#slept horribly. don’t think i’ll travel by coach again

[dogrocks]

oh did i ever announce it. hi im in amsterdam

[blossem12]

Vampire!Deetz 15

Here is the awaited part 15! It's one of our longest chapters yet, so we've attached a read more so the people on the tag don't kill us. That being said, this part was written by both me and @nimarasnetherworld ! Hers is everything up to the ****** and mine is all after. 

We both really hope you enjoy this chapter and if you read it on the AO3 link that is later posted, Please feel free to leave, a Kudos or Comment! we love hearing what you think!

Chapter Summary: Charles contemplates his life and then goes to the Maitlands for his first training session. 

--

When Charles opened his eyes this morning, the first thing he noticed is that it was still dark outside. The vampire groaned rubbing a hand on his face before checking the time. 5am. That meant he had slept for about four hours. A good night for a vampire. Charles sighed, six months, half a year. Emily had died six months ago. It still hurt, he still felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to do anything to save her. But at least Lydia was safe. It still felt weird to wake up in their new house. They had done a lot of re-decoring but Charles had come to accept that this house would never feel like their old house back in New York. 

But as tragic as It was, the whole event hadn’t brought only bad things to the Deetz family. Thanks to the Maitlands, Lydia was getting better and she was working hard to control her newfound vampiric powers. Charles was glad that his daughter was finally smiling again. And of course, there was Delia.

Charles turned to look at the person sleeping beside him. Delia was still fast asleep, curled around him, her hand above his heart. The man couldn’t help but smile. He was happy that Delia had stuck with him, that somehow, she had returned his feelings. At first, he had felt guilty. He had never imagined that he would have fallen so hard and fast for another woman after his wife’s death. But bright, optimistic, Delia had waltzed into their life and now he couldn’t imagine it without her. 

He leaned toward the woman in his arms, pressing a kiss on her forehead. Immediately her scent overtook him and he quickly stretched his arm, reaching for the blood vial it had put on the nightstand. He quickly drank its content. It was still hard to be around her sometimes. But he made sure to always have some blood on him in case his urges become too strong.

Speaking of blood, they should have a new fresh stock soon. He had called Maxie and placed an order. The phone call also informed him that three other vampires had been killed in New York and four more across the country last week. I was getting out of hand. The council had yet to make a decision about these attacks. At least, here his family was safe. 

“You’re already awake?”

The question took him by surprise. Delia was looking at him with half-opened eyes, clearly still half asleep. Charles tucked a strand of hair behind her ear,

“Well, vampires don’t need a lot of sleep you know. But you can go back to sleep if you want.”

The life coach let out a small moan and buried her head in his neck.

“Maybe.” She mumbled.

Charles actually thought she had fallen back asleep when she spoke again,

“You’re supposed to train with Lydia today, right?”

Oh. The vampire had forgotten about that.

“Yes, that’s today.”

“Do you know what powers you have?”

This time it seemed like Delia was definitely awake, looking at him with her big brown eyes. He got lost in it for a moment before answering her question,

“Well I have to common powers vampires have, enhanced strength, senses, and apparently we can see in the dark better than mortals. But I don’t know about any specific powers.”

He thought about it for a moment,

“Come to think about it, there was one time when I accidentally lit some books on fire.” He frowned, “Do you think it could actually be a power and not just an accident?”

His only answer was a small snore. Delia had fallen back asleep. Charles chuckled. Well, guess he was going to find out during the training session tonight.

******

 "Come on Dad!" Lydia yelled from the foyer of the house, Charles approached the teen who was holding two umbrellas. 

It was around 9pm that night, the sun was slowly going down as Lydia traveled with her father over to the maitlands household. 

They were instantly greeted by the couple in the garden, Barbara was sitting on a lawn chair she had found in the randomness of the house while Adam was checking the plants around the house exterior. Charles found himself sweating as he approached the house, worrying about embarrassing Lydia in front of her mentors.

Lydia, however, was smiling more than any of the adults had seen. 

"Oh hello, Charles!" Barbara spoke when he entered the garden, the moon began to rise lighting their faces by blue light. 

"Hello, Mrs. Maitland." He said calmly, taking a pause to wave at Adam, "and greetings to you as well Mr. Maitland." 

