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sodalitefully · 3 years

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Enter freely and of your own will [GNR, Sluff AU]

I know, I know, I've written vampire AUs before… Several times. But I had to write something about what a nerd Slash is for vampire fiction! Mostly inspired by interviews Slash gave after gnr covered Sympathy For The Devil for Interview With A Vampire (so any digs at the movie adaptation are based on Slash’s opinion, not mine – I’ve never seen it!). Occasional mentions of blood and stuff, but not particularly graphic. This fic is expanding on an AU I originally drew here.

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In my mind, it all played out like the plot of a paranormal romance novel. I’ve gotten familiar with those lately, thanks to the collection hidden in the bottom shelves of Slash’s library, buried below the gothic horror classics, the crime thrillers, and about a mountain of nonfiction. Hell, I could probably write my own! “Tall blonde unexpectedly falls for rock and roll bad boy with a dark secret,” yeah, the readers would eat that up. Of course, our love story didn’t really start when the unsuspecting protagonist moved to a new city, or when the leather-clad love interest showed off his supernatural shredding skills. No, I’d say it started a couple years later, when I found out Slash’s other deep, dark, embarrassing secret.

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night… but it was a movie night at my place, a tradition for Slash and I. Whenever we needed a break from the so-called rockstar lifestyle, we’d get together for a night in, smoke some pot and put on a movie. Slash laid back on my couch while I dug through a cabinet packed with VHS tapes and listed off a few options:

“Let’s see, we have Jurassic Park, Alien, Interview With a Vampire – Uh, sorry, I guess that would be weird huh?” Slash made a sour face.

“Ugh. I hate that movie, it’s such a bad adaptation. Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, seriously?”

“Wait,” I dropped The Empire Strikes Back and Blazing Saddles onto the growing heap of tapes and sat back on my heels to look at Slash in surprise. "You’ve seen it before?”

“Uh…” Vampires may not be able to blush but I'd known Slash long enough to tell when he’s flustered.

“And you’ve read the book?”

“… Yes?” I laughed, Slash ducked and hid his face, obviously feeling self-conscious, but I didn’t mean to laugh at him. It was just…

I’d assumed that a real-life vampire would roll their eyes at the cliche, over-romanticized movie interpretations of their kind. Instead, I learned of Slash’s (nearly) indiscriminate love for all things vampire, anything from Carmilla to Buffy The Vampire Slayer. He was a sucker (hah, get it?) for dripping fangs, swishing capes, even those crazy accents, ever since he was a kid. And I can’t lie, it was pretty endearing. I wasn’t in love with him yet, but the more he told me about his obsession, the more warm and tingly I felt, charmed by how genuine he was – Hell, I barely even teased him about it! Somehow, that conversation felt even more personal than finding out he was a damn vampire. I was really touched that he felt comfortable sharing his interests with me, that he trusted me with his softer, nerdier, more romantic side.

I resisted the temptation to press for more details that night, but a month or so later, I caught him in the act! I remember waking up in the afternoon after crashing at his place so late it was early the night before. I wandered around his big, spooky house until I found Slash curled up in one of his fancy antique armchairs, his legs dangling over the armrest and a paperback book cradled in his lap. I couldn’t make out the curlicued script on the cover, but from the captivated look on his face it was a favorite – his eyes were bright as they darted across the page, and his lips curled into a warm, gentle smile.

I couldn’t stand to disturb him, so I snuck off before he noticed me in the doorway, and headed down the hall to the room he’d transformed into a tiny library – The man had a library in his house; between that and the subtly gothic decor it was hard to believe I never noticed that Slash was playing up the vampire aesthetic, consciously or not! Anyway, I poked around until I found where he hid his collection of vampire lit, and snatched a few that were, shall we say, not quite as acclaimed as Dracula or even The Vampire Chronicles. I don’t remember the titles, but there were a couple paperback romances and a horror novel with a badass-looking dude on the cover.

I had to see what all the fuss was about, you know? Yeah, this kind of thing wasn’t exactly up my alley, but Slash usually had good taste, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Plus, if it was important to Slash, I wanted to know about it! And not just the well-known classics either; I wanted the guilty pleasures, I wanted to see what it was that could make Slash smile like that when no one was watching.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t bad. I wasn’t a big reader at the time, but I raced through the horror novel in just two days, and trust me, I barely slept the night in between! The trashy romance was more enjoyable than I would ever admit; even with all the cliches and melodrama there was something compelling about unraveling the tangled web of forbidden love in a world full of the supernatural.

