#but agatha all along did its thing so i feel some relief

[sukibenders]

I'm happy that Agatha All Along came out because, hopefully now, it fully illustrates just how unbearable and straight-up painful the hex was for those affected. Like since WV and even MOM, I've been so annoyed with people saying "The hex didn't impact the people of Westview" or "Let's be honest, their lives were much better," because it's so filled with obvious ignorance. But now, from Sharon begging Wanda to let her husband breathe, the people of Westview not even wanting to speak her name or what happened to them, it's experience being described as removing their autonomy and will--- like it's okay to admit that the hex was harmful. Like, now that Marvel isn't trying to sugarcoat it, the evidence is clear.

[post-modern-prometheus]

Okay I’m not sure how accurate this concept would be but im sharing it anyway

Essentially, Peter manifests the whole metal bending abilities (the actual word is super hard to spell holy shit) when he’s a little kid. He and Wanda would spend hours practicing with their own separate powers bc they were kind of similar in their own weird way. Not completely, but still, that wouldn’t stop them. And though it drove their mother insane sometimes, it was always so fun for them.

Then Peter manifests his super speed, which he uses to do all sorts of shit. He’s very excited about having two different mutations, and he spends hours just fucking around with both of them. Wanda sometimes joins him when she’s actually up for feeling incredibly sick after being sped around constantly, and Peter always tries to make the trips as fun as possible to make up for the nausea she gets from running with him.

Years pass, and the whole Pentagon thing happens. Wanda and Magda are both very upset about it, but Peter doesn’t think much about their worries until Magneto appears on TV. THEN he gets upset. And he only gets even more upset when Magda reveals that Erik is he and Wanda’s father.

But it’s nothing compared to how Wanda feels.

She rants and yells and shouts, begging their mother to tell them that it’s all one sick joke. Wanda doesn’t want to be related to Magneto. She doesn’t want to be a monster’s daughter. Eventually, she just shuts herself in her room. And while Peter would usually go up there as well in order to comfort her, he is also shaken about this latest revelation.

He always wanted to know who is father was, but now that he does, he wishes he could erase the truth from his mind.

Weeks pass, and the Maximoff household is pretty subdued. Wanda refuses to leave her room, Peter refuses to leave the house, and they both refuse to talk to anyone but each other. Magda wants to help her children, but she also understands that something like this takes time. So for the most part, she leaves them be, hoping that soon enough, their life would go back to how it used to be.

But that decision ends up costing her daughter her life.

Wanda, overwhelmed by the truth about her father and how the existence of mutants is now known to the public, just breaks one day. Wisps of red starts swirling around her fingertips, sharp and jagged, like the blade of a knife. And all she can do is stare at them as they start engulfing her hands entirely, so many emotions currently running through her.

Peter immediately senses that something is wrong and tries getting into her room, but her magic keeps him out. Wanda tells him to leave, and when he doesn’t, she uses her magic to get him, Magda, and their little sister out of the house. And when they try to get back in again, her magic stops them from even reaching the door.

Soon her magic starts spreading. It swirls around Wanda until it’s all she can see, and all the pain and fear she had felt for the past few weeks takes rises to the surface and takes hold. Her magic lashes out, and the building starts to tremble and shake. Bits of rubble fall around her, but she doesn’t stop — not even when she hears her family’s distressed voices from outside.

Eventually, the building collapses, and Wanda doesn’t survive.

And Peter? He tries to keep the building up with his metal abilities, but Wanda’s magic is too strong, and it kills her. It kills her and Peter feels her dying. He feels her taking her last breath. He feels her life seep from her body. He feels their bond they had shared since birth break into two, leaving only a dark, hollow feeling in its wake. It’s like his heart had been ripped to pieces, like his soul had been snapped in half, and he falls to his knees screaming and clutching his chest.

And though Wanda is the one dead, he can’t help but feel as if he had died along with her.

Months pass, and what remains of the Maximoff’s struggle to rebuild their life in the house they had moved into. But the loss of Wanda is large and overwhelming, and no one can stop thinking about it. Peter especially, who remains devastated and hiding in his basement, trying to shut out the world. He believes that her death is his fault for many reasons, and he just can’t stop thinking about that gaping hole in his heart where his twin sister once was.

Eventually, he can’t take it any longer and leaves the house in order to search for some way to fix it. While a part of him knows that death can’t be reversed, he is desperate and just wants his twin back. So no matter what everyone else says, he goes anyway. After all, almost nothing can stop a Maximoff when they have their mind set on something.

A few more months of searching pass, and Peter comes across a woman called Agatha Harkness (hehe). She tells him that she can bring his sister back from the dead, but she wants something in return. Peter agrees instantly, prepared to do anything to get Wanda, his other half, back.

But then, Agatha tells him that in order to get his twin back, she wants one of his mutations, but won’t tell him which one. Peter, of course, is taken aback. And while a part of him is horrified at the idea of living without superspeed or metallokinesis, he agrees once again. His sister is more important that his powers, after all.

(Did I mention that this is sort of based off of the song ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ from the little mermaid? Because it is.)

ANYWAYS!!! Agatha does her thing, and wisps of purple magic surrounds Peter. A part of him is terrified and wants to pull away from it, but he forces himself to keep still. Soon enough, some of the purple magic slams into him, and he cries out when he feels a harsh tug on his chest. It’s painful, but not as painful as losing his twin, and yet, he still ends up passing out.

When he wakes up, it’s in a run down looking house with no Agatha in sight. But, as he gets up, he sees his sister sprawled out on the floor nearby. He runs to her side, and as soon as he drops to his knees beside her, Wanda’s eyes snap open. And suddenly, their bond snaps back into place, and that emptiness in his heart and soul is filled.

Wanda is alive.

But Wanda is pretty confused. She asks him what’s going on, bc the last thing she remembers is the house falling on top of her, followed by pain and then darkness. Peter, upon hearing her voice, just bursts into tears and clings to her. Wanda, despite being confused, can sense his relief and distress and hugs him back.

Soon, Peter pulls away, and Wanda asks once again what happened. And he tells her. He tells her that she had caused the building to collapse on top of her, he tells her that she had died. And he tells her about meeting Agatha, who promised she could bring Wanda back at the price of one of his mutations.

Peter pauses when he gets to the mutation part though, and terrified, he tries to go back into superspeed. The world slows down, and he is close to crying with relief. His superspeed hadn’t been taken. But then he realizes what that means. Dropping out of superspeed, Peter reaches out a hand and tries to call something metal over to him. But it doesn’t work.

He had lost his metallokinesis, and although that hurts, his twin had been brought back to him, and that’s all that matters.

moodboard brought to you by post break up ricky bc HOLY SHIT

[peanuts-and-pickles]

Caves and Dust

A/N: Thanks to @severyna-7 for this great request! I hope you like the fic. 

Pairing: Agatha x Tedros

Summery: When Sophie gets herself into trouble, its up to Agatha, Tedros, and The Coven to rescue her. Of course, things don’t go to plan. 

Warnings: Ummm Claustrophobia? Caves? Being trapped maybe? Some fluff at the end. Kissing.  Head wounds, I guess. Me trying to remember the difference between stalagmites and stalactites (Mites live on the ground, tites hang from above), possibly bad writing, depending on your style

Agatha lifted the lantern in her hand, illuminating the dark cave. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, dangling just above the group’s heads. Tedros came up beside her. 

“Why are we doing this again?” He asked, accidentally walking into a stalagmite. 

“Because Sophie’s in here somewhere, and we need to rescue her.” Agatha kicked a rock out of her way. 

“Does she really deserve rescuing?” Tedros complained, glaring at the stalagmite. 

“I agree with Pretty Boy.” Hester butted in. “We could just… let her figure it out herself. Might be easier.”  Anadil nodded next to her in agreement. 

“No. We need to help her. She would do the same for us.” Agatha glanced around nervously. The cave was dark, even with the low blue glow of the lantern. Sophie had left a note on Agatha’s dresser. She said she was going to the Arguian Caves to get a crystal that, once crushed, would supposedly “Do wonders for the skin” and “make it glow better than cucumbers”. Unfortunately, Sophie wasn’t privy to the rumors that circled this place. Rumors that would make any sane person turn back. Sophie had tried to hire someone to retrieve the crystal for her, but after everyone refused, she entered the cave on her own. 

“Sophie?” Agatha called. Her voice bounced off the walls, echoing into the deep cave. 

“Maybe we should go back,” Tedros said, taking a step closer to Agatha. 

“No.” But even Agatha was creeped out by this place. They just need to find Sophie, and then they could get out of here, she told herself. 

The cave split into two paths, one going left, and one right. Agatha turned to the group. 

Tedros saw the look on her face and shook his head. “Don’t say it.” 

“We need to split up.” Agatha confirmed. Silence. The coven exchanged glances. “We’ll go right.” Hester finally decided. 

Agatha nodded and turned to Tedros. “So we go left. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and led him down the left tunnel. She turned back, “Yell if you find her!” She called to the witches. Dot just waved her hand. 

“I don’t like this Agatha,” Tedros stared down the black mouth of the tunnel. “I just- get a bad feeling.” 

“We’ll be fine.” 

The pair started down the path, weaving around rocks and stalagmites and ducking under stalactites. 

Suddenly, the cave rumbled. Rocks and dust rained from the ceiling and a stalactite fell and almost impaled Tedros. Agatha yanked him out of the way just in time. Just as quickly as it started, the cave stood still again. “What was that?” Tedros yelled, pressing himself against the tunnel wall. 

“I'm sure it's just... a ground tremor or… something.” Agatha glanced around. 

“A ground tremor?” Tedros asked sarcastically. “Nope. Nope nope nope.” He shook his head vigorously. Agatha rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

They continued for what felt like an hour. They walked in silence, except when one of them called out to Sophie. The tunnel got  smaller and smaller. It seemed the walls were getting narrower and narrower, and the roof getting closer and closer to their heads.  It was becoming apparent that the cave wasn’t stable. Occasionally, small rocks would fall from the ceiling, or a rumble would shake the ground. Beside her, Tedros’s breathing was starting to get shaky. 

“Did I mention I'm claustrophobic?” He asked, taking a step closer to Agatha. 

She glanced up at him with concern. “Really? You never told me that.” She squeezed his hand gently. “Let's just go a little farther, and then we can turn back, ok?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“Can we just stop for a bit?” He asked. 

“Sure.” Tedros leaned against a wall, closing his eyes briefly. “Why did Sophie need  to come here?” He asked Agatha. She looked up. “Oh, something about a rare crystal that's good for your skin.” 

“Right. I'm going to kill her when we get out of here, you know.”  He grinned at Agatha. 

She smiled and crossed to him. She leaned in and kissed him, her lips softly pressing against his own. His hands landed on her waist, and he leaned into her kiss. One of Agatha’s hands tangled in Tedros’s golden hair, the other on his back. The kiss grew more heated, and he moved her back, pushing off the wall. He pressed her against a stalactite, his hand gripping the skin of her waist under her shirt. But the combined pressure of the two  of them leaning on the thin stalactite was too much for the cave. There was a crash, and then the stalactite snapped, and all hell broke loose. 

Rocks tumbled around them and Agatha screamed, leaping back. She slammed into a stalagmite and fell, hitting her forehead against the cool stone. She watched in horror as the cave collapsed, cutting her off from Tedros. She closed her eyes, and bit in another scream. She curled into herself and waited for it to be over, every nerve in her body aflame with fear. 

Eventually the rocks stopped tumbling and the cave stopped shaking. Agatha opened her eyes, and held in a sob. She got to her feet, and ran to the new wall of rocks between her and Tedros. She pressed her hands against and screamed his name. Silence on the other end. She pounded her fists against it and screamed in frustration. 

“A-agatha?” Tedros’s weak voice asked from the other side of the rock pile. 

“Tedros!” Agatha sobbed in relief. “Are you alright?” She asked, pressing closer to the rock pile. 

“I- I don’t like small spaces Agatha-” Tedros’s voice broke. 

“I know. I know. Its ok. We’re gonna be just fine.” Agatha tried to calm her voice for him. “We need to move these rocks. Ok?”

“I- I can’t breathe.” His voice was shaky. 

“Just take deep breaths, ok?” Agatha asked. If Tedros couldn’t help her, she didn’t know if she could get them out of this situation. 

“I- how do I help?” He asked after a bit of silence. 

Agatha smiled in relief. “Ok. Can you make your finger glow?” 

“Its already glowing.” Tedros answered hesitantly. 

Agatha looked down, hers was too. “Great. Ok. So when I count to three, we are gonna direct our finger blasts at the rock pile, and then run for cover, ok?”

“Yeah Yeah- I can do that.” 

“Ok.”  Agatha positioned herself, ready to run. “I love you,” She called.

“One, two, three!” She blasted the rocks with the strongest light she could conjure. A golden glow the same color erupted from the other side, from Tedros finger.  

Agatha ran and then dove, rolling behind a boulder, shielding her head. There was a crash, the sound of rocks tumbling down. The cave shook dangerously, but didn’t collapse, thank god. She peeked her head over the boulder to scan the damage. The pile of rocks had collapsed, leaving a huge plume of dust in its place. She ran towards it, calling out Tedros’s name.  She covered her mouth with her sleeve and coughed, waving the dust away from her face. There was a form lying limp behind a stalagmite, completely still. Agatha ran to him, crouching next to Tedros. His eyes were closed, his dusty eyelashes soft against his cheeks. A trickle of blood dripped down his face. Agatha tested his neck for a pulse. There was a moment of stillness, as if  Tedros’s fate was wobbling on the edge of a cliff. Then Agatha felt a heartbeat beneath her fingers, and his fate was restored. She cried out and hugged him tightly. She heard a wheeze and pulled back, to see Tedros' eyelashes flutter. He grinned at her sleepily, and horsley whispered “I love you too.”

When the witches heard the commotion from the other tunnel, they ran back to the junction. 

“Maybe they're dead,” Anadil muttered to Hester. 

“Maybe.” 

“Guys!” Dot pointed at two figures appearing out of the dust cloud. Agatha limped along, Tedros’s arm around her shoulder for support. The coven ran to them, and checked them for injuries. “Are you hurt?” Dot asked. “What happened?” Anadill butted in. “Did you find Sophie?” Hester said loudly.

“No, not badly at least, and the tunnel collapsed,” Agatha told Dot and Anadil. “And for her sake, I hope we never find Sophie,” Tedros growled. 

Suddenly there was a commotion coming from the main tunnel. 

“Agatha, Darling, there you are!” Sophie walked towards them briskly, grinning at her best friend. “Why are you covered in dust?” 

“Sophie!” Agatha cried in relief. “You're ok.” 

“Of course I'm ok, silly.  Why wouldn’t I be?” She wrinkled her nose at Tedros. “Teddy, you really ought to keep yourself cleaner,” She brushed some dust from his shoulder. 

“We thought you went into the tunnel and got yourself killed!” Agatha yelled. “Some of us were hoping for it,” Tedros snarled. “Oh, I went shopping first. I needed adventure gear!” She laughed lightly. “I'm just on my way in now. Did you happen to see any good crystals while you were in there?” 

The witches grabbed Sophie by each arm and started leading her out of the cave. “Remind me to never help you again,” Hester growled at her. 