Barbara let out a slight laugh at his formality, she went to correct him but shrugged. He was visibly nervous and the maitlands didn't want to pressure him. 

"What are you doing over here?" Adam spoke before Barbara let back a soft shocked face. 

"Adam! Don't be mean!" 

"Oh gosh, I wasn't trying to. I'm so so-" 

Adam was cut off by the father. 

"Its alright Mr. Maitland, I decided to join Lydia in training after she requested me. I don't know if I have special powers but it never hurts!" He chuckled. Adam smiled and continued with the flowers.

"Well. Considering Lydia's is linked to a certain emotion. The same may be with you…" Barbara trailed off, thinking for a moment before looking over at Adam, "Adamo?" 

"Hm?" The husband mumbled in response. 

"I'm gonna take Lydia to the other side of the house real quick to see how her powers are so far. I need you to see what powers Charles has." 

Adam eyes widened but quickly softened with a look from Barbara, he nodded as the two women quickly disappeared. 

Charles cocked an eyebrow at the man approached him. 

"Alright, Charles. I'm not good at this." 

"Good at what?" 

Adam took a breath, and stood tall,

"You are doing a horrible job at buying sustainable foods!" Adam yelled. Charles just sat confused. Adam groaned, "I was hoping the boring method would work but I guess I'll try the tiring way." 

Adam placed his hands on Charles's temple's and closed his eyes, Charles reluctantly closed his in response. 

Instead of the normal darkness, all Charles closed eyes saw was red. Images of Lydia yelling at him came to mind, she got frustrated and ran away disappeared, but the words she was yelling stuck. 

You don't even care!

The next image was Emily, it had been forever since he had seen an image of her, locking himself away from her. He couldn't help but notice that she almost felt fuzzy as if his vision was blurring. She also held an angry expression. 

You have to try Charles! 

The last image was of Delia. Delia stood there with her arms crossed, tears filled her eyes. Charles's heart began to drop at the sight of it. The door to their house formed behind her. She placed one hand on the doorknob as she spoke to Charles.

All you do is just replace people. 

Charles let out a yell of anger, Adam in response fell back onto the grass letting go of Charles's head. The bush next to them quickly caught on fire. 

"Pyrokinesis!" Adam shouted in joy, he quickly looked back at the father who was heavy breathing. "Your life is messed up too huh." He laughed slightly quickly eyeing the ground. 

"I guess its more than I thought…" 

"This is a big step. Spending time with her" 

As if on cue, Lydia was heard laughing as the voices were slightly getting louder. Adam stood and walked to a watering can to put out the burning bush. 

"Thank you, Mr. Maitland." 

"You can call me Adam." He smiled. Charles letting one out in return,

"You could see everything?" 

"Yeah. It was fuzzy but I could make out Lydia and Delia, I'm not sure who the second person was though." 

Charles felt his breath hitch as he quickly changed the topic. 

 "Also Mr." He stopped for a moment and corrected himself "very weird question but how did you become a witch?"

"My father tried to kill Barbara." 

Charles eyes widened, "Oh gosh." 

"Yeah, we're all messed up." 

----

Hours later it had rung close to 4am. The maitlands were tired but determined to make progress with Lydia. 

Charles, on the other hand, was getting very good at his powers. If he focused very hard on a plant, it would quickly erupt into flame (much to the dismay of the Maitlands). 

Lydia still couldn't move the watering can without being frustrated first. 

"You're doing great!" A voice yelled in the darkness, Charles turned to see Delia holding a lamp, shroud in some blanket that she was using as a coat. 

"Delia? Why are you up this late?" 

"It's very lonely in the house without you both.." she sighed as she let herself into the garden. Barbara waved and motioned at the empty chair, Delia took a seat and wrapped the blanket tighter around her. 

Charles smiled softly at the woman, it was evident that she was tired but she truly wanted to be around them. 

"Would you like to see the progress we've made?" Charles asked, letting his heart speak. Adam glanced over at Lydia, who was still struggling with moving the watering can and made a face of nervousness at Barbara. She in return shrugged and threw a bucket of water onto the latest bush that had caught on fire.

"How is it going over there, Lydia?" Delia asked the teen who was trying very hard to calmly focus on the watering can. It nudged over a small bit but her hands refused to glow. 

