight, but everything about Nox’s very being baulked at the idea of using that method. She knew with personal, hellish intimacy that the agony from that would get through even a Change. Torturing someone to death with one of the few things worse than what they were going through was really not the point.

Plus, there was a tiny, tiny part of her mind that hoped she was wrong. She’d only been dealing with this stuff for a handful of years, and while rumours varied widely about how old Belton actually was, he’d seen a lot of shit. Maybe she’d missed something. Just maybe…

It seemed to take an eternity before the roar of an engine outside broke through Nox’ whirling thoughts. She hurried to the door, took a careful breath, and peered out through the little viewing slot. Not that anyone else would have been able to ride a motorcycle up to the Homestead without the permission of Karloff’s Invitation, but it never hurt to keep caution.

A huge bike was settled just beside the front steps. It was black, but in the way a magpie’s wings were black, with oil-slick iridescence hinting around the edges. The rider – dressed to match, in that seamless continuity of clothing that Nox had started to think of as ‘vampire sunscreen’ – had already dismounted and was stood beside his bike, the raven-sheen of his helmet turned towards the door. There was no visible gaze to meet, but the weight of his attention was like ice down her spine, and she opened the door as deliberately as she could.

“She’s downstairs,” she said, as the figure came up the steps. The sun was already going down, barely spilling dying light over the surrounding wall of buildings, and the porch shadow was very deep there. It only got deeper as the big man stepped into it – and then paused, right on the edge of the frame.

“May I enter?” His voice was never as heavy as she expected, with a melodic edge that absolutely did not match what she knew lay under that helmet. Nox rolled her eyes.

“I texted you, and you’re here, right?”

He was always so… old fashioned about this. It wasn’t like it was a general requirement. Nox stepped back, gesturing inwards.

“Come in already,” she added. The man might have been big – although ‘fucking enormous’ would be a better description, needing to visibly turn and duck to get through the doorframe – but he moved deceptively fast, and was well inside the hallway, starting to remove his helmet before she had had time to shut the door. She turned to look, not even pretending not to stare as he unclipped all the security bits and lifted it smoothly free. The dramatic effect was only slightly spoiled by the oddly-bulging balaclava he had on underneath – but Nox supposed that if her ears could meet at the back, she’d want to keep them restrained inside a helmet too.

Belton looked… well, he looked like Belton. There just plain wasn’t anyone else like that. The best description she had ever been able to come up with was that he looked like someone had tried very hard to make a bat in the character creation screen of a pro-wrestling computer game. It was as if the underlying architecture that should have made a human skull had been stretched and tweaked and twisted into something approaching Chiroptera from the other side.

It probably said something worrying about her own psyche that – somewhere in the mess of emotions that Belton inspired – a part of her really, really wanted to see an xray of his head.

No time for this.

“C’mon,” she nodded him to follow her back down the Homestead’s passageways. The rats watched them from every surface; their skittering highways unusually still as the majority of glinting little eyes were fixed on the visitor. They were the only visible watchers, and Nox tried not to notice how empty every space they passed through was. It added another level of eeriness, with the just-abandoned debris of life seeming like some extremely localised Rapture. Even Nox’ rapid explanation of the situation fell muted around them; for his part, Belton just listened and nodded every now and then. He didn’t look around.

How familiar was he, with this place? He’d come a few times since she’d been here – and of course, that first time meant he’d sure known where it was. Nox’ gaze slid sideways. Belton had removed his gloves by now, and the hands revealed couldn’t even remotely be thought of as human; the fingers were too long, bone and tendons standing stark beneath mottled grey skin; capped by black claws that curled from the nailbeds, polished to an obsidian gleam.

How many times had those hands run across the outer walls of the Homestead; at Karloff’s limits; searching for a way in? How many times had those claws torn into sagging flesh, or crushed furry watchers into broken blindness?

