#vampire!virgil

[edupunkn00b]

Taking Care of You

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @brainlicking. Prompt: Magic au with vampires, darkly romantic tone, Virgil/Patton ship, hiding a fatal injury, only one bed but the one bed is a coffin. - Rated M - WC: 3806

Since their beginning, Patton had spoiled Virgil rotten. Homemade cookies every birthday. Horror movie marathons on their anniversary. 'I won't be too scared as long as you stay close.' Tinctures and luck charms when he got anxious about a gallery opening.

Soft lips and firm, gentle hands anytime he needed extra affection.

None of it was one-sided, either. Virgil took care of Patton, too. Sitting up with him for two days straight after his parents died, drying his tears and holding him tight after he'd finally drifted off to sleep. Helping him move in to the big old house in the woods his parents had left him. Staying with him until after he'd finished all the cleansing rituals.

So there was little surprise when, the night of his attack, Virgil had found himself staggering up to Patton's doorstep, blood-sticky fingers clutching the wounds at his neck. He'd just managed to brush against the doorbell when he dropped to the hand-woven mat in a heap. He was out before Patton could even answer the door.

Patton later told him how he'd dressed his wounds and changed him out of his torn and blood-soaked clothes. "Your skin was so cold," he'd whispered, warm fingers curled through his hair. "But you were still breathing, so I bundled you up and stayed close."

Unmoving and barely breathing, Virgil had slept for three days and three nights. When the sun had set at the start of the fourth night, Virgil was woken by the sound of Patton's heart pounding in his ears. The hot, salty scent of blood heavy in the air. Wrapped in the glorious heat of Patton's arms and only barely conscious, Virgil had mouthed weakly at the bit of flesh peeking out from the collar of his fluffy sweater.

A sharp canine grazing against his own tongue broke the spell long enough for Virgil to flee. He pushed himself out of Patton's embrace and out of the room. As he leapt over the banister to the floor below, he tried to convince himself he couldn't hear Patton calling him over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

Barefoot and clad in borrowed pajamas and a hoodie too short for his frame, Virgil didn't stop running until the dawn cut its bright pink gash along the horizon. He spent his first full day as a vampire hiding from the sun on the edges of a junkyard downtown.

Two years passed before Virgil had gained enough control to risk seeing him again.

It was winter again, and the early dusk granted him a better chance of seeing Patton outside, gathering birch bark or syrup. Or maybe even filling the racoon feeders for the night. After only a few hours tucked into the crook of a large yew, carefully upwind of the house and the salted caramel scent of his old love, Virgil was soon rewarded for his patience. A puff of steam followed Patton as he bounced down the path, empty bucket in hand. He whistled to himself and, likely, in warning to any of the more skittish night creatures who might have begun to creep out of the daytime refuges.

Like him.

When Patton was a dozen paces or so away, Virgil stood and spoke from the shadows. "Pat?" he called into the night.

Patton jumped at the sudden sound, pounding heart deafening to Virgil's ears. It slowed quickly, though, as he turned, peering into the darkness. "Vee?" he asked, voice shaking. But not in fear. He sounded… hopeful. "Vee, is that you?"

Virgil stepped out from under the yew's boughs and into the thin moonlight above. "It's me, Pat."

"You came back," he said simply, setting down the pail and stepping closer.

The wind shifted, filling Virgil's lungs with sugar and sage, earth and blood. Shuddering, he nodded. "I… I hope that's alright. I can… I can go."

"Don't you dare, Mister!" Patton marched forward, arms outstretched. He stopped just shy of touching him. "Is it alright if I hug you?" he asked, softer.

"Y—you want to?" Hands shoved in his overcoat pockets, Virgil fought the instinct to grab him and pull him close and… But it wasn't blood lust pushing forward. Afraid of his own hunger, he'd fed as soon as the sky grew dark. He didn't need to feed. He needed his love in his arms again.

"Of course I do!" Closing the distance, Patton fell into his arms, squeezing him tight with that old unexpected strength. "I've missed you so much, Vee."

He held him stiffly at first, but as the heat of Patton's body soaked into his skin, Virgil curled over him, opening his coat and wrapping it around both of them. "I… I can't keep you warm," he murmured into his hair. Patton's breath, his touch burned, warming him to the core. Virgil didn't want to think about how uncomfortable his own ice-cold skin must feel to him.

But Patton smiled up at him, cheeks reddened with the cold and tears sparkling in his eyelashes. He took Virgil's hand and pressed it against his own chest. "You keep me warm right here." Drawing closer, Patton reached up with his other hand and cupped Virgil's cheek.

Unable to resist the heat of his palm, Virgil let his eyes fall closed and covered Patton's hot hand with his own. Frigid lips grazed the bared skin between Patton's gloves and sleeve. Pulse point throbbing beneath paper-thin skin. Head bowed and shaking, Virgil pressed a slow kiss against wrist. The barest tip of his tongue darted out, seared against Patton's flesh, but he kept his teeth safely behind his lips.

Patton never moved away. Virgil opened his eyes, bracing himself for the expected frozen terror in Patton's face. Instead he smiled up at him.

"You're not afraid of me?" Virgil whispered.

"Of course not," Patton said said as though no other answer was even possible. Letting go of only one hand, he stooped to pick up the still-empty pail and threaded their fingers together. He gave his hand a little tug. "Will you come ho—come inside with me?"

Nodding, Virgil let himself be led back to Patton's house.