"She's doing great!" Barbara encouraged, Lydia rolled her eyes at the statement. She knew that she wasn't getting better, it only worked when she was angry. 

"And you Charles?" 

Charles smiled and snapped his fingers, the plant to his left immediately catching on fire. Adam's eyes widened, 

"That was so impressive!" He cheered as he grabbed the bucket from Barbara. 

Lydia looked over at the on-fire plant and began saw red.

This was supposed to be fun. She thought angrily, but I'm just stuck not improving. I wish he was just as bad as me. At least we'd have something in common.

Delia was clapping for Charles and each hit seemed to annoy Lydia more. She let out a small groan and closed her eyes. 

Charles's smile quickly dropped as his eyes glossed over, he stood still but the tree in the maitlands yard began to catch on fire. 

"Charles?" Barbara yelled as she saw the flames, when she looked over she saw his glossy eyes. She tilted her head and stared at him for a moment. She began hearing static in her own ears before he shook his head and released from his trance. 

He then took notice of the flaming tree, Lydia and Delia were wide-eyed as Adam was quickly trying to put the flame out with his own powers. 

"I'm... im so sorry!" Charles began apologizing, Barbara took notice of his words as she began aiding Adam, "I don't know what happened. My brain just went blank. Staticky, almost" 

"It's alright!" Barbara yelled back, "I think we need to call it a night anyway. You guys go home, we'll deal with the tree." 

It took almost no time for the Deetz's and Delia to depart the house, Barbara looked over at Adam as she put the tree out with one swoop of her hand. 

"Adamo, We have a static problem"

[jeremyknox]

brown stars

Jean had faint memories of France. Of stars glinting on the water at the beach and of being able to go out in the sun as he wished. If he thought hard enough, he could remember a little boy with curly brown hair and red cheeks and brown dots creating patterns on his face and arms.

That little boy looked nothing like Jean, at least not after spending 10 years in the dark underground of Evermore. Instead of freckles, his skin was patterned in bruises and scars. Instead of red cheeks from the sun, he had black and blue eyes from “exy” and red marks from being hit. His hair had even lost most of its life, the curls were almost limp.

And then Renee Walker (and in a way Jeremy Knox) rescued him and he joined the Trojans in Los Angeles. A place where the sun seemed to never stop beating, even through the smog that settled over the city like a heavy blanket.

It took Jean a little while to warm up to Jeremy, but the Raven mentality made it hard for him to be away from Jeremy at the same time. They were living in the dorms for the summer, so Jean didn’t have to be with the Foxes and could get acclimated to the campus, the court, and Jeremy. Which meant that by extension, Jean had to get used to being around Laila and Alvarez as well. They filled his life with color and light, when he’d been so used to being surrounded by black and red.

Jean couldn’t sleep until Jeremy was in the room with him, which was particularly difficult at first because he was used to the Raven’s and their 16 hour days.

“You seem exhausted,” Jeremy had once commented with a worried expression on his face. It was about three days into Jean moving in. He hadn’t spoken much to Jeremy, just existed in the same room as him most days. Their dorm had a balcony and Jean liked to sit on it at nighttime to stare at the stars, or what could be seen of them through the LA smog and lights. Jeremy would come out, wrapped in a blanket and sit silently with him.

Jean shrugged in reply. “I guess.”

“You could nap.”

Jean didn’t know how to tell him he couldn’t unless Jeremy was in the room.

A few minutes later, with Jeremy settled in on the other end of the sofa reading a book, Jean began to doze off. He napped for about an hour, but when Jeremy moved, he sprung awake once more.

Jeremy held out his hands as if to placate. “Sorry sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just need to go see Coach about something.”

Jean stretched and got up. “I’ll come with you then.”

“You don’t have to,” Jeremy insisted.

Jean stared at the ground. “Please.”

He thought maybe that was the moment that Jeremy finally understood that Jean didn’t want to be alone, even if he didn’t talk much. A few days later, Jeremy admitted to calling up Kevin and forcing details out of him. Details regarding the Ravens traveling in pairs and having 16 hour days. Jeremy never left him alone again, not until Jean was ready.