How many times had he come before he had brought her here; a crispy mess of fledgeling coated in sand and gravel and gore, spat out by the desert and into hands that immortals feared…?

The plastic curtain seemed to rise up like an exclamation, a cold shot of right now breaking her thoughts, and Nox came to a sharp halt. There was still sound from inside: a bubbling, slurred collage of moans that had made it past the drugs, and her hand froze halfway to the curtain. The swell of renewed, visceral revulsion felt like she’d choke on her own fucking hypocrisy, and she couldn’t suppress a slight hiss.

“It’s – ” she started, through gritted teeth, but cut out as Belton gently touched her shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Nox’ fingers twitched, then she turned away, moving until she could lean heavily against the nearest concrete pillar and rested her forehead against the pitted surface. The groan might as well have been coming out of the air. It pressed down around her and her skin crawled.

She hated this, and she hated that she hated it like this. Some depraved motherfucker had dragged a fucking child into very literal hell and she’d tried, she’d tried with every stupid, macguivered bullshit tool she’d put together out of garbage; she’d tried everything and it was never going to have meant a damn thing and all she could focus on, really really focus on right now was how fundamentally disgusting that fucking sound was –

And then it stopped.

Nox physically sagged against the pillar, relief and nausea chasing each other through a stomach that was dropping into her boots. There was only one reason for the sudden silence, and she let her eyes slide closed, muttering the same half-wordless prayer she’d always used when a case went bad, or a patient flatlined in the ambulance. Whatever that meant now, she’d never been sure, but it still sort of fit.

She’d known. She’d known when she picked up that damn phone.

But fuck me if hope isn’t a bitch.

It wasn’t long before there was the faint brush of plastic again and Nox opened her eyes to see Belton smoothing the curtain back behind him, covering the sudden stillness. There was a long moment of silence before he turned to her. His eyes were the most human-looking part of his face, and the grey gaze sought hers.

“I’ll be on my way, then.”

Nox nodded numbly. They went out the way they came; still alone, still watched at every step by a hundred rodent stares. Back up, back to the door and out into the thickening dusk of the evening – and it wasn’t until the porch steps were creaking under his boots that Nox’s nerve rose again.

“Hey – Belton?” she managed, and the big figure paused. He looked back at her and one curled brow raised, moving an ear with it. Nox pulled the Homestead door shut behind her as she sought the right words. “This… ain’t your job, right?”

“I don’t have a real tight specification,” he replied, then shrugged. “But broadly? No. To be honest with you, my boss couldn’t give a rat’s twat what happens with the Nosferatu.”

“So why’d you come?” Those words came fast, but Nox didn’t try to stop them. Belton paused again, then hung his helmet and balaclava over the big bike’s handlebars. He sat down on the steps, hunching a little in that strange shape his back took when he wasn’t standing, and Nox slid down beside him at the unspoken invitation.

Belton shook his head, what might have been a wry smile tugging at the edges of his too-wide lips. Glints of needle teeth flashed in the dusk.

“It’s a question of perspective, see,” he said quietly. “For someone like you? This’ll ruin your whole year. Getting all Lady Macbeth with the inevitable. But for me?” He held up a hand and slowly flexed the clawed fingers. Once; twice; and Nox couldn’t draw her gaze away from the mottled skin as it shifted over his bones. Belton sighed. It was an old sound, so old that any hint of what it might contain had worn away like stone under rain.

“What’s one drop in an ocean? Don’t get me wrong – ” he added, with the edge of smile falling away again “ – I’ll feel bad about it; but I’m not losing myself any sleep.”

She should have been angry. She wanted to be angry, at the casual way this bat-faced bastard just said it; as the so-recent feel of the kid’s crumbling flesh slammed against her thoughts and ghosted under her fingers, and bile she wasn’t even sure she had anymore swirled at the back of her throat. She should be angry.

“...thank you.”

“No need for that,” he replied – but Nox shook her head.

