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thegirlwhowrites642 · 2 years

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Percy and Audrey through the years

Summary: Once he insulted a stranger and seven years later he proposed to a crazy painter.

Canon complaint

Warnings: panic attack; brief mention of suicide; sexual situations and sex-related language (T rated)

Read also on AO3

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1994

Audrey observes him from afar, this guy she is supposed to work with. The old lady who accompanied her until this point has vanished and, while she is not thrilled at the idea of having to introduce herself, she is also slightly glad she is not around anymore seeing that she completely forgot her name a second after she said it. Audrey is vaguely aware that one of these days her complete inability to remember new people's names will become an actual problem, but she really can't help it. They just don't stick.

She supposes he's good-looking in a very low-key kind of way. He seems to have spent a lot of time perfectly adjusting his red hair, but there's still a rebel lock on his forehead. He looks very focused on whatever is the document he is reading, his glasses are slowly falling down his long nose. There are three mugs on his desk. Perhaps a tea addict? Look at that, she already has something in common with her colleague. She is sure they'll get along splendidly.

She finally approaches his desk while she blows away her dark bangs from her grey eyes. She is still not sure what made her believe cutting her own bangs was a great idea.

"Good morning." she salutes cheerfully. "I'm Audrey Bennett. They told me we are going to work together." he finally raises his blue eyes on hers, his tin lips pressed to each other, he is looking at her outstretched hand. He does not take it.

"I'm Percy Weasley. It was nice meeting you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm working." ok, fine. He's a broody type. That never stopped her before. Her best friend Clare is an introvert too.

"I'm a bit lost at the moment, you know, first day here..." a nervous laugh escapes her lips. "Maybe you could show me around?" he looks a bit annoyed.

"You have paint on your fingers." this seems to trouble him for some reason. She painted with her fingers yesterday night, and at a certain point, it became a choice between completely cleaning her hands or keeping her skin. She kept the skin.

"Oh, yes, well... I'm a painter you see, got a bit creative with this new technique I read about and..." she is not sure why she blabbering or why she feels her cheeks warm up, but it doesn't seem to matter seeing that he interrupts her.

"That's a childish hobby to engage in, especially for a Ministry employee. We work for a fine institution. You should show more dedication." he lets her know. His stupid nose pointed upright. Audrey is seeing red and not because of his idiotic hair. How dare he? The pompous git!

"Well, this childish hobby is what I want to do with my life! Working for the Ministry is just a temporary job. A fine institution, you call it? It's just a bunch of entitled narcissists like you!" she shouts in a whisper. She'd love nothing more than fully yelling at him, but she doesn't want to make a scene. "Have a terrible day!"

She hates Percy Weasley.

She scolds herself after realising she just remembered his name.

1995

She can't wait to go home. Her feet are sore in those diabolic heels her mind decided were a good idea to wear. She should not make such relevant decisions before 7 am. She can already smell the flowery products she'll use for her well-deserved bath. She bought them the other day at this adorable little shop in one of those charming streets adjacent to Diagon Alley. She looks at her watch. Yes, she has time for a bath before her dinner with Patrick. They just started going out, he is the most adorable bloke. It's while she's completely lost in her plans that something stops her. There's a weird sound, and it's coming out of one of the broom closets. She puts her ear on the door. Her mother always says her curiosity is going to kill her one day, she always answers that if that's the case, she'll accept her fate. She finally realises that the sound is someone crying, a bloke if she had to guess. She knows that if a person hides in a closet to cry, they probably want to be left alone, but Cindy, the old lady she met her first day at work, also told her that five years ago, one of the blokes from the sports department hanged himself after everybody went home. They found him the following morning. She really doesn't want that on her conscience. She will just do a brief inspection.

"Hi, sorry to intrude..." it's only when she starts opening the door that she understands who the man is, "Weasley." he's set on the floor, his knees to his chest, his hands in his hair. He looks at her, his blue eyes all red and full of tears. He doesn't say anything. At first, she thinks it's because he is embarrassed, but then she notices he is shaking. Something clicks in her head. He's having a panic attack.

A strange sense of calmness invades her. She knows what to do. She had her fair share of crises during her OWLs year. She gets on her knees right in front of him. Her palms land on his biceps which are not as toneless as they look, and she really doesn't know why she is thinking about that, even less why she is thinking about that at such a delicate moment.

"Look at me." she orders, "Look at me, Weasley." surprisingly, he does. "It's going to be all right. I don't know if you are aware of this, but you are having a panic attack. Focus on me. Slow down your breath." she recognizes it in his eyes, the sensation of lacking air like you're drowning. She had her last panic attack two years ago, she doesn't miss them one bit. He looks scared, like a deer in front of a car. It's not surprising, considering she is probably the last person he would want help from. When they are at work, the time they don't spend on their duty they spend it fighting with each other.

"Count with me. From one-hundred back to one," she tells him using the method her old therapist taught her, "come on. One-hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ..." when she gets to ninety, he starts counting with her.

"One," he says, his breathing functions have been back for a while, and now a violent blush is creeping up his face. She is not sure how it happened, but his hands are closed firmly on her wrists, and her hands are on his knees.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed. It can happen to anyone. Did something trigger it?" she knows it could have easily happened out of the blue. "If you want to tell me, of course." he studies her, surely trying to decide if confessing his weaknesses to his work-archnemesis is a good idea. And then, he starts talking. She finds out he had just discovered his father got seriously injured and that he's at St Mungo's. But she learns a lot more. She learns about his fight with his father and consequently all his siblings, and those are a lot of people to fight with. That evening she discovers more about the Weasley family than she ever imagined she would.

After several minutes of silence, she positions herself with her back on the opposite wall of his and brings out a book from her bag. The book. Weasley's favorite book. She doesn't even remember how she found that out. It's called , the author is some old man with a standoffish name. The thing is, she wanted to read it and then point out to him all the inevitable flaws of a book with such a boring name. But her mastermind plan met a fatal obstacle, she absolutely loves the book. It's so interesting, and the writing is one of the most engaging she ever had the pleasure to encounter. Stupid Weasley and his annoyingly excellent taste.

"Hey, Perseus." she knows it's not his real full name, but he hates being called like that, so it is exactly how she calls him. "Look what I have here."

"How? Why would you-" he is looking at her in the most confusing and intense way she has ever seen. She moves her eyes to the book, and she starts reading.

She doesn't know how long they stay there, her date with Patrick long forgotten.

1996

Things at the Ministry have been a bit... weird, lately. Some sketchy people are going around making sketchy questions, and the rumors of what is going on outside of the Ministry are not a lot more encouraging. This is exactly why she and Weasley have sneaked into the file archive, they have the impression some unusual money transitions are being covered, and the proof could be somewhere between these dusty shelves, which are giving her an allergic attack.

"Bennett, I have no intention of getting you to St Mungo's, get out if your allergy is so strong." the git lets her know. She would love nothing more than to take offense at his words and storm out, see how well he'll do without her help, but she's annoyingly aware that if she actually needed it he would bring her to St Mungo's, she supposes that's why she stays.

His eyes are focused on the piles of files, and he's probably searching for what they're looking for with a precise method instead of her idea of just trusting that if she has to find the files she will eventually find them. When she realises she's staring at him, her eyes go back to the shelves. It's not her fault, really. How is it her fault that when that redhead giant is all focused he becomes strangely fascinating? She has a painting at home of him at his desk working. A very well hidden painting. She has no idea what came to her when she did it. It has probably something to do with her spending every single day working in front of him. It's just a familiar image, that's all.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. It's such a contrast with the Weasley of yesterday morning, who came in with a carrot cake, her favorite, gave a piece of it to everybody else in the office, and then ate the last slice in front of her with a little satisfied smirk, leaving her annoyed and famished. But she is not surprised by how serious he is about their secret mission. She's vaguely aware that he still has to make peace with his family and that things got just worse since You-know-Who came back. Stupid Gryffindors and their pride. Not that he wasn't already aware the genocidal maniac had returned before the undeniable truth was shown to old demented Fudge. She could read it in his eyes that time in the broom closet when he told her the whole family drama. Not that he would ever admit to it, the prat. Just another reason why Ravenclaw is clearly the superior house.

"Could you focus?" he scolds her adjusting his glasses, he does that when he's nervous.

"I'm focused!" she lies, "If I didn't know how important it is to find those files I wouldn't be here alone with you, trust me!"

"Well-" she doesn't find out what he means to say because the entire file archive lights up. The very creepy walk she would recognize from a mile away is way too close for them to escape. Yaxley is near. She can see Weasley trying to find an excuse for them to be in a section where they have absolutely no business being, but the clock is ticking, and she would love to not die at 21. Which brings her to do something so stupid she'll have to burn the blue and bronze scarf she has at home. She pushes herself against one of the shelves, her head colliding with the metal, but she'll think about that later, and she brings Weasley against her grabbing him by the shirt. And then she kisses him. He lets out a muffled surprised sound, but he must understand her plan because he starts kissing her back.

"Weasley and Bennett, who would have thought..." says the voice of the slimiest man she ever had the displeasure to encounter. She and Weasley have broken apart, their breaths heavy, and she can feel his blue eyes observing her in shock.

"Sorry, Sir. We'll get out of here," she says when really all she wants to do is throw a shoe at Yaxley and then run away from any kind of conversation with Weasley about what she just did.

"Do not worry Miss Bennett, I'll go." he concedes amused, "But you really shouldn't be here in the future." the blonde man adds with one of the best passive-aggressive looks she has ever seen.

"What-" Weasley starts when they are alone again.

"I'm sorry!" she blurts out," I know how you are about people invading your personal space. I just thought it was the only situation he wouldn't have been suspicious of. Everybody comes snogging in the file archive..." she explains not looking at him.

"They do?" he asks completely scandalized, and she can't help but giggle bringing her eyes to his face.

While they get out of there, she starts wondering if this is something Patrick should know.

1997

She is not drunk, she's not. She drank a single glass of firewhiskey, her boss was there at the pub with them, for Merlin's shake! This is not something her colleagues appreciated, but she looked so lonely, and there's a war out there! Her boss always reminded her a bit of her mother with those long shiny brown hair, and her parents recently moved to Norway, her mother's birth land, her muggle mother's birth land. Yes, they escaped. Her father had been preparing for a while. They asked her to go with them, but she couldn't. She knows it's dangerous, but if all the reasonable people run away, who will remain to fight? Who will cover Weasley while he destroys the muggle-born registries?

Weasley. Also known as the idiot who is now walking her to the apparition point because apparently, he convinced himself that she can't hold her whiskey. All because at the last office Christmas party she danced on her desk after drinking a bit. When really, she had wanted to do that for a while, it just seemed like a good moment, alcohol had nothing to do with it. Ok, fine, she may not have Weasley's tolerance to alcohol, during the years she has seen him drink an insane amount without flinching one bit, but that doesn't mean she gets drunk after one glass of whiskey!

"I'm not drunk," she states stopping, and he soon stops too, walking back to her. "I can take care of myself, Weasley." he looks supremely annoyed, and she would be lying if she said she doesn't enjoy it.

"Stop whining, we are nearly there." he thinks she's a child, doesn't he?

"I can go home alone. Thank you very much. I don't need your misguided sense of nobility." she is not really sure why she is so angry, but she is. He is frustrated too. His hands are buried in the pockets of his brown coat, his eyes looking at the sky like he's asking for the patience to deal with her. Which obviously only gets her more annoyed.

"It has nothing to do with nobility," he explains. "Bennett, it's 1 am in London, you are a woman and, in case you didn't notice, there's a war out there." once in a while he does this. He completely forgets he's supposed to talk in a pompous tone, and suddenly he looks his age.

"So, you care about what happens to me?" she asks challengingly. And it's a stupid question because, of course, he does. And the feeling is annoyingly mutual. They aren't friends, that would involve seeing each other outside of the social circle of their colleagues, but they aren't just co-workers either. She doesn't know what they are. They kissed, and they never talked about it ever again because it was just a show to save their asses, right? And yet, she may or may not have thought about that kiss a couple or a million times since last year. It's her best-kept secret.

"Of course, I care." his eyes are on hers, he's getting closer, and she catches her breath. His voice wavers and are tears, the ones he's trying not to let cross his face? When she'll rationalize what happened she'll understand that Percy Weasley has a gigantic trauma linked to not letting people know how much he cares. But all she can do at that moment is get closer to him. They are so painfully close. Their noses are brushing, and then she says it, with what courage she doesn't know.

"Why don't you bring me home with you if you care so much?"

"What about Patrick?" and the hate he puts in that name can't go unnoticed.

"I broke up with him two months ago." Patrick had some weird ideas about muggle-borns, she doesn't know if they were honest or out of fear, but she couldn't stand for that. Plus, if she has to be completely sincere, she had never been that invested in that relationship.

"Ok," he says in an incredibly attractive husky voice. And then he kisses her, and he is all over her or she is all over him or both.

They are still like that when she finds herself inside his little apartment, her back against his entrance door. There is something so Weasleyish about this place, everything is perfectly placed, perfectly aligned. Then she sees it, a pile of books on the floor, and a laugh escapes her lips, he's human too, after all.

"What?" he asks, taking away his lips from her ear to her immense displeasure.

"This place, it's very you." she settles for.

"I know it's a bit too beigey." like he already knows that her house is colours and sparkles and plants.

"Don't worry, I'll help you paint it." why she says that it's a mystery. Painting a house together sounds very girlfriendly, and this night won't change the fact that she is not his girlfriend or he her boyfriend, but then his lips are on her neck, and she stops worrying.

1998

The dust has settled, the battle has ended, and it has been won. And what a dramatic final duel, it looked straight out of a movie. It was especially weird considering that the last time she saw Harry Potter in person he was a twelve-years-old who had just rescued the little Weasley girl from the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Potter is now with the Weasleys, who are all close to each other like a pack of wolves. She has heard enough about the Weasleys to know immediately that one of them is missing, one of the twins. Apparently, she was not wrong, that body she saw earlier was of Fred or George, she wouldn't be able to tell. A cold thought passes her mind when she thinks telling those twins apart won't be a problem anymore. She recognizes Charlie, the famous Gryffindor seeker. They never spoke, but everybody knew of his talents on the pitch. The scarred man must be Bill, every girl at least once had a crush on that particular head-boy. There's a blonde woman near him that looks like a model, and there's a bushy-haired girl near what must be the youngest brother, Potter's best friend. And speaking of the devil, she is finding it particularly entertaining watching the man who just killed You-know-Who look at Ginevra like a lost puppy. She wonders how thrilling it is to hold the heart of someone who can kill a genocidal maniac, but then the redhead girl looks at Potter, and Audrey understands, he holds her heart too.