~

Patton had left the heavy door on the latch, just as he always used to. As he pushed it open with one hand, cozy firelight, the scents of drying herbs and simmering soup spilled out into the dark night. Virgil paused on the doorstep, tracing the rust-colored stained bell in its frame. And the protections runes carved into its shape.

Following his gaze, Patton hummed and reached out his hand, "You needn't worry," he said. "It's safe for you to come in, it always has been."

Virgil accepted his hand and closed his eyes before stepping inside. Patton spoke the truth. "How long have you known?" he finally asked. A vampire did not simply saunter into a mage's home on the technicality of an open invitation, let alone a mage as skilled as Patton.

Stomping the snow from his boots, Patton shrugged, thoughtful. "Really, as… as soon as I saw you that night." He watched Virgil loosen his scarf, the immortal scars clearly visible just below his jaw. "There are scarce other ways to get puncture wounds like that. And…" He looked down then, straightening their boots over the fireplace grate. "You still had you sire's blood on your mouth," he added slowly. "There was no question you would turn."

"But if… if you knew…" Virgil's head swam and he fumbled with the collar of his overcoat. Patton surged forward, gently disentangling him from the damp wool. "Pat, when I woke, you were in my arms. If you knew I'd turn…" With his thumb and forefinger, he nudged up Patton's chin so he'd meet his eyes. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"Oh, Vee." Smiling, Patton lowered his head and kissed Virgil's fingers before meeting his eyes again. "I knew you couldn't hurt me, besides…" he said with a little shrug as he peeled off his coat. "You needed someone to take care of you. Oh—" Hugging the coat to his chest in one arm, Patton brushed his hand down Virgil's back. "You're wearing my hoodie."

Turning, Virgil held Patton's hand to his still heart and nodded. "I… I was wearing it when…" Patton's eyes shone, glossy with tears. Virgil didn't realize he was also crying until Patton reached up and brushed away a tear from his face.

"I'm glad you kept it."

"You kept me warm," Virgil whispered.

As though suddenly feeling the frigid damp from his coat, Patton stroked his cheek and quickly hung the sopping wool by the fire. Then he took Virgil's hand and pulled him to the foot of the stairs. "I have something to show you."

Patton brought him to his bedroom. "You've… made some changes."

Nodding, Patton looked proudly around the room. Where once the big poster bed had dominated the space, it was now pushed into one corner, just under the window. Patton had brought up the long wooden table from the dining room, as well as several bookcases from various parts of the house. Every surface was covered with potions and vials and the supplies of his craft. A heavy, ancient tome lay open in the center of the table, a basket of scrolls sat underneath. Fragrant herbs hung drying from the windows and only slightly overpowered by the heavy, wet smell of fungi media.

"I've made it my workshop," Patton pulled him closer to a large flask left bubbling over a heat source Virgil couldn't identify. "A few of these require… frequent monitoring. And I—" He shrugged and looked up at Virgil, blood blooming just under his skin as he blushed. "I slept better being able to keep watch."

"What are you…" One end of the table was consumed by a detailed map of the entire region, held flat with Patton's ritual candles and a heavy crystal wrapped in a braided cord. The map was covered in tiny, dated marks. "You've been scrying for me," he said more than asked.

Patton's hand hovered over the crystal, its energy buzzing through the air. He nodded.

Then Virgil's eyes fell on the open page of the grimoire. To sceald a vampyre, Þu þearfast mod and garleac. Virgil stepped back, dropping Patton's hand. "Are you… are you trying to cure me?"

Eyes wide and mouth falling open into a little 'oh,' Patton shook his head. He rushed forward and grasped Virgil's hand in both of his, gently tugging him closer to the table. "No! No, I don't want to change you," he said, pointing to the Old English. "I want to keep you safe. It's protection charm. For you," he added.

"For me?" Virgil repeated dumbly. "Not… against me?"

"Never," Patton whispered. "It'll help hide you from Hunters." He shook his head again and drew closer. "I don't want to change you, just… take care of you."

Virgil's arms wrapped around him almost automatically and Patton looked up at him, breath sweet and hot as it fanned over his face. Patton's heartbeat filled the silence, thrumming against Virgil's chest as he closed the final distance between them. Face turned up, Patton licked his lips, tiny pink tongue darting out. "Kiss me?" he whispered.

"I—" Every reason why he shouldn't, every sensible thought about keeping his distance from the soft, living warmth of his skin and flesh and blood was pushed away by those whispered words. A soft growl pushed up from his throat and Patton surged up to meet him. Patton's fingers—gloriously burning hot fingers—threaded behind Virgil's neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

~

Patton had never given up hope, but to be honest, when the bright colors of autumn had turned cold and wet with winter for the second year, his hope of ever seeing Virgil again had begun to grow terribly thin. Tracking his movements with the crystal, seeing him move from day to day helped to reassure him his love was still alive… well vapirically alive, at least. It hurt to see him never come closer than a few miles. But even in the dark that awful night, he'd seen the terror in Virgil's eyes as he'd pushed him away. He knew Virgil wasn't staying away because he wanted to. Merely because he thought he had to.

So Patton had held on to his hope, and poured his worry and his love into finding a way to try to keep him safe, to try to take care of him even from afar. Once he'd perfected the charm, he planned to take his map and seek Virgil out. But for all his hope, he'd never dared dream that Virgil would return to him first.

Skin cold as stone but as soft as ever, Virgil was finally here, in his arms. Tears salted their kiss, and Virgil trembled against him. Patton held him closer, relishing the familiar taste of his mouth, tracing the sharp edges of his new teeth. Far too quickly, Virgil gently broke away, his first shaky smile of the night curling up his lips.