“Nah; there is. Things need saying.” She fidgeted with the hem of her pants for a silent moment, before continuing. “Don’t believe you actually sleep, though.”

This time there was no mistaking that Belton grinned; and the resulting expression was exactly as unpleasant as it sounded.

“No? Not even if I say I’ve got little bats on my pyjamas?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Now that there’s uncalled for.”

Nox grinned, and even as she did she could almost hear Karloff’s voice in her head. Be wary of the old death.

And yet…

There was another long silence, although this one felt less tense.

…fuck it. When am I gonna get this chance again?

“They found her in the desert,” she said carefully, scuffing dust across the steps with one toe as she spoke; an idle motion to distract herself from the nerves inside. Belton nodded.

“Aye. Letting lady sun do the dirty work. It’s an almost foolproof method, really.”

Nox looked down at her own hands; where the patchwork of thickened tissue traced patterns like dry riverbeds over her pallid brown skin. The sun burned bits went blistered red, then dark and crackly, then sickly pale when that peeled; slowly edging back to her default. It sure as hell wasn’t pleasant; but it wasn’t the chemical-melting collapse of flesh that she’d seen on others.

“So, that make me a fool or an outlier?”

“I said almost.” Belton leaned back a little, looking up into the dark expanse of sky. “Always going to take a risk when you don’t stay to watch. Although I’ll admit it takes some big balls to stick around for that sort of disposal. What with the deeply ingrained phytophobia of your classic vampire, and everything.”

Nox raised her most intact eyebrow.

“This is more about your junk than I want to know.”

Belton laughed. Really laughed; the kind of melodic tone that bordered on a snatch of song and that was so very out of place coming from within that face.

“Oh, I’m not claiming that kind of testicular fortitude. Sunlight scares the piss out of me as much as it ever did. Don’t think it’s the kind of thing you can get over. Built-in, you know?”

“You ride about in the day,” Nox pointed out, and Belton waved a hand back towards his helmet.

“I’ve got some really bespoke protective gear, see. Amazing what’s been done with polymers in the last thirty years.”

Nox blinked.

“…you’ve got bike pleathers?”

“Technically I’ve got an integrated neo-polymer baselayer,” Belton stopped and his nose crinkled – which was quite an extensive expression. “…ah fuck, that sounds like I’ve got plastic pants, doesn’t it? Keep that one to yourself, will you?”

“Sure.” Nox’s shoulders sagged again as reality dropped back suddenly. She decided to just go for blunt. “With… the kid. Someone did that, and before that they – ” her words choked again, at the thought of where some of those peri-sire wounds had been.

“I know.” The amusement had gone from Belton’s voice as he stood up, heading back to his bike rather abruptly. The engine roared into life as he swung himself astride it, folding his ears into their cover, and Nox had to shout to be heard above the rumble.

“Do they… just get away with this?”

“There’s plenty that think they should,” he replied calmly; oddly easy to hear over the din, as he slid the helmet into place. “It was like that for a long time.”

Nox’s lips drew back, almost of their own accord, working to some defiant instinct she only had partial control over.

“And you?”

“Me? I’m a monster on a chain that I put there.” Belton looked up, and just before the visor snapped closed, there was a flicker of crimson in his eyes.

“But I’ll see what I can do.”

#Entofic #Vampire Nonsense #urban fantasy #The Vegas Masqerade #Nosferatu grocery shopping #terrible daywalkers #this WWE-manbat-looking mofo #I'm not warning for 'blood' on a vampire setting #help the plot keeps happening

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afieldinengland · 4 years

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the league of gentlemen + horror references (note: since few of these movies are ones i haven’t yet watched, i also relied on these sources while writing this)

s1e1: the scene where the police officer enters the local shop bearing a photograph of benjamin’s missing friend (martin) is a direct reference to howie entering the post office looking for rowan morrison in the wicker man (1973) — edward’s line “you did beautifully, tubbs!” is a reference to lord summerisle’s words to rowan when she lures howie to the clifftop.