“What- Wait! Aggie, help me!” Sophie shrieked as she was led away. 

Agatha turned to Tedros with concern. “Are you ok?” She asked softly. “Yeah.” Tedros smiled at her. “With you, always.”

Agatha snorted. “Its when you say stuff like that that makes me question whether or not I love you.” But she was blushing.

 “Come on,” Tedros said, starting towards the light at the end of the cave. “I need to get out of here, and I think we could both use a good bath.” 

                             .                                .                              .

Hope you enjoyed! I always love feedback. 

[dirthavarens]

The Night After (pt 1)

PART ONE IS D O N E. I apologize for the delay, there were some minor setbacks, but we did it. We got here and I can finally stomach it to the point of posting it on AO3. 

Fandom: Dracula (2020) Characters: Count Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing/Agatha Van Helsing Relationship: Dracula/Zoe&Dracula/Agatha Rating: Explicit Warnings: None Word Count: 8227

[READ ON AO3]

or read below

--------------------------------------------

The Kiss of the Vampire. 

It was an opiate of such potency found nowhere on Earth. Not a hallucinogen on the planet came close to what Zoe Van Helsing experienced the first time Count Dracula sank his teeth into her veins. Immediate, possessive, as he drank her. He was the overly proud owner of an air of smug satisfaction with every intention of draining her. Or at least rendering her to the feeble state to which he had Agatha over a century ago. Both Zoe and Dracula knew he would have succeeded had it not been for the corruption flowing through her veins. 

The second time had been unconventional and not her own flesh. She had done what no other had done before as she lifted the vial to her lips. She had thrown her head back and the viscous liquid eased its way into her body. The energy that surged through her veins overloaded her body, catapulted her into another life entirely. In that moment of confusion, her own voice called out into the darkness. A light in the void beckoned her near. Zoe chased it without hesitation and made a grand connection to the impossible. 

The connection came with blinding, ineffable truth. Muddied memories crowded inside of Count Dracula’s blood and overflowed into hers. Clarity came with recognition. The musty smell of ancient texts and drying herbs in the lowest level of the nunnery brought Zoe to her senses. It was there she saw them. Dracula and his ever curious, ever persistent, opposition, Sister Agatha Van Helsing. 

Zoe could feel his interest in Agatha welling within her as if it were her very own. He was drawn to her as a moth to flame, curiosity lit under him like a match. Her eyes flitted to Agatha as Dracula sank his teeth into the faithless nun’s neck. What was it in those familiar eyes?

She knew her ancestor had not been predisposed to fear from the tales she heard. Zoe also knew that there was an unfamiliar stirring in the pit of her stomach when Agatha looked to her. In that moment, Zoe and Agatha became inseparable, though Zoe clung to her self identity as tightly as she could. There was no denying her halved existence melded with another and became one. Dracula was right. 

Zoe was mentally torn to pieces as Agatha’s thoughts crowded her brain and Dracula’s desires clouded her body. He was drinking his fill and Agatha felt curiosity, excitement, and the smallest bit of arousal. 

Dracula, on the other hand, experienced a rush as he drank his fill. He was more than the beast that this Agatha saw him as, or at least he believed as much, and he could prove it. He dug his teeth in deeper, grabbing her by the waist to hold her in place, not that she went anywhere. Zoe felt his excitement, his high, his pleasure in feeding off of her. If her once saved soul had any hidden temptations left, he wanted nothing more than to pull them forth and corrupt her to the bitter end. Their game began.

The third was something else entirely. Winning the game they had played for over a century had freed her of the rules. Breath labored and spirit dim, she shed herself of all tedious humanities; Zoe stripped of all reservations as she closed her eyes.

Through the shadows behind her eyelids, she saw Dracula draw closer to her. She had felt his arms around her, under her, and then sweeping her hair from her neck. Her dark world played out in slow motion, infinite in the few moments that ticked by with no heed for human or vampire. Pillow soft in their pliancy, Dracula’s lips lowered to the exposed skin, shakily placed a tender kiss carrying attentive adoration against her throat, and sank his teeth into her jugular.

She had not known a second of darkness as the Sun burst around them. No longer did she feel his teeth in her flesh. Rather, Zoe felt him atop her, within her, surrounding her, flooding every sense as he consumed every drop of her. Free of consequence, free of pride and of limitation, she surrendered herself to his gentle caresses. She savored every sweet spark as his fingertips brushed down her flank and left raised, excited skin in their wake. 

Dracula coaxed soft sighs from her throat as he pressed his tip against her entrance. Through the garish light surrounding them, Zoe took note of the devotion entrapped in his amber eyes and marveled at how they shone like jewels in the sun’s light. The coals had at last caught fire and he burned with them.

Zoe tested her faculties and reached for his face. He leaned into her touch, closed his eyes, and let her merciful fingertips guide his lips to hers. Never had she thought of him as tender, but as he sank himself into her with a slow roll of his hips, all she could feel was rapture, devotion, reverence. Yet again, Dracula offered Zoe everything.  

Stripped of feeling indestructible and lain bare before her, he gave all to her; all of those tedious, complicated human emotions that festered somewhere trapped within him, finally ruptured to the surface. His own Pandora’s Box betrayed him as his head dropped to the nape of her neck. A groan sounded against her as he slowly drew back his hips and rocked into her. 

In their shared final dream, he removed his lips from her neck and ran his nose along her cheek, stilling himself within her to allow her time to adjust to him. Zoe lifted her hand from his cheek drenched in sunlight and carded her fingers through the thick black mess atop his head. She disheveled its careful placement with a sense of pride because only she could do that. He was at last undone for her, deconstructed to the needs not of a vampire, but of a man. 

A soft breath of laughter crept along her jaw when she tugged the hairs at the back of his neck. He brought his head up to look at her and saw the clear self-congratulatory simper spread all the way to the corners of her eyes.  

“Agatha Van Helsing, whatever shall I do with you?” he entreated just as cheekily as he withdrew from her just enough for his cockhead to teeter within her slick entrance. He moved before Zoe could find an answer through lust-drown thoughts. Dracula rolled his hips against hers and sheathed himself to the hilt in one movement.

Always the persistent opposition, Zoe tried to answer through the gasp escaping her lips. “I have a f-few id..ideas.” 

He drove himself into her again and watched as she lost herself to him. His wicked doubter, his discoverer, his only equal, and now his conqueress. She was just as much his Eureka moment as he was hers, and he showed her with each movement. A few more deep thrusts and she tightened her fingers in his hair, gasping in blended languages as he rocked deeper within her body.

“Something like that?” His breath played along her lips before he captured them and his hand tangled into the thick of her hair. He didn’t want an answer from her and she found no reason to give one. Only when he descended to her neck to gently nip did reality hit her.

“This...isn’t real…” 

She clung to the feeling of him inside of her as he stretched and filled her. She wanted it to be real. The words they exchanged were not what either had anticipated as they caught each other’s lips. Zoe pushed into the kiss and parted his lips, drinking him in as their corporeal forms withered. Dracula pulled away from her mouth to watch their climax in the golden light around them. She tightened around him as though it were a command for him to join her as she dug her nails into his back.

The end was nearing as they laid exhausted in the sun’s light, too tired and too comfortable to move. The limit of his capability, she now knew, was his humanity. With it she brought him to his knees. Dracula, the beast who feared death, wanted nothing more than to spend his final moments as a man. 

The last thing her eyes would ever see was the humanity left in his. 

Darkness followed the sunlight and she found herself drained, gasping for air as she was left alone in the silence. Her voice reverberated through her head as she called to him in the depths. She had felt this once before, the numb hand of death gripping tightly at her throat. 

The confusing hum of silence grew louder in her head, dragging her deeper into its hold. Zoe had transgressed God beyond salvation and knew too well that Hell resided squarely on Earth itself. If she were to die, an empty blackness seemed appropriate, if not a little cruel on the universe’s part.

She was ready to accept her fate. And she would have, had it not been for the sharp pain that shook through her in the darkness. Her body ached and screamed for some sense of relief. She knew pain through the centuries, felt it in her cancer, in her final breaths aboard the Demeter. This, however, was something beyond that; something entirely hellish.

Zoe Van Helsing was still alive. 

All around her was the thick, metallic stench of her own blood. Zoe forced her eyes open and focused on the faculties she could recover. The flat around her was just as silent as her mind had been, the warm light of the afternoon pouring in from the large window. 

“Dr…” she tried her voice as she looked to her side. Her vision was tinged, blurry, fading, but she saw him beside her, unnervingly still. He would always remain so steady, Zoe could not tell if he was dead or still a member of the undead. Her focus failed her then as another surge of pain twisted through her body. Zoe’s vision slipped into blackness once more, but she attempted to utter his name as she reached a finger toward him. “Dracula?” 

Time whirled around her as the abyss seized her once again. Through careful thought and reason, she knew she was not dead, but she was not dreaming. Unconscious and unable to comprehend the world around her, Zoe decided to focus on breathing, regardless of how painful it was. Occasionally, she thought she heard his voice muttering something or the click of his overpriced Italian shoes against the floor. However, the echoing within her head made formal thought impossible.

Breathe.

The only word that kept reverberating through her head with any clarity.

Breathe.

She could not help but wonder when it would be the last time she instructed herself.

Breathe.

The sound of running water and a feeling of warmth rushed over her. No longer did she smell the foul stench of blood as she felt herself lowered. 

An image in her mind, like a photograph taken upon dropping a camera, flashed then. She caught sight of what appeared to be a bath, an open vein on a familiar forearm, and more red than she ever cared to see. The background static within her brain made piecing the puzzle together entirely impossible, but she had an idea. 

It wasn’t long after she saw his arm in her mind that the smell of blood followed. The scent was pungent, as strong as the blood she drank to discover his truths, but she could not shrink away. 

Drink, Zoe. This might be the only thing that saves you.

The tender note in the voice she heard in her mind was a hand in the murky water, reaching for her, fingertips gliding against fingertips, but not enough to grasp onto. She knew then, with great certainty, that Dracula was alive. She also knew that he was attempting to get her to drink blood in an attempt to save her own. With this knowledge came a feeling of helplessness as she could taste the rush of hot liquid sticking to her tongue as her body choked it down. 

Asta e, draga mea. 

The foreign words were the last she heard as she slowly sank into a humming slumber. Her fear was not as prevalent as it had been in the moments before. The dark was inviting now, warm, and as her mind slowly shut down, she pieced together what he had said. 

That’s it, my darling.

--------

Zoe awoke with a start, eyes wide and searching, a gasp tumbling from her parted lips. Her heart thrummed wildly at her breast as she looked around the unfamiliar room. A bedroom, and a lavish one at that. Silk sheets, canvases of original paintings, and such dark drapes it was as though staring into a pit. 

“Easy now, you don’t want to overdo it quite yet.” Dracula’s voice came from somewhere to her right. He stood in the doorway, leaning against it with his arms folded neatly across his chest. Those arms...she knew how they felt around her and nearly found herself aching for them. Luckily, he was crossing over to her. “I always wanted to test the legend but never found anyone worth saving before.”

“What legend is that?” she inquired plainly, as though she wasn’t marveling over her own resurrection. She noticed her voice carried a slight accent in its breadth, but took no further interest in it. “That a vampire’s blood can be used to heal humans?”

“You knew and you weren’t going to tell me?” He feigned offense as he sat on the edge of the bed, that smug grin of his reappearing on his face. “Dr. Helsing, I’m crushed.”

Dracula leaned in, his smile softening marginally as Zoe slowed her breathing and rested her head against the padded headboard. Of course it would be padded. How grotesquely self-indulgent, but it made her inflow of inquiries more comfortable as they entered her mind.

“What happened? How are either of us alive? What time is it?”

“Vampires cannot be responsible for the taking of their own lives. I suppose it extends even to poison. As to why you’re alive... I think we covered that,” he expounded, moderate fascination snaking through his voice. Dracula made a habit of downplaying his true excitement, but with more of his blood inside of her than ever, Zoe knew he was positively ecstatic at the discovery. 

“It’s not much after two o’clock now, you were asleep for hours,” noted the Count idly. “I left you to rest, Zoe. I couldn’t exhaust you as I had in the last dream.”

“But that dream…”

“Ah, yes.” The clarity she found within his eyes as he recalled the moment was startling. “Had you expected anything less of me?”

“You’re usually far too clever for something so human. Not that I’m complaining.” She felt stronger, more confident, and more invigorated than she had in recent months. The thrumming in her breast and humming in her veins was no doubt from his blood. She hadn’t felt so alive in what felt like a lifetime. It was as Jonathan Harker had explained so long ago in his recount of his time at Castle Dracula. Fresh blood.

For once, Count Dracula did not have a smart remark. Instead, he moved closer to her on the mattress, careful not to disturb the sheets. He was close enough for her to feel his breath as he spoke. “If we were finally going to die, I wanted it to be memorable. You had won the game and all I wanted was to remember the sunlight around me, Zoe.”

And what else is sunlight but the face of one’s beloved?

He did not back away when he was done explaining. Not that Zoe wanted him to. On the contrary, it would have seemed. There was something deeper in those dark eyes of his and it set her alight. With her strength returning to her, she lifted her head from the headboard and reached out for Dracula’s face. She could justify it to herself now, for the bridge had already been crossed when they were dying. They gave into carnal desire and every sin committed was lain bare. Two souls twisted by fate, drawn nearer, and melded together. It was a deeper and darker truth than Zoe had been able to admit to herself until she had felt her life ebbing away. 

If she wanted to explore that truth further, she would have to accept her actions entirely as her own. The sacrifice of the moral high ground was not exactly a loss, and had he been able to read her thoughts, he would undoubtedly agree. 

She craved something more with Count Dracula, devourer of lives, and she would carry that sin on her soul for eternity. Her own murderer was mere inches from her face and she felt no fear. The buzz of excitement and uncharted territory, yes. But Zoe had no fear for any possible outcome because she knew herself and she finally knew him.

“That was merely a dream, Count,” came Zoe's thickly accented breath. She bent in nearer to him, as close as the day in the convent, breath just as thready, the energy equal but entirely different. He did not look at her like the frenzied beast, but something more than human.

The prince of shadows, indeed. She marveled as she took in his countenance. Her interest in him was very similar to what it had been all those years ago. She wanted to see the true limit of his capability. 

The rules of the beast no longer applied, however. They were known to both beast and master. Dracula and Zoe knew his fears and his weaknesses. He could wield his fears now, fight them and weaponize them. In his understanding, Dracula was given great power. But in those weaknesses came truths. With that, she had more power than he ever could.

“Agatha…” 

He was but a man possessive of many all too human fears but powerful beyond measure. What could have been greatness was squandered by bloodshed and murder, but he still managed to retain something resembling humanity. It was staring at her now, full of longing and heady desire, and she was not about to lose sight of it yet. Knowing that he was the last thing she was going to feel before she died opened a truth for her she hadn’t wanted to address. He was temptation incarnate; beautiful, dangerous, an adversary and a partner all at once. 

Temptation was nothing more than the body’s natural curiosity. Categorized not as sin, but as personal science. It was something she discovered so long ago, a young nun drawn to everything dark and evil.