The truth is that she's only distracting herself from looking at the only one of the bunch she is really interested in. But she can't delay it anymore. Her heart warms at seeing Percy with his family, he is not cast in a corner, he is in his father's arms. Her mind flashes back to the piece of paper he left on her kitchen table, telling her there was a battle at Hogwarts, that he needed to go fighting, that his whole family was there. That he was sorry. For what she is still not sure. For missing their usual Friday meeting? The sensation of her heart jumping to her throat is still painfully clear. Everything from that moment is a blur. Her grabbing a jacket, apparating in Hogsmeade, her wand clenched in her hand. She is still wondering how she managed to come out of this mess without killing. She wants to go to him. Be held by him, be kissed by him. And she wants to do those things for him too. But she knows that's not how you should feel about a co-worker who happens to be your fuckbuddie. That's what they are, isn't it? She can't even use the term friends with benefits, the only things they do when they are alone together are fuck and conspire against dictatorial regimes using the weaknesses of bureaucracy.

Then his eyes meet hers, and her knees feel suddenly very weak. The surprise at seeing her there is evident and yet still subtle. He's tired, and his brother has just died. There's no place for her in that pack of redheads.

A small smile appears on her face, she nods and goes home. A clean canvass is waiting for her, and she knows she'll paint the Great Hall, the destroyed walls, and the golden light of a new day.

1999

She still can't believe she did it. Quitting her job at the Ministry was the only acceptable course of action for her after the war. But the realist part of her brain, who always happens to have the voice of an annoying redhead, reasoned that she would probably need to find another job anyway while she pursued her artistic aspiration. Then, a bit out of the blue, she met Sarah, the owner of an art gallery, and they started talking about how Audrey would have imagined her own exposition. Nine months after the end of the war, here she was, observing people drink in her paintings, and actually doing offers to buy them. She feels on cloud nine.

There's a particular painting people seem to be focusing on. She doesn't know if it frustrates her or pleases her. It's one done with a muggle technic, she is not fond of wizarding paintings anyway, that's why hers usually have little to no movement, and very precise ones that are always in repetition. The idea of painting something that can talk and absorb information creeps her out. But the fact that this work doesn't have an inherently interesting subject, that it doesn't even move, makes it clear that what singles it out lays in the exceedingly strong emotion she was able to convey in the brushes. But because this painting portrays Weasley at his desk at work, she really doesn't want to think of what emotion it may be. She hasn't seen him since the second of May. She knows he still works at the Ministry, not that it was surprising, but she checked. Just to make sure he was still him, and the war hadn't produced some unconceivable change.

"I've been told the dashingly handsome bloke in the painting is called Perseus." a voice comes from behind her. His voice. Or is she having a hallucination? She turns around. No, it's him. Flash, bones, and dorky glasses.

"So the legend says, but we'll never know for certain. He disappeared." she wanted to sound funny, but the more she looks at him, the more her voice falters. His blue eyes are boring into her grey ones.

"I've heard he's back. Wanted to say congratulations to this friend of his with a very childish hobby. Rumor says he even bought books about both muggle and magic art."

"Did he now?"

"He realized he had to know the subject better to prove that it was childish. He is a smart bloke, you know..." and she can't help but laugh while he adjusts the glasses on his nose. Is it weird that she can't stop thinking about how much she missed his freckles?

"Audrey," she holds her breath, this is the first time one of them says the other's first name while they are completely dressed, "I should have come to you right after the battle, but I had things to solve with my family and F-Fred had just... But I'm here now, for real, wholly, I want a proper relationship with you, I want everything with you, Bennett. You are everything." she can't believe her ears, "If you'll have me, of course." he looks open, no walls in front of him, just a guy in front of a girl.

"Percy,"

"Audrey, I love you, I really do." and he comes closer, his perpetual smell of parchment invading her senses.

"Perseus," she says with the little rigidity she can master in a moment like this, "do not interrupt me." but he knows her too well and smiles, his lips dangerously close to hers, "I love you, too."

2000

When Percy invited her for Christmas at the Barrow to make her meet his family, she thought he had officially gone mad. You can't just spring on a family a stranger at Christmas. But the prat instead, saying that he really didn't want to spend the holidays without her and that all she had to do to make her mother like her was pretend to enjoy Celestina Warbeck, which confused her because why should she pretend to enjoy Celestina Warbeck? That woman is amazing. That led to a whole debate about music that escalated to them deciding to buy a bunch of books about the history of music to determine the objective factors that make a singer good and then decide where good old Celestina stands. They are still working on it.

This is pretty much how she ended up cleaning dishes with Molly Weasley on Christmas night.

"Dear, you don't need to be here with me. Go to the living room with the others." her tone is full of affection, and she knows she already loves this woman, and not only for their shared passion for Celestina's songs.

"It's no problem, really. I find it relaxing. Percy thinks I'm crazy when I sometimes get home and demand to have all the dishes to clean for myself, but he seems to have accepted it by now." she laughs because, honestly, what else should you do after telling your boyfriend's mum about your clear mental problems. Ms. Weasley observes her with a knowing look.

"You seem really suited for each other. I've never seen Percy so happy." she thinks no one can blame her if her heart roars with pride at those words.

"He makes me very happy too. He has been my best friend since way before I even realised it." she doesn't have to explain further. She and Percy's relationship as work-archnemesis was a beloved topic of conversation that was met with laughter and curiosity by everyone.

"I just hope you don't feel overwhelmed by how many we are. If I understood correctly, you are an only child." she has to admit she was surprised too when she noticed that she felt perfectly at ease around the Weasleys. Each one of them reminds her of the most subtle parts of Percy, the ones he shows only to the people he feels extremely comfortable around. She's lucky enough to be at the top of the list. She thinks about George asking her if she can stop Percy from putting so much gel in his hair and her answering that she likes being the only one who can see his devilish hair. She recalls Ron's groan at the implication that she realised just later she had made. She still can see the Harry Potter excitedly showing her the engagement ring on Ginny's finger that apparently has been there for only a week, and then Harry remembering who he is and asking her to not tell anyone because they don't want the press involved for as long as they can manage it. She thinks about little Teddy running under the table, at all the conversations that went on at the same time at that exact table.

"I really like being here Ms. Weasley. It seems very hard not to feel at home in this house." she is not sure why she said it, she doesn't want Molly to think she is imposing her presence, that she's claiming a position she doesn't have. But before she can apologize, the redheaded woman is hugging her with energy, and Audrey feels oddly emotional.

2001

They are walking on the seaside of Austvågøy, the Norwegian island Audrey's mother is from. This is not the first time Percy meets her parents, but this summer he insisted they should go visit them. She has a suspicion this might have something to do with the black velvet box she found in the wardrobe. Yes, she knows, she shouldn't have snooped between his things, but he has been so weird since Kelly and Jacob's wedding in May, she had to go to the bottom of the matter. She had tried asking him, but he was always evasive. When she had found the little box, suddenly it had sounded all very logical that his unusual behavior had started after the first of the many weddings they have been to in the last few months. Everybody seems to be getting married these days, Harry and Ginny's wedding on the first days of September will close the season.

She still has no idea what her ring looks like though, she wants it to be a surprise, so she hasn't looked. They're holding hands, and the tip of Percy's nose has never looked so flushed, it's absolutely adorable.

"Audrey," he says turning to face her and adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, Perseus?" he rolls his eyes but can't help a little smirk, that's all she asks for.

"You are the worst Ministry employee I've ever met," maybe this is not going where she thought it was going, "you were constantly distracted, you have no idea what a work method is, and you seem unable to shut up for more than five minutes." she is starting to consider that maybe she should be offended, but he's looking at her in such an intense and affectionate way that she's rooted in her spot, "And you are also my best friend. You were there for me when I thought I had lost every person I had ever loved. You are the laugh that brightens my day when I get mad at things that don't really matter. You are my most capable rival and my devoted ally. I can't, and I don't want to imagine a life where I can't look at you cleaning dishes like it's a treat, or blowing away the bangs you refuse to get rid of from your magnificent grey eyes. I don't want to even conceive a life where you don't spread colours all around my beigey walls. I love you, Audrey Inga Bennett, and I'll always love you." her hands are on her mouth, her eyes are full of happy tears, Percy is on one knee, the black box in his hand, "Will you-"

"Yes!" he laughs.

"Let me finish, you crazy woman," he jokes, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes! You stupid prat! Yes!" she is on her knees too, hugging him with all the strength she has in her body. Then she takes his face in her hands, her thumbs caressing his freckles, "Look at you. Seven years ago, you insulted a stranger, and now you are going to marry a crazy painter."

"I did not insult you!" he says in mock outrage, the smile still plastered on his face.

"You called my art a childish hobby!"

"It was not an insult, just a mere statement of facts." he grins, the annoying love of her life.

#Percy was born to be in an enemies to lovers #this work is basically a free trip inside my head #I couldn't help myself and I throw in some hinny too #enemies to lovers #percy weasley #audrey weasley #audrey bennett #harry potter #the weasleys #percy/audrey

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Text

Toys Shouldn’t Move

This is a repost of an old.....frankly chaotic fic I wrote a few years ago, but as I was asked to repost some of my old Ackerbabies fics, I figured this one can see the light of day again. Whether I think it should be in the public eye again is. Debatable.

Anyway, this is technically part of my Our House collection and I’ll archive it in there as well, but I figured since it’s, um, Different. It can have a place of it’s own too!!

Warning: Non-graphic depictions of sex between inanimate(?) objects.

They’re getting ready for bed when Levi brings it up, and he only thinks to mention it because Hange is wearing a slip of a nightie, the cool, thin silk see-through at the breast, riding high over her thighs. On any normal day he wouldn’t hesitate, but today he feels dirty. He freezes when her finger grazes over the skin of his chest, body rigid, and at Hange’s questioning gaze he says, “the Cookie Monster fucked Elmo.”

It all started with that fucking Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster toy.

Levi wasn’t fond of them, those fuzz-coated, boggle-eyed, shit-your-pants scary robots marketed to brats as young as his own and he can’t see the attraction, doesn’t understand the way Samson claps his hands and spits his laughs, all wide-eyed and full of joy as the fluffy little demon chuckles it’s weird, demonic laughter and rocks in time to the wriggle of Samson’s grubby, tickling fingers.

“Toys shouldn’t move,” he says one day, arms crossed and brow furrowed as Hange takes to the floor and sets the doll in motion. She rolls her eyes, and puffs a lock of hair from her face.

“Say hello to the twenty-first century, short stuff,” she says as Samson dives for the Cookie Monster with a kind of undignified gusto Levi rarely sees in him. Hange stretches to her feet, bends to press a kiss to Levi’s pouted mouth and scoops Leelu out of her chair.

“If this is the twenty-first century, I want out.”

Leelu stretches tiny, sticky fingers and grabs at the air in his direction. Levi lifts her out of Hange’s grip, and settles her on his hip, smudging a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. She points down at Samson, points at the god-forsaken toy and says, loud and clear and bossy as ever, “want one.”

Hange barks out a laugh, rests her hands on her hips and tips her chin up and guffaws, entirely at Levi’s expense, like there is anything remotely funny about the idea of having not one, but twoTickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster’s shrieking their laughter all day, every day, for the foreseeable future. Levi chucks Leelu’s cheek and scowls.

“Little traitor.”

In the end, they compromise.

On the plus side, no more Cookie Monster robots, and upon hearing those words Levi is about as happy as he can be with Leelu sucking the ends of his cravat between her tiny little teeth.

Instead, though, Leelu will receive her very own Elmo Live – in short, another hairy, beastly little android.

Hange unpacks the box while Leelu watches, eyes wide behind little, round-lens glasses, while Samson pulls tiny tufts of fur from his Cookie Monster and pretends he isn’t looking, too. Levi sips a cup of strong tea, resigned to this fate.

The minute the batteries are in and the switch is flicked on, Elmo rockets to life, voice high and nasal. He throws his head back and laughs, mouth gaping, eyes bulging, and Levi stares over the rim of his tea cup in horror as Leelu beats her palms together, and giggles along with the monstrous toy. Hange is smiling, wide and victorious and yes, a little malicious, too. She casts her eyes to the side, to Levi.

“I hate it,” Levi says, stiffly, blinking at the manic red bot. “I hate it so much.”

And then the Cookie Monster is off alongside it, bending at the waist and gyrating, busting out it’s awful laughter as Samson shrieks, nudges it to set it away again. Elmo is chatting with his mouth spread as wide as it goes, an empty, black pit yawning inside and oh my god, oh my god.

Levi thinks, as Hange steps behind him to rest her chin atop his head and the diabolical sniggering continues, that things absolutely, 100% cannot possibly get any worse.

Levi thought wrong.

It’s when he’s packing the day away that he realises his misjudgment. He crosses the room, scooping toy cars and Barbie dolls and Lego pieces from the floor and throwing them into the toy box, and on his final leg of the room, there they are.

They stand side by side, Elmo and the Cookie Monster, bulbous white eyes watching his approach. His hands are tentative as he reaches for them, half expecting the evil little bastards to spring to life in his palms, wriggling and chuckling, but they remain still even as he closes his fingers around their fat, hairy middles.

They remain silent as he carries them across the room, don’t utter a sound as he traps Elmo beneath an arm to make some room in the toy box, stay quiet as he drops them into place.

It’s only when he steps back, and turns to survey the room one more time that it happens.

The Cookie Monster starts it. His infernal laughter rips through the room making Levi jump, twisting and staring in absolute horror as the tiny beast’s body rests where he’d placed it, curled against the back of Elmo, chortling and grumbling phrases Levi can’t even understand and this is bad enough, this is the worst, most terrible thing he has ever witnessed in his whole life, bar none.

And then Elmo joins in.

Elmo shrieks, throws his mouth open and howls and the sounds are terrible enough, but there is one thing that is even worse.

Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster has one feature that interests and amazes kids, that has Samson’s eyes bugging out of his skull whenever he turns the damn thing on, and it isn’t his laughter, it isn’t his jolly little phrases, and it isn’t his touch-of-a-hand reactions.

It’s that he moves.

TMX Cookie Monster bends at the waist in jerky little movements; three down, and three back up, lather, rinse, repeat. It’s horrifying enough, watching the fuzzy blue devil do this alone, but right now his fat little body is curling and uncurling itself pressed right up against Elmo’s back.

And Elmo is still screeching, still belting out his laughter, head knocked back and mouth agape and Jesus Christ—

“They’re fucking,” Levi says to no one, staring at the toys where they sit in the box.

He is hasty to find the off-switch, and he drops them back in the box, shocked and speechless, before shaking his head and abandoning the room.

Hange frowns, pulls back and settles herself against the mattress, one leg folded neatly over the other.

“If you don’t want to have sex tonight you can just tell me,” she says, a note of humour in her tone. Levi shakes his head, shucks his jeans off and scrubs his hands through his hair.

“The toys,” he says almost desperately, and at Hange’s raised brow, he elaborates. “I was packing them away and they weren’t switched off, and the way they were lying…it looked like they were boning.”