"Will you stay?" For the night, for his life, for as long as Virgil wanted, that's what Patton wanted, too.

Long, cool fingers carded through his hair. "I… I need certain things," he muttered, bowing his head until their foreheads touched. "I… I would need…"

"You'll need to feed," Patton said plainly. "And you'll need a coffin at night," Patton nodded, grinning when Virgil looked back at him with surprise. "With soil from… well," he glanced outside. "From here."

"But how—" Together, their eyes fell on the old grimoire Patton had bartered for from the wizened couple on the other edge of the woods. "Oh."

"Will you stay?" Patton asked again, hope bubbling in his chest at the return of Virgil's smile.

He answered him with a kiss.

~

Patton's days soon fell into a pattern. All through that winter and for much of the spring, he would sleep when Virgil slept, then wake at the first owl's hoot of the evening. Most days, hungry days, Virgil insisted he slept alone, but some days… Those days after good nights when he'd found enough willing and generous to share a bit of their blood. Or hunting nights when Virgil found someone whose only goal was to hurt others, those days Virgil would open his arms and invite Patton to sleep with him.

As summer approached and the days grew longer, even those glorious times left Patton restless partway through Virgil's slumber and he would spend part of the day working on his potions. The protection charm worked flawlessly, rendering Virgil nearly undetectable to Hunters until he was safely out of their range. He had several new ideas to try, and the long, sunny days granted him plenty of time to both rest and work, researching, gathering herbs, crushing and mixing.

It had been a particularly productive day and Patton was startled by the owl outside his window. He'd never managed to make his way to bed. With a little laugh, he chewed some ginseng for a boost, then raced down to the cellar to greet Virgil when he woke.

"'Morning, Moonlight," he murmured, cool hands soothing over his sunburned cheeks. He'd spent a several hours hunting for green sunflower seeds and his face bore the proof.

"Good morning, love," Patton whispered back, leaning in for a kiss.

Sitting up, Virgil pressed his face into Patton's curls. "You've been outside today. You smell like the sun."

The longing in Virgil's voice was unmistakable and Patton held him tighter. "I've been working on something. A surprise for you, if it works."

"You always have the best surprises," he murmured, lips close to his ear. Virgil's head dipped lower, cool breath against his neck. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he pushed back, trembling. "I… I need—"

Giving Virgil a bit more space, Patton nodded but still offered his hand to help him up. "I'll be here when you return."

Virgil stared at his hand, moonlight glinting off the hint of teeth behind parted lips. He accepted the help, then dashed upstairs and outside.

Patton watched him go, then slowly followed him out of the cellar and to the kitchen. He made himself breakfast then returned to his work. The seeds were ready and so was he, gathering the remaining roots and the chanterelles he'd kept in quarantine under his bed. This potion took a careful hand and precise measurements, both in the preparation and to keep the draught safe and palatable for Virgil.

If the grimoire was right, the Sun's Dew would grant Virgil the time in the sun he so clearly craved.

Mind on his task and heart out in the woods, seeking a meal, Patton sprinkled the hulled seeds into his cauldron. He counted as they fell, then set down the mortar to press what remained.

He'd miscounted.

The potion bubbled, foam rising up to the lip of the cauldron and spilling out onto the table. Patton moved quickly to sop up the hot broth but the mixture was faster. It touched the flask of birchwood and exploded.

~

Sun kissed and still warm from the summer's day, Patton smelled of ginseng and fire and life. Blood thundered in his veins, a taste Virgil wished he could forget. A few desperate nights, when he'd returned weakened and starved from an unsuccessful hunt, he'd succumbed to sweet Patton's freely given flesh. Succumbed to his need and drank. He didn't feed much from him, more often than he should, less often than he longed to. Far less often Patton offered.

But this was a lucky—if short—night and Virgil escaped temptation. After several hours and with the scent of dawn in the air, he was finally sated by a common hunter he'd been tracking for three long weeks. Long enough to know with certainty the earth would not miss the tread of his boots on her soil.

Nor would his battered wife.

Virgil raced the sun home, crossing the threshold just as the first birdsong flitted out from the lake. He closed the door behind him with a sigh, greeting Patton's relieved smile with a laugh. "Yes, I know I cut that a little too close for comfort," he said, moving to his side once he'd finished drawing the long, heavy curtains over the front room's windows.

Patton blinked up at him with tired eyes, already dressed for bed. "You'll be more careful next time?"

Virgil nodded solemnly. "You have my word," he murmured, drawing his love close. He froze at Patton's tiny wince. "Have I hurt you?"

"No! No, of course not," Patton smiled, easing into the embrace. "I'm a little stiff from hunching over my workbench." They stood quietly together, listening to the whip-poor-wills outside.

With the warmth of the sun in his arms, his recent feed thrumming through his veins, Virgil hummed, a peace he'd been missing finally clicking into place. His head grew heavy and he rested his cheek against the top of Patton's head.

"You must be tired," Patton whispered, his own voice fatigued. "Would it be alright if I joined you tonight?"

"Please," Virgil murmured back, head bowed to meet his eyes. Sad clouds passed over Patton's eyes and Virgil leaned in for a soft kiss. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Nodding, Patton laid his head on his shoulder. "It will make tonight special."

~

That night's dreams were filled with blood.

Rich, salty, and hot. Under the blinding moonlight, Virgil waded through a steaming lake. He washed his face and hands in it, breathing in the life and strength of it.