A puff of breath through his nostrils pulled her out of her thoughts and focused her on the way his lips were parted just enough to expose his teeth. Completely human, save his canines. She flitted her gaze to his and noticed they were darker now, drenched in something more primal, but not yet animal. 

“You’re far too composed,” she mocked cheekily as she skated her fingers through his thick head of charcoal locks. He looked better that way, in her opinion. Messy, wanton, and all for her eyes alone. With a grin, she settled her hand on the back of his head and gently pulled him closer. “Come, boy.”

He bent to her will without a second of deliberation and Zoe revelled in the way his teeth played at her bottom lip. When he released it from his grip, she took a couple experimental nips of her own, drew his lip away from his mouth, released it, and then kissed him hard. Wasting not a moment, Dracula pulled her closer and let out a small groan in the depths of his throat. Her fingers found purchase wherever they could, his hair, his shirt, his neck. Anywhere she could find more contact with him, she did, eagerly, hungrily. 

Zoe’s mouth chased after his when he moved out of the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. His amused breaths came out in erratic heaves, his mouth wavering between open and closed.

“Dr. Helsing, while you are the one with the degree, I have tasted many doctors, and I know the best thing for you right now is not sexual intercourse,” he orated breathlessly, voice tinged with the subharmonics of his vampiric growl. Despite his tone, he sounded out of time with his terminology. No one had said sexual intercourse to her since her Year 8 teachers. Though, she couldn’t deny it was a slightly endearing note on a rather grim sentence. 

“As I’m sure being eaten was the best thing for them at the time?” Zoe breathed back, voice heavy with her old Dutch accent. “Concern yourself with your own well-being, Count.”

She reclaimed his lips and moved the covers that had been on her lap to move closer to him. He grinned into the kiss as she straddled him, marveling at all the wicked sin resting in her soul. How beautiful her defiance was.

Dracula placed his hands on either side of her hips, gently massaging the bony protrusions with the pads of his thumbs. Perhaps, she should have been self-conscious of her withered form. However, the hypnotic combination of his thumbs’ motion and the intermittent pressure he would apply, kept her mind quite preoccupied. His dark brows knit together as he took in the sight of her and she felt like a piece of art in a museum. So infinitely black were those eyes of his in the dim light of the bedroom, she swore she saw all of time and space in them.

“Perhaps I’ve given you too much of a good thing,” he muttered with undercurrents of smug pleasure lining his voice. Those thumbs of his dug once again into her flesh as he moved his lips to her neck. “...if you’re feeling this well.”

"It is a possibility we can't rule out, but I wouldn’t question it." She felt the cold passage of air as he breathed in her scent, her pulse involuntarily quickening. Then, just where it had been cold a moment prior, he set his lips upon her flesh. She gasped as he explored the expanse, all teeth and tongue as he nipped and sucked his way up and down her jugular. The gasp turned into a moan when Dracula moved a hand up her torso, grasping at her breast as he planted a slow kiss at her jaw.

“You smell like me,” he whispered thickly, voice heady with lust and all the desire to possess her more than flowing through her veins. “Your scent is nearly indistinguishable from mine.”

She had not heard him speak to her like this since the convent, so breathy, so full of need. The only difference was he was driven by passion alone. Hunger and the desire for destruction had nothing to do with it. That tone had driven her mad then, though she would not admit it, and it continued to drive her mad into the twenty-first century. Zoe discovered something interesting when she ground her hips against his in an attempt to thwart his passes. She felt his concealed hardness between her legs as she descended upon his lap. He rubbed squarely against her core and she clutched at him to find her bearings. 

“So, vampires can experience sexual arousal, not just hunger. Very interesting,” she noted as casually as she could. She needed to always be the scholar, always needing more information, always needing more of...whatever it was he was about to do. A gasp escaped her throat as he had balled her hair into his fist and drew her head back, surrendering the skin to him and with it, her self-control. 

“Godverdomme!” Zoe groaned and rocked her hips against him as his mouth traveled from her throat to her collarbone. He paused for a moment, deliberated, and with a hum of decision, he bit her hard with his human teeth. She writhed against the sensation, pushing herself closer to him, to his surprising warmth, and closer to that horrendously glorious mouth of his.  “Meer…” 

“Ah. Acolo ești, mireasa mea finală,” beamed Dracula after placing a gentle kiss at the new mark. He trailed his hand slowly back down her torso, only to snake his hand under her shirt to feel her pulse beneath his fingers.

The comment sent her mind reeling and she pushed him onto the mattress below. How dare he make such a smug, presumptuous remark while she was so undone? God, it drove her mad in every possible way and she didn’t know if she wanted him in her or in the ground.

“I am not your bride,” she voiced hotly and brought her hand to his throat, knowing it was just for show. Zoe could see the mixture of emotions dancing on his face and found the most prominent to be pride. The egoism that made up his person repulsed and drew her in even more had her mind whirling.

She rubbed her pelvis against his restrained cock and watched as the impish light in his eyes once more turned dark. Zoe lowered herself until her hair cascaded around their faces, her lips close enough to brush against his. “Count Dracula, let me make one thing very clear to you. I will never be one of your brides.”

The distance between them, however small, felt too great. She wanted to be closer, she wanted whatever shirt she was wearing--his, she concluded--on the floor and everything he had on torn from him. Whatever disbelief she held in her soul was drowned in desire for the monster of a man beneath her, and she knew her disposition betrayed her. She could not dissuade her hips from rocking slightly above him, just as she could not control the shallow,  hot breaths that splayed across his face.

“A queen is but a bride for a night,” he concluded with a sobering breath as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. Her body buzzed with pleasure as he pressed himself against her, his constrained hardness begging to be freed.

A queen.

If she could describe how she felt using only one word, queen was definitely fitting. She sat atop the prince of vampires and had him harder than stone. He made no move to claim her from below, surrendering his power to her; he only gently reminded her that he wanted her, terribly, as he ground his clothed cock against any part of her he could. Soft growls escaped his lips as she tightened her fingers around his throat and took his mouth with her own.

“Careful, boy. I need to make you last.”

She moved her hand from his throat to his button up as she sat up. Zoe wasted not a second untucking it from his slacks and looked impatiently at the buttons. She knew what awaited her beneath the fabric, the furred chest speckled with scars and the frame of a five hundred year old warlord, immortal, unchanged. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” 

She paid no mind to his inquiry and undid each button with a focus she did not know she could have. One by one, the unfastened buttons revealed her prize to her. He sat up and shrugged out of the shirt the rest of the way, exposing himself to her.

She wanted to stare, wanted to drink him in and know every aspect, but his eyes caught her attention first. They were glazed over with desire, his brows twitching as he restrained himself. Her gaze shifted down to see his jaw working itself just as hard to keep himself from taking control of the situation. He was a man of extreme power and a prince used to getting his way. And Zoe Van Helsing stripped him of that. She made him beg, made him control himself, and she loved watching him underneath her.

“Zoe, let me see you, please,” he entreated quietly and brought his hands to her back. For a great warlord to be brought to his knees in such a state...she adored him for it. 

Never had she heard him speak with such reverence. For over a century, she wanted to destroy him and break the beast within human flesh. Her only goal had been to understand him, to know him, to strip him of all power and personal pride. She never imagined it would come in the form of devotion. Her name sounded like a prayer of sin on his lips and it was all she could do to keep her composure as he marveled at her.

“You bathed me, did you not? Didn’t you have your fill then?” Her accented retort was empty, meant only to tease. Dracula was a murderer, a plague on the earth, and a demon who stalked the shadows, but he was not without some form of honor.

“I could never have my fill of you,” he claimed in a tone that sent electricity down her spine. “But to answer your question, no. I would not take such advantage of you.”

She had not seen his hand move between them, but she felt it as his finger traced the outline of her under garments. They were hers, and as meticulous as the count was, she knew that he would have had them washed. A waste of detergent, if one were to ask her.

A breathy groan sounded in her throat as she shuddered against his finger through the fabric, rubbing herself against him, never once breaking eye contact.

“Especially when you are so willing to have me now.” 

She lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it, not caring where it landed. With her thoughts and body preoccupied, Zoe had not expected to be flipped onto her back so suddenly. In an instant he was above her. He stared down at her with an intense hunger she had not seen in the eyes of a man before, nor in the eyes of a vampire. 

Dracula dipped lower once he was satisfied with the sight of her and pressed a slow kiss to the nape of her neck. Zoe groaned as his finger still idly rubbed against the increasingly wet fabric between her legs.

Slowly, he made his way down her chest, pausing at her left breast to rake his teeth against her nipple. She wanted to look down at him and watch as he teased reaction after reaction from her body. A whine when he suckled at her breast was enough to evoke an equal groan from his throat before he trailed lower. All the while, his hand never left her core. Through every kiss over her ribs, every nip at her abdomen, he never let her forget how the cotton of her underwear was sticking to and sliding against her. 

She heard him swallow as he trailed his nose above the last remaining bit of clothing on her. How his breath was hot, she could not discern, but she was not about to think too heavily on anything other than finding ways to feel more of him.

He pulled away from her then and knelt on the bed before her. Finally, Zoe was able to set her sights on him, and what a sight it was. 

Count Dracula, furred chest heaving, cheeks redder than usual, dark chocolate eyes black as coal, was looking down at her with all the intentions of a man in the glorious throes of passion. She felt like a display, but she did not care. If she was to be a piece of art, then let his eyes be the one to understand it, for he was the painter.

“May I taste you?”

The question caught her off-guard and nearly brought her back to her senses. Only when she noticed the clawed finger hooked in her underwear did she realize what he meant. She had known his kiss on lips and flesh and could only imagine what his mouth would feel like between her legs. 

“Why ask? You already know the answer,” she huffed as she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the fabric from her legs. The cold air of the bedroom crept between her thighs but she forced herself to keep them spread for him. 

“Consent is the difference between man and beast. Desire is different from hunger in many ways and therefore has different rules,” he explained as he started to lower himself to her. “I need to know how badly you want every part of this.” 

Before he could make it down to her core, Zoe shifted upwards, moving to her knees in front of him. He sank back onto his knees, confusion written on his face.

“Then fair is fair.”  

She captured his lips as reassurance and kissed him with unanticipated fervor. Her fingers, though bony as they had gotten, made quick work of his belt and the button of his pants. The moan that should have escaped into the open air as her hand brushed against him was drowned into the kiss. He grabbed the back of her head, pulled her closer, and devoured her lips with his own, messy, unbridled, unburdened. Only when she was tripping up on stilling her hand at the zipper did she break from the delicious heat of his mouth.

“Allow me,” he whispered with lips hovering just a hair away from her own. She heard the zipper go down and backed up just enough to see the outline of his shaft in his onyx boxer briefs. He stepped off the mattress and pulled the slacks down to pool on the floor around his ankles.

Zoe crawled forward on the bed and sat squarely in front of him; it was her turn now. 

She splayed a hand on his chest, tangling her fingers in the black hair that lined it, and intentionally went as slowly as she could to the fabric. Fingertips dipped below the elastic band and Zoe smirked as she watched his abdomen flex involuntarily. So reactive, so human. 

She pulled him closer by the briefs and planted a kiss next to his hip. There was an energy to him from which the warmth came, she noticed, as she trailed kisses along the band; as though he had been his own conductor instead of attaining the warmth through the blood of his victims. She pushed the dismal thought from her mind and focused on the task at hand. Carefully, she lifted the fabric over his shaft and down his hips, leaving him to do the rest. 

At last, his cock sprung forward and she had to admit that it was entirely human, if not thicker and larger than the ones she had in her earlier life, and not that unattractive. She went to reach for it but found her wrist seized by the Count’s grasp.

“I believe I asked first,” he curtly stated as he bent forward, forcing her to move up the bed once again. He did not stop to kiss her, did not bother with a smart comment, or pause for a moment before he gripped her thighs and sank between them.

She felt his breath first, gasping at the way it tickled against the soft hairs she had long since thought to shave. She had been dying, who cared if she was neatly shaven?

Certainly not the Count.

Without preamble, Dracula swept his tongue between her folds, pressed it hard against her clit, and traced the sensitive spot a few times over. She reached down, breathy and lost in an instant, and twisted her fingers into the inky black hair atop his head, which only encouraged him further. 

She squirmed as his tongue, mouth, and teeth worked her over, probing her, tasting her, and driving her toward that proverbial edge that she could have jumped off of by now. But every time she found herself ready to crash around him, he changed pace and rhythm; and she could feel him smiling against her. 

“You’re getting off on this,” she groaned as he stopped to kiss her thigh and left her aching for release. 

“That is the point of what we’re doing, Zoe, yes. Besides…one...should….”

Before he could say anything more, and she quite well knew what he was going to say, Zoe pushed herself against him, grinding against his mouth. A silent order which he obeyed in a moment. He wrapped his arms around the outside of her legs, smirked at her, and dragged her to him as he once again knelt on the bed. Her legs wrapped around him, finding friction against his back as his lips gently sucked at her nub. All of the blood went rushing to her head and she could hear nothing beyond the slick sounds of his ministrations and her pulse thumping erratically in her ear.  

She writhed beneath him as he found a rhythm that had her shaking and gasping for air. Finally, she burst with a cry in a mixture of English and Dutch. She came hard against his mouth, twitching uncontrollably in the wake of her orgasm.

But he did not stop.

Dracula held to her tighter and rendered her immobile in his grasp. He drank her in as she came and made no attempt to let her recover from her first orgasm. Rather, he pushed her back down to the bed and went faster, curling his tongue against her clit enough to send a second orgasm crashing over her. A rugged groan fell from her lips as she tried to reach for him and pulled on his hair. She needed to kiss him, needed to connect with him, and share with him the explosive release that rocked through her body. 

“Dracu-- ple--...I n-need...” she panted as she reached for his hand and tugged. “Give me your mouth.”

He released his grip of her, both mouth and arms, and obeyed. She caught a glimpse of his mouth glistening with her release and watched as he ran his tongue along his lips and swallowed. Another twitch of pleasure rocked through her and she shivered as he closed the distance between them.

“You truly are exquisite,” he purred before capturing her lips.

She tasted herself on his tongue the moment he swept into her mouth and kissed her hard. Zoe pushed back in response, delving her tongue into his mouth and whisking away traces of her own release as she matched his force and pace. He took her already sore bottom lip and tugged it as he pushed his thigh against her center, causing her to cry out into his mouth. He lost her kiss as his head dropped to the nape of her neck and involuntarily rolled his hips at her plea. She felt his erection grind against her sweat-lined skin and wondered how much longer he could last without release. 

“Lasă-mă să fac dragoste cu tine,” he breathed heavily into her neck and moved himself to align with her entrance. Zoe adjusted herself to allow him more freedom between her legs. She started to notice he spoke in his native tongue when he truly wanted her to understand him.

She realized then that this wasn’t a mere fuck to him. While by definition they were, in fact, fucking, he saw it as more, felt it as more. There was always something more with him, always something deeper, another layer to be peeled away from the ashamed warlord. She would unravel him to the bone before long. 

“You’re not getting soft on me, are you?” The question came as a teasing hum and he brought his head up to examine her face. The playful wickedness returned to his features as he searched her eyes. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about me growing soft any time soon, Zoe,” he noted glibly as he teased her entrance with his cockhead. It had been over a year since she had last lain with anyone and none of her lovers had been as prepossessing as Dracula. He was regal and there wasn’t a soul on the planet, living or dead, that could deny how he looked. 