“That’s,” Hange begins, blinking owlishly, “that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Levi doubts this, knowing the kinds of things Hange reads and watches to keep herself entertained through the day, but he doesn’t argue.

“Can we just go to bed,” he says instead, and Hange nods, shaking her head and chuckling low under her breath.

Sleep is difficult, dreams wrought with red and blue and high, squawking laughter.

It happens again the next night, but by the time he drags Hange out of bed and down to the living room they have stopped and they sit, silent and mocking in the toy box, unseeing eyes staring into the room.

The worst part is, it never happens to Hange. Night after night she clears away, slips every used and abused toy into the box, and night after night Elmo and the Cookie Monster remain still, and silent.

Years go by; Samson and Leelu age and outgrow the toys they once loved. and Elmo and the Cookie Monster are no exception. Leelu is five when the robots are packed in cardboard and hauled up into the attic, and Levi sets the box to rest with a smile. He’s never been happier to see the back of any inanimate object in all his young life.

New toys come and go, some horrifying, some begrudgingly kind of cool, and as the kids shift from childhood to their teen years the phones come along. Cheap, at first, with thick, fat buttons and black and white screens and Snake, and as the kids grow older the phones become more complex.

They flip, they slide, they twist, they have the entire alphabet squeezed onto individual keys and then they have no keys at all, the epitome of modern technology.

Samson is sixteen, tapping away at the screen of a phone too complicated for Levi to even comprehend, when Hange suggests they clean out the attic for more storage space.

It’s a good idea, Levi thinks – though it’ll create messes he has to clean up – as he re-positions the ladder beneath the hatch for the third time. He holds it still as Samson and Leelu clamber up, and it’s only when Samson yells, “whoa, some of these are from like, ten years ago!” that Levi remembers what demons they’ve buried in boxes beneath the roof of their house.

“I’m making tea,” he says, and Hange nods.

“I’ll grab a coffee before we get started.” She angles her head up the opening and yells, “be careful up there, guys,” before smiling, pecking a kiss to Levi’s cheek, and leading him downstairs.

“Man, Lu-Lu, you had terrible taste in clothes as a kid, too.”

Samson dodges the smack Leelu sends his way and crumples the voluminous snot-green dress back into the box

“I, on the other hand,” he begins, brandishing an item from his own box, but his face falls into a grimace at the sight of the bright orange tee and he folds it away with a quiet, “sure glad Mum and Dad don’t dress me now.

“Hey, shit-for-brains,” Leelu says. Samson looks over. “This is all our old toys.”

“Oh, sweet! I bet mine were all better than yours, too.”

Leelu kicks at his thigh as Samson crawls the space between then and he scowls, rubs the battered limb and settles beside the box.

“Hey, look!” He laughs, pointing inside, “the Cookie Monster!”

“He’s squashing my Elmo.”

“Well, yeah,” Samson says, “Cookie Monster comes out on top every time, sis. Everyone knows CM trumps Elmo any day. God, I even picked better toys than you. Nothing’s changed, huh.”

“You know, Samson,” Leelu says, cracking her fingers one at a time. “I’d hate to ruin a perfectly good day by shoving your egocentric fucking face through the attic floor, but I’m not above doing it.”

Samson splays his hands and nods his head in surrender, and then he blinks wide, glinting eyes and reaches for the box.

“Wonder if they still work.”

It takes one touch to set the Cookie Monster flailing.

Samson prods him with a finger and Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster thrashes in the box, his rhythmic bending and unfurling awakening Elmo, too. The pair of them screech and holler, decades old laughter ricocheting off the attic walls, and Samson barks, pointing a long finger and grinning from ear to ear.

“Randy little bastards,” he hoots, fishing his phone out of his back pocket and opening the camera.

Leelu stares, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“What the fuck,” she breathes, gazing in abject horror as her childhood crumbles before her eyes. Samson can barely hold the camera steady, shoulders shaking, tears leaking down his cheeks as the Cookie Monster—

“He’s railing him,” Samson cries, voice high and strained as he fights to get the words passed his laughter. He angles the phone to catch Leelu in the lens, body hunched and eyes bulging, as she stares in terror at their childhood playthings.

“This is the most sordid thing I’ve ever seen,” Samson wheezes.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Leelu says, quiet, monotonous, and horrified.

It takes a little longer before she thinks to switch them off, and when the idea finally springs to mind she hesitates to reach into the box. It feels dirty, touching them, and Samson wipes the tears from his face when the noise finally comes to a stop.

“I gotta show Mum,” Samson says, coughing out a few additional, choking laughs. Leelu follows him down the ladder in a daze.

“Mum, you’ve got to see this.”

Samson rockets into the kitchen, eyes alive, arm outstretched with his phone clutched in his hand. Levi sips his tea and raises a brow, gaze falling on Leelu as she drags her feet over the threshold and slumps into a chair. There’s something about the look in her eyes, a violated kind of shock that Levi has only seen once before, on himself, all those years ago, way back when…

Oh, no.

“Hey, Levi!” Hange laughs, setting her mug on the table. She peels Samson’s phone from his hand and turns it, tapping the screen. “Look what the kids found.”

There on the screen it plays, Elmo Live and Tickle Me Extreme Cookie Monster in all their sleazy glory. Levi jabs a finger first at the horror unfolding on the screen, and then at Hange

“I fucking told you,” he says, sitting a little higher in his chair to take one long, dignified slurp of his tea.

“My Elmo,” Leelu says. She looks at Levi a little imploringly. He shrugs a shoulder.

“It’s a long-standing affair,” he says. Samson claps him on the shoulder while Leelu buries her face in her hands.

“Taking it right in the childhood there, Lu-Lu,” Samson says, “just like Elmo’s taking it right in the—”

“Fuck the fuck off.”

“You didn’t believe me,” Levi says, listening idly as Samson and Leelu argue beside him. Hange replays the video and stares, laughter bubbling up in her eyes. Levi folds his arms, sniffing haughtily. “I told you those things were disgusting. Can we throw them away now?”

“No!” Samson wails, voice a little choked where his neck is hooked under Leelu’s arm. “You can’t punish them for love, Dad. I thought you were better than that.”

“Oh my god.”

“He’s right,” Hange says, grinning impishly, “I didn’t think you were the discriminating type.”

Levi scowls, then purses his lips.

“Can we just throw the damn things out?”

“I’ve lost all respect for you, Pops,” Samson says, and he tries to sigh, but his breath is gurgled when Leelu squeezes his neck a little tighter.

“Throw them out,” she says, “get rid of them.”

Levi kicks his way out of the chair, legs scraping over the kitchen tiles as Samson yells, strangled and desperate, “Injustice!”

Hange replays the video for a third time, tilts the screen first one way, then the other.

“It’s pretty impressive,” she says, “that they’re still working after all these years. And Elmo is way more flexible than I thought.”

Leelu tightens her headlock on Samson, choking off a snide, spit-heavy comment about stamina, and Levi drops back into his chair, tilting his head against the back rest to stare, resigned, at the ceiling. He listens to his children argue, to Leelu’s threats and Samson’s jeers, to Hange’s laughter and her half-hearted reprimands.

And to the monstrous, ungodly audio of toys fucking in his attic.

#snk #levihan #ackerbabies #my writing #im so sorry in advance to anyone who hasn't had the displeasure of reading this already #In my defence I was VERY tired #crack

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

Note

Drabble game: Member: Jin 6) baby, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that 21) can’t you stop gaming for 1 second and give me attention?

#6: “baby, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

#21: “can’t you stop gaming for one second and give me attention?”

#20: “let me guess, you’re horny again.”

Warnings: oral (M), slight exhibitionism, giving seokjinnie the best suck while he’s gaming and on a call with the boys

A/N: I feel so bad because I really haven’t had much time to write lately because of uni so I haven’t prepared anything special for Jin’s birthday except this. :c But anyway, enjoy~!

“Ahh- Aahhh- AAAAHHHHHHH!”

You hear the distinct yells coming from a certain room as you enter the house, a noise so boisterous that it could only belong to none other than your boyfriend.

Which one is it this time, Maple Story or Kart Rider?

Shaking your head in a smitten grin, you walk to the source of the shouts.

To his credit, he at least acknowledges you, “Oh, hey sweetie. Back so early?” To his discredit, he doesn’t even look up from his game, eyes glued to the glaring computer screen, which you don’t doubt have been fixed in place for the entire time you were gone. Kart Rider it is this time.

Tonight was a girls’ night, a few drinks at a nice cocktail bar with your closest female friends (a few meaning maximum three because cocktails are bloody expensive), chin-wagging and updating on each other’s love/sex lives. You always enjoy this type of gatherings.

“Early? Seokjin, it’s one.”

Only a single earphone in, he looks up, but even so, scarcely lest his eyes stray for a second too long from the pixelated road and he crashes again. He’s ranked number 6 right now. Out of seven. Why is he even trying anymore, he’s not going to win. Still, your eyes meet for a fleeting moment, enough for you to feel connected to him again, to trick yourself into thinking that he remotely missed you. Because he definitely didn’t. He didn’t even notice the time, where would his attention find the capacity to remember you while he’s racing his friends on this server?

“Oh shit, now way, it’s one already?” There is a monotone in his voice where disbelief should be. Basically, when Seokjin is gaming, he has two possible moods: over dramatic Ancient Roman gladiator with astounding battle cries, or completely stoic, focused, and most likely won’t realise if you’ve cracked an egg on his head. Both are equally as infuriating.

“Yes, it’s already one.” You sigh, plopping your bag on the floor to the side and striping your winter layers.

It’s shocking, sometimes, to think that your boyfriend is close to reaching his thirties. People compliment him endlessly on his lack of ageing - how doesn’t he have a single wrinkle? he looks the same as he did five years ago, if not better! - but little do they know, not only has he physically not aged, but also has mentally not grown up since the age of sixteen. Sixteen is him on a good day and you being generous.

You wonder if he’s going to stop gaming after this round now that you are back.

You wait.

He ends up coming fourth, which isn’t too shabby considering he had fallen off the course and wound up at the back. Watching as he stretches his board back, you think he’s going to switch his computer off, call it a day and finally come join you on the bed. But then he says into the microphone:

“Guys wait for me, let me change my character.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. Every time.

So you try to mind your own business as you wait for him to finally finish - you don’t mind going to sleep without him, you’re that far into your relationship that you don’t even need to say good night anymore. Practically a married couple at this point.

But then your mind wanders to the conversation you and your girls were having earlier during the night.

On the topic of sex, June brought up how her and her boyfriend has started to switch things up in the bedroom since, as much as she loves him, the same dick gets boring after a year. There was one time where they did policeman roleplay and he dropped the key under the bed and took ages to fish it out, but it was fine because the sex had been a solid 10/10, so apparently it was worth the sore arms. Kerry was surprised that June hadn’t tried to spice it up sooner; she on the other hand has been into moderate BDSM since highschool. Nothing hurts better than the sharp pain of being whipped on the butt by a crop cane, apparently. Just the other day, Namjoon suggested to Eunae that they should have a threesome with another man, the name of whom would not be disclosed, but you considerably suspect that he’s someone you know. Taehyung? Jimin? They seem like the type to be into this shit. But anyway, apparently, it turned Namjoon on a fucking lot to see Eunae get pounded by someone else while sucking his cock. She couldn’t complain at all, except for not being able to walk the next day.

You have such wholesome friends.

When it got to you, you kind of just- sat there poking your fingers. It not that your sex life with Seokjin is vanilla, but that’s exactly what you’re saying. Neither of you are particularly adventurous in nature, especially when it comes to sex. You would say that he has a higher sex drive than you, but only marginally. There are days where you would wake up and before your eyes are fully open, he’d already be inches deep in you. Sometimes, you go a long five days without sex out of tiredness and neither of you have a problem with it. But nevertheless, the sex is, as June described, the same mediocre missionary hammering until he blows his load either too soon or takes too long, with the occasional oral if you’re not feeling lazy.

Yeah, not mind blowing.

It’s not like you minded, but hearing your friends talk about their wild sex life makes you feel like you’re missing out. You and Seokjin are missing some fun, some excitement.

With that in mind, you crawl out of bed and approach your oblivious boyfriend. His shoulders jolt in surprise when he feels your arms snake around his neck from behind. Sparing you a second of his attention, he tilts his head up to meet your gaze, eyes wide in curiosity. You hang over him, cheek pressed on the crown of his head as you watch his game without particular interest.

Then you begin to bury your nose in his thick black hair, trailing tiny pecks all the way down to his face. Your hands start to roam as well, groping his toned chest not at all subtly. Seokjin is naturally well built with his hefty big bones - actual bones as well as, you know, that bone.

His fingers are moving mechanically on the keyboard in astounding reflexes. Hmm, you want those fingers inside… You place a particularly wet kiss on his cheek to try to coax his focus into your possession.

“What’s up, baby?” You count the flicker of his eyes as a small victory, even if you haven’t successfully infringed on his unwavering glare at the screen. Then he speaks into the microphone of his earphones, “Hoseok-ah, I’m catching up, watch out~!”

Ignoring his question as well as his sudden jerking motions to avoid his kart from veering too far, you proceed to kiss down his neck, pressing your warm lips ever so lightly on his skin to create that sensitive sparse contact that will surely make his little hairs rise. Your hands have now travel under his outstretched arms, albeit in an awkward angle due to your position, and are playing with the hem of his shirt. He’s wearing white today, and if there’s one thing you love more than your boyfriend, it’s your boyfriend in white.

When your small fingers reach the band of his joggers, you sense not only his muscles beneath your touch but his entire posture tense. Your wandering mouth feels him gulp.

“Let me guess, you’re horny again?” It’s unusual to hear him speak in such a low voice, a genuine hushed whisper rather than one for dramatic effect. The way he tilted away from the earphone mic does not go unnoticed, trying to to let the boys hear him. How interesting… Why not exploit that?

“Hmm…” You hum, lips still painting his collar now with gentle sucks. Your fingers are feathering his torso, each time daring to dip a bit further under his pants, but never too much. “Can’t you just stop gaming for a second and give me some attention, Seokjinnie?”

He tenses once more.

This is kind of fun. You almost snicker diabolically.

Muffled voices sound from the other end of the call, barely audible from the earphone that has been left dangling by the wire, not plugged into his ear. And you know that if it weren’t for them, Seokjin would be reprimanding you loudly right now.

“After this game, okay sweetie?” The tendons of his fingers strain over his knuckles. Click click click click click. Aggressive keyboard pushing.

“But… I can’t wait…” You put on your babiest voice with a whiny undertone, drawing out each syllable for emphasis. As you use your nails to tickle the skin over his pelvis, one of his knees jerk up and hit the desk.

Cute reflexes, you mirth.

“Shit-” He mutters under his breath. “Please, please, please. You’re distracting me.”

That’s the point.