At this point, I was very cautiously beginning to entertain the idea that I might see Slash as more than just a buddy and a bandmate. As friends, were were closer than ever, hardly spent a day apart, and I was beginning to notice things that I hadn’t noticed before. Things like the way he always smiled at my lame jokes, the way he leaned on my shoulder when he was pretending to be drunk, the way he tossed his hair on stage… And I couldn’t help wondering whether Slash identified more with the heroine or the love interest. Did he want to be the cool, mysterious vampire lover, or the unsuspecting protagonist who gets drawn into an alluring new world?

I got my answer a couple months later, in town again after a leg on the road. It was a steaming hot summer day back in L.A., and Slash was dozing on his couch. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, Slash’s sleep schedule had been fucked for as long as I'd known him. No, what made this instance significant was that I was also on the couch, reclined with my feet over the armrest and Slash draped across my chest. Tales From The Crypt played at a murmur on a brand-new TV set, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

See, at this point I’d recently learned that, when Slash focused hard enough, he could hear a living person’s blood pulsing in their veins and detect changes in body temperature. And that had me wondering: Could he tell that my heart beat faster when he leaned against me on stage? Could he tell that my ears got warm every time he turned a smile my way?

Could he tell how much I was affected by his weight on top of me?

He was like a huge cat in my lap, relaxed from head to toe. If you paid attention, you could tell that he was breathing more slowly that an ordinary human should be and his bare skin was slightly cool. Other than that he looked completely normal… Except for his teeth. His mouth was slightly open, allowing his pointed, knife-sharp teeth to scrape against his lower lip.

To Slash’s chagrin, they weren't gleaming white, perfectly straight fangs; instead they more closely resembled a shark’s jaw, crowded with small flesh-tearing blades. It was rare to see them exposed, Slash was careful to limit himself to tight-lipped smiles and mumbled dialogue whenever his secret was at risk. Even in private he was self-conscious about it, and I considered myself lucky when he grinned openly in my presence.

“Hey, Slash?”

“…Hmm?” Languidly, he shifted until he was looking up at me. Midafternoon sun leaked through the blinds brightly enough for me to make out a hint of red in his eyes, the other (un)dead giveaway that was usually obscured by his sedately lidded gaze.

"You know how you said the other day that you have really strong senses? Well... I was wondering what other, uh, non-human traits you have. How true are the myths about vampires, really?”

“Well… Hm. My eyes are pretty sensitive to daylight. And technically I’m nocturnal. But I don’t have fangs, I don’t really look like a vampire and I don’t have superpowers.” I swear to god, he pouted a little. "All things considered I didn’t really get any of the cool stuff."

“No super-strength? Or mind reading? Can you shapeshift into a bat?”

“Don’t you think I’d tell you if I could turn into a bat? At least I don’t have any of those stupid weaknesses, I can be in the sun and eat garlic and whatever.” He paused ponderously. “…You know, I might be immortal, I was around a long time before Tony and Ola took me in. Guess I’ll find out in a few decades.”

“That would be pretty cool.”

“Yeah, maybe."

“So... do you enthrall your victims?” I prodded, in a spooky, menacing voice belied by my goofy grin.

Slash snorted a laugh and shook his head at my antics. “No, I can’t do that either. Well, I don’t know, do you feel enthralled?”

I laughed awkwardly and counted my blessings when Slash didn't notice that my unspoken answer was an empathetic Yes.

Slash chuckled with me, then sighed. “Fuck, I wish vampires like that were real, though…” he confessed softly.

“Like what?”

“You know, badass, seductive, awesome powers…” He waved a hand toward a pinup poster on the wall with a corset and fangs, then let his head fall back to my chest. He mumbled into my shirt, “Is it really so much to ask for a sexy vampire to come and sweep me off my feet?”

“Slash, I hate to tell you this, but…” I couldn’t make it through the sentence with a straight face.

He swatted my bicep – pretty hard too, was he sure he didn’t have super-strength? “Fuck you, Duff, you know what I mean."

And, yeah, dreaming of being wooed by a beautiful, badass, intelligent and darkly mysterious vampire? Who appeared in my life and changed it forever, who blew me away with his capability and his passion? Who could captivate me with just a look?

Yeah. Believe me, I could relate.

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Happy Halloween!