“We’ll see about that,” she challenged and leaned up to kiss him. He met her lips for but a moment before sinking slowly into her, filling her to the brim and then some. She tried to keep her eyes on him, tried to watch as he finally took her, but could not stop herself from dropping her head into the mess of pillows below her.

Their shared dream could hold nothing to the actual feeling of him between her legs, carefully, but expertly, plunging himself deeper into her with each motion.

“Zoe, Zoe, look at me. I want you to watch as I take you,” instructed Dracula, his words thick amidst his growl so bestial she thought him entering a frenzy. 

When she looked up, she saw nothing of the sort. What she saw was a man succumbing to his own desires, breathing heavily and capturing her lips in hasty, firm kisses when he could. Dracula drove himself into her with abandon and focused entirely on her face as he searched for that one sweet spot that would send her world flying.

And he found it.

She arched into him, a drawn-out groan falling into the pillow beside her. Within a second after, Dracula had thrown the pillow and swept a hand under her back, lifting her into the air as he leaned back on his knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deep, biting at his lip and not caring that she was finally able to pierce his skin. The snarl that came in response was reprehensible, but she reveled in the sound.

“That’s better.” His voice carried the same subharmonics as they had earlier, that same vampiric underscore that should have been frightening. “Incredible.”

He drove himself into her time and again, hitting that same spot over and over until her legs shook around him. She did not look away from him as her walls tightened around the impossible fullness inside of her. Had it not been for his hands at her back, she would have fallen to the mattress below in an instant. 

He pulled her closer, until her breasts were flush against the down of his chest, and rolled them onto bed. She thought he was going to release his hold of her, let her take charge, but his grip did not loosen. Instead, he thrust up into her, haphazard and chasing. His hand balled into her hair, giving her some room to adjust herself more comfortably atop him with his grip loosened, as he seized her lips. His kiss was hungry, demanding, forceful, and alone was enough to send Zoe over the edge once again.

And he went with her, hips bucking up as he came inside of her, groaning into her mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure seized them both as he slowed his movements inside of her, riding through their climax, before he released his hands from holding her in place.

Zoe let him go soft inside of her before she fell to the bed beside him. She was sore, dehydrated, but above all, satisfied, and a hum of approval sounded in her throat as she kissed his shoulder. 

“Zoe Van Helsing,” he sighed after a few moments of silence, drawing her closer to him. “What mortal man could have such a seductress in his bed and not do everything in his power to keep her there?”

“Men who don’t understand the importance or dangers of vampires, one can assume,” she returned dryly, tracing patterns amidst the thick hairs of his chest. “A person’s life work can interfere greatly with relationships, Count.”

“Greatness is often squandered by lesser minds. You held yourself apart even before your cancer, Zoe. I tasted it on you. It had a very…” he ran his tongue between his lips thoughtfully, “...robust flavor. Herculean, almost. You are a wealth of knowledge and power and you wield it as both shield and weapon. It’s a quality that is intimidating to the unimportant. A scholar and a warrior.” 

How fortunate for Dracula that her aforementioned life’s work consisted entirely of him. She would never be rid of him, just as he would never be rid of him. Had anyone asked her three months ago if she was going to bed a vampire, her answer would have been a resounding no. Zoe had known only the horrors of him, the clever predator that stalked and toyed with his prey. She knew the monster. 

That was until Agatha seeped into her consciousness. The nun had completed her as their thoughts and memories synthesized into a singular existence. Possession was the wrong term entirely. Agatha had granted her wholeness in a way her work never could. She was Agatha just as much as Agatha was her. They were the same woman sharing the same soul. And together, they found the man within the beast.

“It sounds as though you want to make me a captain rather than a bed-partner,” she hummed as she shuffled closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder. A contented hum sounded in his throat as he wrapped his arm around her to hold her naked form to his.

“Captain is beneath you. No, you would be my most successful general. I would trust you to move armies and then the world.” With his free hand, he swept her bedraggled hair behind her ear with a smirk. She shivered involuntarily when his claw gently grazed her scalp, her nerves still ringing with pleasure. “As for being my bed-partner, there aren’t many beds on battlefields. But I’m sure we’d make do.”  

The chill made her legs twitch and she could feel his seed sliding out of her. While it was not altogether unpleasant, she knew that she could not do much else in her current state.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a shower,” she declared softly and placed a slow kiss on his peck. “And while it appears you haven’t broken a sweat, I wouldn’t be opposed if you were to join me.” 

He shifted and let out a breath of laughter, a smile stretching so far on his face she could feel it against her forehead. She moved from his hold and laid her chest atop his and looked down at him to confirm her suspicions. 

“You are wicked,” came his playful tone as he lifted her atop him, her hands splaying on his chest to hold herself up. She knew the moment he searched her eyes he understood why she wanted to shower. That and the feeling of his cum sliding onto his own leg. “And I did make quite the mess of you.”

“You did and now I have every intention of undoing your hard work,” she chimed jokingly as she idly scratched at the hair upon his chest. She ignored the underscore of guilt she felt for indulging herself. Not twenty-four hours prior, her protege had lost the woman he loved twice to the man she now so intimately smiled upon. 

“I would expect nothing less from a Van Helsing. Luckily, I still have a few tricks up my sleeves,” came his hum of a reply as he shifted upwards on the bed, his soft cock twitching against her thigh. “Come with me.”

She moved off of him in time enough for Dracula to stand and watched how his muscles flexed underneath his skin as he stretched. He put on a purely self-indulgent display that was extended by his outstretched hand for her to take. Every part of her told her not to take it, not to humor him or feed into his ego, but she ignored her better judgment.

“If I recall correctly,” he started as he pulled her from the bed and onto her feet. Calloused hands came to rest at her hips, his fingers idly rubbing the skin under them. “You haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Zoe.” 

She hadn’t thought about food. The idea had not even crossed her mind and she looked up at him, confused. He only smiled and started out of the bedroom. 

“Have you?” came her almost befuddled inquiry. Eating was not a conversation that ever had an outcome favorable to either of them. He stopped down the hallway and flicked a light on, smiling to himself at the sound the switch made.

“Yes, but from the reserves I have on hand. I didn’t want to leave you longer than I had to,” he explained without a hint of emotion one way or the other. His poor attempt at covering his emotions was seen through as she stepped closer to him and put a hand on his chest. He grabbed it, brought her folded fingers to his lips, and placed a whisper of a kiss to her knuckles. “You let me know when you’re ready for that shower, Zoe Van Helsing, and I’ll make sure you work up an appetite.”

[flutteringphalanges]

                                     Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Hooray! Another update this week! Thanks for all of the support! I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It fuels my writing fingers! Here we go! -Jen

                                                Chapter Five

Agatha stood at the entrance of her bedroom, the length of her nightgown falling just below her knees. There was an unnatural chill in the air so cold that the woman could see puffs of white mist every time she exhaled. Had the thermostat somehow broke? Hugging her arms to her chest, she made her way down the dark hall.

The wooden floorboards creaked with each step as she walked as quietly as she could. Zoe was sure to be asleep at this hour. Whatever time it actually was. Darkness trailed behind her as her eyes struggled to adjust to the lack of light. Right as she made it to the device, she heard an odd noise. A scurrying sound.

"Zoe?"

The woman turned to look behind her just in time to catch a glimpse of a pair of legs disappearing around the corner. Agatha frowned and abandoned her current mission to follow what she assumed to be her niece.

"Zoe, this isn't funny."

Her voice was stern as she called out to the girl. When she stepped forward, something wet and warm made contact with her foot. Agatha glanced down at what appeared to be some dark liquid. Her stomach knotted. Blood? Was it blood? Was Zoe injured?

"Zoe?!"

Now there was panic in her tone as she moved at a much faster pace towards the girl's room. The door was already ajar. Something sat hunched over, a strange gurgling noise escaping from its throat. Against her better judgement, Agatha stepped forward, an arm extended.

"Zoe…"

The figure suddenly whipped around and to her horror, Agatha was met by the dead body of her brother. His throat ripped to near shreds. The creature rose and stared at the former nun with such ferocity. Such hunger. Feral. Zoe. Or what had once been Zoe. Her fangs dripped with crimson as her unrecognizable stare locked with Agatha's eyes. With a howl, the vampire girl lunged towards Agatha knocking her against the wall. Sharp fingers dug into her flesh and the former nun could only watch in terror as the child reared up and…

Agatha sat up with a start in her bed. Panting, she looked around her, hands immediately flying to her neck. She scanned the room, heart pounding so hard it almost hurt. It was a dream. Nothing more than a nightmare. Only a night terror. Sighing, she settled back down and gazed up at the empty ceiling. She now knew what she had to do.

                                                         XXX

"If you see anything you like, I'd be happy to take it out so you can have a closer look!"

The jeweler smiled brightly as Agatha stared intently through the glass case and at the necklaces within. Hearts. Dolphins. Tiny charms. It wasn't until her eyes landed on a tiny, silver cross with a single turquoise gem in the middle that she paused. It was perfect-even having Zoe's birthstone at that.

"How much for the cross?" She inquired, finally looking up to meet the salesman's eyes.

"Fifty quid," he replied simply. "But for you, forty five."

The way he was watching her made Agatha feel uncomfortable, but she pushed the thought aside. She just needed to get the necklace and be on her way. It was for Zoe's own good, of course. Besides, the little girl had a thing for trinkets. Even if she didn't understand the true purpose of it, she'd like it.

"I'll take it," Agatha said as she reached for her wallet. "It's just what I was looking for."

"Good choice." The jeweler exclaimed as he went to wrap it up. "Gift?"

"It's for my niece." Agatha replied. And that was as much information as he needed to know. "It doesn't need to be fancy."

"Never too early to start them on the path to Christ." The man chuckled, shaking his head. And Agatha hummed in response, taking the bag before handing over the money. "Thanks for your business! I hope she loves it!"

Loves it. No, Agatha hoped it'd keep her safe. As she made her way back to her car, her mind kept assaulting her with the visions of her previous nightmare. Undead Zoe. The innocent, sweet little girl turned into a grotesque monster surviving on the blood of the living. And the body of her late brother. It had been awhile since he'd haunted her dreams. Shaking her head, Agatha went to sit in the driver's side when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Good morning. I recognize it's your day off, but I need you to come in. -Bloxham

Agatha felt the familiar feeling of anger begin to bubble in her chest. That was a sensation she was starting to associate with the scientist. First it was the lack of security that could've ultimately endangered her niece's life. Then, of course, being tasked with keeping watch on Count Dracula himself. What more could the woman squeeze out of her.

Is it important? I have plans. -Agatha

It was a lie and her boss was quick to pick up on it.

I rang your house first and spoke to Zoe's sitter. Unless it is an emergency, I need you to come in now. Thank you. -Bloxham.

Muttering a slur of curse words to herself, Agatha thrust the bag a little too aggressively into the seat next to her and pulled out into the parking lot. At least if Jack was there, she could return his phone. But if Bloxham was dragging her all the way back to the Foundation, there would be more of a discussion on her part.

Had the scientist been aware of how close Dracula's living quarters were to residence? Was it the plan all along? Agatha chewed on the inside of her cheek, tasting the salty, copper blood as she sped down the road. She detested not being in control of situations.

"Agatha!"

There was the sound of relief in Jack's voice as he hurried over to her the moment she skidded into a parking space. She got out, now regretting injuring the sensitive skin inside of her mouth. Before even greeting him, she dug out his phone from her purse. He looked at her first in confusion and then in gratitude.

"He had it." Those were the first words out of her mouth. "Dracula."

"What…" Jack stumbled, his brow knitting in disbelief. "But how? I had it…" Quickly, he unlocked his device, scanning and flipping through his contacts and texts. When nothing seemed amiss, he sighed. "Thank you," the doctor breathed. "How'd you get…"

"The Count decided to pay a surprise visit to my house." Agatha said through her teeth as they began to walk towards the entrance of the institution. "Zoe was kind enough to invite him inside. Did you know only the person who lets him in can make him leave?! I sure didn't!" The former nun let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "How was your night, Jack? Uneventful, I hope?"

"Well, I...went to a club." Jack stated, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Saw Lucy and some friends there."

"Oh?" Agatha looked over at him with interest. She had heard of the name before. Lucy. Even caught a quick glimpse of her on Jack's phone. A gorgeous girl to say the least. "And how did that go?" Had he finally found the courage to ask her on a proper date? Jack was shy, but he was a good lad. Any woman would be lucky to have him. "Did you get to talk to her?"

The lack of an immediate reply said it all. "She's...she's actually getting married." The doctor replied quietly. "To some block named Quincey. It's only been a few months. He's from Texas. But she seems happy. That's what's important right?" Jack smiled as he spoke, but Agatha could see the pain in his eyes. "It's all I'd ever want for her anyway."

Agatha considered a few things. Telling Jack that he could do better, that Lucy wasn't worth it. That she'd realize soon enough that she made a mistake. Perhaps it wasn't too late and she'd run back into the doctor's arms. But she decided against all of them and instead placed a comforting hand on his back. Their eyes met and she shared a sympathetic look. After that, they walked in silence the rest of the way.

"You arrived sooner than I expected."

Bloxham eyed the former nun with an expression that lacked enthusiasm as she and Jack entered into the woman's office. A large, burly man stood off to the side. Agatha didn't recognize him right off the bat. Perhaps he was new. A security guard of some sort?

"Dr. Seward, Agatha Van Helsing, I'd like to introduce you to Commander Irving, he'll be joining our team." The man stepped forward and held out a hand. Agatha took it and her joints nearly cracked at his tight grip. "Since Count Dracula's unfortunate release, we've called upon another means of...surveillance. Someone to have an upperhand in case a situation goes awry."

"Another as in…" Jack ventured, sounding uncertain as he met Bloxham's cool gaze. "Someone outside of the Harker Foundation?"

"I don't like the use of the word violence nor to suggest its use. But if something were to happen, Commander Irving and his men will provide that extra assistance we need." She gave a small smile, but it was far from friendly. "But if all proves well with Agatha, there should be no problems."

"Actually, on that subject. I have a question myself if I'm allowed to speak." Agatha finally cut in, her tone edging on fury. "Was anyone aware that Count Dracula was to be placed near my house? Where I live with my young niece?"

"Life is unpredictable, Agatha," Bloxham responded simply. "It just happened to work out that way between our agreement and that bloody lawyer of his. I'm sorry if it is an inconvenience to you."

"An inconvenience?!" Now she was getting defensive. "He was in my house last night!"

"Oh, so you are already becoming well acquainted?" The scientist inquired, looking rather pleased by this new information. "Well, this is good news seeing as I had a word with Mr. Frank Renfield and Count Dracula is more than happy to meet with you tonight at his flat." She held up a hand before Agatha could protest. "Your safety is of our utmost concern and I can assure you that the vampire has already been well fed and has vocalized his intentions are not to harm you."

"You can't seriously be okay with this!" Jack spoke up, Agatha impressed by the mere fact he was defending her. "Putting her life at risk! Be reasonable, Dr. Bloxham!"

