A closer look at musings from 2 people obsessed with cool stuff

Doctor Who Ficlet

Wed, 06 Jan 2010 20:03:31 GMT

Was perusing my personal library and found this. I like it, but I don't know about persuing it. However, it's fun, kinda dark, and sexy. Kind of The Doctor/OMC, but soooo not a Mary Sue

Lemme know what you think :D

The tall man scowled as he shoved the disgruntled young boy out of the blue box. “I don’t take on petty criminals,”

“I just wanted a souvenir!” the boy shouted back petulantly as he stood back. The door to the blue box faded as the wind from nowhere began to blow, knocking things about his dusty little apartment until, with a last unearthly screech, the blue box faded. The boy scowled, slumping back on the kitchen counter with a sigh.

He didn’t have long to dwell on his abandonment, because the phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling for hours!” came his mothers undignified squawking.

After a few minutes, he’d been guilt tripped into going to his mothers house, grabbing his jacket, brushing back a months worth of hair growth, and locked up his apartment with a grin. Time travel was an incredible thing. Too bad that pouf hadn’t seen fit to let him nab a few things, but then, he couldn’t blame the guy. Stealing a diamond the size of a fist did seem a little presumptuous, especially if it hadn’t been an earthly diamond.

Half an hour later, the boy was no longer grinning, but laughing insanely as he and a few buddies ditched the reception, got on an airplane and flew away. He didn’t know where they were going, all he wanted was for there to be alcohol.

The flight was amusing, as drunk as he and three of his friends were, flying in first class off of stolen money, singing songs and buying the petit bottles of liquor, or rather often than not stealing them.

They landed in New Orleans at half past 11 at night, piled into a taxi cab and barked for the best pub. The taxi had almost passed the bar by when the boy had redirected him, shrugging off the taxi drivers mumbled warning about the place. They wanted to go there, and that’s where they would go.

That’s where I met them, which was how I’d met Him. But Him, I’ll get to later.

They came into my bar at midnight on the spot and came barreling in, everyone’s heads turning to watch the drunken, English idiots as they ordered beer and began to loudly complain about it, though that didn’t stop them from ordering a few pitchers more.

They couldn’t do much more than blink and smile up at me as I walked to their table with an offer for stronger stuff and a wink, but they followed me to the best of their abilities. My other girls grinned, singling out boys from the herd, but I kept one. He just made me think ‘special’ made me whisper it as I led him up stairs and into my inner sanctum while I was working. Testing the word. Special. Special. My other girls would take care of the buddies, but this one was mine.

I fed him absinthe and chartreuse, watching him giggle and grin, staring at the bright knick-knacks my girls adorned my room with. Left to my own devices, the walls would be blank, covered with plastic. Easier to clean up.

I crawled on top of him, watching him giggle as I slid on top of him. He was so young, he still had zits. “Wanna see my key?” he asked, breath heavy with green.

“Sure little boy, show me your key,” I nearly rolled my eyes. Key? That was a new name. Right. No, it was really a key, bright, shiny and polished despite his grubby hands.

I made to hold it but he pulled it back. “Used to belong to a special man. He’ll find me one day to take it back. Then he might take me back,”

“Of course he will darlin’,” I purred, feeling my hands itch. Soon…

“You could come to… we’d travel the stars together,” he kept looking up at the little tin wind chime of stars and moons. “Travel the stars…”

He kept staring at them as I bit into his neck and drank his blood, killing him softly and slowly. He died in my arms, a peaceful smile on his face, and I shut his eyes. “You’re in the stars now, darlin’ boy,” I whispered. I saw something out of the corner of my eye and looked down. It was that key. He’d held it tightly until death stole him from his body.

I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It was warm, but the warmth seemed to come from it. I unhooked a length of chain from my neck and put the key on it, letting it slip beneath my shirt. I rang the bell for Masoka to come up and get the body, turning away as his greedy eyes lit up. He did love all of the fresh meals I provided for him.

As the ogre trundled away with the boy’s body, I pressed the key to my skin beneath my shirt, wondering about the man who would find it. The boy hadn’t been lying when he said the man would come. I sighed, turning away, wishing I hadn’t killed him so soon… I might’ve chased away the loneliness for a few hours or so before I’d killed him. I turned to the mirror, running hands through my hair.

Perhaps I still could.

My name is Skoll… that isn’t my real name, but I gave that up when I was turned all those years ago. I’m a vampire, and this is the story of how I met the Doctor.

I ran a whore house and bar in New Orleans. The French Quarter to be exact, and it was a beautiful place.

I’ve heard that Las Vegas is called Sin City, and if that’s true, then the French Quarter is Hell.

I walk the streets and I see the whores, the johns, the pimps, the druggies looking to score just a little more before they quit, and next to them all I see the beautiful children. I love watching the young boys and girls decked out in leather, torn black vintage clothes, and funeral veils, their hair teased and tortured in every color of the rainbow as long as it was mixed with black. Their eyes were young trying to be old circled in thick smudges of black makeup, their skin paper white, and every one of them wished they were me.

But I can tell you it wasn’t all like they imagined. They thought that being a vampire was some dark, gothic romanticism of death, with blood thrown in as a substitute for food. But they were wrong. They didn’t suspect that we weren’t even from this Earth. I was, though, so I can’t throw too many stones.

But my father had been a Plasmavore, my mother a human woman, though of course, I didn’t even know what the word Plasmavore was until He told me, thousands of years into my life. He’d drunk too much junkie blood, and to see what it was like, fucked my mother. She wound up pregnant and died because I tore her nearly inside out at birth. My first victim, and if it hadn’t been for her, they would have known I wasn’t human and thrown me off the nearest cliff. My father didn’t know I was born, and so I was left to tend myself.

