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ravenofthefandoms · 2 years ago

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The Path of the Bear

Word Count: 2690 (nice)

Pairing: Leofric x Reader

Characters: Leofric of Wessex, Uthred Ragnarson/Uthred of Bebbanburg (brief), Mildreth (brief), Iseult (mentioned), King Peredur (mentioned)

A/N: First TLK post! They gave us a sassy, badass warrior that is absurdly large and slightly too old for me and since that’s exactly my type, I had to write about him. I want to make this a series as well, but I’m gonna start my Beric request after this and then my modern!Aemond fic/series to be hopefully. Also also, there’s a Grenn x reader sitting in my drafts rn. FYI, in this one I use italics for thoughts, which is new for me, so tell me if you like it! Also, I mention Grian who is, according to my five minute on Google, a Celtic/pre-Christian goddess of the sun, and specifically the winter sun. Since reader is Iseult’s sister in this, I imagine she would be a pagan, just not a Danish one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned. They belong to Bernard Cornwell and the producers of The Last Kingdom. I do not own any gifs used. They belong to their original creators.

The farmstead you had been camping near for the past few weeks was quiet. There was only one man who you ever saw near the house, and sometimes a woman was with him. Workers tended the fields and took care of the animals nearby, but they were always too busy with their daily chores to notice. You did not necessarily need to hide yourself well, typically just spending your days in the woods foraging or hunting if you could and your nights sleeping in the barn on the grounds. Once the workers all left for home after their day, the farmstead was empty save for the animals you roomed with.

It was not luxury and it was nothing like the life you grew up with. The life you had up until two months ago almost felt like a sweet dream. There was much of it you missed, like your sister and a day filled with nothing but chores and gossip. Then your sister left, married off to some king in Cornwalum for her skills as a gwarch. A mother’s gift, as your own mother called it. Something she inherited from her mother, who received it from her mother, and so on. Only you did not receive it. Your older sister, Iseult, did and she was quite powerful. Her bride price was very valuable, more valuable than you could have ever dreamed of bringing to your family. That did not stop your father’s efforts. It took two more years for him to find someone who would pay a good bride price for you. The day he told you that he found you a husband was the day you ran.

The bleating of the ewe drew you from your thoughts. A small smile formed on your lips as she stared at you, annoyed that you were laying in one of her favorite spots. You could not blame her. The hay was a nest, keeping you comfortable. “I can make room for you, but I will not move.”

Scooting over, you grinned and patted the ground next to you, as though she could understand your jest. Instead, the ewe seemed to glare at you before settling down in another little nest on the other side. Shaking your head, you settled back down into your little nest of hay before closing your eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

—

You awoke early, as you have done everyday since you started sleeping in the barn. The workers woke early too, so you needed to leave the barn before any discovered you in your attempts to hold the sheep.

The trek back into the forest was quick, your surroundings becoming easier for you to manuever. Your first stop was the brook that ran through the country side. The cold water helped to pull you from the last of your sleep, waking you completely. You wanted to bathe soon, but you had not followed the brook far enough to find a spot deep enough. Instead, you began to forage for food, checking the traps you had set, smiling to yourself when two of your traps had successfully captured two rabbits. Two was too much to eat for just one meal but it would be just fine if you cooked them both now. Starting a fire later would not be smart, the workers on their way home would be more likely to see it.

—

Night begins to fall, watching from a ridge as workers began to go home. Once they were all gone, you snuck your way into the barn quickly, the final rays of sunlight twinkling through the trees. The sheep and the cows were in their stalls, along with a few new horses. You looked through a crack in the wall towards the hut. There was light coming from the house, but you did not worry. Surely it was just the lord and his wife who lived here.

It was easy to shrug it off as you made your way to a spot towards the back of the barn, where you could watch the doors with ease. As you tore into your rabbit, your mind drifted back to the last days you had with your sister.

You had wept as your elder sister held you, learning that she was leaving soon, and you were not prepared for the separation. Though you were 18 years old at the time, she was the only one who took care of you, loved you. She was always so gentle with you and always understanding. When her gifts came to her, she became your family’s jewel. Your parents preened over her constantly, your mother nurturing your sister’s gift. The work paid off and your sister’s abilities were soon sought after. It was a long time before they were sold. During that time, your sister taught you what she could, more about healing and herbs than seeing. When she did go into the woods to see, you went with her. Silence was kept between you, but you helped her as much as you could.

The last thing she said to you will always ring through your ears. “We will meet again, sweet sister.” She tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “But you cannot marry, not who father chooses. You simply need follow the bear. He will bring you back to me.” You nodded through your sniffles, holding onto her as tightly as you could. Moonlight shone on the two of you, raven hair shimmering beneath it.

Two years later and you still had not found the bear that was meant to lead you. Though you were also not entirely sure how a bear would take you to your sister. Nonetheless, you trusted her sight and would be ready to follow.

The creak of the barndoor snapped you from your reverie. A tall shadow appeared and you cursed, scrambling to a stall. The resting cow looked up at you, lowing as you approached in a crouch. You held your breath, drawing the dagger that you had tied to your waist. “Who’s in here?” A deep voice called, the signature hiss of a sword drawn from its sheath following, “I saw you. Come back out.” You cursed again before swinging out again, taking a low stance with your blade.

The man was much closer than you expected, with a torch sitting in a sconce between you. The flickering light revealed the scarred, though quite handsome, face of a very tall man. “What are you doing here?” His blade was level, though he did not appear to be very worried.

“Sleeping. The sheep make good company.” He scoffed at your answer. “What are you doing here?” You straightened slightly from your stance, trying to relax the tension. It was quite obvious to you that this bear of a man would have no trouble disarming you, let alone killing you. But there was still a chance you could talk your way out of it.

“The same, by invitation of the lord of this farmstead. Don’t think I can say the same for you,” he stated. You answered only with a shrug. “If I put away my blade, you will as well.” It was not a question, but you nodded your agreement anyways. He began to sheath his sword and you rose, putting your own blade away. “Been here long? Seem to know the locals quite well.” He nodded to the barn animals who had returned to their resting.

Another shrug from you. “A few months. They cried when I tried to leave.” He chuckled at that, looking you up and down.

“What’s your name?” You turned to look at the ground where the rest of your rabbit laid, tossed in your panic to hide. A beat of silence as you picked it up, brushing the hay and dirt from it before taking another bite.

“So many questions. I thought Saxons were supposed to be Christians and gentlemen.” You held out the rabbit to him, a peace offering. Despite having already eaten himself, he accepted.

“I’m deciding if I should tell the lord that you are here. He is not happy, and I do not think you would wish to cross paths with him this night.” There was a small twinkle of mirth in his eyes despite the serious sound of his words.

“(Y/N). Of Cornwalum. You?” He raised a brow. A Briton was not something he had expected to see in Liscumb but here you stood.

“Leofric of Wessex. Can’t save I’ve met a Briton before.” He tossed the rabbit back to you before moving to sit in what looked to be a decently comfortable pile of hay. “How’d you get out here?”

You finished the last bit of rabbit before tossing it into one of the back corners of the barn. “I walked, mostly. Ran a little bit. Even got to ride a horse for a while. Though the horse and the running were on the same day.” He chuckled at the mischievous grin on your face. “What is a warrior of Wessex doing sleeping in his lord’s barn?”

Leofric’s eyes followed you as you paced slowly, more out of boredom than nerves. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. Here you were, silver-tongued and beautiful, with full hips that were hugged by the pants you wore and alluring eyes that seemed to call to him from the very depths of his soul. For a man like Leofric, you were a sight to feast on. Though a God-fearing man, the ancient and arcane feeling that washed through him when he met your eyes had him questioning. “It’s my lord’s wedding night.” He smirked at you slightly. “I cannot say that I wish to be privy to it.” His eyes flicked back up after their southward expansion when you stopped, sights locking on each other. There was a beat of pregnant pause.

“Then do not worry, Leofric of Wessex. You shall have a silent night to rest.” A twinkle mirroring his own caused the great warrior’s heart to falter a moment. Though not entirely unfamiliar, the stutter was not something he had felt in quite a long time. With a final small smirk gracing your lips, you slipped into one of the nearby stalls where you were met with a small bleat of an ewe. “I told you, they missed me.” A soft chuckle was met to that.

“If you are to hold the sheep for warmth, then whom should I?” His flirtatious words made you grin, though he could not see it.

You responded without missing a beat. “The cow seemed lonely.” He gave another bark of laughter at this, and you couldn’t help the small laugh you let out. Laying down, you made yourself cozy in the bed of hay. Snow was falling that night, and a freezing wind blew through the cracks of the barn. A shiver ran through your body as you tucked your knees into your chest, another attempt to keep the warm in. After a while of silence, you were able to finally fall into blissful sleep.

—

Grian emerged from her slumber and the early rays of her light began to illuminate the sky. Your eyes fluttered open with a yawn following quickly. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before rising quietly. Soft snores carried from the other side of the barn, affirming that the man from last night, Leofric, was still in the barn though sound asleep. With a final stretch, you stood and made your way out of the stall. Leofric leaned against the wall in the same place as last night, his head fallen to the side in his slumber. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you looked down at him. Such soft and small noises from a man so big were nothing short of amusing.

Quickly and quietly, you slipped from the barn. The gray dawn of morning held the chill of the long winter night. Soon, you were free, traipsing through the woods as you began your day.

—

It wasn’t long after you left before Leofric woke. In fact, the soft knock of the barndoor closing was what roused him. It took a moment for him to truly wake, but when he did, he shot to his feet. Leofric took a few partially stumbling steps towards the door before yanking it open. To his dismay, you had disappeared before he could call out your name. The slight ache in his heart had nothing to do, he told himself, with the fact that you left before saying goodbye or anything else.

With a sigh, he shut the barndoor again and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes as he waited for the fog within his head to abate. One breath, two and then he righted himself. She would have been a good hump, he thought to himself almost forlornly. Deciding to give no further thought to it, he exited the barn and started for the hut where he hoped to find something to break his fast.

—

The day passed as any other, Grian warming the sky as much as she could. Her journey across the sky was unmarked yet unchanged, descending the same as it had ascended. As night fell, Leofric thanked Mildreth for the dinner in his hands, ready to make his quick escape to the barn. Pale dusk began to settle outside and, standing in the doorway, he could’ve sworn he saw a figure disappear near the barn. The air in the room was a bit… tense between Mildreth and Uhtred, but not in the way they had been when he yelled at her the day before. This was the tenseness of a wedding night, and Leofric had no intentions to find out if he was right.

“You do not wish to sleep in the house, Leofric?” Mildreth inquired politely.

“No, lady. The sheep will be missing me.” Uhtred snorted with laughter, eying his friend mischeivously.

“Taking extra with you tonight, Leofric?” There was a gleam in Uthred’s gaze that reminded Leofric of why he had wanted to knock a tooth or two out of the arseling’s gleeful smile when they first met. “Worked extra hard today, I hope.”

Leofric glared at the arseling, tilting his head at the playful challenge. “Aye lord, I did. So hard, in fact, that I think I deserve this as well.” The taller man grabbed the horn of ale from Uthred’s hands before taking a long swig. “Well, I’ll bid you good night lady, arseling.” He gave them a curt nod before making his way to the barn.

Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting across from where he had slept. “Missed the sheep?” he questioned teasingly.

“Aye. The one in the back, I’ve decided to call her Veldicca. She has been too great of company for anything else.” You were lying, of course. What you should have done was find somewhere else, gone anywhere else, but you didn’t. You came right back to this barn, and the reason for your return was now sitting across from you.

Leofric chuckled as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. Grabbing one of the extra chunks of bread that he had taken at dinner, he tossed it to you. “Have you been thinking of me, Leofric of Wessex?” A shiver ran down his spine at the teasing tone of your voice.

“Not at all.” Lie. You have haunted my thoughts all day. “I was extra hungry tonight, but I will be a gentleman and share my food with the lovely lady.” He gave you a small wink, which only made you return it with a small smirk.

You opened your mouth for a retort when the barndoor opened. Startled, the both of you jumped to your feet, hands flying to the pommels of weapons. “Leofric, I wanted to tell yo-...” Uthred stood in the doorframe, his words faltering mid-sentence when his eyes landed on you. A confused and somewhat concerned look graced his features, eyes flicking between you and Leofric. “Who is this?”

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ichorblossoms · 2 months ago

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wip wednesday first edition yeeeeeehhaaaawwww

cannot guarantee this will happen every wednesday but! i am...trying to get more into the writing habit and testing to see if posting little snippets every so often will help

this is half-edited first draft stuff that has not been proofread by anyone but myself so a) don't expect like, novel-quality stuff b) i still need to figure out names so there are placeholders sometimes c) scenes may end up entirely different down the line or scrapped altogether ��️

--- [P1- Yarrow POV, he/him for Yarrow, they/them for Grimm*] *there might be some instances of Yarrow using they/them here, on account of this being half-edited <3

Yarrow felt not unlike a small child who was told to patiently sit and wait until an adult came to pick him up, except he was a twenty-three-year-old in a saloon, in a town he didn’t know existed until two days ago.

After a greasy lunch, Grimm had stood and announced they were going to find the two of them a place to stay for at least the night, and that it would be back in an hour or two. And now, about an hour after that, Yarrow was left alone, however many miles away from <city> with nothing but a wallet (still with $30 in it) and an outlaw’s word. I might be dead within a week.

He took a deep breath, trust them, they would have killed you by now if that was the plan. Hell, they could have left you in the desert. Maybe Grimm just didn’t want blood on their hands and decided to leave now… around and around his mind went. Yarrow tugged and fiddled with the bandana around his neck, feeling all the while that it was a shitty costume and not the real thing.

Yarrow sat there long enough for the after-work crowd to begin shuffling in. Rugged miners covered in dust began to take seats at the booths, chatting about how they were looking forward to a meal or complaining about how much of a dick their boss was today. I hope I’m not taking anyone’s spot. A few eyed him curiously, but didn’t give him much thought, not enough to warrant talking to him, anyways. He couldn’t tell if the bouncing leg was nervous or normal fidgeting.

Grimm came through the door twenty or so minutes later and drew no attention as they nonchalantly walked over to the booth they had left Yarrow, “Let’s get going, got us a place for the night.”

[the two of them stand at a shabby motel, not at the front entrance]

This was about what he expected, in all honesty.

“So, what room number are we staying in tonight?”

“Didn’t catch it.”

He bit down what was probably the fiftieth question he had for Grimm that day and trusted that Grimm had a plan. Yarrow wasn’t sure what kind of trust he would have to earn to be let in on said plans, but he could admit he was disappointed he hadn’t already earned it. The manners usually work…

When Grimm stopped, it wasn’t at the front of one of the rooms, but a back window. They held out the two grocery bags towards Yarrow, studying the window instead of making eye contact. Yarrow took the bags with a suspicion as to where this was going. Trying to be remotely helpful, he looked around for security cameras and discovered there weren’t any, at least, not any that he could see. Odd, they were all over the place in <city>.

A click brought his attention back to Grimm, who opened the window and was now sliding it open. He could see a small room with a single bed, nightstand, chair, coffee table, and presumably a bathroom or closet.

“After you,” the outlaw flourished towards the motel room, as if to give Yarrow the honors of trespassing. He handed the grocery bags to Grimm.

Working out maybe once a month back in <city> had, predictably, done him no favors in getting up and over the chest-height window ledge. It took him two tries to hoist himself up and over, and he hoped for the sake of Grimm’s plan and his dignity there were truly no security cameras around. Once he was safely back on two feet, Grimm handed him the bags through the window, once again without making eye contact, though this time it was probably out of embarrassment.

Unsurprisingly, Grimm was up and through the window in a single smooth arc of motion, looking way cooler than they had the right to. It didn’t even snag on the window.

#my ass is NOT writing this shit chronologically i am rocketing around this draft like a pinball and will continue to do so until #i have written a substantial amount of plot #i feel like for all the writing i've done it doesn't convey a lot of the plot for anything but p2 BUT i have a better outline for p3 and #also i figured out some names so. yay for me <3 #i have one more hour of wednesday it still counts as wednesday. for me #honeybee #writing #wip wednesday

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bh-writingdump · 3 months ago

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Zeek's Freaks

Original

[old draft, messy] / AO3

Nurse Andrews flipped through his notes. Of course on his last day Dr Shapiro piled up so much the clamp could barely hold it. He came to a stop beside the first habitation cell. The lamia within took zir time slithering over. A lanky lamia towered over him, making him feel like a child in comparison.