"Agatha agreed to this when she joined the Jonathan Harker Foundation," the woman replied firmly.

"But-" The doctor tried to counter before the former nun cut in.

"It's okay, Jack. I can handle myself against Count Dracula just fine." Her expression was dark, threatening as she locked eyes with Bloxham. "I'm looking forward to our visit. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Splendid," the other woman smiled. "I look forward to your report, Agatha. Have a lovely evening, won't you?" 

                                                         XXX

"Wow! It's so pretty! And it's mine?!"

Zoe beamed up at her aunt from where she sat on her bed as Agatha undid the clasp and hooked the necklace around the girl's neck. The seven year old studied the cross between her fingers, running her thumb across the small stone. The former nun watched her with a small smile.

"Yes." She said as Zoe laid back underneath her covers. "And I want you to wear it always. Never take it off, okay?"

"Why?" The young girl questioned as she fiddled with the symbol. "Is it special?"

"That's one way to put it, I suppose." Agatha chuckled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the girl's forehead. "Look, I have to go out tonight. Mrs. Avery will be staying with you, okay? You won't even notice I'm gone. When you wake up in the morning for school, I'll be there making breakfast."

"Where are you going?" Agatha had never met anyone who asked so many questions. "Can't I come too?"

"No." And Zoe frowned at this. "I have something to do with work. You have to be up early tomorrow and besides, it's boring." She booped Zoe's nose and the girl scrunched her features. "Get some rest and be good for Mrs. Avery. No sneaking out for cookies or for cartoons. I'll know."

"How?" The little girl whispered in awe.

"Because a Van Helsing always knows." She smiled as she kissed her niece once more. "Goodnight, Zoe. Sweet dreams. I love you."

"I love you too, Aunt Aggie," Zoe yawned, cuddling up under her sheets. "Nighty night."

As she crept out of the room, Agatha glanced one last time at her niece. Her smile slowly gave way into a frown as she closed the door behind her. Last night her nightmare had merely been a dream, but now she was about to enter into one in the real world. Taking a deep breath, Agatha made her way towards the front door.

                                                    XXX

If she were to be quite honest, Agatha Van Helsing wasn't sure what she expected. A castle. A cave that spewed a cauldron of bats when she drew close. But instead stood a simple, but tasteful building. Nothing menacing about it. At least from the outside. Gripping onto her purse, she made her way up the flights of stairs and to the door.

"It's unlocked."

The voice surprised her and she twisted around expecting to see someone standing from behind. Yet she was alone. Confused, she grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. What met her eyes first was a large room, dark in color-really no surprise there. In the center lay a long, wooden table. Something one might see at a large banquet or feast.

"I was beginning to worry you wouldn't come."

Dracula strode into view from the shadows nearly startling Agatha. He smiled at her, his hands gripping what appeared to be a wine bottle. At least she hoped that's what it was. She eyed the single glass on the table, the corners of her lips twitching into a small frown.

"You seemed like a red to me, but if you prefer white, I suppose I have a bottle lying around here somewhere." Dracula popped the cork and began to pour the liquid seemingly unfazed by his guest's reluctance. "Well, sit down will you? Have a drink? That's what humans do right?"

"I don't drink wine," she said quietly.

"Interesting," Dracula grinned. "Nor do I. I guess we are similar in that way." He set the bottle down and exhaled. "Well, at least let me welcome you to my humble abode. Shall we go on a grand tour? You were kind enough to let me see your house. Well, the kitchen at least."

For someone who had only lived in the place for a few days, Dracula's home had more decor than Agatha's bedroom alone. Following the vampire down the hall, the Count momentarily stopped in front of a painting. The depiction was unsettling. It appeared to be a courtroom filled with men and women looking positively frightened. Standing to the right was a woman draped in white, her arms outstretched towards a window shooting out bolts of orange light.

"A depiction of The Salem Witch Trials in 1692," he expressed proudly. "A replica of course. It's hard to find the real thing nowadays." Dracula turned to Agatha with a coy smile. "You are a woman of God? You at least devoted your life to him for a while?"

"For research purposes," Agatha admitted. "To learn more about Christianity. About you."

"I wonder then," Dracula sighed thoughtfully. "If in a past life, if you believe in that sort of thing, would you have been considered a witch? Burned at the stake or drowned tied to stone." He took a step closer, his dark eyes sparkling. "Would you willingly dance with the Devil, Agatha Van Helsing?"

The way he said it. The way the words left his tongue. He was testing her. Seeing where he could weasel his way into the cracks of her mind. Agatha swallowed hard, holding strong against his toying nature.

"I have crossed paths with the unholy," she spoke coldly. "Have you seen God or do you quiver in the darkness with the lesser demons?" Dracula's grin widened. "Why do you fear the cross?"

"Why does anyone fear anything?" He replied. "Guess, Agatha."

"I don't know." The former nun replied trying to hold back her frustration. "That's why I've asked you."

Dracula didn't say anything for the longest time. "Hm." He hummed, eyeing her intently. "I think it would've been a shame really if they burned you at the stake. Your mind is too tempting to waste," and his gaze flickered up and down her body. "Among other things."

"You didn't answer my question." Agatha frowned. "Why do you fear the cross?!"

Ignoring her, the vampire continued onward. Agatha trailed from behind, starting to grow furious by how everything was turning out. As they approached a large, curtained window, the former nun was so preoccupied with her pent up rage, she didn't notice a snag in the carpet. It happened so fast that not even Dracula had time to react. She fell. Hard. And when her hands connected with the ground, she inadvertently bit down on her lower lip.

A single drop of blood began to trickle down her chin. The vampire grew rigid. Dracula's once calm and collected face began to change. Fangs replacing teeth. Eyes dilating black and bloodshot. And Agatha could only watch, just like in her nightmare with Zoe, as the vampire bounded towards her.

Death of a Van Helsing by a vampire.

So toll the bells of sweet, sweet irony.

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz 2- True Love’s Kiss

Otp Prompt #2: Baz is put under a sleeping spell and only true love's kiss can wake him up… but what if nobody thinks he has a true love?

This is meant to be kind of a playful one. I wrote it in a rush, but I like the way it turned out. But it pretty long, so just know that before you read. 

Surprise, surprise, Baz the attention seeker has found another way to get all of Watford obsessed with him. Well, maybe not all of Watford. Just most. Okay, maybe just some. Definitely at least some of Watford is obsessed with him right now. Penny says it’s just me. But I know for a fact that Agatha is pretty bloody obsessed with the wanker right now, too. But of course, we’re obsessed in different ways.

Yesterday morning, Ebb the goatherd found Baz fast asleep in the catacombs. I don’t really know what Ebb was doing down there, but I know what Baz the vampire was doing down there. But that’s beside the point right now. He was curled in a ball and Ebb just thought he had dozed off at first. But then when he hadn’t woken up after twelve hours, we started assuming he wasn’t waking up any time soon. Ebb and the Mage moved him to a separate room in the white chapel. I stayed with him practically all day yesterday to make sure he wasn’t faking it and really plotting. Around 5am this morning, it became pretty apparent he wasn’t.

I’m walking to my next class when I pass by the white chapel. I see someone walking in- which wouldn’t be so suspicious if there was something supposed to be going on in there during this time of the day. But there’s nothing scheduled in there right now. I’m pretty sure I know enough Latin to skip just one class today. And if I fall behind I can always have Penny help me when Baz inevitably teases me for it. 

I follow the person inside the chapel. I can’t tell who it is because they’re in all black with their cloak pulled up so I can’t see their face. The person moves swiftly, and I have to take especially long strides to keep up with them. When we turn a corner and walk into a room I recognize as Baz’s temporary room, I summon my sword. No way is someone finishing him in his sleep. It just wouldn’t be a fair fight. Not much of a fight at all, in fact.

I stay light-footed behind the person as I see them hover over Baz. I’m peeking in through a crack in the door, nearly holding my breath. Baz’s hair has fallen out of its usual slicked back state and I just want to pull it out of his face for some reason. His shirt is unbuttoned part way, exposing his vampire white chest. The figure is over Baz’s limp body and I see them pull something from their pocket and reach down to Baz. Before I even get the chance to run up and attack, the person muttered something and vanished into thin air. It takes a lot of work for a wizard to pull off a transportation spell. 

I would be thinking more about it, but my feet move quicker than my brain, and soon I’m by Baz’s bedside. He doesn’t look hurt, or dead. He looks just as he did yesterday and this morning. Asleep, lips parted slightly while inhaling and exhaling. I so rarely see Baz like this. Calm. Without the fire behind his eyes. Without a sneer. Dare I say it, he even looks peaceful. I don’t know how to feel about that. 

“Simon…” Baz says so quietly, I have to lean in to hear him. Then he shifts slightly and a small snore escapes. A smile plays on my lips. Even my perfect enemy has flaws. Or maybe just one. Wait, did he just say my first name? He never does that. Why would he be dreaming about me? Probably plotting my demise, as always. I’ll have to ask him about it when he wakes up. If he wakes up…

I circle around him about ten times, examining every square inch of him to make sure the figure didn’t hurt him. That’s my job. Finally, just as I’m about to leave, I see a peace of paper sticking out of his blazer pocket. It definitely wasn’t there before. I carefully pull it out and unfold it to reveal the hastily written words:

This one is asleep

And asleep he shall stay

To wake him up, a small price to pay-

Just one true love’s kiss

Who the fuck would do this? Put Baz to sleep and then have the only way to wake him up be a true love’s kiss? Baz probably doesn’t even have a true love! I don’t even think he has a heart to love with. True love is a whole big thing in the World of Mages. There are rules or something. Your true love is someone you have to have chemistry with. Your magic has to be compatible. You have to have feelings for them, and the most important part is that they have to reciprocate your feelings. And this won’t really work with a crush, either. You have to be dead in love with the person. And if you are, and you really do turn out to be someone’s true love, you always end up together. It’s just the way it works. I don’t know if Baz even likes anyone. Let alone loves them. 

Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m running down to the Mage to give him the note. Baz would make fun of me for it. If he were here. ‘You’re the Mage’s bitch, and you know it, Snow.’ He’d throw in a sneer, too. 

I shake Baz out of my head as best I can as I walk into the Mage’s office. He turns around and eyes me up and down. Can he see how frantic I am? Probably. I try my hardest to try and calm down, just now realizing that magic is radiating from me. 

“Simon. What brings you here?” I take a step toward him. “Baz, sir. I was just…erm… visiting him, and I found this in his pocket. It wasn’t there before and it isn’t in his handwriting.” I hand him the note, and he reads it over a few times. He runs his hand over his stubbly chin and lets out a sigh.

“I see… I guess we have to find his true love. I’ll call in the eighth years and have them line up outside his room. Shouldn’t take too long. Just a peck on the lips until he wakes up. That is, if he even has a true love. Run along, Simon. You can guard him and make sure no one tries to kill him while they kiss him. Of course, you won’t be his true love. You’re his destined enemy, so it won’t make much of a difference if you kiss him or not. Go ahead and go back to his room. Get comfortable. People will be gathering shortly.” I give him a small nod and jog back to his room in the chapel. 

I’m seated in a chair up by Baz’s head and adjusting his hair out of his face absentmindedly when people start lining up. Girls, boys, pixies, centaurs. Every student in the eighth year is in line- even Dev and Niall (his ‘minions’ as he so lovingly puts it). The line stretches far back. Some look anxious, some scared. Some excited. I see Penny and Agatha in line and give them a wave. Penny waves back happily but Agatha doesn’t even notice me. She’s too busy fixing her makeup in a mirror. Of course. It probably is Agatha, come to think of it. They have chemistry. I’ve always known she fancies him. And I’m sure he fancies her too. I wouldn’t be surprised if when her lips touch his, he wakes up and they ride off into the sunset. 

First in line is a girl named Lily. She nervously tugs on her skirt and leans down, pressing her lips against Baz’s. He doesn’t even stir. I wave the next person up. And the next. And the next. Boys and girls and pixies all alike. No one does anything for him. I don’t even know why the half-breeds bother. He would never love someone like them. Baz is just like that. 

Dev kisses Baz. Nothing. Niall kisses Baz. Nothing. Penny pecks him on the lips, too. I swear he snores even louder when she pulls away. We’re about ⅔ of the way into the line, and his lips are starting to look a little swollen. Probably tired from all of the kisses. Especially when I’m not sure he’s ever even kissed anyone before today. Although technically he still hasn’t. They’re kissing him. 

Right before Agatha steps up, she puts on a layer of lipstick and smooths back her hair. I feel my stomach twist in knots for some reason. When she leans down, she practically pounces on him; it’s a proper snog. But he doesn’t kiss her back. When she pulls away, lipstick rubbed off on his lips, I swear he just falls faster asleep. My stomach calms down and I have to fight back a smile. She’s not his true love. He’s not hers. He can’t steal my girl. 

Or what if she can’t steal your guy? I hear in the back of my mind. What? Pfft. I wave off the thought and beckon the next person up. He kisses him. Baz is still unresponsive. His shoulders almost fall in disappointment as he walks away. Reactions to not stirring baz range from: relief, disappointment, happiness, anger or sadness. It hits me that maybe more people like Baz than I once thought possible. I mean, I suppose I can see what people see in him. He’s strong. Graceful. A great magician. In some lights, when he’s not sneering (almost never), he can be seen as devilishly handsome. At least, that’s probably what other people see in him. 

When we finally get to the very end of the line, I sigh. Not of relief or anything, but I’m just really tired of watching people snog my enemy. The last person is a boy named Jake. He’s handsome enough. Not as handsome as Baz, but handsome nonetheless. He steps up and pulls on the bottom of his jumper. 

“Expecting to make a difference?” I ask boredly, still eyeing him up and down. I think he has two classes with Baz. Usually sits right behind him. Come to think of it, I think he stares at Baz just as much as he stares at our professors. My heart pangs with something, but I can’t quite tell what it is.

“I mean, wouldn’t it be great if I did? This is Baz Grimm-Pitch! He’s...he’s…” Jake stumbles over his words, clearly nervous.

“Yeah, sure. Just give it a go, I suppose.” I beckon him closer to Baz’s head. Jake starts to lean down and he very tentatively pushes his lips onto Baz’s. He lingers there for a few seconds before I tap him on the back, telling him to back up.

Baz stirs and my stomach does flips. I’m suddenly dizzy. Did this guy just wake up Baz? Is he his true love? Is Baz gay? Jake seems taken aback too, because he smiles and takes a step closer, breath hitching. 

But alas, Baz was just rolling over. Still deep asleep, like I had initially suspected. Jake’s face falls and he backs away slowly. He stalks off, shoulders hunching over as he walks. I almost feel bad for the poor bloke. I do wish Baz would wake up now, though. He can probably plot all sorts of things in his sleep. It’s better if I can keep an eye on him. 

I move to get up and leave the chapel, but a voice stops me. “Simon!” Baz cries out. His arms reach out for just a second, and then fall back onto his stomach. Sleeping Beauty style. Why the fuck is he calling out my name in his sleep? I initially thought it was because he was plotting. But he sounded scared this time. Like he wanted me to save him. He’s still moving around in his sleep, so on impulse, I take his hand and lace his fingers with mine. His hand is cold and I realize he’s probably hungry. I would be too, if I hadn’t eaten in that long. Granted, I’m always hungry. 