The owl's cry woke him. In the complete blackness of his closed coffin, Patton was still curled close, head pillowed on his shoulder. He'd spent the whole slumber in his arms, a sweet gift on these long summer days. "Good morning, Moonlight," he whispered, pressing kisses into his hair. The scent of his blood was thick in the air, rising up from him with a fervor Virgil was not accustomed to in all but his deepest hunger. Patton drowsed, shifting weakly in his arms. "Moonlight?"

"Hm, love," he mumbled, head heavy against his chest.

Leaning as far back as the tiny space would allow, Virgil brushed the backs of his fingers over Patton's cheek.

His skin felt cool.

One arm cradling him close, Virgil pushed up, throwing open the lid to his coffin. He let it clatter to the floor, the ember's glow illuminating the sticky blood covering his hand. "No! No, I couldn't, I—" Virgil licked his lips, dry and tasteless. No, it hadn't been him. "Moonlight? Pat!" Holding him close, Virgil leapt out and settled Patton in front of the cellar furnace.

His shirt and sleep pants were soaked through with blood, as were Virgil's own clothes. But his neck and wrists were clean of wounds. "I'm sorry," Virgil muttered and, hands shaking, tore open his shirt.

Gashes littered the soft skin of his chest and belly, one angry and long, curling around just below his ribs. "Pat? Pat, what's happened?" Virgil looked up and saw Patton watching him past half-closed lids.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, voice horribly thin. "I… I couldn't heal it. I tried, I…" He shook his head once, eyes slipping shut.

"No!" Virgil roared, grabbing Patton's shoulders, "No, you can't just die, you—"

Jostled into half-consciousness, Patton's eyes half-opened again. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you."

"No, no no no no no!" Virgil shook his head, copper and salt making his head spin. "No, but I can take care of you. Pat? Pat, listen to me," he shook him again, willing him to stay alert long enough to say yes. "Please? Let me take care of you. All you need to do is drink."

"Drink?" he asked, so quiet Virgil had to lean down to hear.

Biting his own wrist, Virgil nodded, offering the wound. "Please," he whispered. Without a heart to pump it, his blood flowed slowly, a single drop welling at the edge of the wound.

Patton blinked up at him, each fall so slow Virgil feared it was the last. Finally, he parted his lips, soft pink tongue lapping at Virgil's skin.

"That's it, Moonlight, just like that," Virgil urged, a new warmth filling his chest as Patton's tentative movements turned purposeful and he drank in earnest. "Just like that."

Patton paused, head falling back against his arm, so Virgil stretched out next to him in front of the furnace. He pulled him close and raised his wrist to Patton's mouth again. "That's it, Moonlight. Now we can take care of each other."

Breaking away, lips and tongue rose red, Patton smiled weakly up at him. "Forever."

[tsspromptmonth]

Hello! I'm going to take a stab at finding a secret menu item. Ahem... I'd like to have a rooibos herbal tea with strawberry milk, a blend of peach and cranberry with crushed raspberries and topped with mulberry-flavoured whipped cream.

(Magic au with vampires, darkly romantic tone, Virgil/Patton ship, hiding a fatal injury, only one bed but the one bed is a coffin.)

Here's your payment, and thank you in advance!

I'm Awake Now - Enough To Share - Marriage to the Serpent King- Down the Rushy Glen

Order up!

So… the barista had to find a bigger cup to fit your order. Hope that's okay.

Taking Care of You by @edupunkn00b

[goodieghostyarchive]

A vamp sides doodle, featuring Cupcake, who always gets her way. And often times that means pestering Virgil. Anywhooo, feel free to check out my patreon!

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Finally finished one of the things with all the Plea For My New Self Characters in it! Woo! No reposting/reuploading, no editing, feeding to an AI, or otherwise taking this work. Thank you!

Based on a Scooby-Doo Meme but I think at this point it's barely recognizable compared to the original. Went a little cartoony this time for fun because of the scooby-dooness of it all.

[thebestworstidea]

"Hey Virge."

Virgil looked up from what he was doing. Normally, he wouldn't stop working to talk to anyone when he was on the clock- he took his work seriously.

But he was writing a pop-song, and it was driving him nuts.

He'd been given a phrase and a feeling and was trying to turn it into something worth hearing, while adhering to the bubbly pop psudo punk the client was going for.

Also it was Thomas, and the ghost had been a bit drifty lately, making conversation less frequent.

"Sup." He answered.

"I was wondering." Thomas did that thing he did where he wans't fully visible, but gave the impression he was perching on something- in this case, the edge of Virgil's dresser. "You're an excellent musician, and I've seen you writing all sorts of songs, and mixing music and everything."

"Thanks." Virgil said a little awkwardly. He knew he was pretty good, but it was still weird to hear it, even though that's mostly where he made his money.

"And you said you played in bands back when you lived in the city when someone bugged out."

"Played with this one band almost a year before they found a bassist that didn't suck. I was on their debut album." he agreed.

"How come you never had a band of your own?"

Virgil snorted, but suppressed actual laughter.

"Well first off- I am not front-man material. In the least."

"I suppose that you don't really like being stared at."

"Yes, that too. But that's not why."

Thomas tipped his head (just a bit too far making him look more like a cartoon of a person than a person) and raised his eyebrows. Virgil smiled without thinking, even if it was a little weird. Thomas had started doing things like that shortly after he started manifesting visually. Logan thought it had something to do with how he thought of himself, and one of the first things they'd learned about Thomas was that he really loved cartoons. So if he pictured himself as a cartoon version of himself, his visible form would reflect that.