A whistle drew his attention to the smug lamia. “you forgot something.”. Zir luminescent pinkish-orange tongue flicked in and out invitingly. In his lower periphery something wiggled. Nurse Andrew’s gaze dropped to zir hand in an OK gesture, “Gotcha.” Peaches snickered.

He rolled his eyes, like he definitely didn’t see that coming. “Oh darn.”

He muttered beneath his breath. A soft snort came over the light chatter from neighboring habitation cells.

Flipping through his patient files, one of them floated to the ground.

Subject 071? Vanilla? He’d been transferred years ago, how was he still in the system… hmm

Pronouns: he/him, they/them

That isn’t Vanilla, then who is it? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me? How childish could you possibly be?

Previous Occupation: monster fuck boy

“you okay, zeek-a-reeno?”

His tongue felt like sand paper reading what came next. He might as well have a dozen gallbladder stones clattering around his body.

Items of Note: wears gawdy black and white clothing that gives him a slutty Halloween look down to his disgusting fake bleach blond hair.

“what is..”

‘Additional notes’ read in Dr Glover’s neat handwriting. Nurse Andrews crumpled up the trash, tossing it away, only for it to drift upward and out of view.

Paper crinkled.

“g l o v e r.”

Nurse Andrew hurriedly flipped through the rest of his notes. He desperately scanned each page.

Subject Patient: 069 Peaches ze/zir

Previous occupation: [redacted]

Items of Note: collects shoes

Subject Patient: 404 Ocean any/all pronouns

Previous Profession: [redacted]

Items of note: can’t stand being alone, never show him your back

Additional notes: needs more stimuli

Subject Patient: 999 Crimson he/him

Previous Profession: engineer

Items of note: only lamia from original group still in treatment]

Nurse Andrews flipped through his notes at the speed of light.

No, no, no! He’d taken months collecting all those.

“ay, zeek? earth to zeek? listen, s’alright, we can—"

After the nurse took a photo of Crimson struggling to open up a pickle jar, many patients insisted that they’d only take the psychological eval and additional tests if they also had theirs taken. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Nurse Andrews found himself with a scrap book’s worth of photos.

All gone.

Every. Single. One.

The entire wing seemed to go silent.

“is it just me, or is dessert on the menu?” A husky voice rumbled beside Nurse Andrew’s ear.

Ze followed the low rumbling purr.

How long was he standing there?

Enticing hooded sockets crease in pleasure at the attention. “cuz i just realized i got a sweet tooth.”

The nurse blinked owlishly. Like he’s suddenly being pulled out of quick sand.

“Took you long enough?..”

“and i wanna eat you up.” To drive zir point home, zir long thick tongue slid out. Dizzyingly bright and dexterous with a single row of bumps that dissected it down the middle. So dumbstruck, he nearly reached out and touched it. “heh, you got something on your tie.”

Zir phalange hooked around it through the ventilation holes, giving it a light tug. There, Peaches held it. The two staring into each others eyes.

Bit by bit, pieces came back into focus. He was looking at the files, right? The one he dropped is curiously absent. He dismissed it, instead vying to flip through Dr Glover’s report on Peaches. Absently, he tugged back his tie like one would an offered flower.

Noticeably, Dr Glover removed nearly every privilege Peaches had after yesterday’s incident. Zir habitation cell was bare except for what Peaches wore. A sunset hoodie that advertises some mountain resort the nurse visited as a tot. It only reached zir midriff. Usually, ze’d be sporting a loose-fitting beige skirt as well.

Nurse Andrews chewed on his cheek. Peaches curled zir body over zir pelvis using zir tail. Nurse Andrews would need to find another one on his lunch. Finding one large enough in a short span of time would be challenging but possible.

“Dr Glover gave me the impression that your spirits were exceedingly low. Peaches, is that the case today as well?” In an obtuse way, the way zir smile faltered almost seemingly apologetic aside from zir relaxed manner.

Peaches lightly taped on the glass.

No spinner.

Of course they took that too.

“don’t know what you expect, hun.” Peaches leans against the plexiglass, taking advantage of zir full height over Nurse Andrews. Not very challenging since most were taller than him. Nurse Andrews struggled to make eye contact, craning his neck far back.

“A minute of effort.”

Zir words take on a musical undertone. “said i was sorry, didn’t i? what more do ya want?” Zir gaze wandered a little lower to inspect the offered lolly.

One of Peaches’ long phalanges dipped through the ventilation hole, tugging on the lolly. Yet Nurse Andrews held tight. He whispered. “Don’t pinch panties if you want the Nelsons guard’s help. Call me next time.”

Peaches stared at Nurse Andrews like he’d grown another head. Zir smile grew crooked. “ya think they’ll give calls when ya leave, huh? heh. didn’t think didn’t ya say ya were a realist?” Zir laughter comes out stale.

Yesterday’s magic level assessment dug into the nurse’s mind like a rusty nail. “Arrangements have been made.” He uttered only half paying attention to the charts. Peaches pops the lolly in, noticeably a lack of tongue. Still, Peaches hummed like ze can taste it via thoughts and prayers alone. “has anyone toldja you’re a sweetheart, doc, cuz ya take the cake.”

His heart palpitates along with a rush of dopamine. “Not a doctor.”

“still a doc in my book.” Peaches hums. Zir gaze drifts in the direction of zir brother. “I know Ocean’s a handful—”

The nurse’s eyes burned as holes into his clipboard. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“When I’m gone, make sure he isn’t alone--”

“--Dr Shapiro would like you to answer this survey.” He interrupted him off with a glare as he leans back.

Peaches’ sighs, smiling in the dopiest manner a person could.

Nurse Andrew’s lip quivers for a moment before he gets it under control. “Once your released—“

“I Didn’t Know You Were A Comedian, Doctor Andrew.” Another lamia teased from the cell behind him. The complex battle formation and arithmetic covered the glass of his cell framing their face. “Was It Something I Said?”

“No, Wine. I leave the humor to you.” Nurse Andrew replied curtly.

A warm breeze blew over Nurse Andrew’s neck, setting all his hairs on end. Yanking up his coat, ruckus laugher errupted from behind him, passing from cell to cell like the common cold. “sorry, hun, ya looked a lil cold. couldn’t have ya turn inta a zeeksickle.”

“Unfortunately for you, Peaches--” Dr Andrew struggled to sharpen his tongue. “—The ambient air temperature is perfect. Now, Dr Glover requests that you refrain from any further harassment. Unlike me, they think you can actually be rehabilitated.” He punctuated the thought with a click of his pen.

“aww, zeekster, your gonna make me blush.” The moment Nurse Andrews turned; he could feel the lamia’s gaze take a generous pass at zir behind. (The lab coat wasn’t necessary for his work anyway.) Not that he’d allowed Peaches the satisfaction of knowing, he had other patients to see after all.

The next several patient’s exams passed uneventfully. Wine, while forthcoming, continued to derail the survey with small talk and little passive aggressive comments whenever Nurse Andrews had the audacity to cut off his chess rant.

Error blipped into the antivoid as long as his control collar allowed.

The “Pied Piper” as everyone called her, went so far as to approach the glass. Nurse Andrews could never see more than her teeth beneath her hood but progress is progress. Plus, her new spring tune had a rejuvenating quality that even Nurse Andrews couldn’t deny.

For once, Posca took notice of him. Though, it only after Nurse Andrews admitted to wearing the loose-fitting black dress pants for a high wasted look.

Posca raced across the cell. His arms legs and face were somehow all covered in marker. The heterochromic skeleton’s eye flashed a heart and swirl, “Ezekiel,” He tsked. “You Should Wear It Below Your Waist More Often. Something Like An Unsaturated Orange Or Pink. I Know You Don’t Like Color But It’d Really Compliment Your Bleach Blond Hair.” Nurse Andrew resisted the urge to facepalm but Ink still picked up on his displeasure.

Was it really that obvious?

Was he losing his touch?

“All I’m Saying Is Don’t Be Shy With Showing Off What You Got. I’m Sure You Know You A Superb Ass. It’s A Shame You Don’t Have Any Good Fits.”

Nurse Andrew clicked his pen rapidly. “That will be all for today, Posca.”

Nurse Andrews eyed the yellow line. The paint below it read as follows:

“Please remain six feet from the glass at all times.”

It was a laughable rule, especially among habitation cells without ventilation holes. The intercom was turned on manually. In Crimson’s case, the team replaced the glass monthly due in part to all the scratches obscuring view of him. Not to mention his magic had a tendency of weakening even the most impact resistant glass over time. Nurse Andrews strutted up to the glass, careful to remain a few inches from touching it.

The fog, as per usual, as thick as pea soup. He’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of his illusive patient.

“Greetings, Crimson. You’ll be glad to hear that Nurse David will make a full recovery. The report neglects to mention whether or not you warned him about biting off his nose but I’m sure you did. Still, in the future, I’d advise utilizing verbal methods a touch longer.”

A low rumbling chuckle crackles over the intercom. He must’ve hotwired it again as he was nowhere near the panel. Instead, he dwelled somewhere in the thick fog that pervaded his cell. “what can I say, doll? man’s gotta eat.”

Nurse Andrew snorts. “Your Vegan.”

…

“lettuce say ‘ve bean branching out.”

His lip curls ever so slightly despite his best intentions. “Peas branch out elsewhere for all our sanity.”

…

“was that a… heh, it was, wasn’t it?”

Shit.

Nurse Andrew held up the clipboard, covertly covering his face. His white makeup could only conceal so much of his burning cheeks. When Nurse Andrew finally dropped the clipboard, something moved by the bean bag chair. The elaborate maze of things made it difficult to make out any clear shapes.

“admit it. yer dying ta break out in puns. like a moth ta flame.”

“If you wish to regain TV privileges, I suggest you…” Nurse Andrew mumbles, the fog parts just enough to reveal the silhouette of someone behind the bean bag chair.

He revealed himself willingly. This should be great.

“Thank you Crimson, as I was saying…”

Suddenly, it darts from the other side of the habitation cell.

“Charming.”

Why am I not surprised? Oh well, cat and mouse it is.

Nurse Andrew walked toward the far end of the cell where the fog was the thickest.

“As I was saying, TV privileges will be reinstated when and only when you reveal yourself.”

Some days he should really mind the yellow line.

A massive set of fangs lunges out of nowhere. Crimson’s hairy legs slam against the glass, his webs sending gusts of dust filling the air. His red eye lights glowing like demons in tiny cones of light. He lets out a horrified scream, stumbling back. His goggles fell off and clip board skittering across the floor. Breathing felt like running up ten flights at full speed.

An unhinged laughter silenced the entire cell block. “oi, level bait, don’t go falling for me just yet. ya might even get me hooked.” He cackled. His sharpened hook arm dragged along the glass while his spider legs arched up against the glass, making him look even taller.

Frantic flute noises cut through his laughter. Each time he tried to speak, a shrill tone filled the air. Pied leans against the adjacent cell wall. An oversized hoodie covers all but his silver fanged smile.

“can it, kazoo!” Crimson snaps.

Morse code beeping echoes across the hall. “NOW THAT’S JUST RUDE!” Ocean chided from the furthest cell back. “YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER. NO DOCTOR WILL WANT—"

“Ocean,” Nurse Andrews coughed. Hurriedly, he put on his glasses again, taking care to keep his eyes closed until doing so. “You’re up next.”

“awww, c’mon, doll. was only joking.” His grin sharpened, showing off a shiny golden tooth, “A little.”

In several quick strides, Nurse Andrews roughly yanked out the food tray, slamming it shut with a photograph. “Don’t bite this one. There won’t be another specialist.”

Nurse Andrews raised his voice. “That’s a shame. I’d hate for the warden to hear of this. He’s particularly keen on finding that bean bag chair.”

For a beat, Crimson misses his cue. His clawed prosthetic gingerly running over the far sleeker and lighter model in the picture. He nodded, slowly putting his mask back on.

Crimson slammed his fist against the glass, cracks immediately spiderweb across it. “yer bein’ awfully sensitive over a lil joke. cut a pal some slack. not like we met yesterday, bait”

“5 days, 6 months and 3 years. 26 more including my training. However, I thought you grew out of this… juvenile behavior.” Dr Andrew added with a hint of bitterness.

Crimson shoves the photo in his vest pocket. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Nurse Andrews marched over to Ocean’s cell, feeling a strange lack of sins crawling up his spine.

What was wrong with everyone today?

Perhaps there wasn’t enough monster food in their diet. Nurse Andrews scribbles into his notebook. ‘check diet.’

Morse code chirps fill his ears. He distantly notices the repetition of his name but keeps writing.

‘peaches skirt.’

Less pauses came between sentences.

‘set up appointment for prosthetic fitting + sea tea for abrasions’

“There.” He sighed. Everything was in order.

Looking up, the habitation cell before him looked straight out of an aquarium. A scaffolding ladder lead up to the water level. Below, all manner of underwater toys lay strewn about from diving torpedos to suspended rings to swim through. Pressed up against the glass, a starry eyed dolphin siren beamed. In one acoustic meatus a ear piece poked out.

That’s good. It must be working well if he hadn’t taken out this one.

His finger never left his clicker. Yet, he didn’t say a word. Ocean cocked his head and brow-bone tense with a story to tell. He hurried taps into his tiny data pad attached to the glass.

Words appeared in cyan font on an identical screen on the other side of the glass. “DOCTOR, YOU DON’T LOOK SO WELL… VERY PALE. YOU KNOW, I HEARD THAT HUMANS ARE MADE OF 75% WATER, YOU MUST’VE PERSPERATED TOO MUCH WITH CRIMSON. WHY DON’T YOU TAKE A BREAK AND WE CAN CONTINUE ONCE YOU’RE WELL?”

Buttering him up or not, Nurse Andrew could already smell the fear sweat. He’d been at it for nearly an hour, it hardly warranted a break but they couldn’t fire him on his last day.

Nurse Andrew considered the potential ramifications. Dr Shapiro could fire him. Granted, if he was out by the end of the day, what was the point? Plus, Dr Shapiro wasn’t the sort to waste labor when it was available, even if she wanted it gone. “We’ll resume in 10.”

“I LOOK FORWARD TO IT!” Ocean’s tail slapped against the water, sending a bit of spray across the glass.

Nurse Andrews popped through several thick security doors.

“Ezekiel, done so soon?” A despondent soul crooned. “Did crazy ol 999 scare you again?” They sniffed. Their vulture instincts served them well.

“Actually, Crimson and I had a delightful conversation about his ambition to open a repair shop. I’ve seen a great deal of progress. If it weren’t for my absence, he’d have been out by the quarterly review. What about you, Doctor Glover?” He hummed. “I heard Peaches was quite.. insistent the other day.”

Dr Glover stiffened at his smile.

“Don’t worry, I told zem to… give you some space. Ze was quite accommodating. It’s amazing what happens when you don’t confiscate zir undergarments.”

Dr Glover body checked the nurse into the crumbling asbestos wall. Dry wall dusted his hair and shoulders. The nurse coughed. Blood covered his elbow. Their hands slipped around his collar like a glove, hefting his short and stout frame high off the linoleum. “it doesn’t even have genitals! Why would it—”

“They say a smile is worth a million words, don’t you agree-ack!.” The corner of his lips twitched.

“Where is it?” Their head swiveled around. The shit for brains doc finally locked on the hole in the wall. Their breath hitched.

“Don’t worry… I have… copies… for the whole family.”

As if nothing happened, they dropped him, brushing off his shoulders while they’d rather break him like a twig. “You know as well as I do they’re a luxury. We got other mouths to feed and 69 needs the motivation. You can’t just give it anything it wants willy nilly. It’ll get entitled. Self righteous.”

Whatever they saw on the nurse’s face seemed to disappoint them. “Don’t think I didn’t see the bean bags.”

“Bean bags?” Dr Andrews hummed contemplatively. “Ah yes, I remember now. Those awful lumpy chairs. I honestly cant understand why anybody would choose that shade of brown. It’s a blessing in disguise. Whoever it was did.. whatsername a favor.”