As I look down at his face, all I want is for him to wake up. He’ll probably beat me senseless. But at least he’ll be awake. I just need to find his true love. Who in eighth year didn’t kiss him? Who wasn’t here today? I guess Trixie wasn’t here… but she was at her girlfriends’ party tonight. There’s no way she’s Baz’s soulmate. Who didn’t kiss him? I mean, I suppose I didn’t. But I’m his enemy. Not his true love. Not in a million years. 

Maybe I should kiss him just for fun. I’m not with Agatha anymore, so it’s not cheating. I have always wondered what his lips would feel like. Not in like a gay way or anything, just out of curiosity. Besides, no one is in here right now to see it, so it’ll be like it never even happened. I know he won’t wake up. I know that. I’m just a curious cat. And it’s not like he’s awake, so he can’t very well punch me for doing it. 

Before I can even stop myself, I’m leaning down (still holding his hand, by the way) and pressing my lips to his. They’re so soft, and also cold. Like the cold side of pillows. It’s kind of wonderful. So soft. He tastes like cedar and bergamot- just the way he smells. 

I’m just pulling back when I feel a gasp against my lips. And not my own. I feel his lips start working back with mine, pushing softly like a game of tug of war. His gasp melts into a sigh against my mouth, and I have to hold in a groan. His hand that was in my hand has found a home in my hair, and his other one is pulling me closer and closer… impossibly closer. We’re sitting up now. One of my hands in his hair, the other on his hip. I feel something wet start to touch my cheeks. He’s crying.

“Baz?” His name comes out as a gasp. I pull back just ever so slightly, and lean my forehead against his, breathless. 

“You saved me, Simon,” He’s stopped crying and he’s just as breathless as I am. He’s usually so cold, but every place I touched him is warm. Like I’ve set him on fire. (But in a good way). (I hope). “I was dying… and you saved me... I love you.” My heart glows.

“Baz. I think I love you too.” He lets out a small laugh and kisses me again, more feverishly this time. I’m consumed by him. We keep kissing, and kissing, and kissing. Yet somehow I’m breathing. Like he’s the very oxygen I need to survive. 

And I never want to stop breathing.

[fireleaptfromhousetohouse]

Howcumzit?: Dracula

How come the show never followed up on the idea that Jonathan Harker had fucked Dracula?

They pretty much opened the show by bringing up the idea, after all, which lent an unpleasantly '80s frisson to Jonathan's emaciated appearance - one thinks of Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, and that immortal line "the cosmic spores, of course, represented AIDS". But then Jonathan's interactions with the Count end up playing out, if not exactly like the novel, then more or less played straight - you'll pardon the pun, I'm sure.

Dracula does of course go on to gin up sexual tension with pretty much everyone else he meets, no matter their gender or religious leaning, but what makes it particularly surprising here is that in the first episode he's actively becoming sexier in every scene. Yet even when Jonathan is completely in his power, it all seems quite innocent and chaste. Perhaps those aren't quite the right words for being held captive, but nonetheless it doesn't seem to have any particular undercurrent of sauciness. Stephen Moffatt has been quoted as saying that rather than bisexual, this incarnation of Dracula is "bi-homicidal...he's killing people, not dating them". Which would seem to put a pin in the thrust of my complaint here, until you recall - as Moffatt really should have - that the show ended with Dracula banging Van Helsing.

_

How come Gatiss and Moffat couldn't resist slipping in that painfully clunky reference to Sherlock Holmes? And by Sherlock Holmes, what they really mean is their BAFTA-award winning series Sherlock®. 

What makes it so obviously shoehorned in is the much better reference to 'Inside No. 9' in the following episode. Inside No. 9 is of course the comedy-horror anthology series made by the non-Mark Gatiss parts of the League of Gentlemen, which has, so far, not needed nearly as many frantic, flailing fan interpretations to make its plots make sense.

_

How come Dracula's meant to pick up traits from the people he feeds on, but doesn't start speaking in Sister Agatha's silly Dutch accent?

_

How come in episode two, the little mute girl didn't immediately tell her dad that Dracula was the killer?

This is more a straightforward plot hole than a wider point of pondering, but it's one that will probably occur to even the most casual viewer. The show's clearly hoping there's enough other stuff going on that nobody will notice, which is obviously a misstep when what's going on all revolves around there being a killer at large.

Now, there's an obvious fan interpretation to be made here that the little girl - angry with the world - simply wanted to see them all die horribly. I'd watch that, and so, I suspect, would most right-thinking people. It would certainly have made for a better episode three than the one we got.

_

How come the snobby twink's boyfriend spends most of the time resenting the guy's sham marriage, then doesn't seem to care when Dracula feels him up in front of everyone? Come to think of it, why doesn't anybody else care about that?

_

How come Gatiss and Moffat couldn't resist leaping into a contemporary setting?

And why, if they wanted to do it so much, did they have to do it so poorly? Thanks to some confusing editing and omissions, it came off looking like Dracula had been struggling along the sea bed for 123 years.

This is a recurring feature of their work - Sherlock, too, was taking a classic bit of Victoriana and transplanting it into the modern day. The Sherlock Christmas special, though, did put it in its natural setting, which if nothing else worked as a fun, campy thing - and that, despite what Gatfat might think their work is, is the tone that runs right through it like a stick of Brighton rock.

Episode two took a part of Stoker's book, stitched it onto a familiar Murder On The Orient Express-style setup, and then turned Claes Bang's Dracula loose to bounce around in that framework - and it worked beautifully. This could have been a winning formula for any number more episodes, but instead they pissed it all away in favour of a tired Hollyoaks-style relationship drama and a secret institute which definitely isn't Torchwood.

_

How come modern-day Van Helsing didn't have the same silly Dutch accent?

Just to harp on a point, this makes the problem with the time jump quite clear. Van Helsing is pretty much the same character even before they literally inject the original Van Helsing into her - which makes it seem oddly like the sexual tension between her and the Count was somehow heritable. And having already demanded that willing suspension of disbelief, why not go the whole hog, and have Jonathan and Mina's identical great-great-great-descendants turn up too?

_

How come they thought putting a bit of off-coloured prosthetic on the incredibly attractive Lydia West would put anyone off?

The TV and film industry in general has an issue with this, fumbling to present unattractive people while staunchly refusing to even think about casting anyone less than conventionally beautiful. Dracula, however, had already presented some suitably ghastly ghouls, and here went through an overlong sequence of coyly refusing to show us what the post-cremation Lucy Westenra looked like - then the shocking reveal was that, uh-oh, she's got a bit of latex on her face. I'm a man of the world and let me tell you, it would take more than that to change my mind.

_

How come Mark Gatiss didn't stay behind the camera where he belongs?

This isn't to say he's a bad actor, but if he wanted to do Renfield, he should have done it properly. A show that's already had Dracula dressing up in another guy's face before tearing it off (for my money, one of the funniest things on TV in some time) doesn't need wacky comic relief.

_

How come everything about the conclusion?

Okay, that may be a little vague. Let me rephrase it to at least be making a point, rather than inarticulately shaking my fist in the general direction of the TV screen - why'd they even need to have a conclusion?

Gatiss and Moffat are not good at overarching storylines, yet they will keep using them, and I simply don't understand why. The appeal of Sherlock Holmes is to see the guy solving mysteries - so Sherlock had the mysteries take a back seat in favour of examining the ever-more-complicated relationships of the Holmes family.

The last five minutes or so of Dracula's third episode crumble when exposed to the light, which is ironic, because this Dracula doesn't. Given any thought at all, it's clear that the inspiration here was that Gatiss/Moffat thought 'oh shit, we need to wrap this up'. It tries gamely to tie everything together, which is somewhat undermined by at least one dangling plot thread - which the writers have openly admitted was left there in the hopes of getting a second season.

Bram Stoker's novel, spoiler alert, ends with the Count getting staked - but this adaptation went off those rails long ago. The central charm of it is the battle of wits between Dracula and Van Helsing, seeing them try and one-up each other while trading sexually charged barbs in much the same way as Sherlock and Moriarty (or at least the Sherlock and Moriarty that Gatfat gave us). This is a dynamic which could carry on indefinitely, and would have done better if it had, rather than been sidetracked into an unnatural-seeming ending.

[solange-lol]

Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.

SolangeloWeek Day 4 - AU/Crossover

Words: 2238

Read on Ao3

Nico and Will have been friends since 4th grade, and in all their years of knowing each other, Nico never once considered dating him. 

Sure, Will may have technically been part of his coming out process. He always pinned the realization that he was gay on his pitiful crush on Percy. Looking back, while that may have been his first crush on a guy, it was really the first time that he shared a bed with another boy that triggered it. That wasn’t to say he was having any of those thoughts at 10 years old. (6 years later and he still isn’t. Not really, at least). And that boy just so happened to be Will

Seven years later and Nico still remembers that night. Of course, he had shared a bed with Bianca before, but this was different. Maybe because it wasn’t with his sister this time. Something about the closeness of it all, how they watched movies from Naomi’s laptop, having to sit shoulder-to-shoulder in order for both of them to see the screen. Neither of them ever minded the closeness. 

Even now, Nico doesn’t mind. After his sister died, he tended to keep people at a distance. Will had never been one of those people. 

He remembered how Will came up with a conspiracy theory that night about who they were actually twins separated at birth, despite neither sharing any obvious traits. 

“You have small ears,” Will had told him. 

He was offended for a moment but refused to let it show. “So?”

Then Will smiled. “I have small ears too.”

Nico didn’t feel offended after that.

Years later now, they know very well that there's no way they were closely related. 

Anyway, as he said. He never really considered dating Will. That is, until Will told him about the plan.

It had started innocently. They were at a local coffee shop, one that Will and Nico found themselves at just about every Friday. This was no different. As they sat down, Will said: “I need your opinion on something.” Nico looked up from his phone. “I’m wondering if I should go out with Lacy.”

“Lacy?” Nico asked. “Whose Lacy?” Part of him wanted to make fun of the name, but he knew it would earn him a disapproving look. Especially coming from someone named Niccolò. (Really though, who names their son Lacy? He feels bad for this guy).

“Girl in my chem class. She asked me out earlier and I haven’t given a response yet,” he said it like it was nothing, going on to talk about wanting to ask someone out before prom so its not just a meaningless date, but Nico, who nearly chokes on his coffee, doesn’t hear him.

“Hold up, you want to go out with a girl? Will, you’re gay!” He didn’t mean for it to be harsh, it just surprised him. Will was the first of the two to come out; they were in 6th grade when he told Nico he liked boys. That’s all he’s ever told Nico.

Will winces a little, glancing around. He’s never been ashamed, but you could never really know with high schoolers.

“I mean, I am. Or, I thought I was. But I don’t know anymore. And the way she talks to me, I dunno. It makes me feel nice.”

“That’s what compliments are supposed to do. Doesn’t mean you should go out with her,” Nico points out. At Will’s dirty look, he apologizes. “Sorry. Anyway, you’re bi now?”

Will shifts in his seat. “Maybe? Why is that such a big deal?” He sounds angry now.

“I’m sorry, it’s not,” he sighs as he apologizes again. It feels like everything he could say at this moment is bad. He continues hesitantly. “I’ve just always looked up to you and your pride, and you changing all that, it’s just… confusing.”

“I’m sorry if this is ‘confusing’ for you, because it’s about ten times more confusing for me,” Nico immediately regret his words when he heard not only the anger but the genuine hurt in Will’s voice. “And being bi doesn’t change any of that. I still like guys.”

“I know, just-”

Will cut him off. “Who I am isn’t your decision. And you have no right to be upset by this,” he stands, grabbing his bag with one hand and coffee with the other. As he turns to walk away, Nico stands quickly.

“Where are you going?” he asks

“Home,” Will sighs. “I’d say ‘bye’ but I wouldn't want to upset you.” With that, he leaves.

It takes Nico a minute before he understands. Bye. Bi. Dropping back down to the table, he puts his head down and groans. 

***

It isn’t until later that night when he finally texts Will.

[7:30] To: Will: Call me

He considers sending an apology as well, but he knows Will would prefer to hear it spoken first. 

Nico bets he knows Will better than this Lacy girl does.

He mentally hits himself for that one. Shh. Be Supportive.

(It’s true, though).

It takes a few minutes, but Nico’s phone eventually buzzes lighting up the screen with Will’s face. It’s a photo that Nico took of him at the pier last summer when Will didn’t notice. His hair is lit up by the setting sun, making it nearly glow, and his eyes are the same color as the water. He’s smiling contentedly, not a care in the world. He never stopped smiling for long.

Nico wonders if he smiled at all after their fight earlier that day. He can’t remember the last time they fought like that. To be fair, Nico definitely deserves all the insults.

He taps the ‘accept’ button and holds the phone up to his ear.

“Hey,” Will’s greeting is quiet and sad-sounding, and Nico tries to ignore his heart sinking.

“I’m sorry.”

He hears Will scoff, but he can’t tell there’s any real anger behind it. Judging by Will’s tone when he speaks next, it seems like there isn’t. Not like before, at least. “I would hope so,” he says.

“I am. I didn’t mean to flip out, I was just surprised. You know someone for so long that when something changes, it’s a little startling. It’s like if you grew a mustache or something. It would be different, but that doesn’t mean its bad different.”

“You hate facial hair,” Will points out.

“You’re right,” Nico takes a deep breath. “But I don’t hate you. Even if you grew a mustache, or if you’re bi, that’s cool. You’re still just as annoying.”

“You realize you just contradicted yourself,” Nico can hear him smiling. It makes him smile too, and something stirs in his stomach. Huh.

“My point exactly.”

“Well,” Will said. He swallowed, and Nico swore he could hear his voice shaking. “It’s good that you don’t care because I asked her out. And she accepted.”

“Oh.” Nico couldn’t figure out why he was upset. He knew this was coming. He already knew Will was going to ask her out. He was happy for him, right?

Was he?

Part of him knew no, he wasn’t happy. Good for Will and all that, but why not him? Why Lacy, some girl Will hardly even knew when he and Will were already practically dating?

Oh.

Nico felt hot and cold at the same time. Was this why he got upset? Not because Will wanted to ask out a girl, but because Will didn’t want to ask out him?

Did he like Will?

He swallowed harshly. Date Will? He never considered it before, but it all made sense now. The way they talked, all the physical contact. He couldn’t even see Will with anyone but himself. 

Nico scolded himself for that last part. Will was allowed to be with people that weren’t him. Will didn’t even like him back, as far as Nico knew. He swallowed again. That hurt.

“Oh?” Will sounded even more nervous than before. “Like, bad ‘oh’?”

“No! No, I’m just- that’s great Will!”

Will breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Because I’m definitely going to need some help getting ready.”

Nico laughed along with him, but, honestly, he felt like he was about to throw up.

***

Nico had been avoiding Will. He would never admit it, but he thought if he avoided him it would make certain feelings disappear. 

Unfortunately, not being around Will just made Nico miss him and want him more. He found himself thinking more about Will’s eyes and how they looked like an eclipse, with white shooting out from behind his pupil, which then faded into various hues of blue that darkened at the edge. Or his hair, and the golden curls around tan ears or that rested on his soft, freckled forehead. Every time he found his mind wandering, he wanted to hit himself. He needed to snap out of this daydream. Will doesn’t like him. 