This was over a thousand years ago.

As an orphan in ancient Rome, before Caesar ascended and made it an Empire, I became a boy whore as soon as I could string words together.

But when I became ill, I was prescribed blood and milk. Human blood and milk. It worked… and soon it was all I would take, each batch containing more and more blood. Soon, my eye teeth fell out and new, sharper ones grew in. The humans didn’t know what to make of me, but knowing who and what I was, knowing that I brought in a lot of the clientele, they didn’t see why I had to leave. They just made me hide the teeth. Knocking them out didn’t work. They just grew back.

I was the toast of Rome for the longest time, until the Vikings came and stole me away.

They thought me a demon, working the whore houses of Rome and preying on the evil men there.

But the witch of their tribe thought me something else. She tried to wean me off of blood, trying to give me cattle blood instead. When I began to grow cattle fur, they put me back on human. Most of the tribe stayed away but her. She understood me. Human blood was my glue, holding me together just like everyone else. I just got my blood in a different way.

She renamed me Skoll, and made me the evil doer for the King of Vikings.

They taught me to fight, and sent me out when outright battle couldn’t be found. It made them hate me, but I lived with that too. Besides, I never slept, not during the day, not at night, so my guard was always up.

And so here I was, after making my way across the seas, one of the few half Plasmavores on the Earth. I knew there were more, there had to be.

But until I found my own, well, New Orleans was my kinda town.

I passed by the kid taking money at the front doors, and he didn’t even notice me, though a girl made some kind of comment about how tall I was. I went and took my place in the corner of the bar, the bartender setting my usual drink down in front of me without a word, and I watched the kids flow in.

Beautiful, the lot of them. Each one, a parading death metal or gothic peacock, strutting and trying to act more knowledgeable in the world of the beyond than the next. Some I unsettled because of my over large eyes, some I intrigued, others, I could smell their heart rates speed up when we locked eyes.

I was just singling out a pretty little boy in a leather jacket with a Ramones cloth poster pinned to his back when He walked in.

Anyone looking at him knew he didn’t belong here. He was well dressed, thin, a little pale but not paper-white, his dark brown hair slicked up in a half-assed pompadour. Not overtly handsome, but classically striking. His slight frame was hidden beneath a massive coat, and he had beat up converse sneakers poking out from beneath his expensive pinstripe slacks.

But to me, he was like a slap in the face. I knew him… from my past…

Then we locked eyes, and I saw his widen a fraction. I saw those eyes before, staring at me, timeless in their grief and sorrow and rage… the day the City of Seers had fallen and the demon under the mountain vomited fire… “You…” we whispered.

He hurried for me, trying to part the sea of children flooding for the dancefloor as the band keyed up, and I leapt from my seat, sailing past the boy I’d been watching and ran past everyone, out the backdoor and scaling up a fire escape to perch and watch.

He didn’t disappoint me, just banged through the door, looking wildly around, cursing and running long fingers through his gelled hair, making it stick up in all directions. Then he pulled out the wand.

Before he pulled out the silver and blue wand, I’d doubted… because that would make him almost as old as I was… perhaps older… I’d only been 18 at the time and here he looked mid-thirties…

I landed behind him just as he turned it on, that familiar buzzing. He turned, pointing it at me and jumped, surprised to find me watching him. “Oh… um… sorry have we met before?” he asked, so terribly British I almost felt like laughing.

“Yes we have… you destroyed my home,”

“You sure that was me?” he asked, looking more than a little guilty.

I smiled, lips closed. “Oh quite sure. The family I worked for, you destroyed their house, made the monster from Vesuvius come forth beneath our floors, left us all to die…”

“Vesuvi-,” his eyes widened. “You!”

I grabbed his collar and lifted him into the air, slamming him into the grungy wall. “You left everyone there to suffer for your actions!”

“Then how did you survive?” he asked, grunting.

I slid him back down to nose level, a little lower than me in fact. “I ran… I’m a little faster than humans… and long lived… and so it seems are you, why you haven’t even changed clothes, how can that be one wonders.”

“What are you?” he demanded, eyes sharp. Those old eyes. So familiar.

“Are you in the position to ask questions, Doctor?” I growled, baring my teeth. The backdoor banged open and we both turned to the intruder.

“You guys ain’t having sex, are you?” the bored sounding girl asked. “Cuz if you are take it home,”

“Go away,” I snarled. She did, hurriedly. I turned back to him. “You killed my family there…”

He shoved my hands off of me, so calm despite the fact that I was about to slaughter him. “I had to do what I did to save this planet, thanks much. I didn’t like it at all, or take any amount of pleasure in it, so you can just banish that thought from your head.” His glare turned to a quizzical frown as he pulled out a pair of glasses. “What are you?” He turned the little wand towards me, making it whir. “5786-2… But that’s miles away, what’re you doing here?”

“What are you talking about, Doctor?” I snarled, completely, for the first time in my life unnerved.

“But you’re a Plasmavore… Can’t be… you aren’t a whole Plasmavore!” he gaped at me, and I sagged, thunderstruck, as he went on like the news wasn’t something I’d been without for my whole life. He scanned me with the fitfully buzzing thing, his eyes lighting up as he danced around me like I was a exciting new science project. “Looks like the father had a bit of fun, didn’t he. Got drunk…” he sighed shaking his head, then finally noticed my face. “Oh dear…”

“You… you know… what I am?” he must’ve been very confused when I slumped into him, pinning him to the wall and hugging him to me. “I’ve been alone for so long… not knowing what I am… all I knew was I was different… and no one else was…” I pulled back. “Come with me,”

“Er, bit leery of Plasmavores, you know…” he said.