The sound of drywall crumbling draws his eye to the hole fist embeded in the wall. “Derek and you better not forget it, snowflake.” For such a sculpted person, build to tear someone limb from limb, it was difficult to see why a tank wanted to do the work of surgeon. However, given time, the nurse saw glimpses of that soft underbelly. For once in a very long time, Nurse Andrews saw he misjudged the fellow enby. Someone as independent and focused wouldn’t harbor such fire at the slight on behalf of a jilted friend or bedmate. Though, the idea that someone as strong willed as Dr Glover could be brought under Shapiro’s spell..

He shivered.

Dr Glover smirked. “I don’t care how far you go. Nobody will hire your unscrupulous ass from Seattle to New York. Unlike you, Derek’s friends back him up. You could learn a thing or two. Too bad you picked with the freaks.”

Their goggles slipped from their forehead, perfectly landing on their nose. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re behind bars.”

A whisper of a memory tickles Andrew’s ear. “i can’t sleep. i can’t eat. the only thing that makes me feel anything was fucking and now i can’t even do that.” Peaches curled up into a ball, covering the bruise ze got from slamming zir head into the wall. “i’m just a defective whore who never should’ve been born.”

Nurse Andrews’s hands formed into fists. Taking the goggles off and setting his clipboard aside, Ezekiel opened the cell door. He kneels in front of Peaches.

Peaches rubbed the tears from zir eyes. “A freak of nature, you know bitties aren’t even supposed to get this big. Much less lamia.” Ze hiccuped. “My magic’s all fucked. Freakish. Perverted.”

Ezekiel reaches out. Something told him he should hold hands but it was like a thick force field surrounded the trembling lamia. “If you keep this up, you won’t leave any more freak for the rest of us.” Peaches’ gasps pause, he pops up like a prarier dog.

“b-but y-your normal.” Peaches sniffles. “y-you’re good.”

Something sickly crawled along Ezekiel’s back. His own thoughts ready to drown him at a moment’s notice. Carefully, Ezekiel eased the hairnet securing his wig in place.

“whole and.. and..”

More of the sickly crawling sensation writhed over his shoulders, head and neck. The thoughts ready to spill over the dam he so carefully constructed all those years ago.

“zeek i—” I held up a finger, silencing him.

Ezekiel carefully worked off the special effects make up covering the side of his face, covering the whole in his ear.

Finally, he past to the hardest part. Unbuttoning the first two buttons on his shirt, just enough that Peaches could see where his original flesh ended and other began. If he’d shown the other side, it would’ve gone all the way through.

“Babies born as witches get their…” He trailed off, the words not coming to him.

All of a sudden, Peaches’s arms encircled him, yanking him into the tightest hug of his life. He gasped. Not frightened, just the shire surprised mixed withs something else, relief?

“us freaks need to stick together.” He whispered into the side that didn’t have an ear.

“What the hell are you smiling about?!”

Nurse Andrews sighed. “There’s one thing you can always trust in our line of work and that is the gossip mill. It’s unfortunate you didn’t learn that during our friendship. Otherwise, you’d have a leg to stand on. As it is, you’ll finish Crimson’s exam for me today.”

She sneered. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe but you make time for Derek. He too will let you slip out for lunch, correct? You two really should keep it to the bedroom. Board rooms are notoriously insecure.”

Nurse Andrews waved a USB drive. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the only one either.”

The moment Dr Glover veins on her forehead popped, Nurse Andrews muttered. “Good grief.”

“It’s your lucky day, monster fucker!” Dr Glover grabbed him by the lab coat, throwing him into the laundry shoot. “I’m taking you out with the trash!” They gave him another solid shove before stalking off.

“Bloody Brilliant.” Nearly thirty minutes later, Nurse Andrews managed to escape the clutches of the tube. He checked himself in the bathroom. His back screamed. Pulling off his shirt, there was already a lovely little bruise forming. Plus, he chipped tooth. “Fucking perfect. The Blue menace will eat me alive.”

Sure enough, Ocean gasped the moment he was within eye shot, exclaiming. He darted to the glass, typing into his data pad. “DOCTOR! HOW IN THE STARS DID THIS HAPPEN? LET ME LOOK AT IT. I AM AN EXQUISITE HEALER."

“Greetings Ocean.” Nurse Andrews continued staring at his clipboard, gritting his teeth. The damn ear prosthetic kept itching. “Dr Viola informed us what happened when she helped you with the radio. Unfortunately, it was not good news.”

Faster than Nurse Andrews would’ve expected, a storm cloud extinguished his starry eyes into empty voids.

“VIOLA? OH! VI, YES, I SO SO SO AM TERRIBLY SORRY. MY RECIPES AREN’T MEANT FOR HUMANS. I DID WARN HER MY TACOS CAN BE UNPREDICTABLE.”

“Interesting, Ocean. How very interesting... I wasn’t aware cookies involved cyberizing my colleagues.”

“Wait… so you don’t mind I poisoned her?”

Nurse Andrews sent him a flat look. “If every person who poisoned Dr Viola were held accountable, we wouldn’t have any nurses.”

Ocean let out a breath he must’ve been holding in awhile, his shoulders fell as he leaned fully against the glass.

“I’d like to be frank with you, Ocean. Did you know—”

“Aww, why can’t you be Frank with me?” Peaches whined. “I always get boring old Zeek.”

Ocean snorted. “PERHAPS IF YOU TOOK MORE INITIATIVE. YOUR ROOM

WAS ALWAYS MESSY AT HOME. FRANK ONLY COMES OUT WHEN YOU’RE PRESENTABLE.”

Nurse Andrews shot him a look.

Peaches held up his hands in mock surrender. “Not that I mind.” He waggled his brow.

Ocean kneaded his hands together before typing again. If he didn’t have the mask on, Andrew imagines he’d be clicking his teeth.

“DOCTOR, I DON’T KNOW WHAT I CAN SAY FOR YOU TO BELIEVE ME. I WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING TO HURT VIOLA. WE DISCUSSED THE RISKS BEFOREHAND. SHE CONSENTED TO IT. THEN SHE GOT COLD FEET, WE WERE ALREADY SO FAR ALONG, TO STOP WOULD JEOPARDIZE HER HEALTH!”

“The doctors say she’ll never beath on her own again.” Nurse Andrew pinched his nose. He awaited already getting a head ache and he only got through a quarter of his patients. “Her goggles were missing when we found her, ocean. To take responsibility is the first step to change. We’ll put a pin in it today.” Nurse Andrews remained fixed on the clipboard. He continued writing, neither of them break the silence.

Ocean smile was a few degrees weaker. “You have to believe me.”

His eye lights shrank so small, the faint draft could extinguish them. “I can’t be without my brother again.” His phalanges easily fit through the vent holes, clawing at Nurse Andrews sleeves. He’s so much smaller than the other patients. A hair shorter than himself actually.

Ezekiel bites his lip. “I don’t have the key. I can’t—”

“But you could talk to her! Dr Shapiro knew about Viola’s situation. I wouldn’t operate otherwise. I—” Big tears poured like waterfalls down Ocean’s cheeks. “Please don’t look at me like that. I don’t care what you think of me but you have to believe me.”

Ezekiel leans closer to Ocean’s phallanges, allowing him to tug part of his sleeves through.

He kept fiddling with Ezekiel’s sleeves. Neither of them spoke. The ever hanging storm felt like it was on their door step. There wasn’t anything that he could do without an actual monster doctor or human trained in monster medicine. After several false starts, Ocean lets go of Ezekiel’s sleeve. “I don’t know how long he’ll last—”

Something tugged at Ezekiel’s goggles. He reaches up to secure them but Ocean’s already got ahold of his other sleeve.

“Ocean, I can’t protect you if you do this. Listen to me.” The goggles rose of his cheeks, forcing him to keep his eyes on the display. Those cyan letters glaring back at him.

“I’m so sorry.” His words so soft.

Ezekiel’s gaze darts up to Ocean’s face. The mask gone.

Oceans sobs shift into sniffles and slowly devolve into giggles.

Ezekiel scrambles to tug his sleeves away. With a buttoned shirt, he couldn’t get it over if head unless Ocean let him go.“Dr Shapiro told me himself that she’d stop feeding you if you exhibited any “maladaptive” behaviors. She’s actively looking for a reason to kill you! I know we haven’t been eye to eye… please, give me back my goggles.”

Ocean wiped away a tear smiling with an elbow. “Zeek, I’ll be confiscating your goggles. Once you learn to behave, you may have them back. Do you understand?”

The words slip from his mouth before he could even think them. “Yes, I do.”

“For now we have work to do, my prince.”

He finally let go. Every bone in Ezekiel’s body screamed to run. Get the fuck away from him. He knew he shouldn’t have reached out.

No matter how hard Ezekiel tried, he resist speaking to Ocean. He needed to hear more. Hear more of that wonderful voice that reminded him of the most gorgeous bells and harp. “Is there any way I can help? I could open the doors? Would that satisfy you?”

Ocean hummed, “it’s a start.” In seconds, Ezekiel unlocked the door separating the tank from the upper platform. He raced back up. Anything to hear Ocean’s call.

“Should I—”

Just as Ezekiel reached the platform, Ocean lunged out. His sharp boney phalanges digging deep into Ezekiel’s sides, drawing a gasp. Everything went fuzzy from there on out.

There were sounds. Doors unlocking. Familiar voices murmured. An alarm blared.

Soon that too got drowned in the darkness.

#Zeek's Freaks #original #2023 #first draft 2022

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carpisuns · 2 years ago

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I just wanna say I have an old post of yours saved in my drafts, about being a beginner artist…. I look at it sometimes to give me perspective and reassurance. Thank you. It has inspired me to continue my hobby/passion even if I don’t get many notes rn. I improve and I see it! Thats all that matters. Thank you. I hope I can be that for someone someday.

oh wow 😭 this just warmed my heart—thank you for sharing with me. i don't know what post you're talking about specifically, but i'm so glad that something i said could give you a little extra boost sometimes<3

it's both cool and sort of embarrassing that this blog is a record of my entire art journey. i didn't start learning how to draw until i got into ML and joined tumblr again about 3.5 years ago, so it has my very earliest art as well as my most recent. the other day my sister and i went through my art tag and i was literally crying with laughter at some of those pieces alskjdf (particularly this one). they're sooo bad but they were my best work at the time! as much as i cringe to look at them now, it's nice to remember how far I've come. There are still so many things I struggle with and things i disappoint myself about, but that's normal because I am still growing. no one stops growing. the artists you look up to the most, whose work seems absolutely flawless to you, are still growing.

and YOU are growing too! whether you feel like you are or not. sometimes it takes looking back to realize it. i'm really glad you can see your improvement! honestly, that's a skill too! having a healthy mindset about your own development can take a lot of internal work so I'm really proud of you for that.

(i got very rambly so cut for the rest lol)

and honestly sometimes the improvement isn't even about what the art looks like—it can just be about how you feel about making it. I think one of my biggest improvements in the last year was getting comfortable with drawing and sharing things that are Bad and Ugly! for example:

the first one i drew 3 years ago, just a few months into learning how to draw. the second one i drew about a month ago. they both have obvious flaws and you could even argue that the old one is better drawn than the newer one. so it's like omg did i not improve at all after over 3 years?? did i actually get worse? lol. no! because a lot of the improvement is internal.

you'll notice that the first one was done in pencil and the second one is pen. it took me years to feel confident enough to sketch in pen because you can't erase! you have to commit to the lines! you can actually see tons of erase marks in the first one, but i didnt even use my white-erase tape at all on the second one. also, the first one is a screen redraw. i was just looking at the image and trying to replicate what i saw the best i can. the second one is new scenes/poses that came from my brain—not that they are very complicated/impressive lol, but there's a difference there. and what you can't see at all is just my attitude about drawing them! i can't particularly remember doing the first one but i guarantee i spent forever on it and was nervous about posting it. second one probably took me 7 mins and i knew it was ugly but i was zero percent embarrassed about that lol. that's progress baby!! cant even tell you how much of a difference it has made to me to let myself draw ugly things. i draw ugly things all the time. some of them get posted online. some of them get shared with one or two friends. some of them get shared with no one. and i've finally learned how to either embrace them as what they are or just shrug it off and go, "you know, this is not it! moving on." blank pages are so intimidating because you have a million opportunities to mess things up, but you also have a million opportunities to explore and learn and experiment and have fun and also to surprise yourself with what you're capable of.

i started out with nothing but a pencil and some powerful blorbo brainrot, and that was enough! that has been enough to power me through years of all the struggles and triumphs that artists go through. it was enough to help me push through every art block and keep drawing to the point that my instincts have improved and things that used to be almost impossible for me are just regular hard lol. i've actually illustrated for a print magazine a few times now, and a few weeks ago i finished my first animatic—which i always wanted to do but didn't have the skill or confidence for.

sorry this is so long, i'm just very passionate about this subject lol!! i just want every growing artist to know that if you keep trying and having fun, improvement is not only possible but inevitable. like, you don't even have to do formal studies if you don't want to. keep looking at art that you like and figuring out what is appealing to you. keep drawing what you feel like drawing. if you're no longer inspired by a piece or it's a little too tough for you right now, it's ok to drop it. you can come back later or never. you have infinite opportunities to make new and better art. and don't forget to give yourself credit for the progress you've already made. it's so hard not to compare yourself to others, and literally everyone—even the best and brightest—feels bad about their work sometimes. but try to compare yourself to your past self and pat yourself on the back for your improvement! it's okay to grow slowly, or in a way that's not so visible on the outside. just remember that you are growing, and you will only get better and better.

also, side note about notes/likes: i know it sucks to feel like your work is not getting attention when you poured a lot into it :( this might sound rich coming from me because i feel that people have been incredibly generous toward my work from the very beginning. but just know that popularity is not really about who "deserves" what, and it's not an accurate reflection of skill either. so if you feel unseen, that doesn't mean your stuff sucks. and you never know what your work might have meant to the people who saw it, even if there aren't that many. art doesn't have to be popular to be meaningful, and it doesn't have to be perfect either.

the world is a little richer and more beautiful because of the ways you are growing and the things you are sharing. so thank you, and please don't stop.

#anon #ask #nice things #positivity #art

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ffxiiiapologist · 9 months ago

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Have attempted to draft like two or three different posts on recent shit but it all just feels like repeating myself from the things I'm already constantly complaining about

The main "new" thing is, perhaps I have become too "close" to all this and too liable to comment as an outsider due to my own gender issues and the different trans women whom I've been friends with or otherwise followed over the years, including some I no longer follow whose particular experiences and commentaries have continued to negatively affect my views of my own prospects and of certain community dynamics (not only trans women's but gay men's as well from their time attempting to navigate those spaces) that, again, are constantly vexing me. Obviously stopping following trans women isn't the solution here but I also don't know what is

During one of these incidents a few months ago about which I was drafting a post, someone brought up Caylee, and she is of course also part of why I feel so strongly about these things. She and other trans women (who have seemingly since deactivated) were very critical of the neo-separatist trends (ie people self-describing as ba*ddels and with urls based on the word) that frame these awful sexual politics and doomerism and violence as essential to their subjectivities and sexualities. Caylee and these others always emphasized that 1) these things are not inherent to transfemininity and that 2) the primary victims of this are younger trans girls seeking community who become roped into these circles and rhetoric and taught that having boundaries is fascist (to quote one post) and convinced that there’s no other means or place to find acceptance. So many of the women who were vocally critical of these things are no longer here for various reasons, and the quality of discussion has deeply suffered as a result of tme people failing to keep these points in focus

I feel the need to also bring up an ex-mutual from my old blog (whose own blog seems to have been terminated) who was verbally raked over the coals and smeared as a “traitor” by ratliker and her wife for refusing to cosign her racism. This sticks with me because this former mutual was open about having been in the original ba*ddel group, deeply regretting it, and giving no quarter to others reviving the same patterns, only to still be subjected to it upon running afoul of a popular blogger. As in, she drew a direct comparison to it

I don’t know what answer or conclusion I have for this, it’s all just deeply unfortunate and disheartening to see play out again and again

#analects

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folliesandfolderols · 10 months ago

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Writing prompts days 35, 36

From this prompt list. If you've read this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 32-34 here

***

44. "You're really messing with my head here."