It wasn’t until hours before he was supposed to leave to go to Will’s house to help him prepare for his date that Nico caved. He had been making excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out all week. If he turned down this, Will would definitely know something was up. 

When he showed up at the Solace residence, Will was already waiting at the door. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show. I even got you coffee just in case you changed your mind, and I needed to bribe you over here.” he held out the cup. “Large mocha with cream.”

He took the cup. “You know my coffee order?”

Will looked confused. “Of course I do.”

Nico supposed it wasn’t that weird; he knew Will’s by heart as well without even reading the corresponding cup in his other hand. Latte with whole milk and two shots of vanilla. Still, he narrowed his eyes, although there was no real threat behind them. “Whatever,” he said, then softened. “You didn’t have to.”

Will shrugged, a small smile on his face, and Nico felt guilt rising in him for being so flakey throughout the week.

“At least let me pay you back,” Nico said, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He always kept a $5 bill in the case for emergencies. 

Will just waved him off. “Don’t even bother, dummy, it’s on me. Besides, it allowed me to clear my head a bit,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Dunno why I’m so nervous anyway.”

(Nico was never going to get over Will paying for things for him. God, why didn’t he just ask him out before?)

“I don’t know either,” he told him. “Maybe you just need to be more like Simon snow and stop thinking so much,” he tilted his head. “You look the part, so you’re already halfway there. And you never know; this could be your Agatha.”

Will tapped his foot against Nico’s. “And who would you be, Baz?” At Nico’s not-quite-careless shrug, he raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t they get together in the end?”

Stupid Will. Stupid love. 

“Alternate universe, maybe,” Nico tries to play off his burning cheeks by taking a spit from his coffee. Judging by the look Will gave him, he failed. 

***

The Friday after his date, Will seemed quiet. He and Nico waited in line almost silently, barely exchanging more than a greeting. Nico insisted on paying for both after they ordered, and to his surprise, Will didn’t argue. 

“Do you wanna take these outside?” he asked instead. 

Nico was worried. Did he do something wrong?

Did Will know?

They found a bench outside and sat down. There was hardly anyone around; most people were still at work or in school.

“So…” Nico shifted. “How was your date?”

“It was good. We saw a movie. Went to lunch.”

Nico nodded. Part of him was surprised at how unexcited Will was about it, judging by the three-word sentences. The other part of him was thrilled, but he pushed that down as guilt rose within him. “Cool.”

“She kissed me.”

“Yeah?” Nico held his breath.

“Yeah. It was nice.”

He nodded again, ignoring his heart sinking in his chest. That statement felt like a direct punch to the face. “So, you’re bi then, I guess?”

“Um, yeah. I mean, maybe. I don’t know,” Will took a deep breath. “I didn’t really want to go out with her though.”

“No?” Now Nico was really confused. 

“No. I didn’t realize until she kissed me, but-” Will placed his hand on top of Nico’s, and Nico felt his heart skip a beat as Will looked him right in the eye. Eclipse. “The person I wanted to ask out was you.”

Nico couldn’t breathe when Will leaned in and kissed him. He forgot the world around him, forgot anyone who could see them, forgot everything all together. 

Then there was a rush of feeling. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and there was a heat of butterflies pooling in his stomach. He was only aware of Will and his mouth on his. Nico shifted head, now kissing Will back. He put down his coffee so that the hand that wasn’t being held by Will’s could move to rest on Will’s cheek. 

When they finally pulled back, Will laughed.  “Uh, would you want to go out with me?” he asked, cheeks dusted pink.