I tugged on his hand. “Doctor, you’re the only person on this Earth who knows who and what I am… I would never harm you…” he blinked, really looking at me, and nodded. He believed me.

I took him back to my home, my hiding place in the whore house, chasing off the girls as they neared scenting opportunities and led him into my home. There I sat him down and told him everything, my life, my pain, why I never aged.

It was he who told me the names and places of where my species lived, why they needed blood, how incredibly unlikely my birth had been. I had to make him repeat a lot of it, and he talked like it was going out of fashion, but finally I knew what I was.

I sat back, knees to my chest, and felt a hum of happiness for the first time in a long time. Knowing what I was was a great thing… I turned to him. “So, Doctor of the Past, what brings you to me? Or are you just interested in male whores?” I frowned, glancing around. “Did you not have a redhead with you? The Celt woman?”

His gaze turned inward. “I took her back to her home… not long ago. After the Earth was towed back to it’s orbit.”

“That was you?”

“Yeah,” he had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Those metal things were here too. I took my girls down into our catacombs to escape them. We lost a lot of good clients,” I growled.

He gave me a look. “I had nothing to do with the problem, I only fixed it. Actually, Donna fixed it…” he looked somber again.

I cocked my head at him. “Were you lovers?”

He paled and shook his head vehemently. “No, we weren’t together, why does everyone always think we’re together?” he rolled his eyes, rubbing them and blushing furiously before scratching the back of his neck. “Actually I was looking for a former… friend of mine. He took something of mine… and I’d like to have it back,” he nodded to my neck. then his gaze darkened and he looked me square in the eyes. I shivered, they were so intense. “I’m assuming I won’t be seeing that particular friend ever again?”

I pulled the chain and key out, letting it catch the light before looking past it to him. “Not likely… but from what I gather, you could always go back in time,”

He held out his hand. “Give it back, please.”

“What makes you think I’ll give it back, Doctor?” I asked, smiling so all of my teeth showed.

His intense gaze flickered, and I smelled a faint whiff of fear.

“I’ll give it freely with no trouble on one condition… take me with you…” I husked, my eyes eager.

His face closed down. “I don’t think that would be wise on my part…”

“Stereo typing me already, Doctor?” I cocked my head.

“You’ve killed in here, I can smell it.” He nodded to my room. “I can smell almost all of them, there’s too many to guess.”

I shrugged and leaped. He fell onto his back with a cry, trying to pull his wand, a sonic screwdriver he said it was, but I was faster. I pinned his wrists with one hand and his lower body with my own, making it all so intimate as I settled snugly between his legs. “I’m stronger… faster… I don’t sleep, I don’t wither… and I’m over a thousand years old…” his eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about that, obviously. “You said you were 700?” I asked lightly. He nodded. I grinned. “You’re a baby to me, Time Lord…” I released his hands and placed the key in them, still pressed so intimately to him. “Take me with you, and I’ll see that you get to be my age, alive and well… just take me away from here…”

He swallowed hard, and I smelled his nerves as he tried to get a handle on them. It must’ve been hard with my laying on top of him like this. “Fine… I’ll take you somewhere… but once… I don’t trust you at all,”

“And well you shouldn’t, Doctor, killers don’t trust each other.”

His eyes blackened, and his anger spiked. “I’m not a killer,”

I cocked my head at him, smiling. “Liar…”

He made to push me off and I sealed our lips together, quickly, before pulling him up with me. He glared at me and my pleasantly beaming self before taking the key and walking, leaving me to pull my jacket back on and trail after him, humming.

I WROTE A BOOK

Sun, 03 Jan 2010 01:42:41 GMT

But you already knew that.

Yes peeps, this is some shameless plugging, but it's for a good cause. I'm getting Keeping Up Appearances, now called Dead Man Balding, published!

It's been sent in and is now going through the editing process, but I'd like permission to write some thank yous for you, my writing group. You know who you are :D But in celebration of the publishin's, I'm putting out all of the artwork I did for the story

So Cheers

Work safe

THis whole thing started when I overheard Colin say that one of the roles he'd wished he'd had was a vampire on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This was a prelim sketch, done shortly after watching Casablanca on TCL

Someone, I think it was Crabbymonkey perhaps, requested a picture of Colin and Jeff bookended in costume.

Character concept sketch of Jeff and the evil, now dead, Master of Chicago, Maxine.

Character concept sketch of Ryan and Denny. Ryan's nose is huge, but that's to be expected

A finished product. Not one of my finest, but I like it.

Thanks. Buy my book!

Not Work Safe

Tue, 29 Dec 2009 18:45:14 GMT

Okay, zo, here's teh thing. Thanks to my lovely lab assistant Saiya Tina, I've learned that none of my art is showing on wlfanart. So I'm just gonna start posting my shit on my page willy nilly.

Comments are appreciated, as is asking permission for favoriting or nabbing the pic for some nefarious reason, of which I'm sure there'll be a few :D

Love to all
-PD

Preliminary sketch. I love Colin in drag, sue me

Finished product, with which I am thoroughly in love.

Sex sex sex

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 20:55:17 GMT

It's all I seem to write about. But then, it's fun. Hmmm

My boss and I are close. She's cool, worked as a prison guard in a max prison, has a huge boob job, smokes pot, and invites me into her merriement. Which is funny, because she laughs like a jersey girl when high.