Eventually, the attachment was less about feeling like a Raven and more about actually genuinely liking Jeremy Knox. Jeremy was a disaster waiting to happen at all times. He wore tank tops that showed off his tanned shoulders, he ate way too many sweets for someone so fit, and Jean was just waiting for the moment his flip flop got caught on something and he stumbled. He juxtaposed Jean’s closed of demeanor and yet knew exactly when to be silent, when to leave Jean be, and when to turn on the lights to reveal that Jean was not in Evermore after a nightmare.

Jeremy was the perfect friend for Jean.

For the first time in 10 years, Jean had his hair cut professionally. Jeremy went with him of course, driving him to the barbershop in his perfectly ridiculous yellow car covered in USC Trojans bumped stickers. Jean was nervous to let anywhere near him with scissors but he also wouldn’t trust Jeremy near him with buzzers if his life depended on it. So they went and got their haircuts in chairs next to one another. When they left, Jean’s hair felt curly again.

Jean ran his hand through it in awe and when he looked at Jeremy, he was watching him and smiled in a fond way. “It’s amazing what scissors and buzzers in the hand of a professional can do.”

They sat on the balcony more frequently now, even in the sun. After a few weeks around Jeremy, Jean felt comfortable enough to show his arms. But only around his roommate. The first time he’d done it, Jeremy had just stared at the scars on his body. Most of them were on his torso, but some ran up his arms, scars that he’d put there himself and scars from being tied down by Riko. When he caught himself staring, Jeremy had apologized again and again and Jean found himself reaching out to Jeremy, the first physical contact he’d ever initiated.

“It’s okay, they’re shocking.”

So Jeremy cut up some USC shirts and though Jean’s only short sleeved shirts boasted his new team name, he proudly wore them around the home. As they sat in the sun, Jean’s pale skin only at first burned which Jeremy teased him for relentlessly. But as the redness settled, his skin began to darken and he thought maybe, just maybe, he was starting to resemble that little boy with freckles once more.

Jean had begun to trust Laila and Alvarez more, though not with his secrets. They were staying nearby, not wanting to spend the summer apart, and they often showed up without warning at the boy’s dorm room. Jean always made sure to keep covered around them, something they noticed.

Alvarez finally broke at the beach one day. They were all sitting on the blanket Jeremy had provided, and Jean was wearing a long sleeved swim shirt. “Hey Jean, why do you wear long sleeves all the time?”

Jean was shocked to feel Jeremy’s hand find his and he squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m not comfortable showing off my damages just yet.”

Alvarez looked like she wanted to know more, but Laila nudged her in the ribs and she took the hint.

Later that night, Jeremy sat on the edge of Jean’s bed. “You can trust them, you know.”

Jean had no doubt who he was talking about. “I’m learning.”

About a week later, the girls showed up unexpectedly once more. This time, Jean opened the door wearing only his tank top and sweatpants. The next time they went to the beach, it was a private one, with no one around. Jean shyly took off his swim shirt with encouragement from his friends and swam in the ocean.

Sometime in the middle of the summer, Jean looked at himself in the mirror and was surprised to see a smattering of freckles on his face. He didn’t tend to look at himself much, so he took the time to really examine his own reflection. His cheeks, once very hollow, were rounding out a little. His hair was curly and a bit shaggy. The hateful number 3 was still on his cheek, but it was now nestled in tiny little brown marks.

The end of summer was spent getting to know Jeremy more and more. Jean didn’t know what it was like to have a friend, let alone four (counting Renee), but he knew Jeremy was the most special person to have come into his life in a very long time. They often shared a blanket at night when they lay on the balcony. The stars were almost impossible to see thanks to light pollution and smog, but Jean liked what he could see nonetheless. It was more than he’d seen in 10 years.

One night, Jeremy took Jean out into the desert, to really see the stars. They lay on a blanket and looked up at the stars together. Eventually, Jean’s hand found Jeremy’s and they didn’t part until Jeremy had begun to get tired and they needed to go home.

When they did, Jean sighed. Laila and Alvarez had been over earlier and insisted on making a blanket fort. All of Jean and Jeremy’s bed supplies were in the living room.

“I’m too tired to deal with that,” Jean said, pointing at the monstrosity.

Jeremy yawned. “We could just sleep in there.”