***

A week later, Tim remembered to check the scheduling program and tweak the frequency of assignments for Damian. When he reviewed the results a week after that, he was half-surprised, half-resigned to see that Damian had manually revised his availability to be more frequent than ever. Oh, well. His work wasn’t noticeably suffering on either the civilian or vigilante front, so Tim supposed he didn’t have a right to talk to him about it.

He did switch things up a little, just to stretch out of his usual patrol territory and keep from getting bored. Damian somehow always being on the opposite end of the city wasn’t an intentional side effect, but given the givens of their hook-ups, it probably wasn’t a bad thing either.

A month after the last time they slept together, Tim’s phone buzzed at 2 AM with a message from Damian. Are you at home? I want to discuss some new information on the case with you.

Tim, busy putting together a spreadsheet comparing weapons distribution epicenters in various cities with local businesses that had suspiciously healthy bottom lines, frowned at the text. just send it over i’m busy working on another lead rn

No answer for five minutes, so he followed up with and we can text about it then if its urgent

Another five minutes, and he had nearly forgotten they’d begun the conversation, but then his phone vibrated again. Very well. I will share the file with you as soon as I’m sure it has all the relevant information.

Tim replied, thx, and got back to work.

They were able to turn the entire case over to the CBI within a few days after that, which was pretty satisfying.

A few weeks later, a sudden buzz of conversation that started at the elevators on the R&D floor of WE and slowly spread to Tim’s desk had him surreptitiously raising his head above the divider to behold Damian navigating the bullpen. Tim’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of him gliding through the cubicles. Even fluorescent lights couldn’t make Damian less handsome. He looked like a panther released into a lab rat’s maze.

Damian drew to a halt at his cubicle and said, “Drake. A moment?”

“I thought they were brothers,” Tim heard someone whisper. The person they were talking to shushed them.

“Sure,” he replied, and followed Damian to one of the rarely-used conference rooms.

Damian shut the door behind them and then frowned as he truly looked at Tim’s face for the first time. “The circles under your eyes are darker than usual.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Damian, it’s nice to see you too. The mission with Kon went great, and I just got back a couple nights ago. Appreciate you checking in.” He was tired, though, so he leaned on the table before asking, “Did you come all the way from Finance just to give me the bad news about my appearance?”

“No.” Damian shook his head. “Father and Todd had an argument last night after Father interfered with one of Todd’s interrogations. They both had already taken gunfire due to Father’s intervention. Accusations were exchanged, and now Father is, not to put too fine a point on it, sulking.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his temples, fighting off a sudden headache. Bruce and Jason acting like gigantic children together was hardly a reason to interrupt his work. “So what else is new?”

“Father had already planned a trip to a planet that will require four weeks of space travel to reach before their altercation. He’s not at his best after last night, either mentally or physically. I don’t believe Todd truly expected to affect him, but Father is self-flagellating nonetheless, not to mention the bullet wound.”

“Goddammit.” Tim rubbed his temples harder like the pressure would dam up the pain. As far as he could tell, in Jason’s brain, Bruce was Zeus and Satan and Orion all in one body—the notion of him being vulnerable didn’t seem to register. “Fucking great. Okay, what’s the plan? What do you want me to do?”

“Go talk to Father. Persuade him to put off the trip. If he believes you don’t know about his argument with Todd, he might be more susceptible to the suggestion.”

Tim slid off the table to his feet. “Is he in today?”

“No, he’s at the Manor. He’s planning to leave tonight, so speed is essential.”

“Got it.” Tim made to walk past Damian to the door, but Damian reached for his elbow in a light grip, pulling him closer.

“Drake. Are you truly well?” His eyes searched Tim’s face as if he were investigating a crime scene.

The Oud-Al-Janaid Damian always wore surrounded them both in a subtle cloud of fragrance. Tim swallowed, fighting down the Pavlovian urge to press his face to Damian’s neck, chasing the scent to its source. His dick started to take notice of the provocation.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” he remembered to say. “Just tired, is all. Nothing new about that.” He waited, but Damian didn’t move. “You need anything else?”

Damian didn’t start, but the way he dropped Tim’s elbow had the same air. “No. You should leave without delay.” He stalked from the room, not waiting for a reply.

Tim went straight from the conference room to the parking garage and headed for the Manor. He found Bruce in his room, grimly putting together his travel supplies while moving with more deliberation than usual. Bruising extended from beneath his sleeve across the back of his right hand, and finger-shaped welts blazed across the front of his neck. He looked up when Tim stood in the doorway.

“Tim.” He set some socks on top of the pile of underwear. “I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Tim leaned against the door jamb. “Damian mentioned you’re going off-planet for a while?”

“Hn.” Bruce turned away and kept moving clothes into his suitcase.

“Do you have to go?” Tim took care to keep his tone light. “Seems like there’s a lot going on here on this planet, and in our city, that could use you.”

Bruce sighed. “It’s a solo mission, or at least it's solo travel until I meet some of the Lanterns out there. Not many of the Justice League are suited to three months in space with the majority of it spent alone. They’re . . . social.”

“Hmm.” Tim straightened up to walk closer. “Hey, why are you moving like that? Did you get injured?”

“Yes.” Bruce still didn’t pause, or at least he didn’t till Tim stood between him and the bed where his suitcase lay open. “Tim.”

“Bruce,” Tim mimicked him. “Someone else can be lonely for three months. Someone who isn’t moving like he can’t find his Bengay.”

“Sitting still in a ship—" Bruce began.

“Isn’t recovery,” Tim finished. “Injuries can be exacerbated by weird space shit, you know that as well as I do because you taught me that. Why are you so essential to this trip?”

Bruce stared at him, silent, for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw working. Finally, he sighed. “It’s about Colu.”

“Wasn’t it blown up?” Tim asked.

“Essentially, yes. But there are refugees, as well, and there are associated problems the Justice League let go unaddressed that need to be resolved in a neighboring star system’s single liveable planet.”

Tim stared at him, then shook his head in what he wished was disbelief. “This is about you still feeling guilty about breaking the Source Wall, isn't it.” Bruce, predictably, made no answer. “Fine. What’s the name of the planet?”

Bruce picked up his tablet from the nightstand, tapped it a few times, and handed it to Tim. “You can’t pronounce it without a bisected tongue. See for yourself.”

Tim scanned through the information rapidly, then looked up. “I can handle this.”

Bruce frowned. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m volunteering.” Tim set the tablet down on the nightstand again. “Getting off-planet for a while isn’t the worst thing I could do, as long as you don’t think it’ll leave the patrol rotation too skimpy.”

“That won’t be an issue, no.” Bruce seemed to be struggling with words he didn’t want to speak, but in the end he won. “I know you’re capable of carrying out the mission. You’ll have to leave tonight to make it there in time.”

“No problem. I’ll go home and pack and be back in an hour.” Tim headed for the stairs without waiting for Bruce’s reply, pulling out his phone as he went. Opening his thread with Damian, he texted, mission accomplished hes not going

Damian liked the message just before Tim climbed back into his car. True to his word, Tim was back and ready to fly to the Watchtower to catch his ride within an hour.

His phone vibrated again while he was doing the mission precheck of the cockpit. Damian’s name popped up on the screen. Tim opened the message to read, Todd refuses to come to the Manor, naturally, so we must meet at your apartment to discuss our next steps.

Tim’s mouth twisted as a pang of guilt bounced around his ribcage. He was running out in the middle of the drama and leaving Damian to deal with it, which was shitty of him, but in this case he had to choose saving Bruce from himself rather than helping Damian.

sorry i wont be back for a while gotta take care of some aliens

He launched from the docking bay, and away from cell signals, before Damian’s reply could come through. Assuming there would’ve been one.

After he passed Uranus, he uploaded the Arabic course he'd bought to pass the time and got started. Improving his fluency wouldn't be a bad idea.

The trip took a little longer than expected, and was far more tedious than Bruce had led him to expect. Tim nearly cried in relief when he was finally able to type Earth’s coordinates into the navigation system.

His dreams on the way home were populated by everyday moments with the rest of the family, half-remembered interactions set to a nonsensical narrative. Sparring with Steph, meeting Cass and Duke for ice cream, crashing with Bruce through a skylight into some goons’ heads.

Kissing the back of Damian’s hand while Damian fucked him, his weight pressing Tim into the mattress. Ant euyuni, whispered hot against his skin, tender with affection, but this time he knew what the words meant.

Tim woke up with Damian’s murmured “Drake” still in his ears and his hand already on his cock. He stroked his way to a confused orgasm moments later and stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded, until the proximity alarm forced him to clean up the cooling mess on his belly and get up.

Dick had texted him regularly during his absence, a fact he discovered as soon as he got in range of Earth satellites and started receiving messages on his cell again. Most of them were better be ready to get whipped back into shape with me after all that space muscle atrophy type of things, or the mid-air selfies he knew made Tim laugh. One, however, was a picture of Damian giving the camera a direct look while seated behind a cake blazing with what Tim assumed was twenty-one candles. The message with it just said birthday boy—don't forget to wish him a happy belated when you get back, which was Dick being Extra Big Brother since he knew Tim tended to forget basic social niceties like that.

Tim rubbed the ache in his chest absentmindedly with the heel of his hand as he scrolled down farther. He needed to check the oxygen monitors and then his heart rate, make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong, but the pain was probably just due to the lack of aerobic exercise since he'd been on the ship.

Kon's text tone was sounding regularly as the phone loaded more of the messages he'd missed. Reaching the bottom of Dick's thread, Tim tapped onto Kon's instead. The first message he saw was a picture of Jon, arms wrapped around Damian from behind as they both hovered mid-air in costume. Jon was planting a kiss on Damian's cheek while a tiny smile that Tim knew was involuntary curved Damian's mouth up. Kon had screencapped Buzzfeed's coverage of the picture, as witness the bolded headline below: "Why This Pic of Superman and the Artist Formerly Known as Robin Broke the Internet Today."

Kon had sent the screencap accompanied by a gif of Damian in his baby Robin days that had been a meme for five minutes, swinging his katana and screaming in silent rage while the caption read "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK."

Looked like Damian had left the Robin mantle behind once and for all. And that Jon and Jay might have called it quits. Or maybe their relationship was open.

Tim frowned. The chest pain was getting worse and now his throat felt like it was closing up. Some sort of anaphylactic reaction, maybe? Hopefully not. He moved to the tiny medical bay and ran a quick diagnostic, but nothing of concern popped up. Well, he was almost ready to dock with the Watchtower, so he could get checked out there. He texted back, jon has literally wanted to kiss damian since b4 he even knew he was bi, why are u showing me this????

Steph had texted him a lot, too, mostly selfies with various Gotham clusterfucks in the background while she threw up ironic peace signs in costume, and a few of her and Cass looking like they were literally trying to meld into one person. He hearted a bunch of the pictures just to let her know he was back.

Bruce had sent a couple of messages, the last one reading Let me know as soon as you're back on-planet. Your absence is felt on patrol, which was as close as he'd get to admitting he missed having Tim around.

There was one message from Jason. Hey. Lmk when you're back. I've got an update on some loose ends from the weapons trafficking case.

A beep from the cockpit told him the Watchtower's automated systems were trying to make friends with Tim's ship controls. He got them re-acquainted and then headed to the single berth to get his bag as the autopilot docked him.

Once he'd returned to the surface, Earth's gravity grabbed his bones and held them like an internal vise. He swayed a little on his feet as he walked to his car from the base, wishing he'd thought to bring a wheeled suitcase instead of his gear bags. He sat behind the wheel and turned on the engine, but took a second to text Jason back before he put the car into gear. He'd thought they'd wrapped up the weapons trafficking group with a neat and pretty bow for the CBI. Hearing they'd left some loose ends dangling chafed his pride.

Kon called him by the time he'd hit the highway. "Dude, welcome back! I missed your skinny ass."

Tim grinned. Normally he avoided voice calls like a death sentence, but for Kon it was worth making the exception. "How're things?"

"Pretty good. I'm hanging out with M'gann in a few but I wanted to say hi. You've been gone forever. I hope you worked out whatever was eating you so you can stick around for a while."

Tim shrugged even though of course Kon couldn't see it. "Nothing was eating me. I just like to keep busy now that I'm not working at WE as anything but a contractor anymore."

"Bullshit. Something happened. I know the regular Tim Drake flavors of overwork and this one was Overwork Plus, Bonus Angst Edition. But hey, I know sharing what you're thinking and feeling is really high up there on the Things You Like to Do list, right below root canals, so I'll drop it before you turn back around and head for Mars."

Tim's stomach clenched with pain. "Yeah, yeah, you know I really wanna bare my soul when I've been back on the planet five whole minutes, but right now I'm starving so I'm looking for the nearest Big Belly drive thru. Will you be at the tower anytime soon?"

They set up a time to meet up the following weekend, and then Tim hung up so he could order. Once he got the food, though, he picked at the fries in a desultory fashion, the cramping in his stomach not doing much to spur his appetite for some reason.

A text notification from Jason popped up on the car's screen. Tim tapped the bubble, keeping one eye on the road. The uninflected AI voice announced, "In the group with you and Damian, Jason wrote: We've got a problem. The remnants of the weapons-running org revamped itself and merged with another, smaller operation. They've got new contraband now and it's human. Would you like to reply?"

Tim's veins abruptly felt as though they'd been injected with ice water, and he couldn't decide if it was because of the message itself or because Damian was included on the thread. "No," he breathed.

"Okay," the AI responded.

It was just that it would be awkward. To have their first real interaction after Tim being gone for so long happen over text. He'd done a good job of avoiding thinking about it during his trip and now Jason had . . . texted them both. Like it was nothing.

Because it was nothing. As far as Jason knew, they were fine.

Actually, he was right, Tim reminded himself. He and Damian were fine. It wasn't like they'd had some sort of argument. They’d made their limits clear before they'd ever started and Damian had respected Tim’s so thoroughly that he’d barely had a real conversation with him since he'd thanked Tim for an educational experience.

Tim suddenly found himself wondering exactly in what areas he'd educated Damian besides the obvious.

While he'd been trying to talk himself down from the metaphorical rafters, Damian had responded in the thread. Tim tapped the screen again. "In the group with Jason, Damian wrote: This can't be allowed to continue. I've noticed an uptick in the human trafficking at the harbor. We can collaborate upon my return to Gotham tonight. Would you like to reply?"

Tim set his jaw. "Sure."

"What would you like to say?"

"I'm on my way to the Nest right now. Do you guys want to meet there later?"

"Your message reads—" Tim hit the Send button before the playback could continue. "Sent."

Within seconds, Jason texted back, "Sounds good."

Damian's reply took a little longer, but when it came through, it read, "Acceptable."

It was only when he heard the words that Tim realized he'd expected Damian to refuse. He reached to tap the cancel button onscreen. The AI responded but he wasn't paying attention. "You're really messing with my head here," he muttered, which was probably unfair.

"Your message reads: You're really messing with my head here. Send it now?"

He'd hit "reply" instead of "cancel." "No."

day thirty-seven here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #like i know what you want #folliefic

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allqrcoded · 1 year ago

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Devlog 5: Where are we headed? + Year end origin stories

Welcome back.

In all seriousness, I don't know how to number these things. Does the counter restart once the game you were talking about last dev log finishes production? Do you just keep on continuing despite now starting a new project? Either way, I'll go on & keep this as is. The year's almost ending and I feel like it's about time to announce the new game I'm working on (as if it weren't obvious that the MCs were revealed in my art blog months ago, but either way...)

With angel care officially being released on July of this year along with into sun&dark being a mini game jam project I sent out within the same time, there left a hole in my heart where handling a big project such as a game cemented itself in. Albeit, working on angel care has been a wild journey to say the least, but throughout it, I found out that telling stories through games allows me to merge the 2 things I love doing (writing & art). If making comics didn't click for me and solely writing a novel makes me worry about the specific character designs that might get lost, then making games is perfect.

Whilst the characters of angel care were solely made out of new OCs, Lucas and Del from sundark were actually repurposed characters from an old story I never completed. The universes weren't exactly the same, but the concept of doomsday remained. Rex from this new project, Descent to Negative Zero, follows the same repurposing. This time, it's about someone who comes back… Again, yes, but that trope is my favorite.