She got blasted one day while we were at work and no customers were in, so we locked the door and she showed me how she gives a proper blow job to her man. I laughed too hard at one point and coughed potato chips everywhere. Don't knock it, it bloody hurts. She said the key thing is to spread their legs so far they can't really move and then stroke them lightly. I think that's dirty pool. But then that's me

But I've noticed something when people start talking to me about sex. The happiest couples have orgasms, and the ones who don't make you get booger icicles from standing in the same room with them. Not that they're without passion, certainly not. I know several passionate people trapped in orgasm-less marriages or relationships. The scary thing I've noticed is that young people, mostly girls, don't know what their relationship is missing. They know when they fuck that they don't come, but that couldn't be why she's beginning to resent him. It just couldn't.

Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, and people need to come.

I leave you with this thought

Wicked for a Day

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 19:00:56 GMT

I was the Wicked Witch of the West for a day!

I was called up by the people who're fixing up the Pix theater in downtown Nampa Boise. They're turning it into a dinner theater type set up, and a major venue in the downtown area that's been there since the 1940's. They're hosting a gala event to help raise money for fixin's and the theme was Wizard of Oz

Then we find out that the Edwards Theater is doing a special showing of the Wizard on their IMAX screen, so we went down in our complete glory! Twas fun. Small children were afraid of me.

The shoes. Two sizes too big but they gave them to me anyway! I had to wear thick winter socks, but they were still awesome to have. So much for breaking my black shoe fetish off

Did my own makeup, and the green was so cheap I bought two just for giggles. It got really oily tho early on, so that part sucked

For some reason they had an iron statue chillin on a park bench, so myself and Glinda aka Lila had some fun with it

Fanart for Graciewoo NC17!Ry/Chip

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 21:20:32 GMT

This one's for Gracie who wanted steamy Ryan/Chipster action, kinda half nude and kissing. Did what I could, with a little outside help.

To Gracie with love :D

Sexy ass Dream 4 Buffy lovers

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 21:57:38 GMT

The desert was dry as a bone, as deserts tend to be. The landscape for miles was flat, dry beige dust caked and devoid of rain since the dawn of time, you would think. Here and there, pitiful shrubs grew some how, and a lonely, dusty road cut through it all until you lost it in the horizon.

It looked rather like Phoenix Arizona in August.

She worked the diner that sat next to the dry road. Driving every 20 miles every day to get there, but there were hardly any customers ever. She was pretty, with bleach blonde hair so bright it was almost silver, not much make up, slim figured. Sometimes she liked to go up on the roof with a huge pitcher of freezing cold beer and get a tan, just sweat in the thick heavy heat. It was kind of meditative, if you could stand the 98 degree weather for long periods of time.

She gathered a magazine and went outside, but she was going up to the roof to meditate this time. Her boss, Mr. Giles, was up there today.

There he was, squinting at his book in the bright sunshine, his gray tank clinging to his glistening chest and his long legs looking quite natural with their tan shorts. He was quite built for an older gentleman, and today was the day.

She wanted him so damned bad he had no say anymore.

But then, she knew he wanted her too. And it was all animal attraction.

She waited by the ramp leading up to the roof until he looked up at her from his book. "Oh! Hello, didn't see you there. Sorry, quite rude. Ummm did you need something?" He looked her up and down, flushing faintly for doing so.

She just grinned and swayed towards him, and the closer she got, the higher his eyebrows crawled. When she reached his lawn chair, she slipped his sandals off, pushing his feet apart so she could kneel between them, her fingers tickling up his legs, the hem of his shorts, the backs of his knees. They stopped at the hem of his shirt and she looked up at him, an eyebrow arched pointedly.

"On the roof?" He asked, voice rough.

"Yes." She smiled back.

He raised his shirt off himself, and she slipped the buttons of his trousers, dragging them down and delighting to see he hadn't worn anything beneath them. How daring. She wouldn't have pegged him for a commando. She peeled off her little sundress and continued her exploration, keeping her fingers light and tickling, brushing around his arousal half eager already, up through his curling chest hair before he cupped her face and pulled her down.

He didn't want to be slow at all.

He reached between her legs and found her wet already and smiled, sucking on her neck as he pulled her foward to straddle him. She pressed herself tightly against the underside of his need, grinding, sighing with pleasure as he kneaded her breasts with strong fingers before sweeping them down to cup her wonderfully rocking hips and raising them. He slid in perfectly, grunting as her body made him fight for every inch.

He raised a slack face to hers and she rode him, dancing to her own private music, the beat changing now and then, from fast, to slow, to deep, to so shallow he almost topped. Their skin was already slick from sweat, the sunlight bronzing their flesh as it slid along the others, slapping as he began to lose his hard won control.

Then a sound made them jump and they turned, panting, to see the dishwasher tromping up the stairs, his curling black hair sticking up in all directions, his thick rimmed black glasses glinting in the sunlight as he wiped his hands on his dirty apron. "Hey guys," He muttered before knocking on the door to the tiny hang out above the diner. "Anybody in here got any smoke? I'm losin' m'buzz," and he disappeared inside.

Mr. Giles looked at her, she looked at him with a blink, and for the life of either of them, neither could think of a single thing to say.

Fin.

Weird, no? And it was full color, sensation, smell, everything. Twas awesome and quite frustrating. What do you think it means? Freud would be shittin' his pants, methinks.

Cheers!!! XD! <3

This is fucken funny

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 23:01:50 GMT

PD dilemma ahead. Read whole thing for the awesomeness. Or maybe it's just awesome cuz I went to the prom with the Doctor? Hmmm....