Virgil wondered if, given time, Thomas might start looking entirely like a cartoon, as he forgot more about himself as a living person.

"One second." He sent a text out. He was pretty sure that Logan and Roman had gone to a museum to be snarky about an exhibit, but Patton was probably in the house. "Alright, if you really want to know, I can show you."

"Please, you have more musical talent in one tooth than I had in my whole body, and I did a lot of singing."

"Uh-huh." Virgil looked at the ghost skeptically. He went over to the door, opened it and called down stairs. "Hey Patton, I'm going to sing."

There was a faint strained whine and then a faint

"Have fun!" followed by a door closing.

"You can do it!" Roman called, a little closer. "I believe in you."

"Oh fuck off." Virgil retorted, and Roman laughed.

Thomas snorted, shifting in place and folding his arms.

"Now you're just being theatrical."

Virgil smiled sarcastically and hummed under his breath. Then he started singing

For a few moments Thomas felt justified. But then- it was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on why but it was wrong. Technically the melody and the tune were there, and he was hitting the notes. But it echoed and it warped and it just sounded wrong, like someone was purposefully playing with sliders on a mixing board.

Outside, Patton started howling, sounding a little hurt himself. Virgil stopped, coughed, and put his hand over his mouth looking a bit embarrassed. There were a few more baying howls, and then an apologetic sounding bark.

"It used to be I just was a little flat, you know? I know how music works." His voice sounded rough. "but not really vocalist quality. But then uh." He looked even more embarrassed. "Something happened, and now my voice does that when I sing. I don't mind that-" Virgil hastened to add. "Since I don't have to sing to play instruments or even write or mix music. But it sounds worse recorded, believe it or not."

"Well." Thomas flickered a bit, and gave a lop sided smile. "There's always death metal."

"A favorite of ghosts everywhere." Virgil agreed, and Thomas laughed himself invisible.

[teadood]

When ur a cool, angsty teen but ur actually 35 years old

[elguritch-art]

My crops are flourishing, my skin is clear, my sight is enhanced, life is great, all thanks to playing one very very tired vampire cowboy who's not being paid at all to put up with bullshit weekly ❤️🥰

Virgil Lawrence | He/Him | 212 Years Old | Ex-Sabbat Brujah Vampire

Session/Image Context below:

Mans got Blood Bonded to a really powerful Tzimisce and got forced piercings by their fleshcrafting as part of a community service deal. He wanted to kill them soooooo bad.

babysitting duty for the baby sabbat brujah so she doesnt attack another party member :/

dude hes not being paid enough or at all to deal with another party member's toxic ex that keeps firebombing the coterie’s domains

At least he gets to go to daysleep with his horse for company, shit sucks in boston right now

[bisexualvampires]

I would burn the world to bring some heat to you.

(more under the cut)

past dm you are so real. :)

[weirdlookindog]

"I took a mirror into the tent, and looked at Count Woerz in it"

Virgil Finlay (1914-1971) - Illustration for Thorp McClusky's 'Loot of the Vampire'

(Weird Tales - July, 1936)

[marksandrec]

Marks and Rec: Misc #2607

The stakes have never been higher. (Dialogue from tumblr; suggested by @leeshajoy.)

[oliversrarebooks]

you shouldn't have

tw: mind control, hypnosis, demeaning language, dehumanization

December 1986

Light, heat, and an unfairly delicious smell poured out from a restaurant's door as Phil passed by. It was Christmas Eve, and he was freezing his goddamn ass off in his worn-out sweatpants, battered coat, and leaking shoes. His empty stomach didn't help, either. The library had already closed down for the night, and most of his usual haunts where he could warm up were also closing early on account of the holiday.

Some fucking time to get his heat shut off. Merry Christmas to him.

He'd scrounged up enough money for a shitty hot dog from a convenience store, which wasn't nearly enough to quiet his growling stomach, and his hunger definitely wasn't helping him deal with the cold. At this rate he might as well go home to his cold apartment, curl up in bed under as many blankets as he could find, and hope for better luck tomorrow.

He passed another restaurant, this one a high-end affair, all done up in garlands and ribbons and twinkling lights. The people inside were sipping wine and laughing, and he couldn't help but stare in envy as some rich asshole cut into an enormous juicy steak. Phil hadn't had a steak since --

No. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. Going back was not an option.

But of course, now that the seed had been planted, his stupid brain couldn't help but poke at it again and again. A soft, warm bed. All the food he could eat. A hot shower.

And the bloodsucking asshole who'd put him under a spell and drained his blood for the better part of six years.

That vampire was the reason he couldn't hold down a proper job any more. All that time spent in a servile daze had given him permanent brain fog, not to mention an unexplainable gap on his resume, and all of his skills were woefully out of date by the time he got back to the real world. Trying to go back to being an accountant was out of the question. Instead, he struggled to hold down a minimum wage job stocking shelves at the grocery store. It was barely enough money to make rent and eat, and that was before he got fired for showing up late one too many times.

And so, here he was on Christmas, broke as fuck with no future.

The frigid wind howled through the buildings, cutting him to the bone, and Phil pulled his coat tighter and started to walk back to his apartment. He tried to put the vampire out of his mind and ignore the darkened shop windows full of things he couldn't afford. He'd fought like hell trying to free his mind of the vampire's hypnotism enough to escape. There was no way he could just give up and go back, not when he could take his life back.