This time, you reach even further, one hand brushing his thigh, the other returning to his fuzzy navel. “Seokjin…” He tries his best to hold in a sharp inhale at your seductive touch. “Right now, please…”

“Last game, I promise.” He whispers away from the microphone.

“You have two more rounds, you just started a new game, I can’t wait that long.” You nip at the lobe of his free ear.

“Boys, I’m going to bed after this game.” He announces to his friends, shooting you a brief pointed look, and whispers pleadingly, “please.”

Do you feel slightly bad for putting him in such a tortured position? Yes. But do you have every intention of carrying on? Also yes.

“How about this, baby,” you press your mouth against his ear, “you stay quiet while I give you the best blowjob of your life right now, then I’ll be satisfied and leave you be. Or, I go right back to bed right now and probably ignore you for the rest of the week until you do some grovelling for choosing a video game over your girlfriend.”

Seokjin shudders at your warm breath perforating into him and heaves, jaw hanging slightly open as he throws you one long glance. You see the clockwork in his mind turning as he contemplates your offer, clearly torn. Promiscuity is not his thing, so naturally, getting sucked off by his girl while on a gaming call with his friends presents a difficult dilemma.

“Shit, Y/N-ah…” He laments softly, causing a smirk to bloom across your face. He’s going to cave, you know it. Concentration at the game now dispersed, Seokjin wets his lips in hesitation. “Fine.”

So he caves.

Smug, you drop onto your knees and scuttles around his chair until you’re in the shadows of the desk. He rolls his seat back to allow you emerge between his legs. It’s dark down here, yet you know his body inside out. Lifting his rear off, he allows you to tug his joggers down, your hands not missing the chance to skim past the outskirts of his hips. You see him glance down, teeth gritted.

Kissing up the insides of his thighs, you let your tongue dance lucidly, teasing him until his quads can’t tense any further. There’s already a semi-bulge in his boxers, this lewd boy, and when you palm him over the grey cotton material, his lower half buckles.

Oh this is going to be fun.

When you feel more heat rush down to his groin, and his member grows more erect, you stripe the boxers off too. Your boyfriend is still, quiet, and you have to check that he’s still conscious. He is. Very conscious. Of your little shadow casted face in front of his fat aching cock under the desk.

He gulps again. He’s fucked.

Just as he looks back up at the screen so his vehicle doesn’t fall behind, he feels your tingly breath hovering over his shaft, up and down, as if assessing where to devour first. Unluckily for him, it’s his balls. Sucking on the soft delicate skin, one of your hands comes under to cup him. Seokjin lets out a low whimper that sounds vaguely like mmhhah-.

“Jin-hyung, where did you go? Falling behind already?” Jungkook taunts over the call, the other guys snickering after him.

Seokjin can’t even respond. It’s taking all of him to even keep half his attention on the race, how is he supposed to formulate a functional sentence?

You look up at him, grinning devilishly as you fondle his balls in your hand with your tactful tongue. Although his fingers are still clicking away at the keyboard, he is now looking down at you every few seconds. Progress. After a particularly cruel suck that has him curling his toes, you move to his cock.

It is throbbing violently. It tends to do that - Seokjin is a throbber; if you get him aroused but deprive him of the friction, he pulses up in need. You find something about that so cute.

And so, slowly and lubriciously, you drag your tongue up his tongue in a zigzag, curving around his circumference at every turn. “Aish…” He cries, and you know it’s not because of the game. He looks down, for a long couple of seconds this time. His lips are parted, hand pushing the hair out of his face to reveal that glorious forehead that’s powerful enough to topple kingdoms.

Then you swirl around his head, the rough pad of your tongue pressed hard against him, tasting his salty precum.

“Fuck.” He exhales. He knows you know what you’re doing to him and he’s completely under your influence, helpless. You wonder if his friends can hear his soft curses and moans. A part of you wants them to. Exhibitionism? Who would have thought.

You focus on his slit, licking mercilessly at his oozing opening, lapping up the taste of his arousal. His thigh is now trembling. Yet you don’t stop assailing his tip, slowly taking it in your mouth while your tongue performs its magic. Swirling, licking, flicking, sucking.

Abruptly, Seokjin grabs the mic of his earphones, concealing it in his palm to mask his voice when he says, “baby, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

You just look up at him, wide feign-innocent eyes overflowing in amusement. His own eyes lock on yours, head tilting to the side in exasperation at your antics. His incapacity against your relentless technique sends your cunt surging.

Finally, you take his cock in your mouth, swallowing him inch by inch agonisingly slowly until he pokes the back of your throat. He has to bite down on his lip to prevent those whimpers from escaping. When you slurp up, your tongue continues to draw patterns across his length, feeling his pulsing veins beneath you. Playing with his bollocks at the same time, you release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop.

At this point, you can tell he’s given up on the game, especially when his left hand grips onto your hair, his hips buckling again to push himself into your mouth. The keyboard sounds are decelerating, his eyes fixed on you more than the monitor, only occasional glances up at the game so his kart isn’t completely halted.

You gag as you bob up and down his cock, salivating endlessly to create a slippery friction for the walls of your mouth to mould over him. He fits in you so well. Each time, you try to take in more and more of his length until his whole member is engorged in your mouth. His taste grows increasingly salty, tip crying tears of precum.

Yup, he’s definitely not going to last.

Fingers holding onto your locks tightly, as if holding on for dear life, his chest rises and falls shakily, breath getting heavier. “Shut up, Jimin.” He says into his mic. You wonder what the boy had said.

As your pace increases and strokes of your tongue intensifies, his thighs squeeze around you. He’s desperately falling apart. Maintaining eye contact, his head collapses back, his neck exposed. He’s so close, you can tell.

So you go as fast as you can despite the ache in your jaw, riding him with your mouth, face stretching to encompass his girth. Tears spring to your eyes yet you ignore them. He’s pushing your head up and down now, guiding your speed to pursue his orgasm.

Then-

“O- fuck!” He groans out loud, not even bothering to lower his volume anymore. A moment later, you feel the violent twitch of his shaft followed by a spurt of warm liquid into your mouth. You slow your imbibing, considering his utmost sensitivity right now, and tenderly suck around his ejaculating tip. His whole body convulses, eyes rolling back. He is at utter surrender, both hands cradling your face, legs sprawled out.

“Nothing,” his voice is unstable as he exhales into the mic, “I just- um- spilt water all over my desk.”

‘Spilt water’ indeed.

You swallow his load in your mouth after pulling him out, hand lazily milking out his every last drop. Seokjin is panting as he gazes down at you, caressing your cheek gratefully, fiddling with your red swollen lips.

“I’m leaving, boys, good night.” He mindlessly ends the call with a few clicks and shuts his computer, his whole attention now devoted to you. “I can’t fucking believe you did that.”

Smiling proudly, you answer, “That was fun, wasn’t it.”

“I’m sure it was really fucking fun for you.” Seokjin hauls you up gently from the ground, and jeez, your knees are sore.

Without a second to waste, he pulls you in by the neck to meet his lips, your tongue still bitter from his cum. He’s not normally particularly dominant, yet this time, there is a roughness to his kiss, and an eagerness in the way his arm traps your waist. Walking back step by step, you tumble onto the bed, your core heated from the pool of desire you’ve collected for him. And when he flips and pins you under him, you know you’re fucked for the rest of the night.

“You’re going to regret doing that.”

04/12/19

509 notes · View notes

wintrcaptn · 4 years

Text

Falling Like The Stars pt. 4 | Chris Evans

Summary : Summary : you and Chris had one magical night a year ago but that was it. Just one night. As you went your separate ways, you thought he had completely forgotten about you. That was until you saw him on Jimmy Fallon

A/N : this is a flashback chapter, to the night when they met. I hope you all enjoy this. And my inspo was Let It Snow on Netflix. If you haven’t seen it, you should! Lol. Thank you for taking the time to read my series!

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

October 18, 2018.

The night was chilly and loud, a typical day of course, in the big city. It took you awhile to get used to when you first moved out there six months ago. But once you did, you were able to appreciate everything New York had to offer.

You were heading home, later than usual. Exhausted, and hungry and slightly annoyed.

The subway wasn't usually crowded at this time. Which you liked most, though you would have preferred to have left right at six like everyone else. But of course, you were stuck with a stack of work to do.

This was the time you could unwind and lose yourself in a book.

You sat alone by the door, sitting in silence. The train came to a stop, people came and gone. You almost didn't notice, until a phone fell out of a strangers pocket and landed on the floor.

Quickly, you grabbed it without hesitation.

"Excuse me!" You called out for the stranger.

He stopped in his steps and turned to face you. The second your eyes met his, you were quickly taken aback. You couldn't believe it was actually Chris Evans.

He let out an annoyed sigh as he stepped closer. "Hi. Look, sorry I'm really trying to stay low key right now. So I'm—"

Instantly, you were brought back to reality. "Um, you dropped this."

Once Chris saw his phone in your hand, he immediately felt like an ass. "Wow I—" he paused, exhaling a long breath, glancing back to your eyes. "Thank you."

You shrugged, and gave him back his iPhone. But before you turned around, something came over you. "Just so you know, I'm not the type of person to throw themselves at someone just because their famous."

And with that, you turned your back to him and strode over to your seat. Chris watched you walk away. There was something about you that he wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he was captivated.

During the ride, he sat across the way, trying to immerse himself in his phone. But every now and then, he couldn't help but glance back at you.

Which you did as well.

Every time he looked at you, it felt like something was pulling him in. He started to wonder about you. What your likes and dislikes are. Are you a morning or a night kind of person?

Suddenly, the train came to a stop. Chris snapped back to reality, shaking off his thoughts. He propped up to his feet and started to walk out.

As you grabbed your things, just about leave, you noticed Chris going the same way you were.

"Great." You mumbled to yourself.

This wasn't how you wanted the night to go. First you meet the actor you had admired over the years, secondly, you were coming off as stalker-ish. Awesome.

"Hope you know I'm not following you." You said, as you both made your way out of the transit. "Just trying to go home."

"And I'm just going back to the hotel." He smirked.

"Great, guess I'll call TMZ."

Chris let out a soft chuckle as you push passed him and started making your way out.

Though you two had only just met, he didn't want to let that be it. Not yet.

"Hey, do you—do you want to grab some coffee or something?"

You stopped in your steps and turned to face him. "You're joking right?"

"What? No, I—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you rolled your eyes and started to walk away once again. Chris sprinted to your side, slightly startling you.

This whole situation didn't make sense. For someone like Chris Evans to have any interest in you, and wanting to spend more time with you, it didn't add up. Why would he waste his time?

"I was thinking maybe we can get something to eat. Do you like pie? Or what about pizza?"

As he went on, he almost didn't notice you had stopped, staring at him with furrowed brows. When he looked back, he could tell what you were thinking. "I just want to take this time to show you how truly sorry I am for being an ass in there." He said. "Because I was. And you didn't deserve that. So what do you say? Please let me make it up to you, that's all I ask."

You held his gaze for a moment. Trying to read him and failing. Was this really happening?

"You weren't being an ass." You muttered. “The life you live, I couldn’t imagine it. Having no privacy, and always have to put on a smile and give your time to people who don’t know anything about you aside from what they see. I get it. And if it were up to me, I’d say you have every right to say no.”

Chris was taken aback by your statement. He was so used to feeling like a puppet in this industry. Doing what he’s told, having to pretend he is happy all the damn time. It was exhausting.

You could see his sudden shift in his expression, and though you are not one to go on a whim and be this person who just lives spontaneously, some how you couldn’t walk away.

Letting out a sigh, you caved. “How do you feel about pancakes?”

“I—I like pancakes.” He said, as his lips curved into a small smile.

“Good. Because I know where they make the best pancakes in the world.”

“Oh, the best? Hmm, I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Trust me, one bite and you’re gonna feel like you’re walking on clouds.”

The walk took about twenty minutes, which was perfect. Because it gave you the chance to get to know one another.

You got to learn things about him that you never knew. Aside from interviews and what he shows on Twitter, you were able to see a side of him that actually felt real. Honest.

“I’m sorry but A New Hope is by far the best Star Wars movie!” You exclaimed, trying hard not to smile so much.

“I beg to differ! I mean, did you even watch The Empire Strikes Back?” He said, hands deep in his pockets, walking closely next to you. “That big reveal was just mind blowing!”

“Oh come on! That whole, ‘I am your father’ thing was so obvious!”

It was hard to kept from laughing as time went on. He made you laugh over the littlest remarks. It was crazy how easy it was for him to break down your walls. Almost like you two had known each other forever. And every time you laughed, Chris wanted nothing more than to keep it going. The sound was almost like a melody, and it made him feel whole.

To think, if you had gone home right on time, you would have never met each other. Maybe it was always meant to be. Maybe it was fate.

——

Tagging : @ab-baybay @kelbabyblue @thestormabovethesea @denisemarieangelina @letsstarsfalling @dottirose @fallenoutofrose @the-diabolic @straightforwardly @notyourtypicalrose @whenpugzfly @an-adventureland @mitsumikirigakure @bellaireland1981 @soymikael @sebbys-girl @sophiealiice @lazyperfectionist705 @stuckybuckyfucky @silver-winter-wolf @mustangshelby04 @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @officialmarvelwhore @xceafh @theatrechic26 @stuckyandsciencebros @klaussstilinski @elliessoul @ifyousayso13

#so is anyone enjoying this series?#marvel #chris evans #steve rogers #marveledit #marvel imagine #the avengers #marvel fanfiction #avengers infinity war #marvel mcu #avengers endgame #avengers #avengers fanfiction #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #captain america

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anewworldorderseries · 5 years

Text

A New World Order (BB x NB Crossover AU) - Prologue

Author’s Note: It’s finally out into the world! This is definitely the biggest writing project I’ve taken on (and stayed committed to) ever so, I’m so happy that it’s successfully made its way outside of my head and into actual words. Ever since Cal’s cameo in BB2, I needed these two groups to meet and it gradually turned into this epic crossover story. We also just need more time with the Nightbound crew in general since we didn’t get a book 2. All the open ends about the creatures in New Orleans really allowed me to experiment though and go outside the parameters the canon universe has.

Get ready for epic narrative themes! I’ve managed to interconnect these two pretty well (maybe even too connected). You’ll also see a couple cameos of characters from two other books (well the modern-day vampire versions anyway) as well. I’ll also be posting these on my main blog @adrianadmirer so that more people will see it but, I created this blog just for the story since it’s such a big work.

I just hope you love this story and these characters as much as I do.

Characters: Isabel Martinez (Bloodbound MC, mentioned), Zelenia Laskaris (Nightbound MC, mentioned), Alaric Laskaris (OC), Phoebe Laskaris (OC), Derek Laskaris (OC), Rheya (The First Vampire)

Rating: PG-13 (some mentions of violence)

Summary: An old threat has risen from the ashes and is ready to use their original purpose to enact it’s new diabolical plan.