Okay, so the story is that he was my first love and we'd dated off and on for 5 years, best friends for 6. However, he lies, steals, cheats, and is basically a spineless weasel of a man. You've probably met his twin out there somewhere.

I'm in love again, and completely healed of the damage he left behind. I might be getting married to my partner very soon, and we're seriously considering a baby.

My mother has a prom picture of me and Mr. Weasel out because she likes my outfit in the picture but neither me, mom, or my partner like looking at my ex's grinning mug every so often. So I photoshop him out... I like this version much better

Flammable flour, Gay People and Ponchenello

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 00:27:32 GMT

Meme yoinked from Mizzmeow

YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I WANNA KNOW YOU PLEASE... I would like to know 33 things about you. It doesnt matter if we never talk or if we already know everything about each other.

1. Can you cook?
Well I can blow stuff up... did you know flour was flammable?

2. What was your dream growing up?
Be a dairy farmer, then we drove past one and I found out what they smelled like

3. What talent do you wish you had?
To shoot webs frome my wrists and swing around

4. Favourite place?
In the arms of a good smelling partner watching it rain

5. Favourite vegetable?
the crunchy kind

6. What was the last book you read?
Dexter in the Dark. Didn't like it as much as the first too. Not enough murder

7. What zodiac sign are you ?
I'm an aquarius, and a pisces during a leap year. No wonder I'm nuts

8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
Yup. I have a nice backpiece that'll get color soon, and two fish on my left forearm

9. Worst Habit?
Chewing my nails off

10. Do we know each other outside of lj?
I don't even know me outside lj

11. What is your favourite sport?
to play, baseball, to watch... meh

12. Negative or Optimistic attitude?
Optimistically negative. I see the bright side of depression

13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
Prolly wonder who the hell you were until lj was brought up, then gossip like a hen

14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
Well... I was assaulted not too long ago last year, so that was nice. Friend of mine got blown up, lost most of my clients... I'd say I was rather fortunate, actually, so far

15. Tell me one weird fact about you:
I pole dance

16. Do you have any pets?
Not yet. I have to wait a few more weeks before I get my kitty

17. Do you know how to do the Macarena?
Yep. And the Hustle, the Electric Slide, and the Chicken Dance (haz skillz)

18. What time is it where you are now?
6:19 pm

19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
Annoying as hell except for the old ones from Commedia Del Arte

20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
Have boobies

21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
Crime partner

22. What colour eyes do you have?
blue with a darker ring of blue around the edge COOL HUH HUH HUHHHH!!!!!!!!

23. Ever been arrested?
Nope, just subpeonaed (sp?)

24. Bottle or Draft?
Microbrew

25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
Ask for more

26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?
minty

27. What 's your favourite bar to hang at?
The Balconey. Its an awesome techno bar where gays, straights, bi's and trannies can go to mix it up any style they want. I LOVE IT

28. Do you believe in ghosts?
Yup, got one hangin' around me right now

29. Favourite thing to do in your spare time?
.... hehehehe....

30. Do you swear a lot?
I wonder how many people wrote 'fuck no' and thought they were being clever...

31. Biggest pet peeve?
Stupid people

32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
facepalm

33. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?
Sure, why the hell not

Remember that Art Post I did??

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 01:00:15 GMT

Well it had bebehs.

Here's Naughty Ryan for Innuendo :-*

And Happy Days for Clayangel ;)

Kissy noises ladies, and if anyone else asks for a pic, I'll post it here with the others

Ciao

Art meme snatched from Clay

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 01:04:28 GMT

Will sketch for the first five people who comment with their request. The catch is that you must put this up in your journal as well. If you absolutely do not draw, write something, etc.

And as Clay said, not a lot of time, so they will be sketches. Not crummy, just sketches :)

Okay so It's Been a While

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 23:00:55 GMT

Yup. Been a while.

Went down to Phoenix Arizona to visit the fam, which might've been a huge mistake considering how cold all of them are. Damn gentiles. The good thing is I got laid a lot, so that's nice.

Back here in Idaho, am getting stuff together for my first art class. Will let you know how that pans out. Waiting for my partner in Clay's Uranus Secret Santa thingy on WLFF.

Wondering where the Hell my Cappy got herself to, wondering how to fix the sound card on this damn computer, and wondering if I really will go insane because of how many annoying children surround me at present.

Indy, your tattoo's are absolutely gorgeous!

Much love to yall

Belated End of the Year Art post

Sat, 31 Jan 2009 07:50:20 GMT

End of the Year Art Post

Found this while poking around on Clay's livejournal because I adore her style of art. Thought it was a groovy idea and since I draw too, I decided to run with it :)

Woo, art :D <3!!!

Some Not Work Safe

My Favourite:

This is pretty obvious why it's my favorite. Twas a bitch to make *purrs fondly* in pencil and colored pencil

My best:

Taken from a publicity photo. Couldn't quite get the Doctors or Rose's faces right, but my own character came out just fine. Eek, a mary sue fanart :P

Art most underappreciated by the universe:

Ry on Rye is made of win. Thanks Cappy!!!

Most Fun to Draw Art:

Once I read Rose Colored Glasses by Clay, I saw it so clearly I couldn't resist it :")

Sexiest picture:

It was hard to pick one, but in the end Snark and Sex win over Col in Drag

'Holy crap, that's wrong even for you' Art:

Minor demon in a vamp fic I wrote for a friend. An evil little shit, just fyi :D

Drawing that shifted my perception of the character(s):

It just made me realize how long suffering Max was in Of Stainless Steel and Velvet *snicker* what with Greg and Colin doin' their little tapdance.