And after eight months, what did he have to show for it?

Fuck. He really, really didn't want to spend Christmas in his ice-cold apartment, shivering under his covers, ignoring his stomach. More than that, he really didn't want to go searching for another low paying job he hated, spending his days doing mind numbing chores, then going home and slumping in front of the TV, only to wake up the next day and do it all over again.

Phil stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change, glancing in the direction of the vampire's stupid fancy brownstone where he'd been confined for so long, only leaving when the vampire wanted to show him off at a party, or have a servant to carry his shopping, or take a convenient meal with him on vacation. The place wasn't very far away. Maybe a ten or fifteen minute walk from here.

He forced himself to look forward and cross the street. It didn't matter that the vampire spoiled him with a rich and comfortable life, he'd been a prisoner. The vampire had his mind half reduced to mush, convinced that he lived to be a servant and a bloodbag, fawning and simpering at his undead feet. Any resistance was met with another round of hypnosis to keep him docile and obedient. He'd been happy, sure, in the way a loyal and stupid dog is happy, smiling blankly when the vampire treated him as a dumb little pet. The thought of returning to that made him sick. It didn't matter how bad things his life was now, nothing could be worse than that.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself. It was hard to believe it on nights like this, when the icy wind whipped through his threadbare clothes as if he were wearing nothing. Sometimes it was hard to convince himself that a soul-sucking job was really so much more noble than being a vampire's personal blood supply. He had a far higher standard of living when he worked for the vampire, too. It only cost his free will.

Phil found himself stopped on the street corner, trying to keep himself from doing what he was so sorely tempted to do. The filthy, melting snow was leaking into his shoes and soaking his socks, his toes turning numb. His stomach ached. His head throbbed. A woman in a hurry, carrying four big shopping bags, jostled into him, almost knocking him over.

When he regained his footing, his heavy, sore feet began to sleepwalk towards that old brownstone, as if he were in a dream.

His throat felt dry, his hands clammy. He couldn't really be doing this, just to get a hot meal and a warm roof over his head. He couldn't give up, not after working so hard to escape.

The light turned and he kept walking down the familiar streets to an all too familiar gilded cage.

This was crazy. Even if he did want to do this -- and he didn't -- he didn't even know if the vampire would want to take him back. Phil had run away, after all. The vampire might turn him away out of scorn, or worse, decide to punish him for his disobedience. While the vampire had never been overtly cruel to Phil, there was no doubt that he had cruelty in him, and Phil didn't want to be on the receiving end.

It wasn't as if he could just show up on the vampire's doorstep and be welcomed back with open arms, everything back to the way it was. Just because the vampire had generously indulged Phil's insubordinate attitude in the past, finding it amusing -- just because the vampire's only punishment was hypnotizing the resistance out of him -- just because he sometimes would lie awake at night wondering if the vampire missed him --

He stopped. He was there. Despite arguing with himself every step of the way, he arrived in front of the vampire's home, his former prison.

There was a warm glow coming from inside. The vampire was certainly home. All Phil had to do was knock, and he'd see that awful smug face again. He wanted to puke.

He had to walk away right now before he did something he regretted, probably for the rest of his life. It had taken all of his willpower and a lucky break for him to pull free of the hypnotic spell long enough to form an escape plan. There was no way the vampire would allow that oversight to happen again.

And hell, the vampire might be angry at him for escaping and subject him to some horrible punishment just for showing up. Maybe he'd even been replaced as a thrall. It had been eight months, after all.

Phil didn't want to acknowledge how the idea of being replaced made him feel.

So there were many good reasons why he absolutely should not climb those steps and knock on the door, why he should turn around now and go back to his cold, empty, messy studio apartment for the most depressing Christmas Eve ever. It was better than turning his life back over to the vampire. Wasn't it?

As Phil stood there staring at the brownstone and fighting with himself, the wind began to blow harder, the sky opened up, and freezing cold raindrops began to dot the sidewalk. He swore under his breath, already getting soaked.

Fuck it.

He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, trying not to shiver as the rain came down harder. He could still walk away. It wasn't too late --

The door opened, and there he was, looking just the same as the night Phil had escaped -- thick dark curls, deep and inviting eyes, self-satisfied smile. The vampire was dressed in one of his thick velvet bathrobes and it looked as if he'd just stepped out of his shower. Phil hated that he knew that the vampire had changed his shampoo just by the scent of him.

"Phil," he said, eyes going wide.

"Virgil."

And there it was, that insufferable smug grin. "Well, well, well, I wasn't expecting a Christmas present."

"You don't celebrate Christmas," said Phil. Oh, this was a mistake. Virgil being happy to see him was perhaps the worst outcome of all.

"I might have to start," he said, stepping aside and beckoning Phil forward. "Come in. You surely don't want to be out in that."

Every warning bell in Phil's head went off as he stepped over the threshold of the vampire's home, leaving behind the freezing rain and entering into surroundings that were all too familiar, Virgil's taste for the expensive and avant-garde on full display. Virgil wasted no time in invading Phil's personal space, standing so close and hooking one soft finger under his chin to lift it.

Phil averted his gaze from the vampire's eyes. He may have returned here willingly, but he wasn't going to just submit to Virgil's hypnotic spell like that. He still had some dignity.

"You're soaking wet, dear," Virgil purred. "You must be absolutely freezing in those gross things. Why don't you go upstairs and get changed into something warm? Then we can have a little chat."

"A chat?" Phil asked, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Yes, dear, a chat. If not that, what did you come here for?"