s1e3: edward’s crouched pose— illuminated by lightning— as the ‘beast’ of royston vasey is revealed is a nod to charles ogle in an early frankenstein (1910).

s1e4: the denton twins— chloe and radclyffe— are parallel in appearance, ability and demeanour to the grady twins in the shining (1980).

s2e2: the ice cream van at the very start plays the ‘tubular bells’ theme from the exorcist (1973). bernice also features in this episode getting ‘love’ and ‘hate’ tattooed on her knuckles, in a nod to night of the hunter (1955).

s2e3: ross and pauline’s fight in the job centre before she takes him hostage was inspired by the fight between robert thorne and mrs baylock in the omen (1976).

s2e4: mayor larry vaughn’s name and his line “yes, well, as you can see it’s a beautiful day” are directly referencing jaws (1975).

s2e5: the way in which edward attempts to abduct a woman to wed david— by posing as a man with one arm in a sling, and asking her to aid him with groceries— is reminiscent of buffalo bill’s method in the silence of the lambs (1991).

the christmas special is full of horror references— the most prominent being:

• the members of the ‘solutions’ voodoo group wear masks as in eyes wide shut (1999) and drink milk in a nod to a clockwork orange (1971). • herr lipp’s silhouette on the staircase resembling nosferatu (1922) and his later use of the peephole to spy on matthew as norman bates does in psycho (1960). • matthew’s dream sequence features seeing his own body with its eyes sewn up in a nod to the trilogy of terror (1975), and hearing horse noises and having a key appear in his hand, referencing the woman in black (1983). • his construction of a cross from toothbrushes is a reference to salem’s lot (1979). • the blonde choirboys are reminiscent of the midwitch cuckoos (1957).

s3e1: when mickey knocks over his pot of water whilst he is painting, causing a red blood-like smear to spill across the image, it is a nod to don’t look now (1973)

s3e6: when brian morgan and reenie have keith drop tied to the bed, it is a direct reference to the exorcist (1973) — the lines “why do you do this to me, reenie?” and “la plume de ma tante” are parallels, as well as the cry of the name of the unseen merrill being a nod to regan’s wail for father merrin. later in the episode, when reenie is abducted, she is lured in by what she perceives to be a sobbing girl— another nod to don’t look now (1973) and its pursuit of an apparent child who transpires to be murderous.

#this is by no means exhaustive— not only is it ignoring the other non-horror references but also im SURE i must have missed some earlier in #series three— for sure

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solomontoaster · 3 years

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nosferatu / saw/ the vvitch for the horror asks 🧛🏻🔪🐐

nosferatu: do u have a lot of friends?

Maybe? I've never been good at figuring out who considers me a friend and who's just.... in the same social circles as me but sees me as more of an acquaintance than a genuine friend.

Like, current count of people who I consider a friend and I am certain consider me a friend is like.... three or four... either because I've known them for ages and ages and somehow they haven't gotten tired of me or they have explicitly called me their friend. The people I consider friends but don't really know how they consider me.... is a lot more....

This is not to vague anyone, I just default to assuming I'm unlikable and am like always shocked when anyone calls me their friend.

Under a cut because my answer to the vvitch got long and ranty.... I am simply..... passionate about the study of history.......

saw: give a controversial opinion >:3

The audiobook for The Silmarillion is good actually, despite the many many mispronunciations of names and places.

Is this that controversial? Possibly not, I've just seen a lot of people dunk on it and like that's valid. Martin Shaw really did say "I'm going to do this audiobook without looking at ANY of Tolkien's pronunciation guides." It's still really good though. 🔪

the vvitch: what’s ur favorite historical time period? (without the old-timey bigotry)

I can't possibly choose, but here are the periods I've poured a lot of time and energy into: Weimar Germany and early-mid 20th century United States, specifically the 10s-20s and the 60s-70s.