Origin stories

If you've been a follower of my art blog since last year, you might've seen a character I drew during October, Ace, with another character from a fandom I was active in (Daybreak.) He was a submission in a contest, but never got in, so I shelved him for a bit until this year, thinking that I could use him for an RPGMaker game in the future, since I always had the dream to make one (and guess where we are right now...) A bit dismayed because I had a fondness for him at that time, I clung onto that "maybe." And so, he sat there for a while, and eventually, my fondness for him faded away once I got the idea of angel care. Long live his skater boy and bunny motif along with his pink dyed hair.

And, look! Some drafts of the AC trio from last year too. But, moving onto Ace and fast forward to the final stretches of the AC bug-fixing hell...

(^ I remember back then that I really liked this final piece. Sometimes I keep thinking to myself that last year's events were from 2 years ago.)

My mind then drifted to Ace again... Disappearances and mist snatching, huh? Well, disappearing sounds good for a plot point, but I still need to work around the mist thing (Daybreak character entrails he left that I needed to clean up before he's completely separate from it.) The bunny motif and the pink hair were cute too. I wasn't too sure about the skater thing, so I decided to change it.

Long story short, he transformed from a skater to a shoegazer (my projection. I just wanted to include that song genre into this because I love it and for the sake of OST potential too). Kyle (the dude I used to draw him with a lot) needed a replacement too, so thus, his skater boy gene got transferred to Josh, his new best friend. Whilst that whole tangent was a big factor in the repurposing stage, in terms of clothes, Rexosh both wear some items in my closet that I just took and adjusted a bit -- both came from thrift stores, actually! Knowing that, I decided to make them thrifters and have them go to one in an early game flashback.

Right now, I don't have the jacket Josh wears because that's being tailored, but most of the elements are inspired by that.

I won’t spoil too much of the plot, but I will say that it’s connected to one of my previous games. Dt-z almost became a short summer visual novel until sundark came along and replaced it instead. Whilst its main element in the story stayed the same, it turned more puzzle-focused in the end.

Progress report/since when?

Starting up the project during summer, it’s been around four months since I made the first (yes, since it did get corrupted in some instances) RPGMaker file for it. Right now, I’m around coding the mid-point of the game with a bunch of placeholders in the project to get the ball rolling in the coding space since making parallax maps takes a while for me. Dt-z is more visually out there than AC, with the use of shadow overlays and what not. Making them for dozens of maps is a bit tedious (so, that’s why I’m putting that job in the late coding stage), but the end result is stunning.

As I’m writing this, I’ve paused on coding one of the mid-game puzzles. Surprisingly, I get a lot of stuff done in the weekends with this project. Making the solutions for them is a bit time-consuming, yes, but seeing it play out makes it worth it. Unlike AC, I don’t have all the time in the world to work on this game because of IRL matters, etc. So, the fact that I still managed to get a good amount of progress in just 4 months is pretty good. The dialogue doc for this game is also done in areas regarding important cutscenes, including a rough draft of what the end game would be like (right now, it's longer than AC's script page count wise! Maybe that's because I included some flavor text there.) I still have to adjust aspects of the script to keep their situation plausible there, but other than that, it's good. Without any context, here are some screenshots of what the maps look like from October and a recent one I took:

Albeit, I still need to adjust some things accordingly, but since this project is still in its baby stage, I'm not prioritizing that sort of thing right now.

So far, I'm trying to avoid the trend of RPGMaker game puzzles needing to find a key in every room and while puzzle making is a thing I'm not that experienced with, I realized that I took most of my inspiration with them with the games I've been playing these months, Death Mark and Spirit Hunter: NG.

Of course, me picking up those games wasn't because of wanting to take inspiration from them first — I just wanted a way to de-stress, but after a bit, I took some mental notes in my mind. NG's puzzles are very satisfying to solve. Whilst this dev log isn't focused on what games I played for the month, let's just say that I preferred NG over DM for a variety of things.

Moreover, I've been adjusting the endings and the way you get lore tidbits through the story to make the true end of the game pack more of a punch so that by the time you go ending hunting, you won't get dragged down by the same realizations the characters go through. There's a lot of flavor text I have to write, essentially.

Let's talk about themes

Continuing the trend of wanting to explore themes close to my heart in my bigger projects, Dt-z is in the same light with AC. Whilst the mood is entirely different (color palette not so cool/winter, characters being younger, even the premise being puzzle focused), Dt-z's themes were the ones that more or less defined my summers, just like how AC defined my winters (even if where I lived didn't snow, but, nevertheless, the phrasing still sticks).

I like to think that making art, helps me process stuff a bit and that's why I still got an itch in me to take up another big project similar to AC despite me knowing that this year would be busier than the last. I'm remaining vague here to not spoil the entire plot of it, but let's say that I hold the message I want to say through this dear to my heart. There's a lot I want to say regarding these two games (including sundark!), but I want to work on letting my audience make up their own conclusion on the work just based off the content without my involvement.

Albeit, as an artist, I've always had this selfish desire in me to want everyone to get this one conclusion — this one reading on what I worked on because with every piece I make, there's always a message I want to tell. But, through the years, I've gotten to the point where I stopped pseudo-denying the fact that people aren't like that. I've started even enjoying other readings of my work because through them, I get to see more perspectives I haven't even considered whilst keeping the main point in mind. So, let's just say that AC is about death and angels and winter and friendship and love. And with Dt-z, it's about love too because love is just universal.

Thanks for coming

Restraining myself from talking more about Dt-z's details… In summary, I've been enjoying working on this project. Rexosh really are fun to draw & I want to share their story sometime once I'm finished. I want to write more trivia blogs later on with my released games (especially AC because I have a lot to talk about there), but for now, I'll keep on going.

#dt-z #devlog #rpgmaker

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uozlulu · 1 year ago

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Fic. IwtV AMC. Swallow My Fang at Night Island. Human AU. Explicit.

Character(s)/Relationship(s) Alice, Armand, Daniel, Daniel's daughters, Lestat, Louis, Marius; Devil's Minion, Loustat(background) Genre Alternate Universe/Drama/Romance Rating Explicit Word Count 12,318 Disclaimer As this is fanfiction, I do not hold copyright to the source material(s) nor do I claim that I do. This is for free entertainment purposes only. Summary Human AU. It's the dawn of a new millennium. Daniel is newly divorced, almost fifty, and dealing with his daughters' troubles at school. Armand is one of his daughter's teachers. The instant they meet, Armand decides Daniel will be his and Daniel finds himself equally intrigued despite his better judgement. Warning(s) language, alcohol, workplace homophobia, mention of masturbation, food consumption, sex Notes Saw an ask on Tumblr about how Zaman has high school teacher vibes and someone in the reblogs was like “Someone should write an AU where Armand is a high school teacher at the school Daniel’s daughters go to,” and my brain just went “I volunteer!” and immediately began flinging plot points and pretty much the entire AU at me. Since we don’t have any canon anything about the daughters, I just decided to continue using my concept of them until I stand corrected. While I was watching the show I for some reason came under the impression that Alice is the first wife but not the girls’ mom (can’t remember why I thought this, but it was before my brain went “What if Alice is Armand?”) but for this fic, Alice is the girls’ mom. Decided to make Daniel about a year older than he probably is in show canon so then I could set this during the 2000 – 2001 school year instead of the 2001 – 2002 school year for obvious reasons. That said, I have never been to NYC so apologies in advance if I get some nuance wrong. As you might suspect, my greatest writing weakness are my titles. This one will make sense in due course.

AO3 link

or read below

Swallow My Fang at Night Island

The new millennium was not even a year old. It was almost nineteen years since Daniel Molloy started down the path to giving up illegal drugs. It was fourth months since his twenty-year marriage ended. He had a weekly political column in syndication and he was on the first draft of his fourth book. Both of his daughters were now in the same private high school. It was one week into the new school year and Daniel was on his eighth parent-teacher meeting of the afternoon. His ex, Alice, was the secretary to one of the busiest and most powerful lawyers in the city, so he had to attend alone.

Daniel settled onto a small stool in front of the French teacher’s desk. Louis de Point du Lac was young and striking. An LSU alumni calendar sat atop his desk. He stared at Daniel through his lashes and then reached into his desk drawer. He placed a half-empty pack of cigarettes on top of his desk.

“Shit,” Daniel murmured.

“Luckily Mandy just turned eighteen or this would be an instant expulsion,” Louis said. “Unfortunately, there is a three day suspension.”

Daniel stared at the pack a long moment. He was fifteen when he took up smoking decades ago and forty-five when he finally managed to quit. He suspected this was not a new habit for his older daughter. His lips drew into a fine line. When he was not writing a book, he researched the next and barely at home. During the trial separation over the last two years, he only really saw his daughters on holidays. He had not noticed a thing.

Louis leaned closer and spoke in a low voice, “Or it would be, if I reported it.”

Daniel’s gaze returned to him.

“My sister Claudia is good friends with Mandy. She told me about the divorce. We also have a new headmistress who over-reacts to imperfection, so it’s best she not get involved.” Louis pulled a printout from a stack on his desk and handed it to Daniel. It was entirely in French. “I want Mandy to turn in a five-page paper by Friday and to think before she brings these to school again. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “Does she know about this?”

“She knows there will be consequences,” Louis said. “I wanted her to sweat it out today.”

There was a knock at the door and then the choir director breezed into the room as if accompanied by his own theme music. Lestat was a little older than Louis was and his hair always looked as perfect as he strove to make his choirs. “Louis, I need your attention on an important matter.”

Daniel immediately rose from the stool and slipped the cigarettes into his pocket. “Anything else?”

“That’s all,” Louis said. He stood. “Thanks for coming in.”

“It is not all for me,” Lestat said as his gaze fell on Daniel. “Your eldest daughter has been ignoring my advice again. Her voice keeps deteriorating. If she cannot give up her vices, I will have to cast another girl as Christine in the musical. I do not wish to do this since my next option is a little shrill on the high notes.”

“I can imagine. I’m sure Mandy knows,” Daniel said.

“Then she must follow my advice,” Lestat said. “Her antics jeopardize our position as national choir champions this spring as well.”

Daniel nodded. “I’ve got another meeting.” He waved to both Louis and Lestat before heading down the hallway. He sighed to himself and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Mandy might have two teachers disappointed in her, but his younger daughter, Jess, had at least six of hers disappointed and he highly suspected her seventh teacher would be too. Daniel was not looking forward to the trip back to Alice’s apartment after meeting with him.

Armand taught English, Community theater, and Drama at the same private school where Louis and Lestat worked. Normally he would have left work by now, but he had a meeting with a parent first. He stood in the middle of his classroom and placed a hand on his heart as he spoke his monologue in his head. He stepped from desk chair to desk chair that impeded his blocking and easily dropped down to a different aisle. He finished his monologue and looked at the clock.

Someone knocked at the classroom door. Armand returned to his desk and faced the door. “Enter.”

Immediately the door opened and the world seemed to pause as Daniel entered the classroom. Gray hair created tiny paths through dark curls. His eyes were almost a violet shade of blue. Armand saw Daniel so many times in their borough and even now, Armand could not look away as he finally put a name to his face. “Are you Mr. Molloy?”

Daniel seemed to return to the classroom from his own thoughts. He licked his lips and then entered the room, letting the door quietly close behind him. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and his voice became stronger, “You must be Mr. Armand.”

Armand’s eyes lingered a moment longer. “That’s what the students call me. To everyone else, I’m simply Armand.” He retrieved a stack of assignments from his desk and crossed the room. He offered Daniel his hand, never once breaking eye contact.

Daniel took the hand, his grip firm, warm, and electric. “No last name?”

“Most can’t pronounce it,” Armand said. He let go of Daniel’s hand slowly. “These are your daughter’s assignments from last week.” He handed the papers to Daniel, letting their fingers brush in the exchange.

The tips of Daniel’s ears seemed to turn red, but the blush faded as he looked through the papers and his frown grew. “Jess didn’t finish any of these. She didn’t even do half of them.”

“I heard from her other teachers this is a habit,” Armand said as he moved even closer. “If this continues, she’ll have to leave the school.”

Daniel sighed. “She’s even like this in art class. She draws all the time. Just not what the teacher wanted.”

“She’s on top of the reading and a leader in discussions,” Armand said, “but she also seems distracted.”

Daniel shifted his weight and almost bumped into Armand. Armand did not move. Daniel added Jess’ assignments to the ones already waiting for her in his laptop bag. He kept Mandy’s assignment in his hand. “I’ll talk to her about it.” Daniel looked at Armand then immediately averted his gaze as if searching the room for anything else to look at. His eyes settled on a few framed photos on the wall behind Armand’s desk.

“That’s my theater troupe,” Armand said, his voice practically in Daniel’s ear. “We perform at the community theater on Saturdays evenings, and then celebrate at the club afterwards.”

“Seems lively,” Daniel murmured.

“You should take in a show sometime. Sit in the front row. I’ll look for you,” Armand said.

Daniel’s gaze returned to him, almost skeptical. “I’ll think about it.”

Armand smiled and guided Daniel to the door with a hand on his back. “I look forward to it.” He felt a small shiver traverse Daniel’s body at the whisper in his ear.

Once Daniel left, Armand gathered his things and went headed to the community theater for rehearsal.

Alice and the girls still lived in the three-bedroom condominium that Daniel shared with them until he separated from Alice. The original custody arrangement went out the window when Jess’ teachers called asking for meetings and it turned to ash when Louis called looking to talk about contraband. Daniel let the girls into the apartment with the key he kept for emergencies. There was no sign of Alice yet. He would stay with the girls until she arrived home.

“Why are you even babysitting us?” Mandy asked. “It’s not like you cared to before.”

“It’s not babysitting. I’m your dad,” Daniel said. He put Mandy’s cell phone in a high cabinet in the kitchen that Alice used as a time out space for electronics. Mandy and Jess’ Discmen were already there. “And I wouldn’t have to be here after school if the two of you were responsible enough to be home alone.”

Mandy sighed and rolled her eyes before escaping to her room to do her homework.

“Can we put Cartoon Network on while we work?” Jess emptied her book bag onto the dining table, adding to the pile of unfinished assignments Daniel set there.

“No,” Daniel said. “Sit. You’re going to do your homework and I’m going to write.” He set his laptop bag on the chair Alice normally used at the table before sitting in his former seat beside it.

Jess sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

A long time later, Alice opened the door and called out, “Hi!” After hugging the girls, she asked them to finish studying in their rooms while she spoke with Daniel. Jess eagerly gathered her things and escaped to freedom while Mandy simply nodded and returned to her room.

Daniel followed Alice into the kitchen. She retrieved two wine glasses, sighed, and looked at him. “How’d it go?”

Daniel accepted the wine she poured him. “Jess actually hasn’t done a complete assignment all week. Mandy had cigarettes in her purse. I put Mandy’s phone in the cabinet.”

“Fuck,” Alice hissed. “Isn’t the counseling we’re going to supposed to help this?”

“It didn’t prevent us from getting divorced,” Daniel said.

“Neither of us are straight enough to make it to our golden anniversary. You know that.” Alice sipped her wine.

Daniel decided not to comment and sipped his wine.

Alice sighed. “Sorry. This is probably cramping your dating life.”

“I’m committed to my book right now,” Daniel said. “There is no dating life.”

“That’s no fun,” Alice said. “You need to get out there. It’s not like you’re going to meet someone at work like I did.” She started poking about the freezer. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“No,” Daniel said. “The girls have to keep getting used to this reality, right?” He finished his wine and retrieved his things. “I’ll say goodbye to the girls and head home. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Alice said. “Be careful.”

Daniel nodded and took his leave.

Armand noticed Daniel’s new schedule immediately. The first time he saw Daniel walking home at night after their meeting at school, Armand watched but continued on his way. The second time, he followed Daniel and discovered Daniel lived a block away from Armand’s apartment complex. The third time, Armand settled at Daniel’s side while waiting for the crosswalk light to change. .

The night was cool and the moon hung low on the horizon. Daniel had his hands in his pockets and an arm over the laptop bag strapped to his body. Armand shifted his weight so their arms bumped against one another.

Daniel’s gaze shifted to Armand. Annoyance immediately changed to something much nicer.

“Good evening, Mr. Molloy.” Armand met his gaze.

Daniel stared a long moment and then seemed to shake his head to himself. The people in front of them started to cross the street and they followed. “You can call me Daniel. Otherwise it feels like some kind of 50’s sitcom.”

Armand continued to watch Daniel, managing to avoid any obstacle in his path from all his years onstage. He knew the borough well enough to know exactly where they were at any given moment. He casually nodded towards the other side of the street where people stood in line to get into one of the local clubs. “Have you ever been to Night Island?”