Update: Hello! Since book 3 has come and gone, it has influenced what I want to do in this story including changing some key things. First, I didn’t really like Rheya at all. Definitely more than I had planned to. Also, I like my BB mc, Isabel, as a vampire and the entire plot of book 3. So, I’ve decided to change the timeline of this to be after the end of the entire series which means Rheya is dead and won’t be in this anymore. It also means that Isabel will be a vampire from the start. I think this will be a good thing because I can focus on some of other characters and plotlines in greater detail.

However, there is one major difference from the canon ending. Jax and Lily (and the others) are very much alive. I’m going with my rewrite ending for this story (where Gaius is the sacrificial lamb).

@endlesshero1122 , @kinda-iconic , @voseho , @something-in-red , @bloodboundsstuff , @lovemychoices, @mrsmatsuo, @galaxyside-0, @jlpplays1, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @desiree-0816, @tabithacarlisle, @shelley-parah, @ladykateofhousebeaumont, @ella-raines, @furiouscloddonutpeanut, @itlivesinpixelberry, @fluffy-cat-whisper, @strangelycami, @heatherfilliez, @edgaluten, @parrotdrama

(If you see yourself tagged its because you’ve liked a lot of my Bloodbound fics and/or you liked my previous Nightbound fic)

A nondescript black Range Rover pulled up to the curb outside of Rikers Island, the impressive structure a menacing presence in the pitch black of night. Pulling to a stop, the headlights shut off as the people inside waited. Not a sound could be heard, the silence stretched on endlessly into the night.

After several minutes, a tall muscular figure finally appeared around the side of the building, breaking into a sprint towards the car once the coast seemed clear. The windows rolled down as the dark-haired young man approached.

“Get in son,” a male voice ordered, and the back door opened.

Letting out a dry laugh he climbed inside, sitting between the two already there. “Hah, maximum security my ass.”

“Shouldn’t have had to bribe you out of there in the first place,” the older man said with a sigh.

Age and height were among the only details that differentiated the two of them.

Then, the brunette woman next to them cleared her throat. “I’m assuming the guards got the money?”

“Yes, aunt Phoebe.”

She nodded approvingly before checking the time on her expensive watch. “Good. Let’s make sure that Warden Daniels and Chief Mikalsen get theirs. Then, we won’t have anyone trying to get you back.”

The SUV came to life once more, driving off into the glittering city towards their destination.

“Where are we going, Father? Home?” the young man asked, leaning against the cool window.

“Briefly, just so you can change,” he responded. “Then, you’re headed to the airport.”

His son’s eyes widened and he tilted his head upright once more. “Already? Where to? Why?”

“We finally have our new headquarters finished, somewhere they’ll never be able to find. This means soon we’ll be able to launch a renewed attack on the vampires to wipe them out for good and we’ll be one step closer to our actual goal. You know from the letters what that is.”

This news proved surprising. “So soon? But...but the death of Balthazar...the destruction of the Mydiean compound...shouldn’t it have taken years to rebuild?”

It was his aunt who responded with a scoff, a smirk tugging at her painted lips. “Of course not. We have cutting edge technology, far greater than anyone has even anticipated. We had it stored in a secret location underground in case this very thing happened. The Order isn’t just back to normal...it’s even stronger now. Practically unstoppable.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” he retorted. “Where are you sending me?”

His father gave him a sideways glance. “New Orleans. For a while.”

This was met with an incredulous stare. “Why there?! Aren’t the bloodsuckers much weaker there than here? Do you not believe in me anymore?”

“I thought I told you never to question me, son,” his father roared, his face turning bright red even in the dimly lit car. Exhaling, he continued at a lower volume. “That’s exactly why both of us need to be here. We need more resources, more time to bend the public to our will. Besides, we’re not just worried about vampires anymore. There are...more monster species to worry about down there. Once we thought we eliminated years ago.”

He got his desired shock from his son who sat up. “What kind of...monsters? Like...the ones you used to tell me and Zelenia about when we were kids?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. Werewolves, witches, even the pesky Fae have rebuilt Lamrian to staggering heights and reestablished their connection to the realm. For us to succeed all of them must go. Including my daughter now that she’s chosen to embrace her half-breed nature.”

There was a brief silence.

Then, the young man became animated once more. “Okay...well what about her...Isabel? You need me to kill her don’t you?”

“No Derek.” His father’s exclamation made the car interior vibrate. “You got caught, that’s why we’ve had to bribe have of the city’s officials to bust you out. We can’t afford to take that risk again, especially since we couldn’t get that protection order removed. Besides...now that she’s with them she’s too valuable now. We need her to be unharmed, at least for now. To break her, yes...cause then they’ll crumble. But, we don’t need human blood on our hands yet unless they get in our way.”

“But, I--”

“Stay away from her,” he ordered. “Or I will personally see to it that you are kicked out of The Order permanently. Understood.”

The young man simply nodded, his jaw clenched.

“Excellent. I don’t want to disinherit my only heir.” He let out a low chuckle, his foul mood from seconds earlier now gone. “Not when they’ve done our dirty work for us. Now that the First Son, our dear fraud of a leader is dead, we can move on from this self-righteous talk and take power for ourselves just like we were destined to do from the beginning. If we’re the ones to prove humanity is superior, it’s only fair that we get rewarded.”

A slow smile eventually spread on the young man’s face, the two of them hauntingly alike. “I won’t let you down, not this time.”

“I’ll guarantee it.”

An equally diabolical grin covered the dark-haired woman’s face, her blue eyes shimmering as she caught her reflection in the mirror. “We are so close Alaric. Soon, everything will be ours. Balthazar was right about one thing, there will be a new world order. Ours.”

They continued to drive further into the dark night, the glow of the city fading into the background once more.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #a new world order au #bloodbound #nightbound #bb rheya #bloodbound mc #isabel martinez #zelenia laskaris #nightbound mc

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draculalive · 5 years

Text

Jonathan Harker's Journal

1 October, 5 a.m. -- I went with the party to the search with an easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well. I am so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do the work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful business at all; but now that her work is done, and that it is due to her energy and brains and foresight that the whole story is put together in such a way that every point tells, she may well feel that her part is finished, and that she can henceforth leave the rest to us. We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene with Mr. Renfield. When we came away from his room we were silent till we got back to the study. Then Mr. Morris said to Dr. Seward:---

"Say, Jack, if that man wasn't attempting a bluff, he is about the sanest lunatic I ever saw. I'm not sure, but I believe that he had some serious purpose, and if he had, it was pretty rough on him not to get a chance." Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added:---

"Friend John, you know more of lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would before that last hysterical outburst have given him free. But we live and learn, and in our present task we must take no chance, as my friend Quincey would say. All is best as they are." Dr. Seward seemed to answer them both in a dreamy kind of way:---

"I don't know but that I agree with you. If that man had been an ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting him; but he seems so mixed up with the Count in an indexy kind of way that I am afraid of doing anything wrong by helping his fads. I can't forget how he prayed with almost equal fervour for a cat, and then tried to tear my throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the Count 'lord and master,' and he may want to get out to help him in some diabolical way. That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and his own kind to help him, so I suppose he isn't above trying to use a respectable lunatic. He certainly did seem earnest, though. I only hope we have done what is best. These things, in conjunction with the wild work we have in hand, help to unnerve a man." The Professor stepped over, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said in his grave, kindly way:---

"Friend John, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty in a very sad and terrible case; we can only do as we deem best. What else have we to hope for, except the pity of the good God?" Lord Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but now he returned. He held up a little silver whistle, as he remarked:---

"That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an antidote on call." Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking care to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the moonlight shone out. When we got to the porch the Professor opened his bag and took out a lot of things, which he laid on the step, sorting them into four little groups, evidently one for each. Then he spoke:---

"My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need arms of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember that he has the strength of twenty men, and that, though our necks or our windpipes are of the common kind -- and therefore breakable or crushable -- his are not amenable to mere strength. A stronger man, or a body of men more strong in all than him, can at certain times hold him; but they cannot hurt him as we can be hurt by him. We must, therefore, guard ourselves from his touch. Keep this near your heart" -- as he spoke he lifted a little silver crucifix and held it out to me, I being nearest to him -- "put these flowers round your neck" -- here he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms -- "for other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife; and for aid in all, these so small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your breast; and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we must not desecrate needless." This was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which he put in an envelope and handed to me. Each of the others was similarly equipped. "Now," he said, "friend John, where are the skeleton keys? If so that we can open the door, we need not break house by the window, as before at Miss Lucy's."

Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he got one to suit; after a little play back and forward the bolt yielded, and, with a rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of Miss Westenra's tomb; I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they shrank back. The Professor was the first to move forward, and stepped into the open door.

"In manus tuas, Domine!" he said, crossing himself as he passed over the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road. The Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit. Then we all lit our lamps and proceeded on our search.

The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that there was some one else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection, so powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself doing.

The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly down. On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed label on each. They had been used several times, for on the table were several similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the Professor lifted them. He turned to me and said:---

"You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the chapel?" I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not been able to get admission to it; so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands. "This is the spot," said the Professor as he turned his lamp on a small map of the house, copied from the file of my original correspondence regarding the purchase. With a little trouble we found the key on the bunch and opened the door. We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us ever expected such an odour as we encountered. None of the others had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when I had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of his existence in his rooms or, when he was gloated with fresh blood, in a ruined building open to the air; but here the place was small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma, which came through the fouler air. But as to the odour itself, how shall I describe it? It was not alone that it was composed of all the ills of mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it seemed as though corruption had become itself corrupt. Faugh! it sickens me to think of it. Every breath exhaled by that monster seemed to have clung to the place and intensified its loathsomeness.

Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought our enterprise to an end; but this was no ordinary case, and the high and terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength which rose above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary shrinking consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set about our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses.

We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as we began:---

"The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left; we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get some clue as to what has become of the rest." A glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth chests were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.

There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows," and resumed his inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage. There was no sign of any one; and as there were no corners, no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there could be no hiding-place even for him. I took it that fear had helped imagination, and said nothing.

A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a corner, which he was examining. We all followed his movements with our eyes, for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a whole mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all instinctively drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats.

For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the outside, and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock, drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his little silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call. It was answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs, and after about a minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the door, and as we moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed: the boxes which had been taken out had been brought this way. But even in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had vastly increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then, simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we moved out.

Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in, placed him on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground he seemed to recover his courage, and rushed at his natural enemies. They fled before him so fast that before he had shaken the life out of a score, the other dogs, who had by now been lifted in the same manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass had vanished.

With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed, for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden darts at their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and tossed them in the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not; but most certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim significance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once did the dogs exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we returned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had been rabbit-hunting in a summer wood.

The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall-door from the bunch, and locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into his pocket when he had done.

"So far," he said, "our night has been eminently successful. No harm has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained how many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this, our first -- and perhaps our most difficult and dangerous -- step has been accomplished without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina or troubling her waking or sleeping thoughts with sights and sounds and smells of horror which she might never forget. One lesson, too, we have learned, if it be allowable to argue a particulari: that the brute beasts which are to the Count's command are yet themselves not amenable to his spiritual power; for look, these rats that would come to his call, just as from his castle top he summon the wolves to your going and to that poor mother's cry, though they come to him, they run pell-mell from the so little dogs of my friend Arthur. We have other matters before us, other dangers, other fears; and that monster -- he has not used his power over the brute world for the only or the last time to-night. So be it that he has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to cry ‘check' in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the stake of human souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close at hand, and we have reason to be content with our first night's work. It may be ordained that we have many nights and days to follow, if full of peril; but we must go on, and from no danger shall we shrink."

The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing himself, after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain.

I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting to-night has not upset her. I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is settled. There may be things which would frighten her to hear; and yet to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once she suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to her, till at least such time as we can tell her that all is finished, and the earth free from a monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.

#vampires #dracula #draculalive

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biscuitcrow · 5 years

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So...thoughts about the Homestuck epilogues under the cut

I picked [Candy] first because number 1, no way I’m eating raw meat and number two, it seemed more interesting to go against *cough* Rose’s advice I’m done following her. ‘Meat or Candy’? Iconic. Enjoyed the less than subtle symbolism.

After reading both endings I’m actually happy I read [Candy] first. Even though some people say to read Meat first, reading Candy really makes the situational irony count, specifically the Obama spiel and like, the parallel timeline concept is really engaging for me because you can compare the constants like Jane’s reign and Karkat’s resistance while observing the little fluctuations but you can also see how they interact or are similar.

My personal favourite is [Candy]. Meat feels direct, more linear, like ‘this is the way this is going now.’ but Candy is basically, well I’m not sure if it is but it feels like an offshoot with its lack of Relevancy, which means it reads more like ‘what could have been’ which is really interesting to contemplate because on the surface it feels good, fluffy, but it’s also hollow? But it's not written as if hollow is bad, you know? Hollow is not good, or bad, just, well hollow. It’s written as if the conflicts are very blown up from the character’s perspective, which is is, but if you take a step back its honestly laughable. But like if I remember correctly, somewhere somehow Rose said she had never been this happy? When I read that I honestly thought she was drugged, but if she was really that happy then I guess that’s how the story frames hollow as being a neutral thing? Which I agree with so it’s refreshing, because we get a lot of content saying that being substanceless or meaningless is bad. But I feel this timeline approaches it as a trade off in this case probably happiness for relevancy. It’s a bittersweet ending.

Can’t really remember but I feel like that was the contrast between Vriska and (Vriska) in the original Homestuck.

Also I was really happy to see Vriska come back!! Oh boy am I ready for Vriska. The Gamzee thing was really weird and distasteful, frankly, I did not like that part at all, but at least she regretted it so I was all like WHEW man.

So Meat was meatier in terms of plot, but the tradeoff was a bunch of people dying. I’ll discount the edginess because it didn’t really feel that way to me. But I do feel like the deaths in the battle were a little rushed over, like it was just a fun montage of deaths, and I’m not sure if that’s intentional. If it was then I can only guess that it was written for their deaths to feel inconsequential in the grand scheme of things? Candy is more personal-feeling but Meat seems to have themes of for the greater good, whatever that can be defined as. Apparently relevancy, cough Rose. Oh yeah, Candy was also more subtle in my eyes. I relish subtlety. It wasn’t really that subtle, but I still think it was more subtle than Meat.

What I liked about [Candy] was all of the above, and also the cute Roxy/Calliope. Oh wait one big thing. The Jade/Dave/Karkat thing. In my opinion, that was a huge clusterfuck and it read that way and I sure hope being read as awkward and unnatural was intentional because if it was oh boy was that unnaturalness good. I enjoyed that tone greatly. Got kind of mad at Jade, pitied her for a little bit, then got annoyed. All the Dave and John bro times were really good too I liked them. When Dave flash stepped away from that Awkward Cafe Meet I felt that. Your mom felt that. Obama felt that.

Also I liked that it broke my heart with domestic issues. Small things can be big things even if they’re small in the grand scheme of things.