Phil's face felt heated even as the rest of him was cold. "It's not like that. I just…" God, he didn't want to admit to the fucking vampire how badly his attempt at taking care of himself had failed, how he'd been fired from three jobs, how his heat had been shut off, how little food and sleep he'd had in the last few weeks. He knew that Virgil must see the failure all over him, even if he didn't say it. He was dressed in ratty clothes and sopping wet, leaving a puddle on the marble floor. "It's Christmas Eve, and I didn't know where else to go."

Virgil's grin at that statement was positively predatory, making Phil feel like a mouse under the paw of a cat.

"You don't have to look so smug about it," Phil said.

"Oh, dear, you know me better than that. Of course I do. Now why don't you run upstairs and get changed like a good boy, hm?"

Ugh, that condescension. Why the hell had he come back here? Now he was stuck in the house with Virgil who was certainly going to try and put Phil back under his sway. He'd known that, of course, but the vampire's smile was what really drove it home. He probably wasn't leaving this place of his own free will again.

So he begrudgingly climbed the stairs, not even bothering to ask Virgil where he should get changed, knowing before he'd opened the door that his bedroom would be untouched since the night he'd escaped. It was all there, just as he'd left it -- the basket of knitting with the unfinished sweater, the fancy binoculars and telescope Virgil had bought him that were so sophisticated that Phil had barely learned to use them, the overflowing bookcase, the black and white TV with the rabbit ear antenna. The only difference was that the bed had been made, and god, did it ever look inviting. The second floor of the vampire's house was even warmer than the first, almost stiflingly so, and Phil could feel the cold melting away as he stripped off his clothes and left them in a wet heap.

The wardrobe was the same, too, full of disgustingly expensive designer clothing, all picked out by the vampire. Half of it was garish shit that Phil would never normally wear that Virgil had bought so that they could match. Phil pulled a plain black t-shirt and cotton pants, the simplest and most comfortable things he could find, and put them on.

He couldn't stop himself from flopping onto the bed, trying to keep his heavy eyes from drifting shut. He knew he couldn't go to sleep here -- Virgil would certainly take advantage of that, and besides, the vampire seemed to want to chat, whatever that was going to be. But the bed was warm, and comfortable, and fitted out with the softest blankets and sheets…

He was staring up at the ceiling he'd stared at so many times before, dazed and drowsy after the vampire fed on him, the throbbing in his neck washed out by mind controlled bliss. And now, here he was again, and he'd spent so much time fighting with himself and daydreaming about food and warmth that he didn't even have an exit plan. Avoid looking into his eyes, try not to let his voice lull away his senses, ask him real nicely pretty please don't enthrall me again -- good luck with any of that.

God, he was so fucking stupid. His stomach growled at the same time a yawn was forced from his lips -- being hungry and exhausted always caused him to make idiotic decisions. Really, he should just leave. Put his own clothes back on, rush out the door, and hope Virgil couldn't be bothered to chase after him in the freezing rain. It was a long shot, but the only way he could --

"Knock knock!" said Virgil, opening the door without knocking. "I'm having Bernie make you an absolutely enormous breakfast. You're welcome."

Phil's stomach made an unholy noise. "You don't need to do that."

"Nonsense. I could hear your stomach from downstairs, you know. Now come along to the kitchen." Virgil grabbed Phil's wrists and pulled him to his feet, ushering him towards the door. "It'd be rude to waste Bernie's cooking, and I know you have better manners than that, because I trained them into you."

Phil dug in his heels. "I'm not going to be your thrall again, Virgil."

"Oh, dear, who said anything about that?" said Virgil. "I certainly didn't propose that. I think someone's desires are causing him to get ahead of himself."

"I do not desire --"

"Hush, hush, come along now."

With no better options, Phil allowed the vampire to drag him off to the kitchen, where he was slapped in the face by the mouthwatering aroma of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. All rational thought went out the window. He hadn't eaten a meal like that in weeks.

Bernie, Virgil's former favorite thrall and current housekeeper, was standing by the stove, with a saccharine smile and daggers in her eyes. "Welcome back, Phil," she said through clenched teeth.

"Good to see you, Bernie. Thanks for breakfast," Phil mumbled, withering before her gaze. Bernie had always been jealous of him. That might make her an ally in Phil's plan to leave after breakfast, except that the only thing stronger than her jealousy was her starry-eyed devotion to Virgil. She'd only ever poisoned him once, and that was when Virgil was mad at him, and she'd relented and called an ambulance before he actually died.

Of course, Virgil was probably mad at him now…

"Eat up," she said.

Phil groaned and tucked into the food, all thoughts of potential poisoning disappearing as he ate. He really did need this.

"So," said Virgil with a terrifying gleam in his eye, "Christmas Eve and nowhere else to go, was it? I take it your little human life has been disappointing so far? Not matching up to your hopes and dreams?"

"My life is amazing. Couldn't be better." Phil stubbornly looked at his rapidly disappearing mountain of eggs and not at the vampire.

"Oh, no doubt." Virgil rested his head against his palm, shamelessly watching Phil eat. "But I couldn't help but notice how unhealthy you look." He reached out a hand, brushing Phil's cheek and directing Phil's gaze to the deep pool of his eyes. They were so dark, so captivating, so soothing, that Phil found himself swaying in a daze just from a moment's contact.

Phil shook his head, pulling out of Virgil's grasp. "You don't need to do that."

"But I want to. I know you must have missed it."

He stuffed his mouth full of eggs. "No, I didn't."