“No.” Daniel looked over at the line and neon palm trees at the door. “Is it good?”

“There’s no dress code. Everyone is welcome.” Armand moved close enough his voice stayed between them, “The Saturday before Halloween is their best night. Everyone goes in costume.”

Daniel glanced back at Night Island. His brain seemed to spin behind his gaze. His attention returned to the sidewalk in front of them and then back to Armand. “So you like costumes and theatrics?”

“I like many things,” Armand said with a small, almost predatory smile, which only grew at when Daniel seemed to swallow. He touched Daniel’s arm and felt him shiver. “This is where I leave. Let’s find each other again.” He slipped away and headed to his apartment complex. He felt Daniel’s gaze on him until he disappeared into the building.

The new routine was easy to adapt to for Daniel. On weekdays, he woke early, had breakfast, wrote until his stomach could not take it anymore, had lunch, did other things, and then kept track of the girls after school until Alice returned home at night. On Friday nights, he took the girls home with him to his two-bedroom apartment. On Saturdays, they found fun things to do and he took a break from writing. By Saturday night, the girls were back with Alice so they could go to church on Sundays. Daniel devoted his Sundays to research for his next article. Mandy was still smoking, but smarter about where she kept her cigarettes. Jess managed to complete her assignments well enough to avoid expulsion. Daniel made more progress on his book. It was routine. It was monotonous. It lent well to writing.

Saturday evening arrived again. The girls returned to Alice. Daniel stared at himself a long time in the bathroom mirror, thinking about the club Armand pointed out to him earlier that week. Daniel twirled a gray curl around his finger. He grasped the slight sag of skin at his chin and wiggled it. He wore all black. No matter how he ran his fingers through his hair, no matter which shirt he wore, he still looked like a dad picking his kid up from the club instead of someone who belonged on the dancefloor. He sighed. Alice and his editor echoed in his ears. It was time for him to do something other than watch CNN or fall asleep to a late movie on a Saturday night. Daniel made up his mind and headed out on the town.

Night Island was one of the most popular clubs in the city and Saturday night was its most popular night. Daniel finally made it through the ridiculously long line to the bouncer. True to Armand’s word, there were few entry restrictions, and Daniel immediately stepped into the club. There were people covered from head to toe in clothing and others with their asses almost completely exposed. Glow sticks waved in the air. There was a bar to Daniel’s left and a DJ to his right, a crowd of dancers packing the floor between them. Tables spread across a glass floor above him. The club seemed incredibly dark but colorful lights beat to the music, illuminating everything with each flash. Daniel stuck to the edges of the dancefloor, observing what he could. The music was so different from the last time he went to a club in the 70’s and charged forward as if a torrent sand could just swallow everyone whole.

Daniel saw glowing orange eyes in the crowd. He stopped in his tracks. The eyes drew near and Armand seemingly materialized as a vision of white with only the middle button of his shirt still fastened. Gel tamed his dark waves that hung in his eyes at the school. His neon gaze pierced through the darkness that tried to swallow him between pulses of light. Daniel did not realize he stopped breathing until he found himself coughing for air. He closed his eyes and caught his breath. A hand rested on his back.

“Do you like the contacts?” Armand asked. “They glow in the dark.”

Daniel said, “Yeah,” before he could think better of it.

Armand stepped back and held out his hand when Daniel recovered. “Come with me, Daniel.”

Daniel’s heart beat a little faster. He took Armand’s hand without hesitance and Armand pulled him into the dancing mob. Music pulsed. Bodies shook and undulated all around them. Sweat dripped. Lights flashed. Daniel and Armand never let go of one another, their hands roaming, preventing the crowd from swelling between them. The music drove them even closer. Daniel leaned upwards, his lips just centimeters from Armand’s lips and then abruptly pulled away.

Armand grasped Daniel’s hand before the crowd could swallow Daniel. The music changed to a staccato beat as a soft voice crooned about loneliness. Daniel did not move. Armand moved closer and closer until their lips almost touched. He took Daniel’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit down teasingly before pulling back and releasing Daniel’s hand.

The crowd filled the space between them. Daniel lost sight of Armand’s orange gaze. Others pulled him into dancing with them as he slowly wove his way to the outskirts of the dance floor. He caught his breath and got a drink. He could still feel Armand’s body in his hands and Armand’s hands on his body. He could not stop thinking about Armand’s teeth. He almost returned to the dancefloor, but he decided to go home instead.

It was a new millennium but unfortunately still like the previous one. Armand sat through the staff meeting with his face completely blank, his eyes barely blinking as the new headmistress, Akasha, explained her vision. He heard her reasoning so many times from so many mouths. To make a better school, anything deemed a subversion had no place as if a snap of the finger could make a person disappear in flame. Armand had no patience for people who believed everyone had a little switch in their brain that could erase their true natures.

His mind wandered. He could still fell Daniel’s hands on his body. He could still feel Daniel’s lip between his teeth. Armand’s gaze shifted to Louis beside him. Louis’ could not hide his frown or the furrow between his eyebrows. Armand’s gaze shifted to Lestat across from them at the other end of the long table. Lestat sat perfectly straight. His nostrils seemed flared. It was a change from Lestat’s typical meeting posture where Armand could practically hear lyrics from operas and classic musicals projecting from Lestat’s mind as he drowned in boredom.

The headmistress finished her proclamation and dismissed them. Louis and Lestat left separately as they always did, though the staff knew they were roommates together with Louis’ youngest sister Claudia. Armand, however, knew the truth that Louis and Lestat were partners and Claudia was an orphan they took in when they found her living on the street soon after moving in together. Armand followed Louis out of the building since neither of them had anything to retrieve from their classrooms. Louis lived near the community theater. They met long ago when Louis came to one of their shows after moving to New York.

“This truly is the age of the paranoid,” Louis said, his accent thick with annoyance and rage as his hands became fists. “They want the government out of their lives and ass deep in ours. All it took was someone seeing Fareed and Seth at Pride over the summer when school wasn’t even in session and now Fareed’s gone. It’s not their fault some homophobic asshole took their kid to their counter-protest. If you don’t want your kids to see Pride, don’t take them to Pride. Jesus.”

Armand said nothing.

“I moved here to get away from this bullshit. I only ever took Claudia to New Orleans once because of this kind of bullshit.” Louis’ fists began to relax. His gaze turned to Armand and sighed. “What are you going to do? Aren’t you still trying to fuck that journalist?”

A cool breeze ruffled Armand’s hair. “Trying implies I’m not going to do it. I have every intention of doing that and more.”

Louis laughed despite the gravity of their situation. “Well, your determination worked on me.”

“Until Lestat returned,” Armand said.

“You broke up with me and Lestat was the right person at the right time.” Louis stepped aside to head to his apartment. “I’ve got stuff to grade. See you tomorrow.”

Armand held up his hand in a small wave and headed on his way to the community theater for rehearsal.

It was Wednesday, but Daniel’s mind was still back on Saturday as he left Alice’s apartment. Conflicting thoughts swirled within him. He should have tried to find Armand again after his drink, but that did not mean Armand might have danced with him again. He should have kissed Armand after Armand bit him, but this could be some big joke at Daniel’s expense. Armand was an actor. His troupe was part of the New York community theater scene for over a decade now. Armand must be good at it.

Daniel sighed and noticed Armand walking jus up ahead. Armand’s jacket was white and accentuated his little dark curls resting against the edge of the collar. Daniel followed the lines of the jacket downward as if following guidelines pointing directly at Armand’s ass in jeans that seemed to cling to every curve. Daniel licked his lips and shook his head to clear it.

The crosswalk lights changed and traffic surged at the intersection. Daniel stopped at Armand’s side. It was not intentional but he did not want to avoid Armand either.

Armand looked over at him. His eyes were dark and just as alluring as the way his contacts glowed at the club. Armand moved almost imperceptibly closer as if he could not help but be in Daniel’s personal space. “Are you going to Night Island this weekend?”

Daniel frowned a little. “I’ve got this book I’ve got to work on. I can’t just run off to the club every weekend.”

Armand nodded. He barely rested his arm against Daniel’s arm. “The best night at Night Island is the Saturday before Halloween. Everyone arrives in costume. You shouldn’t miss that one.”

It was not the first time Armand mentioned the Halloween night at the club. Daniel tried to imagine what costume he could possibly find that would not make him look like a school chaperone. He suspected Armand’s costume would be something to behold and well worth the entrance free. “I’ll think about it.”

The light changed and they continued walking together. “You won’t be disappointed,” Armand said. He leaned closer and whispered, “No matter what you wear, I won’t be disappointed either.” Then he headed to his apartment complex nearby.

Daniel sighed long and low before continuing on his way home. He should not go to Night Island again. He wanted to go to Night Island again. He still had time to decide.

It was Sunday a week after Armand saw Daniel at the club. Armand browsed through the local library branch’s shelves, picking plays in the public domain. His theater troupe enjoyed taking familiar tales and twisting them, filling them with more horror, blood, and gore than their creators ever intended there to be. As Armand emerged from the non-fiction section, he spied Daniel sitting at a table surrounded by newspapers, magazines, and books. Daniel scribbled in a yellow notepad, his attention completely focused on his task.

Armand could still feel Daniel’s hands across his body. He could still remember Daniel’s shiver when Armand grabbed his ass. Armand’s stomach tightened. He wanted to do more than teasingly bite Daniel’s lip, but unfortunately, they were at the library and not Night Island. Armand glanced around him. There was no one in the immediate area. He could hear a reference librarian around a corner typing away on their computer.

Armand walked over to the table, set his books in an empty spot, and sat down in the seat diagonally across from Daniel as if there were not three empty study tables in view. Armand plucked the first book off his stack and began to speed read. He was completely through Oedipus Rex and half way through Antigone when he heard a surprised noise from the other side of the table. Armand paused and looked over the book at Daniel.

“What are you doing here?” Daniel whispered.

“Reading,” Armand whispered.

“I can see that. I mean,” Daniel paused. “I’m trying to work here. I’ve got an article due mid-week.”

“Am I disturbing your work?” Armand did not lower his book or look away from Daniel.

Daniel opened his mouth and closed it. His mind seemed to spin in internal debate. “No.” It was an obvious lie.

Armand smiled slightly, the way he might onstage as a vampire to allow the audience a glimpse of his fangs. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Daniel ran his tongue along his teeth. “It shouldn’t,” he murmured unconvincingly and after a while, returned to his reading. Slowly his leg rested against Armand’s leg as Daniel kept making notes and his stack of things to read grew shorter than the stack of things he read.

Armand moved his leg so the side of his leg pressed firmly against the side of Daniel’s leg and continued reading his plays. Armand almost finished his stack of books when Daniel stood up and gathered his materials. “I’ve got to look at some microfiche. I’ll see you around.”

Armand nodded and watched Daniel disappear towards the research section of the library. His leg still felt warm where Daniel’s leg once rested against it, but also seemed to chill in Daniel’s absence. Armand ran his fingers along the cover of the book in his hand. He needed to get Daniel back to Night Island. He needed to get Daniel alone.

The nights grew colder. Pumpkins, witches, and ghosts decorated the city. Daniel listened at the dining table to Jess talk excitedly about Halloween next week while Mandy was less enthusiastic. The girls would have some friends over for a party and a horror movie mini-marathon. Jess already had an entire costume assembled, but Mandy would just wear a headband with cat ears on it. When Daniel left that night, all the talk of Halloween stayed with him and he found himself taking a detour. He stepped into a local shop that boasted a large costume selection. Daniel ignored the full body costumes and found the accessory section. After scanning it, his eyes settled on vampire fangs. There were so many to choose from in all kinds of sizes and styles. He gravitated to the ones that were more like caps than retainers. The caps came with a solution that would help set them in place temporarily for the night. He could wear them next week at the party for a laugh. He could also wear them on Saturday if he went to Night Island again.

Daniel paid for his purchase and left the store. It was a few weeks since his first foray to the club. He still thought he should not go back. He should probably find somewhere other older people went to regroup after divorce, but Armand would not be there. Somehow, that seemed like a loss.

As if summoned, Armand easily fell into step beside Daniel. Daniel glanced at him. “You’re here again.”

Armand did not seem to blink. “It’s a small borough.”

“And a giant city.” Daniel looked at the people they passed. He breathed the night air deeply and could no longer deny the words he should have said at the library if not possibly in the classroom well before Night Island. “I’m turning fifty this year. I’m probably twice your age. You should focus on someone else.”

“I’m thirty,” Armand said, “and your age doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m still old enough to be your dad,” Daniel said.

“My father would be sixty-seven this year. People your age don’t read as fathers to me.” Armand paused. “Do you feel fatherly towards me?”

“No,” Daniel answered despite himself, but it was the truth. “Definitely not.”

“Then it’s not a problem,” Armand said as if everything was just that simple.

Daniel doubted it was.

Before Daniel could say anything, Armand led them to the entrance to his apartment so they could continue talking out of the way of the sidewalk traffic. “Come to Night Island again this Saturday. Join our Halloween reverie. See what you really want.”

Daniel studied Armand a long moment. They stood so close to each other. Maybe too close. Daniel did not move away. “What makes you think I don’t already know what I want?”

“Come and see,” Armand said. He disappeared into his building without actually answering the question.

Daniel pressed his lips together and shook his head. He returned to his apartment. The fangs in his shopping bag were proof enough he already intended to go no matter what he told himself.

The community theater was always hot no matter the time of year. Sweat dripped from Armand’s face as he took his bows and surveyed the first row of seats. The audience applauded and hollered about the troupe’s latest play full of blood and horror. Again, Armand did not see Daniel sitting in any of the seats. He did not expect to, but he always looked. The troupe took a final bow and made their way backstage where they cleaned up, exchanged stage costumes for Halloween costumes, and left for Night Island.

Club goers filled Night Island in their Halloween best and laziest. There were several mummies with their wrappings unraveled in a provocative manner. Neon, silver, and gold sparkled across aliens. Armand saw almost every single anime character some of his students drew in their sketchbooks after finishing their tests. The DJ spoke into the mic in an intense, excited call, “It’s time for a r – r – retro rewind!” Cheers and groans passed through the crowd. Trumpets began to play and the singer rejoiced at coming out in a song from twenty years ago. Familiar curls caught Armand’s gaze as he found Daniel standing just out of reach of the dancefloor.

Daniel wore a shirt the same indigo as his eyes and his curls were out of place. When he spotted Armand, his gaze traversed Armand’s body, taking in his slicked hair, velvet outfit, and tights before lingering on the fake blood splattered across Armand’s face and the stage fangs in Armand’s mouth. Daniel laughed, exposing his own, cheaper fangs once Armand was close enough to hear him. “Great minds, huh?”

Careful of the long fake nails on his fingertips, Armand adjusted Daniel’s curls so they accentuated the curves of his face. “You look like a new vampire. Eager for blood.”

Daniel froze under Armand’s touch and only spoke when Armand withdrew his hand. “You look like a painting.”

“Botticelli?” Armand asked. It was one of the most common compliments from his youth especially when he was still a doe eyed teenager.

“Goya,” Daniel said. “That guy with all the creepy paintings in his estate. You look like you’re going to bite someone, like some giant vampire insect.”

Armand flashed his fangs again. They were custom made for his mouth so the retainer would rest comfortably for long plays. “I could bite you.”

Daniel swallowed and ran a tongue along his teeth, his eyes still fixed on Armand’s fangs. “You…could.”

Armand pulled Daniel onto the dancefloor. The song changed, its beat driving, yearning. The crowd sang with the lyrics. Armand and Daniel grabbed onto each other. The songs kept changing. The lights kept flashed. The crowd roared. Armand and Daniel kept dancing. The next song slowed it all down. Some on the dance floor left to get drinks and take breaks. Armand pulled Daniel closer. The beat seemed to pulse throughout the room. The backs of Armand’s fake nails slid down Daniel’s face. Daniel did not pull away. Their eyes lowered.They kissed. Their bodies pressed against one another. Armand’s hands slid down Daniel’s back. Daniel’s fingers tangled in Armand’s hair. Their lips parted. Their tongues slid against one another. Armand’s hands slipped under Daniel’s shirt and his fake nails left marks. Their hips ground against each other.