What I didn’t like about it was the kids. And also kid Vriska. That’s just unsettling to me. I got used to it after a while but well, if there was a way to take them out smoothly perhaps I would. The Roxy/Calliope low-key-break-up was also kind of weird for me? So was the John/Roxy, but I think John felt a little of that weirdness and rushedness too so that’s a plus.

And the Dave/Jade marriage. But I didn’t hate it entirely, because it brought out the idea of settling for something more clearly. Like… the notion of whether settling is like, a thing. Okay, it’s difficult to put this into contextless words but I’m sure you get it.

I also can’t believe they let Gamzee out of the fridge. Who thought this was a good idea. Which actually brings me to another thing I like about it the whole spew about his ‘redemption arc’ even though he clearly didn’t redeem himself. That was the point, I think. Words don’t equate actions. This was minor, but also the whole xenophobia thing. I thought that both sides had good points to be honest. Possible mockery of political correctness. I was glad how neither party was completely crazy or didn’t make sense. Both parties had words held weight, so to speak.

What I liked about [Meat] was well, the plot. I know I complained about this before but that’s all it’s got and it wasn’t half-bad so I’ll give it some credit. Oh, but it was good at the shift from narrative text to speaker text. You know the one. That was fun. And so was all the Dirk after that. I’m happy we got to see more of Dirk.

Also the focus on the political power of Jake’s ass is hilarious to me. And how dense he is.

ALL the Davekat. Oh, joy, don’t we all love watching two disasters figure out how much of a disaster he is and then guess how much disaster the other one is? Not as much weird Jade stuff.

The manipulation everywhere. Fun to spot. Fun to read. Fun to break your heart.

The John/Terezi thing was cute, but I think I might have preferred it in Candy. It was more open-ended in Candy. Everything was more open-ended in Candy, I think? It felt that way to me, and I like open-ended things. But those were the themes they were trying to push, like the contrast in the existence of a free will, that happiness and relevancy are two different things, something about personal and impersonal meaning, ultimate knowledge, settling or chasing after a possibly unattainable ideal, certain sacrifices, trade-offs, and definitely metafiction.

I’m awfully dense so I could be missing the mark on the Real Overarching Themes here but feel free to enlighten me if you’ve even made it up to this point.

Also, I sorta remember one line about someone saying something about when you have a perfect world it is natural to turn to inconsequential made-up conflicts. Interesting hot take because I compared it with 17776 whose entire premise is that in a utopia where everyone’s needs are met everyone just plays games like football.

The other relationships that got less screen time on Candy was also aired here so that was really nice because I definitely wanted to see people like Calliope, Dirk, Dave, Karkat, Kayana, and Meenah.

Wait actually right… now that I’m thinking about it, what was the point of the whole political fiasco in this one. I thought the focus should have been on the big battle in canon. Which I suppose it was, but seriously wait did I miss something? Is it like a foil to the big bad battle Lord English battle? Screentime for Jake’s ass? Jane’s diabolical Schemes? Pushing the political correctness troll xenophobia theme agenda?

Also hilarious that Lord English kept eating John’s hammers. Not so hilarious when John refused to let go like seriously you are committing a stupid please John look at that big gold tooth in your torso now. At least you’re more valuable to the economy now right.

What I didn’t like about Meat was that it felt fast-paced, like the bits that I wanted for it to have more exposition was too short and rushed over. I didn’t really have that feeling with Candy even though I think there were more timeskips. But at least it was explicitly stated as a timeskip. Neither did I feel the emotional investment in the characters, not that much, since it was fast-paced and plot driven. I didn’t like how Obama wasn’t in it physically. Just kidding. Also more linear and closed, as previously mentioned.

Actually now that I think about it maybe I didn’t like Candy over Meat that much. Both have their merits and weaknesses. Maybe I like it just a little bit more because it was the first one I read and it had Obama.

Okay, after I read this again in the future I’ll probably sound really pretentious and also dumb at the same time but it’s okay! I just like analysing the shit out of content of dubious quality just let me have things. I’ve seen some people say they were lacklustre, and their analysis has merit, but honestly I’m just happy there’s so much more to read. I’m just writing it down so I don’t forget, because I always do. If you made it to this point and got anything I missed or forgot to bring up or disagree with I would love to discuss it: shoot me a PM please! Alright that’s it folks I can’t wait to draw more fun stuff.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogue #upd8 #upd8 spoilers #paperclip service

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shatner-the-catner · 3 years

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He spun around, trying to locate the source of that terrible noise. He couldn’t see anything. It’s too damn dark, he resigned. Why is it so fucking dark, he thought angrily. There was something very wrong here. Something quite obviously and biblically wrong. It’s safe to say there was nothing right about it.

His eyes scanned the parking lot, searching for figures or movement. In the darkness, his eyes began to feel sore under the pressure to identify and label. The only thing he could make out was the tree branches gently surfing the wind’s waves. It was a very pleasant night and he should have felt safe, but he knew that danger was not far away.

There’s that sound again, he thought to himself. This one was quicker and higher pitched, but still low and almost Jurassic. His head turned to the east end, where he thought he could have seen movement.

And he saw them.

A group of Canada geese. More than a dozen. From his perspective they stood silently, however the Leader’s head-tossing indicated that words were being said amongst each other. They stood sideways, their Bow and Port facing eyes sharply and steadily fixated on him.

They took a few steps forward, five if you want to get technical about it. They walked in short steps calmly, their leader demonstrating a few more head tosses.

He felt his heart woodpecker it’s way through his chest. He found himself panting softly. The urge to run back to his car was there, gently and politely tugging away at his amygdala, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he simply decided to stay out of a malignant case of curiosity, or if there was some diabolical force keeping his feet frozen.

I can’t move, he thought. I can’t talk, his mind reported. The geese were approaching at an increased pace. They must think you have bread, he said to himself. That’s got to be it. They just got used to humans giving them food so they expect it now.

He soon realized that was not the case.

The leader then lowered his head, lifted the crests of his wings slightly, and began a moderately paced charge in his direction.

He saw them coming, but he still couldn’t move. Something horrible was weighing his feet down and they wouldn’t budge. The geese kept coming, heads lowered and mouths agape. That was when he first learned that geese can drool. He noticed the big ones up front slobbering as they quickened their pace. Their drool lines swayed clumsily as their bodies moved with increased speed.

They bellowed. The sound seemed to make Olly’s eyeballs vibrate. There was something deep within his ancestral instincts that alarmed him. The same alarm that alerted ancient men when they were being stalked by predators. Olly felt this cavernous siren go off loudly in his bones.

They were getting closer.

Most people are unaware that horror and terror and two different emotions. Terror is the unpleasant feeling of dread and anticipation that precedes a dangerous or traumatic event. Whereas horror is what one experiences after the traumatic event.

Olly still couldn’t move. They were coming faster.

It was only when they were a few feet away that he finally noticed the red rings around their black eyes. They were like firey rings stoked by the flames of hell. And all he saw behind those eyes was cold, animalistic indifference. It now came to his full awareness that a flock of more than a dozen geese were charging at him. And they were drooling, displayed bright red eyes, and howled like dinosaurs.

Somehow he managed to force his feet to move under his own power, and he bolted towards the Kia. He left it unlocked, and thank Holy Providence that he did, because once he slammed the door he heard a loud THUD. Peeking out the window, he saw that the geese had chased him all the way and were now ferociously pecking and kicking the car. The noise was unnerving and loud.

Thud. Thud. THUD.

Dozens of geese surrounded his car and began behaving like a pack of wild velociraptors.

The pecks and scratches from their wing claws sent pure terror to the pit of his stomach. He began whimpering softly as he fumbled to get the key in the ignition. With each peck, scratch, and THUD, the core of his DNA shuddered.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” he quivered.

His hands were trembling, and with each thumping sound he heard he nearly dropped his keys. When he heard another honk-roar, he did drop his keys. In a panic, his foot kicked them under the pedals. Folding himself against his gut, he reached. With all his might, he reached. His finger kissed the metal of one ring, but still, the grasp eluded him. Out of breath, he tried again. There were more THUDS, it almost sounded like it might be raining frogs. It was like prehistory itself was having a go at modern technology.

It is incredibly difficult to do much of anything when one is drowning in terror, but he finally managed. He pawed the keys within reach and grabbed them. Then he turned the car over, ripped open the parking break with wild abandon, and shifted into reverse. He immediately felt two or three bumps as he backed up. He knew exactly what they were, but all he could feel was relief as he was backing out. And like a bat straight out of the city center in Hell, he drove off.

Very soon after, he awoke in his bed, with a full body quake that nearly vibrated half his sheets off. Quite wearily, he started to realize that he’d just had another one of his old nightmares about demons. They were a rare occurrence these days, nevertheless they were always quite burdensome. Oftentimes, they were all it took to put him in a lousy mood for the entire day. He always tried to remind himself when he was dreaming, in an effort to control them, but it never worked.

Olly could never remember to look at his hands when he dreamt.

PART IV

Such a day should have known better than to begin.

“I forgive you,” she had said tenderly over the phone, hours before. The tone of her voice suggested that the previous day was nothing more than water under the bridge. He felt relieved. But when she asked if they could meet for another goose date, he popped two different benzodiazepines at the very start of that suggestion. Still, he agreed to meet her. He was determined to make things work with this lovely girl. Come Hell or high water.

He was perhaps too medicated to notice the fresh blood and feathers stuck to his bumper.

He exited the vehicle, light-headed and a bit unsteady. Looking across the parking lot, he could see her sitting on the ground, under the Taco Bell sign, with a little over a dozen geese surrounding her. With a kind breeze, and in light of that benign early morning, he thought maybe she looked a bit like St. Francis. He began to approach her.

He did not feel any fear, his dose of Xanax and Klonopin wouldn’t allow it to cross the border of his mind. Forward, he walked thickly. The geese looked at him, and upon closer inspection, he could see five goslings standing next to their parents. His heart swelled involuntarily at the sight of the adorable little fuzz balls. As he drew closer, he could hear their tiny little baby peeping noises. How cute, he pondered.

“Hey Olly,” she smiled at him.

“Hey…” he could barely muster under his own slurs.

The geese parted and he sat down next to her. They regarded each other quite vehemently for a small moment of time. She smiled at him with her eyes and then leaned forward and gave him a hug that cooled his baseline anxiety levels to a spectacular degree. Oh God, that feels good, he realized. Tenderly, she patted his back.

“I’m so sorry - ,” he whimpered, muffled against her red jacket.

“Shhhh…” she cut him off.

She gently patted his back and just held him. This was the first physical contact that he’d ever had that held any emotional weight. The feeling was intoxicating. He took a small inhale of her scent and began to feel positively drunk.

Then she leaned him over onto her lap. He accepted this invitation and laid sideways on her folded legs. It almost started to make him feel uncomfortable, but then she did the most divine thing and began running her fingers through his hair. It sent pleasure waves through his nervous system. She petted and cooed nice things in his ear and he started to feel dangerously relaxed. If they continued to go on in this fashion, there was a possibility that he could fall asleep on her.

Still, he laid his head down woefully in her inviting lap, and began to feel completely at peace with the world. All was right with reality, his mind pledged.

She started singing softly to him in Korean. The weight of all his burdens seem to melt away. The skies appeared more bright, and the breeze felt like a gentle blanket, swaddling him. There were precious few times in his life that he felt so comfortable. He nestled in her lap as she petted him tenderly. Fingers forking the strands of his locks, she continued to sing.

Then, he became hazily aware that the geese were closing in on the two. Precisely and naturally, they waddled forward. They didn’t make much noise except a few low grunt-honks, and didn’t say much beyond the occasional head-toss. He should have felt scared, but Sandra’s head rubs were hypnotizing him into a sleepy stupor.

Indeed his eyelids were heavy, and when he opened them again after a brief rest, he noticed that the geese were now mere inches away from his face. They steadily peered at him from the angle of their tilted heads. He looked up and considered the one immediately to his right to be exceptionally curious. The gander tilted his head downward to get a better look at him, a habit common with birds that have sideways-facing eyes.

Soon everything would change. It would be natural to assume that what was about to occur would terrorize him, but really, he was not totally able to feel fear. It could have been the medication or the gentle caresses from her hand, but he laid there still. Maybe he did feel the slightest suggestion of worry, but it was dull and easy enough to ignore.

Then the pecking began.

Very lightly, they started to peck at his flesh. It didn’t hurt, but felt more exploratory. The geese surrounded them, two leaned over and peppered his bicep with tiny nibbles. He should have lifted himself out of her lap and shooed the geese away. Regrettably, he could not.

The weight of his medication, and possibly some other unseen force, was keeping him sheltered him her lap. Peck, peck, peck, they continued. The subtle terrain of terror was beginning to appear on the horizon. The geese still pecked and bit, perhaps a bit harder this time. He wanted to get up. Oh dear God in heaven, he wanted to move so desperately. But something was leashing him in position.

She slowly got up from under his head and placed him on the ground. His body poured awkwardly onto the asphalt. The geese circled him tighter. He managed to tilt his head towards to sky, only to see what was perhaps a feathered demon bear sharp teeth that it grew out of sheer will. Drool dripped from it’s smelly mouth.

They began with his eyes.

There was no pain, but like how one can still feel the pressure of dental surgery even when on novacain, he felt a deep pop within his eye socket. Then, permanent darkness out of it, forever. The Horror was beginning. This undeniable intense fear started to form in his brain stem and radiated outwards. The goose gobbled up the deflated eye, chewing on it’s lense.

He could not scream. He was completely unable to utter any cry, nor wail. Instead he shifted his bleeding head towards the side, and with his remaining eye he watched her, sitting on the ground, overseeing the geese as they began to devour him.

The only thing he could utter, as the blood dripped down his face, was, “Demon…from Hell…”

She glared at him so vacantly. A totally inhuman stare that only seemed to know greed and disgust. And divorced from any human emotions at all she said, “Hell, I suppose so.”

It took them two hours to finish his entire body. Oddly enough, not a single car drove by in all that time. Maybe it wasn’t just that people weren’t in the right mood for Taco Bell that day. Perhaps it was something more characteristic of the devil. Or a force that was seasoned by prehistory.

A new flock arrived overhead, “Ba-HONK!,” they cried.

TAIL FEATHERS (end)

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patricksilvrrozartistry · 7 years

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Current Music Obsessions: August 17 - 31, 2017

Ho lordt. I have A LOT of obsessions to get through for these past two weeks of August! I listened to A LOT of stuff and purged my watch later playlist big time. So let's start out with the MANY honorable mentions.