Thomas that's so specific, you might say, also why have you crossed out "without the old timey bigotry"?

Here's the thing. I study queer history, and like it or not, those eras listed above are shaped, in part, by the "old timey bigotry" that occurred then and erasing that would be a disservice to the queer and other oppressed peoples who lived during those times.

I can't immerse myself in early 20th century trans memoirs without confronting the homophobia and medical gatekeeping that occurred in early transition programs. I can't translate early German magazine articles about "transvestism" without confronting the prejudices of the time what exactly spelled the end of the Weimar period. Historical time periods don't exist in a vacuum and you can't just ignore the not-so-shiny parts you don't want to see.

Of course that's not to say you can't love and enjoy finding the happy parts too, but history is complex. I can smile about and feel happy for the trans woman in 1930s Berlin who is getting to live her best life and gets excited to go grocery shopping dressed how she likes, and also feel a knot of dread in my stomach about how I will never know what happened to her when Hitler took power because she wrote under a pseudonym and I haven't been able to find that name anywhere else.

I'm revisiting my translation of the aforementioned magazine articles so I just have a lot of emotions about this rn.

#asks #nedlittle #about me

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clown-bait · 6 years

Text

29 Neibolt ST (Monster Roommate AU) Chapter 3

Alright friends things are heating up. Pennyboi learns how to deal with feelings and Leech gets a job. Some weird stuff with meat happens. Leatherface is a pure beautiful soul and must be protected. Next chapter will contain SMUT.

Warnings: Mild Nsfw, Blood, Swearing, Drug Use, Alcohol, Fluff.

CHAPTER 3

Help.

The young vampire to be had been there a full month now and she hated to admit it but she had never been happier. This was truly a new start for her. People even stopped calling her by her original name preferring to use the one Pennywise had given her when they first met. It was meant as an insult but it fit her so well she kept it. She was a bloodsucker now after all. Lucy was gone Leech was who she was now. She had a new job lined up, new friends, a great mentor and she was even given a wig by Leatherface as a housewarming gift when her hair began to fall out. Aside from the impending death and losing humanity thing….and that damn clown…. this was nice. This could work.

Movie night at the Neibolt house was a big event. Everyone joined in even Pennywise who usually kept to himself but when Dracula insisted he join in to make a certain proto-vampire happy the clown reluctantly agreed. He hated that the elder vampire knew about his affliction.

When Dracula found out about it he had been confronting the clown over his disheveled state. “You seem less cruel to my young apprentice and you look like you have stopped feeding. You are infatuated.”

“Infat- What?! No! Leech is, she’s, well we’re just………I mean….I……..…..what do I do.” He was weak and defeated. Pennywise had never had a positive feeling like this before and Dracula was the only one other than Chucky that knew how to deal with this sort of thing.

“You must pursue her it'll be healthy for the both of you! My poor apprentice has been worried sick about her transition for weeks now! Yes! ROMANCE HER WOO HER GIVE HER YOUR LOVE.” The elder vampire was a complete hopeless romantic.

“I was just going to go back to eating my feelings till this goes away?”

“NAY YOU MUST COURT THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. I HAVE FAILED IN LOVE BUT YOU CHILD YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE”

“One, I'm way older than you. Two no.”

“LOOK AT YOURSELF BOY, YOU ARE WASTING AWAY IN LOVE! GIVE HER YOUR HEART END YOUR ETERNAL LONELINESS.”

“What part of older than you do you- never mind lets pretend this never happened.”

“YOU WILL SEE SOON ENOUGH BOY, YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM LOVE.”

Pennywise hated how that he was right about that. He tried eating more and began to look healthy again until Leech walked by in the kitchen two days later and gave him a damn compliment. Who does she think she is telling him he looked extra scary today. The nerve!