Hardest Drawing to do:

Oh. My. God. It took 4 days straight (no lie) on the computer with a 3 pixel brush on the computer to do the effects on here, but hell, a Ryan from Makingamochrie's Noble is the Head is worth it, methinks.

Ruff...

Biggest Disappointment:

Dunno what possessed me, and I tried to save Colin's head, but it ended up Mentally Handicapped?Colin and I was saddened

Biggest Surprise:

First time I ever made a Ryan that looked like Ryan, made for Cappy for her first story EVAR! because she had a strawberry fetish running rampant through it.

An the anonymous person who said Colin looked like Uncle Ben shall pay... jk jk- but seriously...

Art I'm most proud of:

Seriously my most favorite drawing I've done so far. Take that Frank Miller. I get warm fuzzies everytime I look at it and it's mass amounts of hours sitting on my ass in a poorly padded chair to make it.

Goals for this year:

To hook up the electronic pen and pad so I don't cramp up my pinky and ring fingers working the mouse so hard with photoshoppage.

I think more pr0n is in order, too... possibleh lots of it... muhahaha

Fan art

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 08:27:18 GMT

Did a doodle, then played around on the computer.

It's for my Evil!Col fic on Clay's wl_fanfic , and it's in a new style that I've been dabbling in.

Questions? Comments? Love?

Cheers!

Woot evilness

Done in pencil, then pen and ink, scanned and colored on the 'puter

Look at what I got a bunch of drunk people to do!!!

Sun, 25 Jan 2009 07:18:34 GMT

Meme n' mememememe from Sess

Tue, 20 Jan 2009 00:52:09 GMT

Meme yoinked from Sess

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
Lived in another State as a permanent new address. Screwed on the first date.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Never made any, makes em easier to keep

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No but I'm expecting to be a godmother in April ^_^

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Yes

5. What countries did you visit?
Idaho. If you've ever been there, you'll understand what I mean

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Tattoo, moneyz

Materialism. Ai haz it :D

7. What date(s) from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

July 1st: Moved out
Feb 18th: Birthday where I had a screaming match with my boy at the time

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting onstage for a benefit and playing improv to help raise money for a theater

9. What was your biggest failure?
Having sex with my ex while visiting Phoenix

10. Did you suffer any illness or injury?
Just the regular stuff

11. What was the best thing you bought?
These $140 boots. Made of win. Knee high 3 inch wedges, black leather, lace up in the front with a zipper on the inside. Mui sexy :D

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Miss Patty for deciding she really is a beautiful woman. Miss Patty rocks

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Someone on here, my ex, my father, my best friends parents for being close minded about their own son

14. Where did most of your money go?
groceries

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Moving, seeing the WL guys and Colin and Brad again, talking shop with some theater people, designing tattoos for a shop

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
I Kissed a Girl and I liked It

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
happier or sadder? Happier
older or wiser? lol both
thinner or fatter? bigger
richer or poorer?so much poorer but strangely loving life still

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
nothing :)

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Spending time with people who weren't worth the TNT to blow them up

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
As stress free as possible. Probably get baked and eat our baking :D

21. What was the best book you read?
Depends. Stainless Steel Rat stuff is pretty awesome

22. Did you fall in love in 2008?
Not with anyone new

23. How many one-night stands?
Is it a one night stand if you do it again the next morning?

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Whose Line is it Anyway. Duh. That and The Graham Norton Show

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nah, I leave hatred outside. I just settle for disliking intensely. So no

26. What political issue stirred you the most?
Obama, what else? And of course, the gay marriage law being thrown about. What a piece of shit.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
That some rap is okay.

28. What did you want and get?
That one girl to start chasing me. Ohhhh what a chase!

29. What did you want and not get?
One of those fancy parrot toys that mimic you. I wanted to skin one so it talked cheerfully looking like a hellish robot. I would laugh and laugh

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
Sound of Music. Finally say the damn thing last year

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I got up whenever the hell I felt like it, did some laundry, spent all day out in the back yard painting a 6 foot by 6 foot canvas mom made for me, then went to a party when it was too dark outside to see. 19

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
The ability to realize that I wasn't the one who made my parents divorce. It would have saved me a few scars on my wrists

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008
If it looks good to me, I'll wear it

34. What kept you sane?
My best friend Timmy spending the night and forcing me to watch reruns of Whose Line til 3 in the morning. Good times

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Uhm... Mike Rowe... nummy :D

37. Who did you miss?
I miss my father, even if he is a dick sometimes. I miss all my friends down in Phoenix

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Patrick, our gyms teacher. Like an older brother, only cooler

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008:
Don't let it go to your head, just float downriver

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
Be careful, be faithful, be happy, be obsequious, purple and clairvoyant. -The Grama Song, Steve Martin

Humble, drunkin offerin's

Sun, 11 Jan 2009 07:23:26 GMT

Running Interference

By: PD
Unedited
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Ownin’ nadda
Summary: Told in the OC’s person, and I was actually channeling what she said before I wrote it. (dabbles in tarot and channeling, just fyi) I’m pretty good at it, just ask Cappy, but this one felt so raw that I had to write it in a story format, so it’s been modified. I can only guess at what Greg would say if I started channeling for him…

A/N: This has been written at 12:21 am, and I'm on my second bottle of wine tonight, and I sooooo know that the tenses (past, present, blah blah) are totally fucked up, but there you go!

Much love and irritation to grammar nazis
-PD

I’m sitting alone in the bar, just taking it all in.

The sound system is crooning I Wanna Roo You by Van Morrison. Don’t ask me why, it's just something the bartender herself put on since the night is so dead. It’s a Tuesday, and one o’clock rolls around with no customers. I take my drink to the end of the bar, my favorite spot, and lean against the cold bricks, shutting my eyes wondering what to do tomorrow.