Glass Idols - Thema Alwaid - Idle Riddles and Rhymes Alessia Cara - Scars to Your Beautiful Nyxx - Diabolical Arise - Sin Fin Temperance - At the Edge of Space (live) Thy Art is Murder - The Son of Misery Belly - Feed the Tree Accid Reign - In the Dark Mount Salem - Lucid Clouds - Nothing but a Name feat. Mihu Glare of the Sune - Groundwater AL1CE - Looking Glass Nostra Morte - Persefone White Skull - Will of the Strong Dreamspell - Твой Выход Rage of Light - Mechanicals Sirenia - Sister Nightfall Angie - Smoke Weed Eat Pussy Septicflesh - Enemy of Truth Lorn - Acid Rain Tacere - Voice in the Dark MaYaN - Enemies of Freedom MaYaN - Paladins of Deceit Sheer - My Wicked World In the Silence - Ever Closer Eihwaz - Delusion Beyon-D-Lusion - Sweet Surrender Veil of Delusions - Together for Glory Mechina - Creation Level Event Evanescence - Bring Me to Life (Synthesis) Zolita - Fight Like a Girl Orden Ogan - Come with Me to the Other Side feat. Liv Kristine Azathoth Circle - In My Mind

Now let's see those MANY real obsessions.

1) Season's End - Our Prayers Fall Back to Earth

It's been 12 years since these guys dropped any new material and they released this awesome track. It's so good and haunting. I always love it when music talks of the struggles of the real world, ESPECIALLY when it get political. It opens your mind to what is really going on outside.

2) A Sound of Thunder - Who Do You Think We Are?

These guys are amazing. This track is low key a diss track to people always trying to define metal bands and put them in small boxes. A metal band is still a metal band no matter what subgenre they fall under. I love their campy songs like this one. They're always so fun.

3) Serpent & Seraph - Tears of Naviane

I discovered these guys through a compilation video on YT one day and fell in love. There's something about this track that is so hypnotic and amazing. It goes from being extremely aggressive to being extremely beautiful rapidly and the transition practically non-existent, but that's what I love about it.

4) Garbage - No Horses

This is the second song I've heard from these guys and it is completely different from Magnetized. It has a bit of a 90's industrial kind of vibe to it and I love it. Another song that is charged by the evils of the world around us. More specifically: police brutality.

5) Micky Huijsmans - New Horizons (Textures cover)

This is one of my favorites off Phenotype, and Micky put such an epic spin on it with this cover. I never expected her to do growls and I hope she brings them to a future End of the Dream album. It really shows multiple dimensions to her voice that EotD doesn't show and is amazing.

6) Synkvervet - Aurora

Another song I discovered from a compilation video on YT, this is a blackened symphonic metal band. This song is so beautiful and lovely. The contrast between their female singer and their male vocalist are so epic. Also, their female singer looks STUNNING in this video. Definitely am gonna check out more from these guys.

7) Little Dead Bertha - Cry of Mankind (My Dying Bride cover)

This was a random discovery on the recommended videos on YT and I need to hear more from them. It has a blackened doom metal vibe to it and their female singer's voice is so lovely. Not only do I need to check out more from these guys, but I need to finally listen to My Dying Bride. I still haven't listened to them yet!

8) Cradle of Filth - You Will Know the Lion By His Claw

This is their best single they've released for their upcoming album and probably one of the best songs they've released in the past 10 years. It's like an evolved form of classic CoF and I fucking love it. The last two minutes are absolutely INSANE. Dani's low growl is everything. So hyped for the new album!

9) The Great Discord - Omen

Everything these guys have released in line with their new album has been amazing. This song is pretty and so cool. They've really stepped their game up with this album. Not saying that Duende wasn't a good album, it was amazing, but they're definitely putting their names out there with this one and I can't wait to see what amazing opportunities come their way from it.

10) Russkaja - Alive

Really weird, bizarre, amazing, glorious, cheesy ska fused with punk and rock. I've heard a few songs from them, but haven't really gotten that deep into their works. I really need to change that. I love bands that don't take themselves seriously. Also, that EDM breakdown was extremely unexpected and dope af.

11) Aly & AJ - Take Me

This is their first song (under their names) in 10 YEARS and it's wonderful. When I found out that they dropped a new single, I nearly screamed. These girls were my childhood. I'm so hyped for the upcoming album and to see what direction it's gonna go in, because this is a blend of indie rock and 80's styled synthpop and I love it.

12) Corvyx - I Got You (Bebe Rexha cover)

I never heard the original, but I am OBSESSED with this guy's cover of this song. I've been a big of this guy for a minute now and I think this one is on the same level of favorites as his cover as I Don't Wanna Live Forever. His voice is so lovely in this song and I love the slight distortion. This song is such a fun one to just blast while driving.

13) Kari Rueslatten - Spellbound

This song is so pretty. It's such a simple song, but it's so pretty that you get hooked on it instantly. Such a great song to put on and just chill to. I can't wait to get around to listening to her new album.

14) Tristania - Aphelion

I've been on a big Tristania kick lately and this has been one of the songs I've been obsessed with by them. I really need to listen to their full discography again, because I'm not familiar with Morten's era with them. This song is just so beautiful and intense. The last two minutes are probably my favorite. It just escalates so quickly and ends on such a beautiful note.

Crushed Dreams

After getting a copy of World of Glass, when this song came on, I knew I would be listening to it non-stop for a hot minute. The intro, the choirs and the exit are so amazing and beautiful. This is definitely my favorite album from Vibeke's era with the band. It's so beautiful, raw, haunting and in your face.

15) Qveen Herby - Busta Rhymes

Amy is definitely reinventing herself with this new project. Karmin dabbled with hip hop a little bit, but this project is pure trip hop/hip hop and I'm loving it. And homegirl goes IN on the second verse. I really need to listen to their debut EP.

16) The Naked and Famous - All of This

I can't remember how I came across this song, but nonetheless, I love it. It wasn't all that interesting to me at first, but then it grew on me and became an obsession. It's such a simple pop rock track, but it's so fun and catchy and has a bit of a punk-ish flare to it. Really digging it and am gonna check out more from them.

17) Crimfall - Until Falls the Rain

I discovered these guys through Helena (I'm a big fan of her old project Tacere), but have only listened to Wildfire Season. This song is so powerful and beautiful. I know how cheesy this sounds, but this song is amazing to listen to when it's raining/storming outside. Such a perfect blend of symphonic and folk metal. Can't wait to hear their new album.

18) End of the Dream - Who Do You Think You Are

Finally listened to their new album, Until You Break, and I really enjoyed it. This and the track below are ones that definitely stood out to me on the album. This song has such a hard and raw proggy vibe to it and is so in your face. I also love the vocal lines in the chorus.

I Am Nothing

This song is so beautiful. It starts out so simple and pretty, but then it starts to escalate and it gets so powerful and raw near the end. I haven't heard a song like this one in a very long time and am so pleased with it. It really shows off just how much this band has grown since their first release.

19) Exit Eden - Rhapsodies in Black

I couldn't pick a particular song that I was obsessing with from them, so I just put the whole damn album on here! This album is absolutely AMAZING and I listened to it non-stop for little over a week. My two favorites are their covers of Paparazzi by Lady Gaga and Frozen by Madonna which features Simone Simons of Epica. Paparazzi is so unexpectedly heavy and intense and Frozen is just as beautiful as the original, but with a symphonic metal flare to it and I love that they kept the original vibe of the song with this cover.

Those are all my obsessions for the last two weeks of August. I promise the next installment won't be as long!

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spencerkpokerace99zyl234-blog · 5 years

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Chasing losses at first sight may seem like a fairly easy way to guarantee an eventual profit however the true story is It's a sport for fools and statistically will never work Until you create an overall stage stakes income.

Chasing losses is usually a video game for that sick informed who will not choose to take the time to hunt worth in their bets. Bookmakers have to price up each individual race. Punters don’t have to Engage in in each individual race, they could decide the races they want to bet in ,and that is the primary edge that folks fall short to know. Should you have experienced a dropping working day, by seeking to chasing your losses you throw in the towel that gain and guess from the races that you need to not be betting in. You will be thus betting how bookmakers want you to rather than in just how to earn.

Numerous punters will change their stakes in the final race possibly to “chase” losses or “Perform up” winnings. Its no coincidence that the bookmakers have ensured that the last race on every day is commonly a handicap or considered one of the toughest races that day . There will be far more racing the next day as well as the day after that. The secret is looking forward to prospects and only betting after you know you may have situations which favour you and never the bookmakers. You must by no means transform your approach, or deviate from sensible staking as there is absolutely no these kinds of issues as “The final Race”.

four) Deficiency of Price Appreciation

Appreciation of “worth” within a wager is core to long lasting achievements. To gain more than an extended number of bets you have to be betting at odds increased compared to the correct potential for successful your assortment have. To achieve this nonetheless over the long run, you may need to concentrate on Each individual race independently and seek the worth bet in that race.

There's value for being experienced in each and every race. The real key to it is actually knowledge wherever that value is. Repeatedly a punter will screw up a losing betting slip and say “No less than I had some value”. There is totally NO relationship in between benefit and costs. A 33/one chance can be diabolical benefit nevertheless an incredibly shorter priced beloved might be supreme price. It doesn't adhere to that The larger the worth you are taking the better “worth” you might have . The value is usually obvious but extra generally properly hidden and it will take a skilled eye to view that.

Every person has this “Foresight” on instances, It is just a sport about thoughts In any case and nobody is always right or wrong. Price can be the most costly word in racing if you can’t wager winner. The old cliche is that value is about betting a horse whose accurate prospect is better than its rate reflects. That’s only a little Element of it. You also have to make sure that you guess in the proper way and in the correct races as that is the only way you can maintain strike prices large and guard a betting lender.

You should constantly try to extend price as part of your bets. Once you've a variety you're feeling is value do not only just take the initial satisfactory price that arrives alongside. Seek out to boost it by shopping about the varied bookmakers or try to best the most beneficial bookmakers cost by looking to the betting exchanges.

Marginal advancements on odds on Every single guess you make can have a dramatic effect on long-term profits.

five) Greed For Instant Wealth

Numerous punters look for the thrill of a daily life changing guess that can develop big gains of instant wealth for a little outlay. Bookmakers Enjoy on your own purely natural need and head out of their way to encourage you to definitely wager unique many collection bets which will in one hit, turn a small stake into a sizable sum.

Experts nevertheless seldom bet in multiples. Most experts bet singles and steer faraway from the many bets. Bookmakers relentlessly encourage a host of multiple bets with exotic names such as Yankee, Blessed 15, and Goliath. The key reason why They're seriously touted could be the financial gain margin during the bookmaker’s favour enhances the much more choices you insert to the several guess.

Say you select any random five/1 collection. In case you guess this as only one the bookmaker might have a theoretical edge in his favor of fifteen%. Getting two these kinds of picks having said that and betting them within a acquire double, the bookmakers profit margin rises to about thirty% !

Yes your earn double can produce a Substantially even larger gain from the exact same stake even so above the long run the bookmaker is having absent at your money in a considerably faster level.

It's a squander of time debating which sort of various bet is ‘most effective’. Until your prediction expertise are supernatural or you happen to be unbelievably lucky, then betting in singles is a lot more usually the best option.

You might say that lots of “Execs,” do guess in multiples in bets like The news six or perhaps the Jackpot, but that’s only given that they know You can find a lot of “Dead” funds in any offered Pool and they're betting towards folks who don’t have an understanding of the dynamics of Those people types of wager. There are occasions you ought to bet in multiples but in reality they are few and far among.

You'll be able to’t approach this for a “Get Loaded Fast ” plan. It's a prolonged gradual process of serious and sustained financial gain and never a game for Get Loaded Speedy schemers. For those who go Into any Betting store, have a look at the many posters within the wall featuring “Unique features”, “Improved conditions ” and “bonus offers”. You will notice They can be all numerous bets. Bookmakers want you betting in multiples and it is not hard to determine why . They carve most benefit from them. You in no way see a Bookmakers marketing supplying added’s with a acquire or Every way solitary. Ask

on your own why .

six) Insufficient Self-discipline

Not enough Self-control is the large hurdle for punters wanting to change a shedding interest into a successful just one. Bookmakers recognize that. That’s why in every single betting Business office it is possible to bet on numbers, lotteries, ball games, racing from everywhere in the globe with horses no one has heard about ahead of and also now Personal computer animated, or because they simply call it, Digital racing.

Bookmakers just think that its a circumstance of punters sitting down all day betting on what ever is put in front of them and Unfortunately They can be correct in many scenarios .They're only thrill looking for and don’t treatment the things they wager on, providing they are able to bet. There is no methodology in any respect and a lot of betting Business regulars are only lots of headless chickens prepared to spend long term with the warming buzz with the occasional gain.

Even more skilled standard gamblers who're savvy plenty of to show down bets that they know are stupid generally Enable them selves down by continually bleeding their gains that has a pleasurable tenner below in addition to a enjoyment tenner there.

It will require excellent self-control to NOT bet from time to time. It requires self-discipline to walk away from a horse when the price isn’t proper. It will take discipline to say no to that tiny pleasurable bet. It will take discipline to maintain your money in your pocket and deny you the emotional Excitement of watching your runner.

Punters are available all sizes and styles. Even the shrewder punters who could gain at the sport, slide in to the trap of insufficient self-discipline of study. Following a profitable interval they ignore that what created them winners in the first place, was the effort they put in. They fall target to around confidence, laziness and indiscipline.

Getting a long term profitable punter is like swimming towards the tide. It will require an effort to stay nonetheless, even larger effort to maneuver in advance and once you chill out or slack off you start to go backwards.

seven) Emotion

Betting can be a lonely sport. Its also a extremely expert video game. Emotion undermines good results in many ways . There is convenience in understanding that like a sheep when you are wrong It is far from your fault as you were being simply executing what Every person else was accomplishing. With betting, the laws of marketplace offer and demand from customers, dictate that long term, the sheep will get fleeced. Emotion neutralises self-discipline and extended confirmed thriving practices. The results of any isolated race has little if any relation to races just just before that or perhaps following that . Races needs to be viewed in isolation from each other. We are all psychological in betting even so the gamers at the very best on the tree have this down to a fine artwork and will Regulate All those emotions. Other punters have long given that been conditioned by bookmakers to Assume to get rid of in lieu of get.

They've got an in designed psychological factor which makes them sense like losers plus they happen to be conditioned to shedding by many years of doing this.

Above 95% of punters are flawed emotionally. Samples of emotive gambling involve punters subsequent a horse ,trainer or a jockey blind . The “Buzz” horses are cannon fodder for emotional punters. They might also adhere to tipsters blind since they “despise” the thought of missing out over a winner.

They pay no notice on the modifying disorders of a race that may follow non runners or the bottom shifting. They misunderstand assurance and can’t cope with an absence of self-confidence. Emotion also prevents people from advanced betting topics this sort of laying , hedging and arbitrages. Emotion forces some punters to guess horses with particular names that remind them of family and friends. Names for instance “Very long Tall Sally ” and “Susan’s Satisfaction ” attract many to them only for a name that’s appropriate to them .