“At least theres popcorn” he grumbled plopping down onto one of the couches. Having two giant monsters in the house plus a very territorial cat required multiple couches and chairs so everyone could fit around the old antique tv.

“Whats on the menu tonight boys” Freddy says opening a beer taking up a whole lazy boy to himself.

“Something we can do a drinking game with please?” came Leech’s request from the kitchen she was busy making drinks for her new friends after she bragged she could make them killer cocktails that would knock their socks off. It also to try to persuade Leatherface to put in a good word for her when applied for the position of bartender at the newly remodeled Sawyer’s. Dracula was assisting her while carefully watching her glances and shy smiles whenever she heard Penny’s bells. The elder vampire had never had a protege before and he had to admit her fiery personality was growing on him, shed make a fine creature of the night eventually he just had to get her past her unwillingness to change. Leech found it annoying that he was constantly nagging her about her transition. Tonight it was all about how vampires cant hold their liquor. But she liked her mentor, he was like the father she never had and she would often find herself coming to him with questions not only about her condition but also life in general.

“Atta girl Leech you're a woman after my own dead heart” Freddy shouted back the two had been bonding more smoking on the porch talking shit about people who got on their nerves that day. They did have quite a few things in common one was tequila and the other was epic amounts of sass. Pennywise did feel a twinge of jealousy over it but knew if he said something Freddy would tell everyone the eldritch embodiment of fear had a big stupid crush on someone he normally considered food.

“All right guys heres my official audition for bartender at Sawyer’s. Tip jar is on the counter for when all you assholes are blown away by how great I am.” she boasted passing out the drinks.

“Big talk for someone who's tolerance is sinking faster than the Titanic” said Chucky

“Shut up and drink doll. I’ll let my talent do all the ass kicking for me.”

“What the hell is this?” Freddy asked poking the puffy pice of spun sugar

“Cotton candy martinis bitch!”

Pennywise choked on his popcorn.

She begun finishing handing them out and as Penny picked his up his giant hand touched hers. They blinked at each other for a second. “Something wrong Pen? Did I uh offend you with the circus flavors?”

“Oh um no no just something on your um something on your face!” Dracula rolled his eyes at him dramatically from the kitchen.

“Oh where.” Leech frowned.

“Its um… no stop stop! Don't touch it. Just let me do it..” The clown quickly pretended to wipe something off her nose. “nailed it.” He thought.

Chucky's eyes grew wide when he saw the exchange. “No fucking way” he whispered.

Leatherface was delighted at the sweet drink. He even giggled when his friend put the cotton candy in the liquor and it dissolved. “So you think I got the job big guy?” he grunted happily in approval “Aw shucks Bubba you're the best!” she hugged the lovable giant murderer. Leech smiled wide with cockiness “nailed it.” She said to herself.

————

“Wait you only have a waitress job??? But I thought I was applying to be a bartender!?” she complained at the giant the next day. She wasn't mad at him though it was the rest of his family’s fault probably. They Sawyer clan were a bunch of boys they needed a cute girl in the restruant to be the bait for their…. meat source. Finally the young vampire sighed “Fine I’ll take it, anything at this point. Just let me know when I start.” Desperate times call for desperate measures. “Do I at least get a nice uniform?” she asked.

Leatherface nodded enthusiastically, he brought out a bag from behind his back and handed it to her. Freddy was now watching with glee from around the corner. He had been planning this for the past week.

“Oh you've got to be kidding me.” she growled from the bathroom and Freddy laughed.

“Whats so funny?” Pennywise asked sipping a hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows

“I helped the big guy pick the new uniform for the waitresses wait till you see it.”

Leech creaked the door open her face bright red. As she stepped out Pennywise spit his drink and nearly choked on a marshmallow. She was in a tied flannel top and daisy dukes. “Who told you this was a good idea Leatherface?” the giant happily pointed at Freddy’s hiding spot who was on the floor cackling now. Chucky walked by and his jaw nearly fell on the floor before running to get Tiff. Pennywise was 100% broken. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. “Can I at least wear an actual shirt instead?”