#don’t think too hard about the timeline in this au #my sincerest apologies to any of you who is sick to death of my vampire aus #hell I’M not even that into vampires #I’m just into slash being into vampires…#slash #saul hudson #duff mckagan #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #halloween #gnr fanfic #guns n roses fanfic #sodafics

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clonerightsagenda · 7 years

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This was last minute but I'm a grad student so I was mostly drafting from life anyway. You can tell I was losing steam by the end though. All the library details are from my uni library, although I have never seen any dead Union soldiers, or any other ghosts for that matter. The creepy grad cages are my favorite part of giving tours.

tuesjade prompt: school

The third floor of the library is so quiet every keystroke echoes. Last time you heard someone walking through, it was the security guard on their hourly late night round. You picked this spot for its isolation.

The door leading out into the central stacks creaks open, and you listen for the student's footsteps passing by. Instead, the curtain between your carrel and the stacks twitches back, and you squint out to see Jade waving at you from the other side of the grating. "I like your shower curtain."

"You would. School mascots are just anthro with a veneer of plausible deniability.”

You don't mention that the curtain is on your side of the door, which means she's pulled it backward (and tied it up with businesslike lashwork) with Space powers instead of with her hands. There's no one else in here, and the security cameras can't pick up that level of fine detail.

"Don't science students have their own library?" you ask. Wait shit, it sounds like you're trying to get rid of her. Which you're not, exactly, although if you wanted company you'd be doing research in your apartment. Still, when it comes to people it's safe to be rude to, even after all these years Jade Harley doesn't make your list.

If she takes offense, she doesn't say so. "They do, but a few of my theoretical readings have mentioned Foucault, and I think I've gone as long as I can pretending I know who that is."

"Yeah, you'll get random Foucault encounters in unexpected disciplines. If it's not him it's Derrida popping out of the tall grass of the lit review. Philosophers were never meant to escape."

"You would know." She glances at the shelves nearby. This section is materials so old they're still in Dewey instead of Library of Congress - another reason you preferred the spot. No one needs this stuff. "How many libraries do all your programs fit into?"

"A couple, but this is the best one." You've got a pretty good setup here, if you say so yourself. Books stacked up on the makeshift shelving unit, your own modem wired into the wall to make up for the library's spotty wifi, and a mini microwave tucked under your feet. Home away from home. "None of the others let you rent carrels."

"Is that what they're called? They look more like spooky library jail cells."

"Some undergrads passed through a few hours ago while I was typing and I heard one whisper, ‘I think there's a graduate student in there.’ They screamed and ran when I sneezed."

She giggles. "They thought you were a ghoooost."

"If anywhere on campus were haunted, this would be it." The third floor stacks are perpetually poorly lit. Thanks to later additions to a library building only Escher could love, the arched windows on the far wall open to nothing but brick. In Roxy's words, "it’s where you go to get some serious ass studying done or to share a hip flask with a Civil War ghost.”

"Actually, I asked Aradia, and she said it's clean. The chancellor's house, on the other hand, definitely registers as harboring some kind of otherworldly presence. We haven't determined whether it's the chancellor yet."

"Take a look at some of the desks and tell me this place isn't possessed by demonic energies." Graffiti springs up faster than the staff can afford to replace furniture, and when the wooden desks are too choked with pen doodles and carved Greek letters, people move to the walls. If they're not sharing their phone numbers, they're swapping insults with rival frats. You take anthropological interest in this detritus, although one time you'd tried to decipher a Sharpie scribble, made out "We fucked here ;)", and speedily left the seat.

"Rose says the building appeals to your Gothic sensibilities."

"If she compares me to Lord Byron, tell her those are fighting words."

Jade peers in, and you make a halfhearted effort to push the clutter of Monster cans and energy bar wrappers out of her line of sight. "How long have you been in there?"

You stretch your legs as far as they can go, which isn’t far. "I can still feel my feet, and if I have circulation that means it's been under ten hours."

She purses her lips. "Dirk..."

You gesture toward your open PDF files. Several are still waiting for you to review their footnotes. "This dissertation isn't going to write itself."

"It won't write itself if you're dead either."

"Overwork is neither Heroic nor Just."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm confident on a philosophical basis."

She shakes her head. "I know I'm up a little late too. I had a night class on campus, and then I had a bunch of grading to do… You know how I lose track of time when I'm working sometimes." When you'd all lived together, both of you would get lost in projects and miss meals, only noticing the time when someone showed up to drag you out of your room. Jade had started setting timers for herself. She recommended the habit, but you hated having a buzzer interrupt your thoughts. Things take the time they take.