Which is how Jean found himself in his pajama pants, laying next to a shirtless Jeremy. His roommate looked beautiful in his sleep.

The next morning, Jean got up to brew coffee while Jeremy slept. When he came back with the two steaming mugs, Jeremy sat up in the fort with a smile. They spent the day in there, watching movies that Jean had never seen. At one point, he caught the other boy staring at him, but he couldn’t fathom why.

“It’s just that…” Jeremy paused and bit his lip. “Did you know you have freckles all over your shoulders now? And your back… and your chest.”

Jean looked down and smiled. Usually he looked down and saw muscles covered in scars and bruises. But the summer with Jeremy had changed him. His skin was just a bit tanned, but freckles had began to pain patterns all over him once more, just like that little boy in France.

“They’re like stars,” Jeremy told him. “I think I could find constellations in them.”

Jean got up and rummaged around Jeremy’s desk for a sharpie. He came back to the tent and gave his roommate a sheepish smile. “So find them.”

And they spent the evening laying in that stupid blanket fort, listening to music while Jeremy drew constellations on Jean. He gave them silly names, finding new shapes as he went. When he finished, he lay back to survey his handiwork. Jean felt self conscious as Jeremy’s eyes roamed over his body, but he looked down to inspect the ones he could see.

One looked like two horribly put together stick figures, holding hands. “What do you call this one?”

Jeremy blushed. “Hope.”

[arieltaylorpatterson]

A Scathing Review of: Seat 13A, JetBlue flight 646 JFK --> LAX

A Scathing Review of: row 13, JetBlue flight 646 JFK —- > LAX

It begins, like all classic tales do, with a woman. And what a woman she is.

We’ll call her Joan. 13A seems dreadfully impersonal (‘life ruiner’ does too).

I would like to pause here and say while this woman strikes me as a Joan, it is not because she has ANYTHING in common with the Joan I know, thank heavens. Love you Grandma!

’Joan’ in 13A has “had it”. In fairness, we’ve been sitting on the runway for 45 minutes. No progress made after the initial pullback, no status updates. No crackly loudspeaker mention of the obvious delay, followed by vague promises of time ‘being made up in the air’. Joan sighs with exasperation. Her lung capacity impresses me. She sighs again.

“I have HAD it. I am NOT HAPPY.”

I feel bad for Joan. Clearly she lacks The Gift.

(The Gift, for all of you living your lives in the dark, is the innate ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time, with exceptional speed and commitment.)

I do not lack The Gift. I have The Gift in spades. I have The Gift so hard I fell asleep placing my stylish and slightly impractical ivory suitcase in the overhead compartment. Related - - I do not recommend white luggage. More later.

Back to Joan — I think I’ve mentioned she’s had it? I realize quickly I have slept through several of her proclamations. She turns to her husband.

“Hello. Do you hear me? I have HAD it.”

Don (he seems Don-esque) in 13C seems like a nice enough guy. He’s got a hearing aid and slicked back gray hair with a very high hairline. His eyebrow hairs are very long and he wears a fleece pullover. He seems practical. From what I can see of his jawline, he looks kind. I bet he used to be super into camping.

Blearily, I look out the window. We are on the ground. I look at Chris, my wonderful, handsome boyfriend.  His eyes are glued shut. He is either asleep or hiding from me.

“I’ve HAD it. Nuh-uh. No sir. This is just absurd.”

Don with the hearing aid nods vigorously. I cannot yet tell if this is his chosen method of wife-pacification or if he hasn’t the foggiest what she’s saying.

At this point, they begin discussing the pitfalls of travel. I say they but really, it’s all Joan. Good old Joan. Joan has “REALLY had it now.” and also doesn’t understand why they “go on all of these godfuuhhsaken trips.”

This leads me to the vocal quality of Joan. She’s got one of those voices. To describe it as piercing would be perhaps giving it too much credit. It is not a clear, bell-like tone. It does not cut  or slice so much as cheese grate. (Or maybe spiralize if you’ve spent too much time on Pinterest and are trying to avoid the dairy farts I don’t know I’ve heard that’s a thing no first hand knowledge or anything I love dairy so does my GI tract)

Joan has really had it. In fact, she announces this again. She’s had it and, to be honest, finds this whole thing absurd. Not a mention of a delay? I mean really.