The song shifted. The crowd shifted. People bumped into them. A careless elbow knocked into Armand’s back. Daniel stepped back. The crowd surged and separated them.

Armand frowned and maneuvered through the bodies. No matter how he searched or where he looked, he did not see Daniel. He slipped away from the dance floor and found his theater troupe gathered at one of the tables on the floor above. Santiago passed him a glass. Armand let the cold liquid slide down his throat. He could not see Daniel anywhere from their perch. He slowly let his body calm and his tights stopped feeling so tight. He gazed at the dancers under the glass floor. He had been seconds from dragging Daniel off the dancefloor. He did not know when the opportunity would arrive again.

When the crowd swept Daniel away, he moved through them like a small boat out to sea. He escaped out a side exit and breathed the cold night air deeply. He stared up at the sky. The city lights choked out any stars. There was no moon. Daniel was hard. He was both hot and cold. He was sweaty. His entire mouth would never be the same again. He no longer had one of his fangs. He wanted Armand. He wanted all of him. Every thought just made his pants feel even tighter and his heart thump stronger in his chest. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on the cold and the noise from the club and the city around him. He should go back in there. He should go home. He wanted to kiss Armand again. He wanted a drink. He wanted to fuck Armand. He wanted to calm down.

Someone barreled out the door and threw up on the trash bags near Daniel. The smell and sight were more than enough to dispel Daniel’s thoughts and cause him to soften. He grabbed the door before it closed and stepped back into the club to grab his coat. He decided to head home and take a long shower where he could stroke off his desires as the spray muffled his moans.

It was a week after Halloween at the club. Armand stepped out of his apartment to head to the community theater. It was barely into November and already Christmas assaulted Armand’s senses. Luckily, he no longer had to listen to the same songs for hours a day almost every day for two months anymore. He had not seen Daniel since Night Island. He could still remember how close he was to pulling Daniel away from the dancefloor, how close he was to doing something about the energy coursing through them. He tried not to think about swallowing a fake vampire cap at one point so it would not ruin the moment.

Armand cleared his mind and it soon filled with lines and blocking only to completely empty moments later.

Daniel approached on the other side of the sidewalk. He wore a dark suit, white shirt, and a blue tie that matched his eyes. His curls fluttered as he rushed, his mind on the small cellphone in his hand rather than the people around him. “I just got back from my interview with CNN. I know she’s being an ass. She’s eighteen. You’re dating her mom. Think about it.”

Armand slowly turned and followed Daniel at enough distance to hear but not close enough for Daniel to notice.

“I’m almost home. Yes, I know I owe you,” Daniel said goodbye and ended the call. He slipped the phone into the pocket of his coat and hurried into his apartment complex without a spare thought to anyone around him let alone Armand.

Armand lingered a moment and then headed to the community theater. He had no cable access at his apartment. He was not sure who might be able to tape Daniel’s appearance let alone if Daniel’s appearance already aired. He sighed and let his lines and blocking return to his mind. It would be show time before he knew it.

It was two weeks before Thanksgiving break. Daniel still was not sure what he was doing for it. The tentative plan was for the girls, Alice, Alice’s girlfriend, and Daniel to take the meal together at some point, but Alice and her girlfriend did not know what they were doing that week yet either. Most of the time their practice worked through the entire break except the holiday, but on occasion there were things to do then too. Daniel put his hands in his pockets as he walked through the borough to clear his mind from his work. He had not seen Armand since just before Halloween. Daniel wondered if Armand was avoiding him. It would be within Armand’s right after Daniel intentionally avoided him for a week after Halloween at the club so he could clear his head.

Daniel sighed and his breath made clouds around him. He wanted to get as much work done on his book before the girls went on winter break next month, but there was only so much writing he could do before his brain had too much of it.

Loud singing approaching from a nearby street drew Daniel’s attention. A group of people dressed in various shades of black, red, and white appeared. They quieted a moment and then Armand’s voice rose above the rest, leading his troupe in the final bars of the song.

Daniel’s stomach tightened. He found himself following the troupe instead of turning down the street that would send him back to his apartment. The troupe did not notice him at all. Daniel was now just one of several people heading in the direction of Night Island.

Armand had gel in his hair again and he wore the white jacket that showed off his ass. The troupe headed to the line forming nearby. Daniel looked down the line at the familiar neon trees welcoming everyone to Night Island. He bit his lip and hesitated. He wore a sweater that was likely older than the troupe members. His jeans had a few holes in them. His hair was a mess and he really did need to return to his book.

His gaze lingered on Armand. He licked his lips. The line to Night Island continued to grow. Daniel could join it. He could find Armand on the dancefloor. Maybe stay for just one song. For what? To make out? To make a fool of himself? To end up half-naked in the club restroom?

Daniel sighed and watched his breath appear and disappear around him. He headed back to his apartment.

It was almost the end of November and Armand had not spoken to Daniel since Halloween at Night Island. He suspected Daniel was avoiding him, but Armand was so busy with the school musical now that he could no longer be certain Daniel would still be at it.

The school musical this year was Phantom of the Opera. Armand chose the stage crew while Lestat ran the actual show and chose the entire cast. The girl playing Christine had a slightly shrill voice and every time she sang, Lestat’s nose wrinkled in horrible disfigurement. Armand watched the musical from the wings. The stage manager scurried around like a rodent. The crew did their best with each assigned job. The cast managed to do the best job a group of high schoolers could manage with the material. A few of them stood out above the rest. It was not the worst nor the best high school musical Armand witnessed. Armand could already see lecture for the students before tomorrow night’s performance forming on Lestat’s face.

Tonight was the premiere and it would run for three more nights. Then everyone would go on Thanksgiving break. When the night’s performance ended, the backstage area burst forth in a flurry of activity. No one wanted to spend more time at school than necessary. Once all the students and audience left, Armand and Lestat swept the auditorium for stragglers and then locked up for the night.

The air was cold and flurries spit from the sky. Lestat wrapped his scarf about him as if he were in a Calvin Klein ad. His breath made clouds in the air. “I want them to focus. They’re capable of more than they gave tonight.” He said as if he was not working with a group of mostly freshmen and sophomores this year. This is my last musical here. I want perfection.”

Armand blinked and followed Lestat rather than heading on his normal route home. “I didn’t know it was your final musical.” He had not spoken to Louis since the musical overtook his life. Lestat spoke little about anything other than his musical grievances for the last two months.

Lestat sighed. “Headmistress Akasha forced my resignation. Louis’ too.” He looked at Armand. “It didn’t matter that we restrain ourselves in public and don’t speak of our private lives. There are too many circumstances for her liking. We live together. We never married. I treat Claudia as my own rather than as my ‘friend’s’ sister. Our family is too obvious for the headmistress’ liking.” Snow began to fall more earnestly, gathering in Lestat’s hair. “She said we either live separately or resign. The choice was obvious. None of us will return in January.”

Armand stared at him a long moment. Anger gripped his stomach.

Lestat pulled on his gloves. “You deserve the truth. We’re moving to California. I have connections to place us somewhere more accepting. I look forward to defeating this choir in the national competition in the spring if they can make it that far in my absence.” Lestat bid Armand goodbye and headed home.

Armand watched him leave, the snow clinging to him the longer he stood. His mind swirled with the occasional gust. He could barely think. He could barely breathe. His anger continued to course through his body. He headed home as the snow continued to gather.

December arrived. With it came the school’s winter music recital on Daniel’s birthday. He celebrated briefly with the girls before they had to get ready to return to the school. They gave him a card that declared him older than the pyramids and some new ties. Daniel sat in the back row of the auditorium and fiddled with the digital camera Alice gave him to record the girls’ concerts. One orchestra, two bands, and five choirs would take turns onstage tonight. The orchestra and the concert band already finished. The jazz band currently rocked around the Christmas tree. Once the jazz band finished, it would be time for Jess’ choir.

Armand settled onto the empty seat beside Daniel. There were many people in the auditorium but not enough to fill the seats. They were relatively alone but not completely alone on the back row. “Having trouble?” Armand whispered.

“There’s no sound,” Daniel whispered. He recorded portions of the other concerts to get used to the equipment. He had an earbud in his ear and it was absolutely silent as the orchestra moved on the camera’s digital display.

Armand held out his hand. Daniel handed over the camera. Armand opened up the menu and started pressing buttons and spinning wheels. “You had the audio disabled.” He returned the camera.

The jazz band continued to play. Neither of them spoke. Their knees rested near each other without actually touching and Daniel felt every centimeter of distance acutely. Memories from Night Island flashed through his mind. Daniel tried to chase them away and focus on remembering the Spanish lyrics to the next song to calm the blood rushing places it should not go in a school auditorium.

The jazz band left the stage. The freshmen girls’ choir replaced them. Daniel stood up and started to film. He zoomed in until Jess was clearly visible but not the only student in the shot. He managed to keep the camera steady throughout the performance. When the choir left the stage, Daniel sat again and turned off the camera. Mandy would not take the stage until the final concert of the night.

After a long silence, Daniel murmured, “I…can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Armand barely whispered.

“I’m fifty,” Daniel murmured. “I’m older than the pyramids.”

Armand’s knee rested against Daniel’s knee. Daniel did not move. “If you’re older than the pyramids, then that makes me older than Tintoretto.”

“Who?” Daniel glanced at him.

“Doesn’t matter.” Armand’s knee moved away. Daniel licked his lips, far too aware of its absence. Armand let the tips of his fingers barely touch the side of Daniel’s hand resting on the armrest between them. “You should get your camera ready.”

Daniel blinked. He looked to the stage. Mandy’s group was already taking their places. “Shit,” he whispered and hurriedly stood. He managed to hit record before her group began to sing. He filmed the entire performance and shut the camera down once the concert finished. He looked down at Armand.

Armand’s dark eyes shown in the dim light. His lips parted and he did not look away from Daniel.

Daniel held his breath. He shifted his weight and then put the camera in his pocket. “See you around.” He left to gather the girls and take them home.

The following Saturday, Armand’s troupe preformed their annual Christmas show complete with machete-wielding Santa Claus. He scanned the first row of seats, but Daniel still was not there. After cleaning up and changing, Armand followed the troupe to Night Island. The DJ spun songs that deliberately evoked feelings of summer and the beach much to the crowd’s delight. Armand danced in the center of the floor. He sang along with the others. He let the music carry the adrenaline from the stage. Armand closed his eyes and only opened them when a hand grasped his. He met Daniel’s gaze.

Daniel wore all black again. He spoke but his words melted into the music. He kept a firm grip on Armand’s hand. Armand nodded and led them through the crowd and up the stairs. They found a small table in a corner away from the other club goers.

“You can always read my mind,” Daniel said quietly.

“Your body is loud,” Armand said. The bass line below them drummed against the soles of his shoes.

Daniel licked his lips. His feet rested against Armand’s under the table. His mind moved behind his eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I keep playing the last time we were here in my head.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Armand let his foot slide along Daniel’s leg once.

Daniel shivered. He bit his tongue and then took a deep breath. “I need time.”

“The destination is the same no matter the distance,” Armand said.

Daniel held Armand’s gaze. “Are we going to the same destination?”

Armand grinned, imagining all the things they would do when this game evolved. He leaned closer. “I think you know the answer.”

Daniel did not move away or look away. He swallowed.

“Is this confession the only reason you came here?” Armand asked, still leaning incredibly close.

“No,” Daniel said. “I’m taking the girls to San Francisco for Christmas. I thought you should know that I won’t be around.” He rose from the table and ran his fingers through Armand’s hair. “I’ve got a morning flight tomorrow. I’ll see you in January.”

Armand caught Daniel’s hand before he could leave. Daniel watched him curiously. “January then,” Armand said and let Daniel’s hand go. After Daniel left, Armand sighed. Some of his troupe joined him at the table. The game continued.

When Daniel arrived to pick up the girls on Sunday morning, the sun was barely in the sky. Alice pulled him into the kitchen while the girls finished getting ready for the trip.

“You look exhausted,” Alice said and offered him coffee.

“I went to Night Island last night,” Daniel said. “That music always keeps me awake whether I dance or not.” It was more than just the music. He could not remember the last time someone affected him so thoroughly like Armand.

“Night Island? I’m surprised you picked that place.” Alice sipped her own coffee. “I thought you’d end up at that gay bookstore around the corner.”

Daniel let the mug warm his hands and sipped his coffee slowly, then he admitted, “It’s because Armand’s there.”

“Jess’ teacher?” Alice asked. She studied Daniel a long moment and then she snorted and started to laugh. “I should have known when I met him at the open house. He stares at people like a lion sometimes. Of course you’d be into to that.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “You could pretend to be shocked.” He sipped more coffee.

“Daniel, we met in a gay bar. I know your type. They’re always dark and a little fucked up.” Alice snorted again and then sighed. “At least the girls like him.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to go that far,” Daniel said. “He’s almost half my age.”

Alice set her mug down. “You’re fifty. Don’t make yourself wait until you’re sixty. If you want that little weirdo who’s on those theater posters covered in blood, go get him.”

Daniel eyed her and finished his coffee. Before he could say anything else, the girls appeared with their suitcases ready to go. He could think about this later. The girls hugged Alice goodbye and then Daniel took them to the airport. They arrived at the terminal just as their flight arrived at the gate.

The phone rang at seven in the morning on the first Monday of winter break. Armand knew immediately who it was and what would happen. No one called at such an hour on such a day unless they had a mission. The headmistress knew too much about Armand’s private life, and it was time for him to find another job. Armand would not be able to retrieve his belongings from the school. Armand gripped the neck of the phone so tightly it slipped from his fingers and fell to the kitchen counter. He did not bother to pick it up and simply pressed the phone hook to hang up before disappearing into his room and throwing one of his pillows at the wall.

When Armand put his phone back on the hook, it rang. This time it was Marius, the art teacher at the school. Marius was younger than Armand’s parents would be but older than Daniel was. Armand met him when Armand ran away from a children’s home as a teenager. Marius taught Armand how to pain and replicate many styles of art. They lost contact when Armand started to university. Last year Marius joined the faculty at the school. In absence of Louis and even Lestat, Marius was the only teacher left at the school who would care that Armand lost his job. Marius said he found some of Armand’s things and wanted to give them to Armand. Armand did not want to take Marius up on his offer of help, but he wanted his things.

An hour later, Armand stood just outside of the school campus and stared up at the white clouds in the winter sky. It was still frigid despite the sun shining on him. When footsteps approached, his looked at Marius.

Marius had a paper sack with the local art store logo across its front in his hands. “Amadeo, you must be more careful. People are always watching, always listening. We are never truly alone anymore.”

Amadeo was the name Marius gave Armand under the pretense of Armand starting a new life free from the tragedies that led him to the children’s home and occurred there. The name grated on Armand now. Armand was the name Santiago bestowed upon him when Armand escaped to university. It was the only name Armand wished to be for the rest of his life.

Armand took the bag and peeked inside. His photos were there still in their frames along with a few of his paperbacks from his classroom library. His offices supplies were absent as well as his posters, the rest of his books, and his calendar. The photos were the only things he truly wanted back. “Were they in the trash?”

“I think the janitor put these in a bin for someone to find. Where the rest went, I never saw.” Marius studied Armand in the sunlight. “What will you do now?”

“I have some things in mind,” Armand said. He was already planning which strings to pull to get a job as fast as possible before his next rent check. He folded the top of the bag down and tucked it under his arm.

“Tell me, Amadeo,” Marius said, “was he worth it?”

Armand knew the answer immediately. Daniel set him on fire and Armand never wanted to let that go. Instead of saying that, he asked, “Does it matter?” and then bid Marius goodbye. He headed to the community theater so he could dissolve into the atmosphere and not come up for breath until it was time for rehearsal.

Daniel grew up in San Francisco. His parents kicked him out of their home when he began using drugs and sneaking away to the local gay bar. His parents would not speak to him again until they found out about his wife and children. Returning home every Christmas was weird, but the girls loved their grandparents and his parents loved the girls, so it was worth it to skip needless drama.

Tonight Daniel was on his own since his parents wanted to spend some time alone with the girls. He wandered the streets until his feet brought him to Polynesian Mary’s, now renamed Mary’s Café. He stepped inside and the barista called out his name in a threatening, gruff voice. Daniel froze and then the barista laughed. The barista was the same bartender who used to chase him out of the bar when he was too young to drink over thirty years ago. The barista gave up alcohol ten years ago and converted the bar. He was glad to see Daniel doing well. Daniel ordered Irish coffee and pastry. He took his food to a back corner.