Nico just smiled softly before Will pulled him back in.

~~~

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[thelifepartners]

Cheyenne Morse

Small Ghosts 

Photo by Patty Sue O’Hair-Vicknair 

Nathan cried when the witch caught him burying his cat in her backyard. It was late evening and he had hoped to quietly rebury his friend there because he thought Smokey would be happier. Smokey had been grey and mottled black and had been Nathan’s friend the whole ten years of his life. The two weeks since Smokey had passed had been hard on Nathan. He was quiet and didn’t talk much to the other kids at school. He felt very alone.

Nathan could still hear Smokey crying to be let into his room at night. There was a familiar scratching at his windows. Lost cat cries would wake him from sleep. Try as he might he couldn’t see Smokey, didn’t know how to help him. Nathan wasn’t sure if Smokey was alone and scared or if he was just trying to stay with him.

He got in trouble with his mother when she found him outside at two o’clock in the morning calling for Smokey. She demanded he come inside at once. There was no explaining to her that he could still hear his friend out in the dark.

“Smokey is dead,” she’d said, harsh enough that she felt the need to apologize for it in the morning. Her nerves still sizzling from finding her son’s bed empty in the middle of the night. So his thoughts had turned to Ms. Agatha. That was what the neighborhood called her. There were many theories as to whether she was good or bad witch but there weren’t a lot of facts. People mostly left her alone and she returned the favor.

Nathan overheard a girl in his class telling her friends that all witches could see ghosts and he thought perhaps she could comfort Smokey. He didn’t know much about witches but he knew they were supposed to like cats. It seemed like an easy solution. He dug the shoe box Smokey was buried in out of his own back yard and carried it wrapped in an old bed sheet two blocks over to Ms. Agatha’s house. He hadn’t asked her permission because he’d been too afraid to ring her doorbell. Even if she liked cats that was no guarantee that she would like little boys.

Nathan stayed at the very edge of her property, back where it ran into the woods, in the hopes that he would remain unseen. He almost had the hole dug deep enough for the shoebox when she found him. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight. She wore no shoes and a long night shirt the color of an old bruise.

“You sure are working hard out here.” Her voice was calm but her sudden appearance frightened Nathan badly. His explanation caught in his throat. If she was a good witch he didn’t know how to explain what he was doing and if she was a bad witch she would surely curse him. Nathan stared at her in mute horror and then burst into tears.

“There is no need to be afraid.” She said as she knelt next to the dirt pile he’d been shoveling. She rested a hand on the shoe box. “You may bury Smokey here but only because he says you were always kind to him.” Nathan rubbed his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I know I should have asked. I’m really sorry.”

“Can you still see Smokey?” Ms. Agatha ran her other hand through the grass.

“No, but I can hear him.”

“That’s something special. You must have loved him very much. Would you like me to teach you to see him?” She asked. The question surprised Nathan and he nodded before he remembered how afraid he’d been of her only a moment before.

“If you want to learn come back tomorrow. I should warn you that Smokey won’t be the only thing you will see. There are a lot of little ghosts in this world. They will become your responsibility. Little ghosts don’t have very many caretakers.” Agatha did not wait for him to reply. She patted his shoulder and then turned and walked back toward her house.

Nathan stared after her until she was out of sight in the semidarkness. Then he set about burying his friend.

The next day Nathan told his mother he'd promised Ms. Agatha that he would help her rake her yard. His mother looked surprised but allowed him to go over after he finished his math homework. He felt guilty about lying to his mother, he just didn't know what to say. Nathan felt so bad that the first words out of his mouth to Ms. Agatha after hello were asking if he could rake her yard. She nodded. She had two rakes and they worked on the yard together. While they worked they spoke. 

"Most people only see what is right in front of them," Agatha explained. "But some things can only be seen out of the corner of your eye." She held open a large black garbage bag and he scooped armfuls of leaves into it. 

"So I have to learn to see out of the corner of my eye with my whole eye?"

"Yes, I suppose that is about the trick of it." She smiled at him. After they finished raking the front yard they went inside for lemon poppy seed cookies and tea. Then they practiced finding ghosts. Nathan spent most of the rest of the afternoon frustrated but trying not to show it. Standing and squinting in her kitchen. It was hard to look at something without really looking at it. 

Nathan was near to giving up when he saw Smokey’s tail disappear around a corner.

“I saw him! I saw him!” Nathan shouted. He scampered after the cat into the other room, hoping to get a better look. The living room was neat and organized and Smokey was nowhere to be seen. Nathan let out a disappointed breath. Agatha came out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t we stop here for tonight? You’ve made good progress but I’m sure your mother will want you home soon. I’m very proud of you. Smokey will be here tomorrow. If you are still interested.”

“Yes!” Nathan turned. “Yes, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Agatha wrapped up some cookie for him to take home to his parents. She stood in the doorway and waved him goodbye until he turned a corner and vanished from sight.

He did come back the next day and the day after. Once they finished raking the yard they moved on to organizing the attic and preparing the garden for winter. It went on like that for weeks. He would come over and they would work a project with Agatha and she would teach him her secrets.

 One morning Agatha was kneading bread while Nathan poured a thin glaze over the cookies they’d made. The morning had been mostly quiet, rather than a whole army of small questions Nathan had been pondering a large question that he’d had for some time.

“Why do little ghosts stay? Why did Smokey stay? Is he stuck?”  Nathan paused and look over at his cat curled on one of the kitchen chairs. “Does he need help to move on?” This last question was much quieter than the others. Agatha smiled and paused what she was doing.

“Little ghosts are like any other spirit. They stay when they feel there is something left to do. Sometimes it’s because they are holding on so tightly to that last desperate moment of trying to stay alive, they don’t realize they’re already lost. Those are the ones who need help. Smokey isn’t like that. When you were born you were small and made noises like a kitten. Smokey promised to protect you all the days of your life. When you pass on, so will Smokey.”

“Oh,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard. Nathan wept quietly to himself as he continued to work. Agatha didn’t say anything more, she knew by now that he liked time to himself when he needed to cry. She gave him some time alone with his Smokey while she went to prepare him something hot to drink. He was mostly silent for the rest of the day but before he left he hugged her. Something he had never done before. She rocked him back and forth as she embraced him. After that he always hugged her goodbye.

 Every day he got better at seeing Smokey. By the time spring came Smokey and Nathan were constant companions again.

The first ghost he saw besides Smokey was a baby bird. It had fallen out of its nest. It had happened some time ago. It was late spring but the nest was long abandoned. A mess of sticks and bits of cotton wood who had drifted on the wind until they had stuck fast on a sharp twig. All that remained of the chick was a pile of small white bones almost lost among the tree roots. Like with Smokey he’d heard it before he saw it. A quiet chirping.

He looked at the small ghost for a short while, uncertain of what to do. Smokey just acted like Smokey but this was different. It cried out to him in a small voice.

“What do you need?” He asked. Only chirping in response. He wasn’t sure what he expected. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to fall away from home and never be able to get it back. It was a scary thought and if something like that happened to him all he would want would be to go home.

So he knelt and gently gathered the bones in one hand, the pale image of the chick looked like it was nestled in the cup of his palm. He climbed one handed as best he could. It was slow going but he set his feet carefully and was able to make it up the tree without dropping the bones and with only a few scrapes.

When he set the bones in the nest the chick chirped again, this time a lighter happier sound.  Nathan smiled at the bird even as it began to vanish. All of its restlessness done. The climb down went much faster now that he could use two hands. By the time his feet his the grass he couldn’t hear the chirping any longer.

 Nathan got better at finding little ghosts and he continued to care for them as promised. He set free the ghost of a spider that had drown in a broken flower pot. The motion of it flailing legs caught his eye. Pale and translucent it was hardly there at all but its panic was real. Nathan didn’t care much for spiders and the idea of ghost spiders made his skin crawl but he couldn’t leave it there.

He carefully tipped the pot over and it crawled free. He wiped his hands nervously on his pants and smiled in relief when the spider vanished.  

Nathan was often seen picking up litter along the back road and burying small animal that had been caught by a passing vehicle.

Over the next few years Angela taught him how to fix all the different parts of her house. They studied together, baked together, worked together. Though he was careful never to forget his smaller charges it wasn’t unusual to see him helping people as well.

Nathan still kept mostly to himself and sometimes people would ask for his help but usually he was there to fix it before people realized anything was broken. Mrs. Bloom had the phone in her hand to call a plumber to fix her leaking sink when there was a knock at the door. Nathan was standing there holding a tool set his parents had given him as a graduation present. He mended the Johnson’s fence. He often happened to be nearby when the widower Mr. Heath needed help carrying his groceries.  

As he got older he wasn’t able to spend as much time with Agatha but he visited as often as he could, to fix a broken shingle, to help plant herbs in her garden, or just to have tea and poppy seed cookies.  

As Agatha got older he started to visit her more frequently to help care for her and the house. Every so often she would have him walk her around the city. Carefully holding his arm for support so she could tend to the protective spells she had set up around town. Smokey darting around their legs chasing after bugs and dust motes. No one questioned whether she was a good witch anymore.

“Let me tend these for you,” he always told her.

“I only have a little time left. I’d like to do what I can while I can.”

 Nathan was with her when she died. He could feel it coming. He left work early and spent the rest of the day by her side.

“What can I do, what can I do?” He asked her.

“Just be here.” She squeezed his hand. It’s the little things that matter most. Just be here.”

 She left him her house when she passed on. Her spirit lingered a while. All the folks around town all thought they saw her. Sometimes walking in the woods but most often sitting on her porch, a cat in her lap. Nathan heard the creak of the floorboards as she walked through the house. He always made her a cup of tea and set it by her old chair so she would know he was thinking of her.  

There was talk around town wondering if he was or was not a witch but everyone agreed that whatever he was, he was good.

[upstartpoodle]

Mirror Worlds

Summary: The second chapter of my George x Elizabeth magic AU, in which Elizabeth is a magician and George is a fairy. This chapter: Francis discusses the latest attacks with his father, with little success.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Trenwith

It was later than usual that Verity returned to Trenwith that day and, having heard about what had happened to the Bassets, Francis had been unable to stop himself from going spare with worry at the thought of what might have happened to her. A prestigious family of hunters the Poldarks may be, but that by no means meant that it would be proper to allow a young lady to fight the creatures in the place of the men, as their father was often keen to remind them. And besides, Verity, whose prospects of marriage were dwindling fast (something that was by no means improved by Charles Poldark's determination that she remain at home to tend to him and their aunt), had led a somewhat sheltered life confined largely to the house and the estate, with the rare outing on the odd occasion, and as such, Francis could not possibly countenance allowing her to be placed in any situation so dangerous.

Unfortunately, with this latest attack, he was beginning to suspect that such a prospect may be unavoidable. Verity had set out to Truro unaccompanied save for Elizabeth who, to his knowledge, had no more experience of fighting fae than his sister did, perhaps even less considering Mr Chynoweth, unlike many of the men from Cornwall's ancient families, was not a hunter himself. Though he and his father had been informed by the redcoats knocking loudly on their door earlier that day that the horde had gone back to wherever it had come from, Francis couldn't help but fear for the two women, unarmed and undefended as they were. Who could say if the creatures were truly gone, let alone where they might strike next?

 Finally, he heard the sound of hooves on the driveway and he immediately rushed to the window to see who it was, earning himself an exasperated grumble from his father, who was sitting at the table in the parlour, perusing some documents relating in some way to Grambler--though what he had no idea. To his immense relief, he saw that it was indeed Verity, accompanied by Mr and Mistress Teague, along with Elizabeth. He watched as Verity said goodbye to her friend and the Teagues and, as she turned to enter the house after they had gone, immediately rushed to greet her.

"Good God, Verity, I was so worried" he said breathlessly as she stepped through the door, sweeping her into a fierce hug.

"There is no need to concern yourself so, Francis," his sister replied, hugging him back just as tightly. "I am quite well."

"And yet I fear I shall do so anyway," Francis returned as they drew back, entering the parlour side by side. "In these current times especially..."

Verity nodded as they both took seats in the parlour, greeting their father and Aunt Agatha, who was skulking as she usually did in the corner with her cards, warmly.

"I take it you have heard the news?" she asked, addressing the room at large.

Charles grunted in affirmation.

"About Lord Basset and his family?," he said gruffly. "Yes. Bad business. Very bad..."

"We were told that they had to call out the redcoats to beat them back, and by then the house was in flames and most of the occupants dead" Francis informed his sister, his tone grim as her expression as she nodded along with him. From the lack of surprise in her eyes, he surmised that she too had heard this whilst in Truro.

"That's what happens when you don't get proper hunters to solve problems like that," piped up Aunt Agatha from her corner, ever ready to make a point about tradition. "Utter disaster!"

Francis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. It was no secret that the influence of the old hunting families was fast diminishing in Cornwall. The fact was that times were changing, and likewise, the system that had once supported the hunters was crumbling along with them. Slowly but surely, power was transferring to entirely different sources, and it was a slippery slope that, for all they might try, they would ultimately be unable to prevent themselves from sliding down. There were those, however, who, in the face of all reason, were determined to deny it and, unfortunately for Francis, his aunt was one of them.

"But so many of our experienced hunters are long dead, aunt," pointed out Verity. "We can hardly leave civilians unprotected on a point of tradition."

"Fiddlesticks!," exclaimed Aunt Agatha. "It's worked for centuries. Why should it stop working now?"

"Because, aunt," said Francis with the tone of someone who had had to repeat these particular words many times, with no increase in their effect, "these fae encroachments are altogether different to those of the past. It was all very well when there was just the odd lost sea troll to drive back to its lands but one or two gentlemen with a star iron pistol are hardly going to hold back an entire horde of them."

"Which is exactly why we hunting families must stick together!," boomed his father all of a sudden; if he had been less accustomed to the man's manner, he might have started. "They may have their numbers but we have the advantage in strategy!"

For all that they had been taught that these creatures were mindless, only interested in violence, in the wake of these recent attacks, Francis was beginning to suspect that this was far from the case. There was simply something about them that seemed...off, not at all like the work of the disorganised rabble so many of their number seemed to think of them as. Still, he did not think it wise to confront Charles about it, who had never been any more interested about his point of view on the matter than he had been about his point of view on mining.

"...If you say so, Father" he settled for.

Charles' eyes narrowed suspiciously, and in that moment he knew that he had not succeeded in avoiding the man's scrutiny. He cursed himself quietly as he prepared himself for his father's nigh constant disdain.

"What is it boy?," he barked. "Spit it out!"

Francis sighed.

"Father, I do not think these attacks are simply random violence," he said reluctantly. "They are vicious, that is true, and they do, at first, give the appearance of being chaotic and uncoordinated, but there is a pattern to them."

"A pattern?," his father scoffed. "You give them too much credit, boy!"

"But can you not see it, Father?," Francis asked, frustration beginning to colour his tone. "Their targets are always landed gentry--usually prosperous mine owners. They raid their lands of livestock, then kill the families, then return to Faerie the way they have come."

Out of the corner of his eye, he was vaguely aware that Verity was listening to him intently. Perhaps he shouldn't have had this conversation in front of her, he wondered, for fear of upsetting her. But still, he could hardly ban her from the room, and she did appear to be taking an interest in it despite the grim nature of his words. Well, he supposed there was no avoiding some things, and this matter, having shaken the entire county as it had, was one of them.

"Their homes are prominent in the landscape," Charles explained away with a shrug. "Easy targets for slaughter and bloodshed--nothing more, nothing less."

"But if all they wanted was slaughter and bloodshed," argued Francis, "why would they not target villages and towns, where there would be more people to kill? Nor do they ever target the homes of the old hunter families, so they must know which to avoid."

Charles scowled.

"What exactly are you getting at, Francis?" he asked.

"I just think...does it not suggest that there is some purpose behind these attacks, or at least somebody directing them that we do not know of?"

"Bah!," snorted his father. "These creatures don't need reasons, and I doubt they are even capable of following orders. You're letting your imagination run wild, son!"

Verity, who was now perched on the edge of her seat, chose this moment to speak up.

"But does Francis not have a point, Father--?" she said, or rather tried to say, as Charles immediately cut her off.

"Pour us some port, Verity, there's a good girl" he said, apparently even less interested in the opinions of his daughter than he was in those of his son.

Verity stared down at her hands for a short moment, cowed, before muttering a soft "yes, Father" and heading over to the decanter to do as she had been bidden.

"And as for you, Francis," Charles said, turning to his son and fixing him with a stern gaze, "perhaps you should spend less time pondering these creatures' habits and more time learning to step up into the Poldark hunting legacy."

Francis lowered his head, fighting not to clench his jaw. This had always been a point of contention between them, his father disappointed with his lack of skill and motivation with regards to hunting. Of course, he had always looked even worse next to Ross, who had a particular skill and passion for the task, as well as the charisma to gain a proper following from those around him. With his cousin now...gone and unlikely ever to return, he had been feeling the pressure of his father's expectations all the more keenly, to the point where it was fast becoming intolerable.

"I was simply expressing my opinion" he tried to protest.

"You can express your opinion when you actually kill one of the buggers!," cried Charles, slamming his palm down on the table as Verity handed him his drink and went to sit back down. "Dammit, Francis, I have no intention of allowing my legacy to be a failing mine and a son who is of neither use nor ornament. Perhaps you had best take a leaf out of your cousin's book."

Francis bit his tongue to prevent himself from issuing a sharp retort. Was there no way he could avoid being compare to Ross?, he wondered bitterly. He missed his cousin dearly, of course, had mourned him beyond anything, but he was sick and tired of being found lesser than him, sick of being the more mediocre Poldark who did not have the talent to live up to his name. He had never asked for these expectations to be heaped upon him, never wanted them, but he found them being laid at his feet anyway. And now, he had no idea what to do. No idea at all. He could only hope that he would never be depended on as Ross had been, for he feared that if be were to be, a good many people would find themselves disappointed. Or worse. Much worse.

Next chapter: We go to Faerie, in which George actually makes an appearance.

[dagai4556]

The Fellowship of the Blade game 21.5

On the way to the farm Melody started getting headaches. Once the whole group made their way to the farm Melody started spending most of the day by herself wandering all over the farm. One morning Despair went looking for her and found her in the sheep field lost in thought. After Despair sat down next to her Melody asked her how she felt about her. Despair thought it was pretty obvious how she felt. Melody has always been hers. Hell she has killed people over the woman and she would do it again. But if Melody needs to hear the words she will tell her. She tells her that she loves her and she has always been hers. Melody tells Despair she has something important to tell her and that by telling her this she might never want to talk to her again. Despairs tail starts to twitch knowing whatever Melody has to say it is not going to be something that Despair likes. Melody drops that bomb that she has all of her memories back. Despair, remembering what Ander told her is worried. She asks if she remembers what happened after she died but Melody tells her no, that part is fuzzy. Relief goes through Despair. She knows it could be harmful if Melody remembers where she was ripped out of. Melody then goes on to tell Despair that their Guild Leader came to her with a get rich quick plan. This plan would require someone to be a fall guy but that the Guild would spare no expense to bring that person back from the dead. Melody agreed to the plan on the condition that she and Despair would be free after. He being a greedy little man said of course, only Melody couldn't tell a soul about the plan. Despair is beyond pissed at this news. She takes Melodys hand and tells her she does not blame her for any of it. She was only trying to get them to be free from the Guild. No, Despair blames their former leader and his lackeys for this. No one should ever have to do what Melody did just so some dick could get rich quick. Melody then drops another bomb on Despair and asks her to marry her. Despair doesn't miss a beat and says of course. Despair goes off to seek out Ander while Melody goes to town to buy dresses. Yep she wants Despair to wear a damn dress :gulp:

When Despair goes into Anders room she looks at his back. She worries about infection because Ander is not able to heal himself and spells Torrin has tried have failed. His back must heal on its own but the wounds almost killed the man. Those scars will forever be a reminder to Despair that he almost died at her hands. Killing people has never bothered Despair but she likes Ander. He is family to her and Despair doesn't harm her family. She protects it. So she inquires about his mind. Ander hasn't been himself in a while. He informs her that he feels alone. That his God is still not talking to him. Despair doesn't know what it is like to have another in her head but she does know what being lonely is like. She did spend many months feeling all alone in the world after Melody died. Despair asks Ander if he will marry her and Melody. Of course he agrees but he tells her that he doesn't know if his God will bless the union because he hasn't spoken to him. Despair tells him she doesn't know his God so his blessing doesn't mean anything to her. She only cares if Ander blesses it which, of course, he does. Ander then asks if Melody has gotten her memory back. Nothing gets past that man. Despair tells him that she remembers her life before she died but not of what happened after she died. He tells Despair she may or may not ever remember that, only time will tell. Ander goes on to tell Despair that he has received a raven back and that their Guild leader has escaped prison. This news pisses off Despair. He goes on to tell her that he has a large bounty on his head. A hundred thousand gold for his capture dead or alive. Despair tells Ander that she doesn't want him found or killed. He needs to answer to her for his actions. Ander gives Despair the perfect idea to seek out Benny and ask him if he can help locate him. Despair sends a raven to Benny asking if he will meet with her because she has an offer for him he might not want to pass up. Benny himself shows up on the farm.

Despair asks Benny to take a walk with her because she wants to ask him something but doesn't want the others to overhear. They may not like what is going to be said and, lets face it, this doesn't have anything to do with them at the moment. Despair asks Benny if he is able to locate someone from her past and remove a bounty they have. To keep tabs on him until she is ready to give him the justice he deserves. Benny loves revenge and agrees as long as Despair goes to the Inn to help him out with something after the whole thing with Ander is resolved. Of course she says yes, but she also asks him for one other thing. She asks that he find someone who can protect Melody while they are gone. She knows Melody wants to come along but Melody is Despairs weakness. She will always choose to save her over anyone. And, lets face it, right now the main worry needs to be Ander and how to fix him. Benny says he himself will look out for Melody. Benny draws up a contract for Despair. It says the terms of the deal and if you fail to come to the inn and complete your end of the bargain he gets her soul. Despair signs it. She has no worries about Benny getting her soul. She knows she will go to the Inn when this is all over. Benny assures Despair that he will guard Melody and if she needs Despair for anything Benny will be able to reach her. Before he leaves her Benny says, say hi to Zariel for me. She's an old friend. Then poof he is gone. Despair has no idea who the hell Zariel is but it does not shock her that Benny already knows more about their journey then they do. He is a devil after all who knows what all they know. 

After the meeting with Benny Despair seeks out Melody. Melody has returned once again from town and hands Despair a bag. Despair tells Melody that she needs to ask her something important and explains to her that she needs her to stay behind at the farm. Melody agrees to remain behind and tells Despair to open her present which she does and Despair removes a white gold ring. She tells Melody to put it on her. Once the ring is on her she hears Melodys voice in her head. Not only that but she feels her stomach flip flop and her body becomes hot. Despair has no idea what to make of this and Melody explains to her that these rings allow them to talk to each other and they are able to feel what the other one is feeling. Despair has never felt these things before. Despair seeks out Ander again because she is worried about sharing these feelings through a ring. Ander explains to her that they each feel love different. And that Despairs feelings will not scare Melody.  

Despair goes back to where Melody is sleeping and wakes her up. Ready to get married and start this new chapter in their life together. Melody informs Despair she has another surprise for her. They eat a simple breakfast of fruit and bread then Melody gets up when there is knock at the door. Despair is on high alert and reaches for her weapons. They are always close. Hell she even sleeps with her daggers. Melody returns but she isn't alone. Melody walks in with two women in their forties and a pixie the women are holding cases and the pixie is flitting about Melody's head chattering about how perfect her hair is. The women are all smiling and one takes a double take at Despair and says, you weren't kidding when you said she was black as midnight. i can work with this though. Melody introduces the women as Agatha, the one that commented and Elena the pixie is Scubble. Melody says Agatha, she's all yours, Despair be nice and do as she says. She's a professional.

Melody, Elena, and Scubble all leave and Despair hears them a few moments later at Ander's door.

Agatha looks her up and down gravely, then says all right, undress so i can fully see what i'm working with. Despair tells her no. She will not undress in front of her. The only people who will ever see her undressed is Melody and the poor soul who will wash her dead body. Despair isn't a prude she just isn't one to put her body display. The woman says ok and sets to work making grumpy Despair look her best on her wedding day. she pulls out some makeup. she orders her to contort her face this way and that as she paints her gently. Once she's done she holds up a mirror to see her work. She managed to bring out features she didn't even know she had even though the makeup is just a hint here and there. Her eyes sparkle like liquid silver pools, her cheekbones are just highlighted, her lips are still black but shine as though wet. she then tells Despair to put her dress on and inform her when she is ready to be laced up. The dress is beautiful. the bodice is tooled chestnut brown leather and the skirt is emerald green silk slitted high on her thigh so she can access her daggers easily there are also two leather scabbards designed to strap to her thighs that match the bodice. The front of the bodice is cut low to show off some tasteful cleavage and it's sleeveless to show her arms. Melodys dress is patterned after Despairs but is made of white silk embroidered to match the tooling of her leather. After they say their vows and kiss a man steps forward from the crowd they've never seen before. he removes his cloak and spreads a pair of golden wings. He says Ander, Despair, Melody, I am Helial, voice of Pelor on this plane. He has heard your request and gives his blessing. Ander, this is your first step down the road to redemption. Do not falter and you will be once again accepted. He then disappears.  Ander whispers, he still hears me. The local innkeeper shouts half price drinks at my place tonight. Melody, Despair, your drinks are on me! Despair runs over to Ander and grabs his face, she is beyond excited for him. His God wants him back but he wants Ander to fight for him. Fighting is something Despair knows well and it is something she is very good at. She tells Ander she will stand by his side and help him fight for his God. 

That night at the Inn everyone except Ander and Despair drink their own body weight in cheap ale and watered down wine. Despair knows that if she takes even one sip she will drink until she passes out. She is beyond nervous. She has never truly been with Melody. Melody on the other hand has been drinking and she keeps looking over at Despair and smiling. Torrin bumps into Despair and tells her that she better take her bride up to their room or he will do it for her. Despair kicks his chair out from under him and he falls onto his back laughing and spilling his ale on himself. Despair then walks over to Melody and picks her up and starts to carry her upstairs to their room. Melody giggles as they walk away. The next morning Despair wakes early and goes down stairs to get some food for Melody. She knows she will wake soon and that woman is always hungry when she wakes up. Down stairs she isn't shocked to see Torrin and Barkoris are still awake and drinking at the bar. When they see Despair Torrin walks up to her and asks her how her night was. Despair only looks at him her face giving away no emotion. He then asks if she had to use her tail to get the job done. Laughing he claps her on the back and Despair punches him in the face. Knocking him over once again and walks out hearing both men laughing.