Most punters Have got a grudge from their very own cash and successful and becoming thriving is alien to them. Psychological punters get rid of their heads in barren instances and fail to capitalise on successful runs. They mess about with devices and staking programs which make no perception. The more emotion you can rule out of one's betting , the greater effective you will develop into . You need to see Everybody in the sport as your enemy and as people endeavoring to choose your hard-earned money away from you in the exact same way as you'd a pickpocket . As you can grasp your feelings you have got made the very first significant move to betting profitably .

eight) The Grass is Greener

The grass is never Greener on the opposite Side. The truth is that the grass that isn’t Functioning for yourself hasn't been developed, cultivated or appeared soon after appropriately. A lot of punters change methods and solutions so quickly they don’t give any system a true examination . When they find a procedure that works they don’t continue after a number of bad outcomes . It truly is the same as gamblers who write down each wager they've got . Once they've got some losers they typically lose the heart to do this and cease doing so and proceed to another location .

They may be like small children with new toys at Xmas . They under no circumstances stay with any approach long sufficient to prosper . They constantly feel the” Grass is Greener” , when in truth the “Grass” They may be using continues to be abused and still left to deteriorate.

They need the next Big “new notion ” or “approach ” and that doesn’t get the job done possibly as being the fault lies not from the Grass, however the Gardener .

They've no long lasting consistency inside their betting and so are consistently tinkering with what wasn’t broke or transferring on on the lookout for the holy grail before a full evaluation of whatever they are at present inspecting has been accomplished.

A contest to win very best backyard will likely be received by the one who can shell out most time within the garden and master its challenges, the gardener who is prepared to treatment about his garden and invest in the applications that might help his garden improve and continue to keep the weeds at bay.

It’s a similar with betting. You are going to do significantly superior long-term if you can make a concentrated work of Studying and study in a single critical region rather then flitting from this to that.

nine) Laziness

Most punters are LAZY! They may have religiously followed a doctrine of inadequate setting up and deficiency of exploration. They refuse to review and devote hrs considering how they will gain at betting. They refuse to take a position in the game and invest in their own Understanding . You cant refuse to invest funds, just consider the racing for thirty minutes and assume to earn lasting. You simply can’t get absent with that in the hardest trade of all , Successful Money at Betting. If it had been that straightforward , then thousands and thousands would do it .It's essential to either spend money on your betting , or pay out somebody to do exactly that .

Purely natural human tendency is to test and have away While using the minimum degree of work. Lazy punters are cannon fodder for the bookmakers. They make little or no work in their range method nor make an exertion to extract optimum returns from their bets. People that set essentially the most do the job in are the more likely to be successful.

My philosophy is simple. I believe that if a bookmaker, journalist or odds compiler spends three several hours on the race then I’ll shell out 6 hrs on that race to achieve the edge.

The renowned golfer Gary Player when explained “The Tougher I Get the job done the Luckier I Get”. That may be genuine about each golf and betting .Plenty of people can’t invest 12 several hours every day studying betting as they have families, Work opportunities, commitments and guide their particular life. Which is Everything you pay back us for. We do that study in your case and re-commit funds inside our betting to ensure we can discover each individual edge achievable to assist you Acquire.

ten) Stupidity!

Incredibly most punters fail to discover from their errors. They carry on For several years producing the exact same primary errors time and time again. Pure stupidity.

Strive to transform your betting overall performance by frequently Finding out with the issues and weak spot is your sport. pokerace99

Your bookmaker may possibly have been laughing at you For several years. You've it inside your electric power even so to enhance your betting and hopefully wipe that smile from his confront once and for all. pokerace99

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

1 October, 5 A.M. - I went with the party to the search with an easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well. I am so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do the work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful business at all, but now that her work is done, and that it is due to her energy and brains and foresight that the whole story is put together in such a way that every point tells, she may well feel that her part is finished, and that she can henceforth leave the rest to us. We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene with Mr. Renfield. When we came away from his room we were silent till we got back to the study. Then Mr. Morris said to Dr. Seward, "Say, Jack, if that man wasn't attempting a bluff, he is about the sanest lunatic I ever saw. I'm not sure, but I believe that he had some serious purpose, and if he had, it was pretty rough on him not to get a chance." Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added, "Friend John, you know more lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would before that last hysterical outburst have given him free. But we live and learn, and in our present task we must take no chance, as my friend Quincey would say. All is best as they are." Dr. Seward seemed to answer them both in a dreamy kind of way, "I don't know but that I agree with you. If that man had been an ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting him, but he seems so mixed up with the Count in an indexy kind of way that I am afraid of doing anything wrong by helping his fads. I can't forget how he prayed with almost equal fervor for a cat, and then tried to tear my throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the Count `lord and master', and he may want to get out to help him in some diabolical way. That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and his own kind to help him, so I suppose he isn't above trying to use a respectable lunatic. He certainly did seem earnest, though. I only hope we have done what is best. These things, in conjunction with the wild work we have in hand, help to unnerve a man." The Professor stepped over, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said in his grave, kindly way, "Friend John, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty in a very sad and terrible case, we can only do as we deem best. What else have we to hope for, except the pity of the good God?" Lord Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but now he returned. He held up a little silver whistle, as he remarked, "That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an antidote on call." Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking care to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the moonlight shone out. When we got to the porch the Professor opened his bag and took out a lot of things, which he laid on the step, sorting them into four little groups, evidently one for each. Then he spoke. "My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need arms of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember that he has the strength of twenty men, and that, though our necks or our windpipes are of the common kind, and therefore breakable or crushable, his are not amenable to mere strength. A stronger man, or a body of men more strong in all than him, can at certain times hold him, but they cannot hurt him as we can be hurt by him. We must, therefore, guard ourselves from his touch. Keep this near your heart." As he spoke he lifted a little silver crucifix and held it out to me, I being nearest to him, "put these flowers round your neck," here he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms, "for other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife, and for aid in all, these so small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your breast, and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we must not desecrate needless." This was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which he put in an envelope and handed to me. Each of the others was similarly equipped. "Now," he said, "friend John, where are the skeleton keys? If so that we can open the door, we need not break house by the window, as before at Miss Lucy's." Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he got one to suit, after a little play back and forward the bolt yielded, and with a rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of Miss Westenra's tomb, I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they shrank back. The Professor was the first to move forward, and stepped into the open door. "In manus tuas, Domine!"he said, crossing himself as he passed over the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road. The Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit. Then we all lit our lamps and proceeded on our search. The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that there was someone else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection, so powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself doing. The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly down. On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed label on each. They had been used several times, for on the table were several similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the Professor lifted them. He turned to me and said, "You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the chapel?" I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not been able to get admission to it, so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands. "This is the spot," said the Professor as he turned his lamp on a small map of the house, copied from the file of my original correspondence regarding the purchase. With a little trouble we found the key on the bunch and opened the door. We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us ever expected such an odor as we encountered. None of the others had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when I had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of his existence in his rooms or, when he was bloated with fresh blood, in a ruined building open to the air, but here the place was small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma, which came through the fouler air. But as to the odor itself, how shall I describe it? It was not alone that it was composed of all the ills of mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it seemed as though corruption had become itself corrupt. Faugh! It sickens me to think of it. Every breath exhaled by that monster seemed to have clung to the place and intensified its loathsomeness. Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought our enterprise to an end, but this was no ordinary case, and the high and terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength which rose above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary shrinking consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set about our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses. We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as we began, "The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left, we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get some clue as to what has become of the rest." A glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth chests were bulky, and there was no mistaking them. There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows," and resumed his inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage. There was no sign of anyone, and as there were no corners, no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there could be no hiding place even for him. I took it that fear had helped imagination, and said nothing. A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a corner, which he was examining. We all followed his movements with our eyes, for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a whole mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all instinctively drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats. For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the outside, and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock, drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his little silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call. It was answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs, and after about a minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the door, and as we moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed. The boxes which had been taken out had been brought this way. But even in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had vastly increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then, simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we moved out. Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in, placed him on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground he seemed to recover his courage, and rushed at his natural enemies. They fled before him so fast that before he had shaken the life out of a score, the other dogs, who had by now been lifted in the same manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass had vanished. With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed, for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden darts at their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and tossed them in the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not, but most certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim significance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once did the dogs exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we returned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had been rabbit hunting in a summer wood. The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall door from the bunch, and locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into his pocket when he had done. "So far," he said, "our night has been eminently successful. No harm has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained how many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this, our first, and perhaps our most difficult and dangerous, step has been accomplished without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina or troubling her waking or sleeping thoughts with sights and sounds and smells of horror which she might never forget. One lesson, too, we have learned, if it be allowable to argue a particulari, that the brute beasts which are to the Count's command are yet themselves not amenable to his spiritual power, for look, these rats that would come to his call, just as from his castle top he summon the wolves to your going and to that poor mother's cry, though they come to him, they run pell-mell from the so little dogs of my friend Arthur. We have other matters before us, other dangers, other fears, and that monster. . .He has not used his power over the brute world for the only or the last time tonight. So be it that he has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to cry `check'in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the stake of human souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close at hand, and we have reason to be content with our first night's work. It may be ordained that we have many nights and days to follow, if full of peril, but we must go on, and from no danger shall we shrink." The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing himself, after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain. I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting tonight has not upset her. I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is settled. There may be things which would frighten her to hear, and yet to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once she suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to her, till at least such time as we can tell her that all is finished, and the earth free from a monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours, but I must be resolute, and tomorrow I shall keep dark over tonight's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her. 1 October, later. - I suppose it was natural that we should have all overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had no rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though I slept till the sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call two or three times before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep that for a few seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with a sort of blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad dream. She complained a little of being tired, and I let her rest till later in the day. We now know of twenty-one boxes having been removed, and if it be that several were taken in any of these removals we may be able to trace them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify our labor, and the sooner the matter is attended to the better. I shall look up Thomas Snelling today. DR. SEWARD'S DIARY 1 October. - It was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professor walking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful than usual, and it is quite evident that last night's work has helped to take some of the brooding weight off his mind. After going over the adventure of the night he suddenly said, "Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit him this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it may be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk philosophy, and reason so sound." I had some work to do which pressed, so I told him that if he would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not have to keep him waiting, so I called an attendant and gave him the necessary instructions. Before the Professor left the room I cautioned him against getting any false impression from my patient. "But," he answered, "I want him to talk of himself and of his delusion as to consuming live things. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your diary of yesterday, that he had once had such a belief. Why do you smile, friend John?" "Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is here." I laid my hand on the typewritten matter."When our sane and learned lunatic made that very statement of how he used to consume life, his mouth was actually nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs. Harker entered the room." Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!" he said. "Your memory is true, friend John. I should have remembered. And yet it is this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most wise. Who knows?" I went on with my work, and before long was through that in hand. It seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but there was Van Helsing back in the study. "Do I interrupt?" he asked politely as he stood at the door. "Not at all," I answered. "Come in. My work is finished, and I am free. I can go with you now, if you like." "It is needless, I have seen him!" "Well?" "I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview was short. When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool in the center, with his elbows on his knees, and his face was the picture of sullen discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could, and with such a measure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply whatever. 'Don't you know me?' I asked. His answer was not reassuring. "I know you well enough, you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!' Not a word more would he say, but sat in his implacable sullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not been in the room at all. Thus departed for this time my chance of much learning from this so clever lunatic, so I shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with a few happy words with that sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does rejoice me unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to be worried with our terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help, it is better so." "I agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly, for I did not want him to weaken in this matter. "Mrs. Harker is better out of it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world, and who have been in many tight places in our time, but it is no place for a woman, and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would in time infallibly have wrecked her." So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker, Quincey and Art are all out following up the clues as to the earth boxes. I shall finish my round of work and we shall meet tonight. MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL 1 October. - It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am today, after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men. That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all. And lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and low-spirited today. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible excitement. Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because they told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of devouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that has been ever since Jonathan came to see me in London, and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one does seems, no matter how right it me be, to bring on the very thing which is most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dear Lucy would be with us now. She hadn't taken to visiting the churchyard till I came, and if she hadn't come there in the day time with me she wouldn't have walked in her sleep. And if she hadn't gone there at night and asleep, that monster couldn't have destroyed her as he did. Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonder what has come over me today. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew that I had been crying twice in one morning. . .I, who never cried on my own account, and whom he has never caused to shed a tear, the dear fellow would fret his heart out. I shall put a bold face on, and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see it. I suppose it is just one of the lessons that we poor women have to learn. . . I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I remember hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield's room, which is somewhere under this. And then there was silence over everything, silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out of the window. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate, so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think that the digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got back to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but could not quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again. The mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so that I could see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were stealing up to the windows. The poor man was more loud than ever, and though I could not distinguish a word he said, I could in some way recognize in his tones some passionate entreaty on his part. Then there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were dealing with him. I was so frightened that I crept into bed, and pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I was not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought, but I must have fallen asleep, for except dreams, I do not remember anything until the morning, when Jonathan woke me. I think that it took me an effort and a little time to realize where I was, and that it was Jonathan who was bending over me. My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams. I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come back. I was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act, my feet, and my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could proceed at the usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then it began to dawn upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I put back the clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all was dim around. The gaslight which I had left lit for Jonathan, but turned down, came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which had evidently grown thicker and poured into the room. Then it occurred to me that I had shut the window before I had come to bed. I would have got out to make certain on the point, but some leaden lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will. I lay still and endured, that was all. I closed my eyes, but could still see through my eyelids. (It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) The mist grew thicker and thicker and I could see now how it came in, for I could see it like smoke, or with the white energy of boiling water, pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings of the door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top of which I could see the light of the gas shining like a red eye. Things began to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column was now whirling in the room, and through it all came the scriptural words "a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night." Was it indeed such spiritual guidance that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar was composed of both the day and the night guiding, for the fire was in the red eye, which at the thought gat a new fascination for me, till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me through the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucy told me of in her momentary mental wandering when, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary's Church. Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan had seen those awful women growing into reality through the whirling mist in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all became black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination made was to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist. I must be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's reason if there were too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward to prescribe something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm them. Such a dream at the present time would become woven into their fears for me. Tonight I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. If I do not, I shall tomorrow night get them to give me a dose of chloral, that cannot hurt me for once, and it will give me a good night's sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had not slept at all. 2 October 10 P.M. - Last night I slept, but did not dream. I must have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to bed, but the sleep has not refreshed me, for today I feel terribly weak and spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down dozing. In the afternoon, Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much. I am crying when I think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the others were out till dinner time, and they all came in tired. I did what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort did me good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me to bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew that they wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each during the day. I could see from Jonathan's manner that he had something important to communicate. I was not so sleepy as I should have been, so before they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the night before. He very kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave to me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild. . .I have taken it, and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes, that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight.

#Dracula

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