After a while, Louis and Lestat entered the café. They approached the counter and placed their orders. Daniel tried not to stare, but his attention kept returning to them. Lestat still carried himself like a model. Louis seemed more relaxed and wore bright colorful fashionable clothing. They stood closer than Daniel ever saw them stand together at the school. Lestat huffed and Louis snorted. They received their orders and were about to leave when Louis saw Daniel and diverted to Daniel’s table.

“Evening,” Louis greeted.

“Hey,” Daniel said. “Do you guys want a seat?”

“We have places to be,” Lestat said.

“I just wondered if you heard from Armand lately,” Louis said.

“Something up?” Daniel asked.

“His phone’s been off the hook,” Louis said. “I haven’t spoken to him all break.”

Lestat sighed quietly.

“Maybe he’s busy with the theater,” Daniel said. “I’ll let you get back to your vacation.”

“Oh, we live here now,” Louis said. “The headmistress is cleaning house.” He looked at Lestat. “Ready?”

They bid Daniel goodbye and left. Daniel stared off at a mural on the far wall a long moment. He thought about the reality of the situation with Armand from his perspective but he had not considered it from Armand’s perspective. Daniel finished his coffee and pastry. He still had a few days until he returned to New York. He wanted to talk to Armand again. He was not sure what he would find.

It was New Year’s Eve. It was freezing and fog gathered in the distance. Armand made his way to Santiago’s apartment. He secured a job before the holidays but he would not begin until Monday. Just as he passed a bodega, Daniel stepped out of it.

“Hey,” Daniel said. “Happy New Year.” He paused. “Eve.”

“Happy New Year’s Eve,” Armand said. “Are you busy?”

Before Daniel could answer, the bodega door opened again. “Well, it could happen!” Jess declared.

“In your wildest dreams,” Mandy murmured. She handed one of the bags in her hands to her sister. “Oh. Hey, Mr. Armand.”

“Happy early new year,” Jess said.

Armand returned the greetings.

“We just had to get some stuff we forgot.” Daniel paused and then asked. “Are you busy? You could come back with us.”

Mandy glanced between Daniel and Armand curiously. Jess checked to see what was in the bag Mandy gave her.

The offer was tempting, but Armand wanted Daniel all to himself the first time either of them set foot in each other’s apartments. “I have plans with the troupe. Maybe another time.”

“I saw Louis and Lestat in San Francisco. Louis said he was trying to get in contact with you,” Daniel said. “He asked me if you were okay.”

Armand nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll call him. I’ve had my phone off its hook.” He held Daniel’s gaze and then continued on his way. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” came three separate responses.

After several steps, Armand looked back over his shoulder. Daniel and the girls continued on their way. His gaze lingered on Daniel until Daniel disappeared from sight. Armand turned away and continued to Santiago’s apartment.

January arrived and with it the new semester and the return to routine. Daniel sat at the dining table in Alice’s apartment and looked over the top of his laptop. Jess sat nearby twirling her pencil in her fingers. She seemed to be back to square one with ignoring her homework after making progress throughout the previous semester. Daniel sighted. “You’re supposed to be working.”

Jess frowned. “Remember Mr. Armand?”

“Of course I do. I’m fifty not eighty,” Daniel said.

“He wasn’t at school today,” Jess said. “Mr. Talbot said he’s not coming back.”

Daniel’s fingers hovered over his keyboard.

“It sucks so much!” Jess sighed. “I wanted to take Drama and Theater with Mr. Armand. I wanted to do the school play this semester. We were going to do Dracula and now we’re doing Our Town. It’s not fair!”

“Monsieur de Pointe du Lac and Mr. de Lioncourt are gone too,” Mandy said as she entered the kitchen nearby. She poured a glass of juice from the fridge. “Claudia said they got fired for being gay. I thought the students could wear rainbow wrist bands in protest, but everyone’s too scared or homophobic to join me.”

Daniel’s fingers stopped hovering over his keyboard. Louis said the headmistress was cleaning house. Armand did not indicate anything was wrong when they ran into him on New Year’s Eve, although Armand was always private despite his provocative nature. It only made Daniel want to speak with Armand alone even more than he already did after returning from San Francisco.

“You okay, Dad? You’re not saying anything,” Mandy said.

Daniel took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He put his glasses back on and looked at his daughters. “I’m not going to stop you.”

The apartment door opened and Alice called out that she was home. The girls went to greet her. Daniel put his laptop away. He was not going to get any more work done tonight.

January began the troupe’s annual Valentine’s Day play, always a bastardization of a public domain romance with more blood and gore than the creator likely ever imagined or intended. This year the play was a take on Love’s Labor’s Lost. A king and his noblemen took a vow of chastity to cleanse their minds and bodies. Witches arrive one night looking for a man worthy of siring an heir to their coven. Through a series of grotesque games, the noblemen succumbed to the witches’ charms. The play ended with the announcement of an heir and the death of the noblemen in a macabre play within the play.

When the play ended, Armand rose from the stage floor to join hands with the troupe and take their bows to the applause of the audience. He scanned the first row of seats and found Daniel in the center seat. Daniel mouthed the words, “Out back.” Armand closed his eyes slowly twice and then righted himself with everyone. The cast left the stage and the curtains closed.

Once backstage, Armand sped through his duties with precision and speed. He stripped off his costume and placed it where it belonged. He wiped the makeup from his face and the fake blood from his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair to detangle it and then slipped back into his street clothes. “I’m not going to Night Island,” he said. He laced his boots and checked himself in the mirror. He pulled his coat on and left it open to show the plunging neckline of his shirt that he left mostly unbuttoned.

Armand stepped out the backstage door effortlessly. Daniel immediately unfolded his arms and stepped away from the alley wall. His eyes traversed Armand. They were alone amidst the frozen slush and trash containers. Armand led them out of the alley in the direction of his apartment.

Daniel followed without hesitation. “I heard you weren’t at school on Monday.”

“I had to switch jobs,” Armand said. “I’ve been doing art restoration the museum.”

“If I –”

“I chose you knowing this could happen.” Armand did not want to dwell on it since it happened weeks ago.

Daniel put his hands in his pockets. His breath billowed around him. “So when I saw you at New Year’s Eve….”

“I had everything taken care of,” Armand said. “I always know what buttons to push to get what I want.”

Daniel held his gaze a moment. Armand grabbed his arm and pulled Daniel close before Daniel could walk into a newspaper vending machine. Daniel did not move out of Armand’s grasp and Armand did not let him go.

“Where does this end, Daniel?” Armand asked. “Do you know what you want?”

“I want you,” Daniel said. “I don’t want this to end.”

They arrived at the entryway to Armand’s building. Armand let go of Daniel’s arm. “I want this to end.” He grasped Daniel’s hand, his grip tight and tethering before Daniel could turn away. “I want you. All of you. I want a new game.”

Cars sped past. People talked in an endless hum along the sidewalk. Somewhere in the distance music played obnoxiously loudly from a car.

“Then make one,” Daniel said. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Armand pulled him into the building and up the stairs to his apartment.

Armand’s apartment was on the top floor and looked out at the city. Warm colors spread across the walls and carpeting. Framed Renaissance paintings shone in the lamplight. Daniel peered at one of them curiously. “It doesn’t look like a poster.”

“It’s canvas and oil,” Armand said. He took the phone off its hook and rested it on the counter in-between second-hand kitchen gadgets.

Daniel straightened his posture and gazed at all of the paintings. He could not imagine what they might cost or how much time it would take to paint them if they were reproductions. “Are they…real?”

“They exist.” Armand moved to the center of the room. The light shimmered in his hair and provided definition to his collarbone and cleavage. His gaze fixed on Daniel.

Daniel moved closer as if drawn by an invisible hand. The sound from the city and surrounding apartments seemed to fade. Daniel’s hands rested on Armand’s shoulders. Daniel rose up on his toes at the same moment Armand leaned down and they kissed. Armand’s hands found their way under Daniel’s sweater and t-shirt. Daniel undid the button on Armand’s shirt so his hands could slide along Armand’s skin. The kiss broke apart just long enough for Daniel’s sweater to fall to the floor. A second kiss became a third so Daniel could free Armand’s arms from his sleeves and Armand could cast Daniel’s t-shirt to the growing pile. Jeans fell to the floor next, socks and underwear following. Only then did they step back to admire one another.

Lamplight illuminated Armand’s skin. Dark hair trailed down his torso. His chest barely moved with each breath. His stomach was lean and his body was firm and muscular. Scars appeared at random, remnants of teeth, nails, and life.

Armand’s gaze traversed Daniel’s body. He ran his fingers along a scar at Daniel’s abdomen. Daniel moved away at first, the touch too feather light. Armand’s fingers returned, firmer this time, tracing the scar in its entirety.

“Never seen an appendectomy scar before?” Daniel asked.

“I have,” Armand said and his fingers spread upwards, exploring the inconsistent textures in the dark and gray hair across Daniel’s stomach and chest. “Each scar is unique.” His fingers found their way to a scar across Daniel’s left breast that was flat, pale, and jagged.

“Fishing lure,” Daniel said. “I ripped it out. It made everything worse. I screamed. My parents screamed. I think half the county came to gawk.”

Armand moved closer and his hands continued to explore. “I want to give you a scar.”

Daniel’s hands rested on Armand’s hips. His thumbs rubbed small circles. He held Armand’s gaze and squirmed when Armand’s fingers toyed with a nipple. “As many as you want.”

Armand ran his tongue down Daniel’s neck and along the flesh between his neck and shoulder. He nipped at the skin and then grasped it in his teeth, biting with all his strength.

Daniel sucked in a breath. His short nails dug into Armand’s flesh in turn. Armand bit and bit until blood almost trickled from the wound.

“Fuck.” Daniel did not realized the small steps they took during the bite until his ass hit the wall. Armand pinned Daniel’s wrists with his hands and kissed Daniel with abandon, the kisses soon turning into nipping and sucking at Daniel’s neck. Their bodies pressed together. Daniel tried to wriggle, desperate for friction, but Armand’s body kept him pinned in place.

Finally, Armand released Daniel’s wrists and reached into the drawer of a bureau at Daniel’s hip. He set a bottle of lube on top of the bureau before leaning close, his breath tickling Daniel’s ear. He whispered in a language Daniel barely recognized and squirted the lube into his hands. His fingers ghosted up Daniel’s shaft as Daniel shuddered. Daniel’s hands sought out Armand’s skin. His nails pressed into Armand’s back.

Armand’s voice continued to rumble, low and rhythmic, always matching the rhythm of his movements as he continued to stroke and tease Daniel as his other hand kept tracing patterns into Daniel’s skin, encouraging Daniel to stay against the wall.

Daniel closed his eyes and moved into Armand’s hand. Daniel’s heart beat faster. His breaths became shorter. He drew closer. He tried to swallow his moans but cried out when Armand bit him again in a different spot. Daniel came soon after. Armand’s hand did not leave him until Daniel was nothing more than a panting mess.

Armand nipped at Daniel’s ear and wiped his hands on Daniel’s skin. He stepped back to admire his work.

Daniel shivered and leaned his head back against the wall. His body glistened in the lamplight. His chest rose and fell with every breath. His shoulders relaxed. He groaned quietly in satisfaction and then slowly stepped away from the wall. He picked up the bottle of lube and squinted at it.

“It’s edible,” Armand said.

Daniel nodded and his gaze turned to Armand. “You should tell me what you want.”

Something deep within Armand’s stomach beat as Daniel approached, a shiver running the length of Armand’s spine at all the things they could do. Armand licked his lips and led Daniel to another part of the room, kicking clothing out of their way. He grabbed a long rectangular throw pillow from a chair and cast it to the ground in front of him. “I want you on your knees.”

Daniel knelt on the pillow and set the lube on the floor. He grasped Armand legs and adjusted his balance until he found the correct way to kneel without sliding off the pillow. He let go and gazed up at Armand. “Ready?”

“Always,” Armand breathed.

Daniel squirted lube into his hand and rubbed his hands together. He ghosted his fingers up Armand’s inner thigh, toying with all he could touch before sliding his fingers along Armand’s length. He twisted and rubbed as his mouth began to explore Armand’s hips and thighs, littering bites, nips, and marks.

Armand shivered again. His legs trembled in anticipation. His fingers threaded into Daniel’s curls. He closed his eyes and let out a small noise as Daniel’s tongue finally slid along his base.

Daniel adjusted his position and explored Armand’s tip with his mouth while his fingers moved along his base. His eyes found Armand’s gaze again. His hand and mouth moved in tandem as Daniel took more of Armand into his mouth with each bob of his head.

Armand shivered and shuddered. He did not withhold any moans or cries. Daniel’s speed varied, always a response to Armand’s voice or body. Armand drew closer to the edge. He tried to watch as much as he could but he closed his eyes when he came, his fingers gripping Daniel’s curls tightly.

Daniel did not remove his mouth until Armand finished. Daniel fell back onto the floor and closed his eyes as his chest rose and fell with every breath.

Armand breathed deeply and gazed at Daniel. He reached down and grasped Daniel’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come with me.”

“I just did,” Daniel said.

Armand pulled Daniel to the shower where he claimed Daniel again under the spray.

Daniel woke to a television playing loudly on the other side of the wall. He was naked with only a sheet across his pelvis. The bed was firmer than the one in his apartment. There was a drafty window over his head. He gazed out the open door, down a short hallway, and peered at a sunlit living room. Armand’s shirt laid haphazardly in view along with Daniel’s sweater. Daniel let out a long, low groan. He knew where he was. What started in the living room continued to the shower and continued to the bedroom before they finally wore each other out last night. Daniel kept up with Armand through every bite, scratch, suck, and fuck. Even now, desire stirred deep within him like it did every morning, but he was much too sore and drained to consider it yet.

Daniel’s gaze shifted to the other side of the bed. Armand laid on his side, his spine on full display, the sheet pooling at his hips. His shoulders barely moved with each silent breath.

Daniel reached out, finger hovering just at Armand’s vertebrae before he pulled his hand back and sat up slowly, his feet hitting a cold rug. The longer he was awake, the colder the room seemed. He could not remember the last time he woke first after such a night let alone the last time he went several rounds with such abandon.

The bed creaked. Armand sat up and leaned against Daniel’s back. His hair tickled Daniel’s skin.

“Just go back to sleep,” Daniel murmured. “It’s Sunday.”

“Museum needs me.” Armand wrapped his arms around Daniel and let his fingers lazily slide along Daniel’s stomach as he kissed the back of Daniel’s neck.

Daniel squirmed a little. He slid off the bed and stood.

Armand looked up at Daniel wide-awake, his sleepiness a clear ruse. He licked his lips. “Join me in the shower before we leave.”

“Insatiable,” Daniel said. He tossed a pillow from the floor at Armand.

Armand caught the pillow and got out of bed. Daniel followed him down the small hallway to the bathroom, grateful for the warmth of the water and the company.

The sunset spread across a mostly cloudy sky. The smell of slush and pollution filled the air. Armand exited the museum and started walking home. His mind returned to last night and that morning. When he parted from Daniel, they made no definite plans, but he doubted that they could stay away from each other for long. Fantasies filled Armand’s mind. He would make them reality. There would be so much to explore.

Someone fell in step at Armand’s side. He sped up his pace and the person matched it. Armand slowed and laughed when Daniel kept walking at the previous speed. Daniel rolled his eyes and let their arms knock together when they stood side by side again. “Ass. You knew it was me.”

“Were you waiting?” Armand asked.

“I was just out for a walk,” Daniel said as if his cheeks and nose were not red from waiting in the cold.

They followed the flow of movement on the sidewalk. Armand kept close to Daniel. Daniel put his hands in his pockets and said, “I thought you could come home with me tonight.”

“Can I bring some things?” Armand asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “I’ve got room.”

So do I,” Armand said, “the next time you spend the night.” Armand’s apartment appeared up ahead. He touched Daniel’s arm. “Go get warm. I’ll get a bag and join you.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” Daniel said. His hand touched Armand’s and then he disappeared down the street.

Armand watched him go. He licked his lips and disappeared into his building. It was the start of a new game, a long game. He would relish every moment of it for the rest of his life.

The End

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