Feed the kitten, go to the mall and pick out new underwear for the photo shoot, work out, take some pictures, then crawl into bed with a bag of food and a glass or two of wine. Sounds good to me.

The door opens with the tinkling of the little bell, interrupting John Lennon’s ideas on God, revealing a tired looking individual who blinks at the dead bar before slowly making his way over to it. His hair is just beginning to fail in its pomade, tendrils falling away from the pompadour. His glasses are smudged, his clothes rumpled, and his overall feel was one of great tiredness.

“Beer, whatever’s the best on tap,” he mumbles, paying the cover and slumping onto his stool.

“You okay, sir?” the girl working the bar asks.

“Yeah, just tired.” He smiles weakly, sipping the beer. “Good shit,” he slipped her another fiver for a tip, winking at her smile of thanks before taking his drink away.

He gives me a cursory glance before taking it to a booth and nearly falling into it.

I cock my head, listening to intuition. I bring us both a round of what we’ve been drinking before he’d polished off his first beer. “Here, you look like you need another,”

He looks up at me, then to the beer in my hand. “Oh, thanks a bunch.”

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“Yeah, actually I do,” he sighs, giving me a small look.

“Sorry, but I’m getting the feeling I need to speak with you,” I shrug just as tiredly, sitting down in a little chair, still giving him his space with the booth.

He arches a brow, a little energy coming back to him, plus attitude. “Oh? And who would be telling you that?”

“If I told you I’d be in trouble.” I smile faintly before offering my hand. “Jeanette,”

“Hi Jeanette, listen-”

“Greg Proops, comedian extraordinaire. Everyone you meets thinks you should be the happiest man in the world, and go away muttering to themselves when you cannot help but fail to meet their lofty expectations.” I say softly. He stares at me like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“You a fuckin’ therapist?” He asks accusingly.

“Nope.” I smile faintly. “Print model, among other things.” I took another look at him. “They take away from you what any other person would keep for themselves, and you think with each audience that you do, their laughter will be your bread and butter, will heal you, will make you smile, but it doesn’t. Because their laughter drains you. Takes too much energy. It’s hurting now, it didn’t hurt before when you were young, did it?”

His eye are wide. “No… no it didn’t…”

“Because you were too young to notice it further than a passing thought.” I take a sip of my drink. “It’s happening to the others, now, too.” I frown. “Who are the others?”

“Oth…” he frown, too. “But… you know who I am, how can you not know the others?”

“I only know about you from the advertisement your arrival received,” I spread my hands, “Sorry.”

Emotions chase over his face. “The…” he swallowed hard. “The others are… from a job we used to do together… it got canned… unexpectedly.”

“Not unexpectedly, it got cut because your… director, saw what was happening to all of you. What he didn’t know was it was only going to get worse when you went your separate ways.”

Greg smiled ruefully, sipping his beer. “Yeah… Dan always did the wrong thing with the best intentions. He glanced at me. “Jeanette?”

“Yes?”

“Who are you?”

I blink. “I told you already. My name’s Jeanette, and I’m a part time print model.”

“But… but how do you know all of this? And why are you telling me?” He sounded a little hurt before he gathered himself. “If it’s to rub my face in what I feel like now, then fuck you.”

I smile even in the face of such an insult. “Greg, I’m not rubbing your face in anything, I’m simply telling you what you’ve barely even thought of. It’s best to face things, then fix them, not pretend like you can’t even see the problem.” I sigh, looking at the tired comedian. “You know… if you realize that loneliness is just filler between relationships and not the other way around, you might actually find your path easier…”

He snorted, taking a large swallow of his beer. “The glass is half full, right?”

“Exactly. The glory years aren’t gone, Greg, they’re just spacing themselves out now. You were spoiled before. But you were also loosing sight of why you love to do what you do. It was becoming a job, not a passion. Wasn’t it a passion when you first started?”

He nodded, playing with his glass a little. “When I first started, it was like I was walkin’ on air every second of every day… it was, man I can’t even describe it to you.” he looked at me, eyes glittering, remembering what it was like when everything was new.

Somehow, looking into those eyes, I could guess easily what he’d felt back then.

“Those days are still here, Greg,” I say gently.

He shook his head.

“What, you think you’ve seen everything?” I ask indignantly, smiling anyway.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I want things the way they used to be, you know? But every joke’s been told, everything, even improv is a routine now… but we don’t do improv anymore…” his eyes clouded. “Not anymore…”

“Because the show shut down?” I ask.

“Because the show shut down.” He nods.

I smile. “I want you to do something for me when you find out what will happen tomorrow-”

“Something’s happening tomorrow?” he asks, confused.

I held up a hand. “I want you to promise me that when you get the good news tomorrow, you’ll realize that nothing is ever fixed in stone, especially your life and what you choose to do with it. Will you promise me to look at everything as a new opportunity?”

“Jeanette-”

“Promise me.” I said firmly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I promise, but what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

“If I told you that, I’d be breaking the rules,” I smiled. “Goodnight Greg, it’s wonderful to finally speak with you, and it’s been fabulous being authentic with you,” I covered his hand with my own and rose to go.

“Hey, Jeanette, come on, that’s too cryptic for words,” he said, smiling a little. “I mean… what, we only get to talk about me?”

I looked back at him. “Greg, all you ever do is talk about other people. It’s high time you talk about yourself without any strings attached or a large audience judging your every word,”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so I left. The next day, he got the news that Ryan and Colin were putting together an improv troupe, reconciled after who knows what separated them in the first place. It was stationary, and they wanted Greg to come and play the way they used to… it was what she’d promised him would happen.