Leatherface looked sad she didn't like the uniform. “Oh no” she thought “He's proud of it.”

“Hey hey big guy! I didn't mean it the uniforms great don't be sad see I’m going to put it away for tomorrow ok!”

Pennywise left the room quickly unable to remain there for much longer without….feeeeeeling.

Chucky walked over to him giving his leg a sharp jab with his elbow.

“What do you want doll.” he snarled

“You're a mess Jingles. Why don't you do something about it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Your lame school boy crush on the baby bloodsucker.”

“I dont-“

“Don't even man you were practically having a heart attack back there, plus you were staring at her the entire movie night. Tiff thinks its cute.”

“Does everyone know now?”

“Pretty much.”

The clown fell on the floor against the fridge. “Then I need your…………help.” The last word was a struggle for him.

———-

Leech marched into the old house carrying the an entire butcher shop in grocery bags. Drops of cold animal blood dripped down from her purchases and Church had come out of hiding to follow her to the kitchen where she began to pack the fridge and freezer full of raw meat.

“Ok clown your girl’s home go talk to her.” Chucky whispered from behind Pennywise who was hiding on the stairway to the basement.

“Compliment her ears she's been very self conscious about them lately” Dracula suggested to him.

As Pennywise attempted to step forward he paused when he saw the young vampire. She looked to be in a trance as she put meat away finally stopping at a package of bratwursts and taking a deep inhale of the bloody sausage. She let out a small whimper and as a drop of drool fell from her lips the clown felt his breath hitch. “What are you waiting fo- woah!!!” Chucky paused when he saw that Leech has taken one of the sausages out of the package and was brining it to her hungry open mouth. Her tongue had rolled out and she swallowed the meat whole like a snake. “Holy fuck Jingles thats uh… thats some girl you got there…” Chucky’s jaw dropped. Pennywise was completely frozen unable to speak. “Well ah.. nosferatu fledglings do have a…ahem insatiable appetite” Dracula dabbed his brow.

“We’re uh….we’re gonna go….good luck Jingles…” Chucky and Drac both bolted out of the room as Leech finished the tray of sausages completely unaware and going into a slight frenzy.

She ripped open a roast now and began violently tearing the meat with her dull human teeth. She started sucking the blood through the flesh while making obscene gasping sounds as she fed. Drool poured out of Pennywise’s mouth in record amounts as he watched the vampire. She tore off her beanie revealing her bald head and large bat like ears which began to fold straight up against the side of her head. Leech’s eyes flashed forward as she finished Penny marveled at how they looked like little reflections of the full moon against her dark eye circles she was becoming a truly terrifying monster. The clown had never seen something so beautiful or smelled something so sweet. The nosferatu came down from her high panting and gasping looking at the animal blood on her hands and the drool on the floor. “What the hell just happened?” she said to herself. She heard a soft jingle and her face lit up, she quickly put on her beanie to hide her baldness and wiped her face. “Penny?!” she said asked excitedly a small blush creeped onto her cheeks. Her face fell when no one answered. “Must have been my imagination…” she mumbled starting to clean up her mess.

Pennywise had retreated to his lair leaning back in his nest panting with need. He looked down at the tall tent in his pantaloons and shut his eyes. This was bad. He never really felt feelings like desire or lust, not like this. There were maybe a handful of occasions where he was in heat and took a lover for the night disguised as a human but he saw them as more tools than mates. Pennywise couldn't even remember some of their names, he was pretty sure he ate a few after he was done with them too. But this oh this, this was completely different. This new feeling was not something he could just relieve and get on with his hunting. This was a burning need for someone he saw as an equal, someone like him. A fellow predator, a potential mate. He didn't want anyone else he wanted her. And he hated it.

As promised the next chapter will get STEAMY. So stay tuned for that.

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