"I've heard rumors about your grading." You may not have a vibrant social network, but you keep your ear to the ground on social media. There's a waiting list for section 4 of Physics 1000. If you weren't long past gen ed credit requirements, you'd take it yourself. "Everyone thinks you'll be a soft touch."

You couldn’t teach. It still takes effort for you to spit out “Good job” to a friend. Your brain, conditioned by years of self-criticism, jumps over congratulations to what’s next and what they could do better. If a three-year-old presented you with their fingerpainting, your first reaction would probably be to tell them to wash their hands. No one deserves to be subjected to that. Isn’t Dave living proof?

“They have to learn,” Jade says. She doesn’t love it when people can’t keep up either, but she, unlike you, has historically been able to slow down and let them catch up without beating the lesson into them. "I let anyone who wants come into office hours. We'll walk through the concepts together and then they can resubmit. It's not my fault if they don't want to try. But anyway, I don't make a habit of all-nighters.” There she goes, picking the thread of the conversation back up again. She’s always been good at that, no matter how much people try to dodge. “They're not good for you. So how about once I finish looking up whoever this very important French guy is, I take you home?"

"Isn't that out of your way?"

She snaps her fingers. "The teleportation express runs 24/7 and omnidirectionally."

"Shit, I should have asked you for a ride here. On the shuttle I got stuck between some guy dumping his date over the phone and an octogenarian professor who might've died while we were in traffic."

"Ask me any time. I'm glad I ran into you tonight though, and not just to rescue you from dying in the depths of Web of Science. Jane wanted me to pass on that your resolution for the graduate assembly got voted down."

"Another one for the garbage, huh?" You click out of the open PDFs and drag them into your 'To process' folder. As much as you’ll never admit it, your blood pressure drops along with the number of tabs open. "I've given them the opportunity to be relevant on this campus, but if they want to keep kissing the administration's ass, that's their business."

"It's hard to challenge the people giving you funding. I'm writing grant applications for the lab this semester, believe me, I know."

Money. That’s an aspect of civilization you hadn’t missed growing up in its waterlogged ruins. For an institution allegedly devoted to higher knowledge, this place is obsessed with it.

"Speaking of which,” Jade continues, “Jane also said if you try anything else the board might pass a new resolution to stop letting you submit resolutions."

You snap your laptop shut. "This is homophobia."

She snorts. "I won't be long, I just need to track down a selected works book. Then I'll come back and we can get out of here."

" I can't be held responsible for any losses to scholarship." You stand up and stretch. Something in your back pops, and your head swims. Ok, maybe you've been sitting here too long.

"I'll take the blame from the academy. Just get tidied up while you're waiting." She looks critically at your collection of Monster cans. "You can recycle those, you know."

By the time Jade gets back with a thick-spined book on philosophy, you’re out of your carrel and have brushed most of the crumbs off yourself. The recyclables have been scooped up and dumped into your backpack’s outer pocket. It’ll be a sticky mess later. “Are you ready to go?” she asks

“Sure.” It’s not even one, which makes this the earliest you’ve gotten home all week. You’re struck by an impulse to yawn and almost crack your jaw resisting it. For fuck’s sake, it’s only November. You’re not allowed to get tired until March at the earliest.

Everything flashes green, and before you have time to rub your eyes, you’re standing outside your front door. Part of you expects to walk through together, but you don’t all live under the same roof anymore. Growing older changes things, even for gods.

“You’re coming to the group dinner next weekend, right?” she asks.

You dig in your pocket for your key. There must be some sort of interdimensional portal in there, it’s fucking ridiculous. Roxy probably knows about eldritch creatures that eat housekeys, that’s got to be within the Void’s purview. “It’s at Jane’s place this time, right?”

“It was the last time I checked.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you later. Have a good night!” She waves and vanishes before you have time to reply. So instead you turn around, stick the key in the lock, and step inside.

(Dirk would be one of those zombified PhD candidates who you can find obsessively scrolling through 50-year-old dissertations on microfilm at 3 am. He IS the library ghost. He doesn't attend any committee meetings because he's overscheduled but he does send proxies with detailed questions/comments/concerns for every agenda item. If they knew what he looked like, the other committee members would probably kill him on sight.)

#tuesjade #homestuck//#kat writes fic

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