She is over 60, with big plastic sunglasses on. It’s bright. I get it. She wears lots of jewelry, the kind that sparkles and bangs into each other on different parts on her body. Her perfume is strong. I have a little bit of a headache — wonderful foreshadowing for the next six hours.

Speaking of, our plane takes off. It is eerily quiet; save for Joan’s dulcet tones.

“Well thank fuuuhhcking gawd”.

This makes me giggle. I’m with you girl. Maybe I’ve read her wrong. Maybe we’ll have a great repartee. Maybe I’ll be so inspired by our relationship I’ll write a sitcom about it. The future is bright, chickens.

Trouble begins again when our plane hits a little turbulence as we climb.

“I hate this.”

Joan, angel, me too.

I glance at my boyfriend again. His eyes are no longer glued shut but he is maybe still hiding from me.

A handsome, slightly bored looking flight attendant makes his way down the aisle. Joan, my benevolent queen, announces to the plane at large that she “NEEDS A VODKA.”

I am amused. The flight attendant is amused. We’re going to have a great time. He asks her if she’s like anything with it.

“ICE.”

Don, bless him, orders one as well.

The flight attendant returns shortly and hands them two mini bottles of Tito’s. It is at this moment I notice Joan still has her sunglasses on. Her stock falls, slightly.

“Dammit. I can’t open this. I can’t open this. HELLO CAN SOMEONE HELP ME OPEN THIS.”

The handsome/bored flight attendant reappears. He quips something fun about ‘if you can’t open it you can’t drink it’. I laugh. Don laughs. Joan does not laugh.

The first vodka is poured. The first vodka quickly disappears. Joan wants another.

“I want anothuhh vodka.”

Don, the sweet thing, hears her. But, alas, doesn’t move quickly enough. As he struggles to reach the service button overhead, Joan takes matters into her own hands.

“HELLO I NEED ANOTHER VODKAAAA”

The plane at large is now painfully aware of Joan’s drink order. A second bottle of Tito’s materializes quickly. She knocks that one back too. It is at this point she seems to settle into her movie of choice (Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants; a classic. She kind of seems like a Tibby. But maybe a Carmen? Who knows.)

I find JetBlue to be a fabulous airline. I have free wifi, a plethora of snacks, and Manchester By The Sea, the ultimate plane-movie. There is, however, one large shortcoming. On JetBlue planes, the controller to your personal screen is built into the armrests — right where your elbows rest when you’re sitting like a normal human person. I have turned off my television several times. I have nearly blown out the eardrums of my unsuspecting neighbors by inadvertently leaning on their volume control. It’s not great.

Poor Joan. Joan never stood a chance. She reclines, hitting her remote control with her elbow. The screen goes black. Joan gasps, hollers, and then being frantically poking the screen. After several harrowing moments of dark, her screen alights. We have Sisterhood! Tragically, in her frantic poking, she hit the fast forward button. She doesn’t recognize the scene. Carmen’s in some kind of a horrible dress? I would call the color dusty rose, but that’s just me.

Joan gasps again. She screams. Then, she slaps the screen in front of her. Hard. Full palm. The seat bounces forward, and 12A is rudely awoken from a nice looking nap.

“I HATE THIS. I HATE IT. THIS IS THE WORST. We don’t need tuh live like this. I’m never doing this again. I don't care if we spend every penny we have. I’ll pawn the jewelry. I’ll PAWN IT AWWWLL.”

Joan has not embraced life in Coach yet, but she quickly screams for another vodka. Maybe #3 will lessen the stings of finding yourself an every(wo)man?

Hours pass, as do the Tito’s bottles. She has found inner peace, thanks to vodka #6 and the DIY network. She holler/grumbles now and then, comparing the experience to ‘hell itself’ and ‘a greyhound bus’.

“Alright, Susan. Stop aggravating everybody. You’re embarrassing me.”

Don has taken the bait at last. And, hold up, SUSAN??!

I drift away to sleep, turning Boyfriend Chris into Human Pillow Chris. As the tinkling sound of vodka hitting ice in a plastic cup lulls me to sleep, I ponder the worth of Joan/Susan’s jewelry and, indeed, life itself.