"Mmm." Virgil leaned back, appraising. "You did hurt me, you know. You betrayed me, leaving without so much as a goodbye or a note, not even trying to talk to me to work out your troubles. And after I had spoiled you, I trusted you --"

"You didn't trust me," said Phil, slamming down his fork. "You hypnotized me."

"I quieted your anxious mind. I helped you relax and enjoy life."

"You took my freedom away!"

"Ah, yes, your precious freedom, so very important. Your freedom to live your amazing life." Virgil's facade cracked, allowing his anger to leak through. "Your life that was so amazing that you were out wandering in the freezing cold rain on Christmas Eve, starving and desperate."

"Fine. You want me to admit that my life sucks? Yeah, it does. It sucks," said Phil. "And that's mostly your fault. You took six years from my life that I can't explain to anyone without looking crazy, and the spell you put on my brain makes it so I can't concentrate and can't hold down a serious job."

"I allegedly did all of those terrible things to you and yet you're here, aren't you, choosing to spend Christmas with me, the big scary vampire."

"I make poor decisions," said Phil with a huff. "We're alike in that way."

Virgil laughed. "So we are."

"So you're angry at me. I don't really care," Phil lied.

"Perhaps I am, more than I expected," said Virgil. "But I've also realized how much the entire situation was my fault. After all, I was the one who was so caught up in my own drama that I neglected your poor mind and allowed it to become unmoored. It's a mistake I don't intend to make again."

And there it was. "I said I'm not interested in becoming your thrall again."

"Oh, you did say that, and it's such a pity. I really am quite fond of you, despite everything. But I don't give up easily on what I want." He reached out and nudged Phil's face back to look into his eyes. "I think I can get you to see things my way."

"Uh…" Those eyes seemed even larger, more beautiful, more mesmerizing, and the temptation to curl up and rest in them was eroding Phil's convictions. He looked away with far more difficulty this time, standing up despite his knees shaking. "I know what you're trying to do, Virgil, and it's not going to…"

"Hush hush hush now." The vampire pressed down on his shoulders, pushing him back into the chair. "It's time to relax. Just relax and obey, dear."

"Um --" Phil had forgotten, or perhaps underestimated, or just pretended like he didn't know how strong the vampire's powers were. His mind was fogging, filled with memories of subservience, following the vampire around and doing his petty biddings like an obedient little lap dog. How humiliating. How blissful…

"That's right, just look me in the eyes, if you please, dear," he said, his words like snakes coiling around Phil. "There you are. That's a good boy. A good, obedient boy."

Mustering all of his willpower, Phil managed to push the vampire away, overturning his chair and falling to the floor. He'd made such a huge mistake coming here. He was going to be a thrall again, charmed into mindlessness by Virgil, docile and fawning…

"Ah-ah-ah, none of that," said Virgil calmly, picking up the chair with one hand and pulling Phil back onto it with the other. "There will be no resisting, dear. No fighting your better. Just relaxing. Relax and obey."

Once more, Phil found his gaze tethered to the vampire's eyes. "I -- I won't --"

"You will," the vampire insisted, stroking Phil's cheek and running his hand through his hair. "You're such a good boy, so obedient, I know you are. You don't want to fight me. You want to know your place. You want to sink into bliss."

"I…" He tried to struggle, but his limbs felt like jelly, barely attached to his body. His jaw dropped as his eyelids drooped, losing himself in a daze, swaying along as the vampire played with his hair.

"Now tell me the truth, dear. You did miss me, didn't you?"

"I… missed you…"

"And you missed having my firm hold guiding your poor, anxious mind, didn't you?"

"Uh…" One small struggle, and then it was over. "Uh-huh…"

"That's right, dear. You don't want to have to worry about jobs and bills any more, do you?"

That was an easy one. "No…"

"That's right, it's all too much for your tired little brain. Won't it be so nice to have me take care of everything?"

"Yeah…"

"Good boy. Of course it will. Now it's time for you to relax. I'm hungry too, you know, and my hospitality isn't free."

Phil slumped in his chair, offering no resistance as Virgil tilted his head to the side and brushed cold fingers against his neck. The sensation was familiar, almost comforting. He knew his place.

"What a wonderful Christmas present," said Virgil, his cold breath on Phil's neck, breathing deep of his scent. "You shouldn't have. You really, really shouldn't have."

Rare Bookseller Side Stories Masterlist

Thanks for reading my self-indulgent vampire stories, and happy holidays!

[bodythieves]

“the story of daniel, the devil’s minion, or the boy from interview with the vampire”

—

Interview with the Vampire S2E5 (2024) x The Vampire Lestat (1985) x Dante and Virgil (1850)

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

Saw these poses and brain went "draw for Wolfsbane au" and thus... here we are.

A bookworm who fell asleep while reading.

Roman finally got to tag along to a market as his tiny self. Virgil and Remus getting surprised by some rain.

Original poses by Mellon_soup on Instagram

Pose 1 I Pose 2 I Pose 3

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Words: 8,674 Ships Featured: Ambiguous Virgil/Patton, Virgil/Logan, Virgil/Roman Genre: Gay Vampire Fluff

Chapter 38 - Miracle

[starshard17]

Happy Prinxiety Week! ❤️💜

Day 3 Vampire AU

@prinxietyweek

[bl00dknight]

Dante and Virgil— William-Adolphe Bouguereau ✧*:･ﾟ

Cold and wretched yearning, a violent upheaval

Ravenous accumulation, arteries flowing and folding open