He’d gone back to the bar that night, looking for her, for Jeanette to tell her he’d keep his promise. He turned to the bar girl. “Hey, is Jeanette coming in?”

She glared at him. “Mister, that’s a sick joke.”

“Joke?” he frowned.

She jerked her thumb at a small corkboard. “She died in a car accident right outside here, used to come in all the time. Asking for her is one way to get beaten up by just about anyone who comes here, mister,” she glared at him.

He arched an eyebrow and went over to the cork board, shaking his head. Car accident, sure, whatever. She seemed alive to me. He peered at the well worn newspaper print and nearly keeled over himself. On it… he scrubbed a hand through his hair, for the first time not worrying if he mussed it.

Jeanette Laura McClellen

1975-2007

Beloved angel and watcher over everyone, stranger or loved one.

Private I Vampyre: Ch 20/ 24

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 21:01:13 GMT

Okay, so it's been a long time, and I expect that my inattentiveness has cost me readers from my already small stable.

Really, really sorry it took this long, but I guess I just lost heart along the way. Anywhoodly who, the fic itself is almost finished, so whoopie! And I hope that my remaining readers enjoy :)

Love y'all <--(stupid american speak) lots!

-PD

Private I Vampyre

By: PD
Edited by: Glyph
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: Do not own
Summary: In which Delilah volunteers, Ryan and Greg have yet another spat, and Colin gets fed up

Last time on Private I Vampyre: Stuff happened. :D:P

Chapter 20

Greg and Ryan weren’t the best of friends. Hell they weren’t even friends, but they’d seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement that extended beyond them being in bed with me.

Wayne, Jeff, and Delilah came in after Sandi took the men to go get something to eat when we next awoke, and while I was getting my cast taken off I told them everything.

They listened in silence, their faces clouding, until finally Delilah took my cast and flung it across the room without a word. It shattered into little bits against the stone wall while Wayne sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Shit…” he breathed, rubbing his face. “And you don’t know who did it?”

I shook my head, gingerly flexing my ankle and testing my back a little. I was still covered in massive bruises, and my lung still hurt with every breath, but I could use it and that’s all I care about in the end. “No, but I’m very certain that it wasn’t Sherwood.”

“So now you have two people trying to kill not just you or Greg, but Ryan as well…” Jeff sighed, running hands through his hair. A nervous habit, I’d come to realize. “What saved you?”

I blushed faintly. “I, um… I asked God to help me…”

Everyone stared at me. “And He listened?”

I flushed. “I guess He still thinks I’m worth saving…”

“He always has, dear,” Josie said, coming out of the doorway. No one, not even Jeff asked how she’d gotten in. Jeff just backed away as she neared me, moving to Delilah’s other side. “He knows who you really are, and even after all that you’ve done, knows why you’ve done it, and knows that in every way it was for others, not yourself. Such selflessness deserves a little hand every so often.” She smiled a little mischievously. “Besides, we enjoy rattling Lucifer’s cage now and then.” To our frightened faces, she nodded. “You bested the Devil himself, Colin, congratulations.”

I felt like throwing up. “How…” I swallowed past the fear. “How do I keep him from going after Ryan and Greg?”

“Greg, too, my my,” she smiled, seeming somehow pleased. “I would say ‘I told you so’, but angels are above such things.”

Everyone gave her a look. It just glanced off. “I just came to make sure your trip hadn’t rattled you too hard, and to tell you to be careful,” she said, solemn again. “We cannot help you every time you or the people you love are in danger. Last night was a free pass because Lucifer bent the rules. It was our prerogative to bend them right back.” She came forward and gave me a kiss on my brow, and this time it didn’t hurt. It felt nice. “I want you to take this.” She handed me a little pendant on a long leather lace. “And I want you to wear it. It should keep you off of Lucifer’s mind.”

“Can I really wear it?” I asked, holding it by the length of leather, thinking back to the cross held by the faithful. Any designs on it were long since worn away and the metal was so old it looked like it was made of clay “I mean, it won’t burn me or anything?”

“No, it won’t burn you. I wouldn’t give you something that would hurt you, silly goose,” she chided gently. “It’s just a little blessed tin, made by a holy man of God who had the right idea. As long as you wear it, Lucifer shouldn’t be able to get into your dreams, and those you love most should be protected by it, as well.”

I smiled faintly, slipping the thing around my neck and running my thumb over the metal. It was warm before I even touched it. I looked up at her. “Do you always show up, drop some sage advice and go?”

She considered it. “No… Sometimes I don’t show up at all.”

“I’m glad you did. Thank you…”

“Just doing my job, dear,” she smiled warmly, nodding to all of us before leaving the way she’d come.

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Wayne cleared his throat. “Well… that was informative.”

“I’ll say,” I snorted.

“If all goes as she says, this will protect you from dear old Luci, but what about Brad?” Wayne asked, frowning at the little lump of tin around my neck.

I looked at Jeff, who was still standing near the foot of the bed behind Delilah. Our eyes met, and I can tell you now, a lot was said without words. And, inevitably, Delilah picked up on it. “You both know something,” she said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

We looked away, suddenly interested in other things.

“Tell me, now,” she growled.

I glared at Jeff, but he shrugged his shoulders in that way he had that meant absolutely nothing or positively everything. “We know how to summon Sherwood so we can send him back to Hell.”

“What?” Wayne barked.

“How?” Delilah narrowed her eyes at him while Wayne looked from me, to her, to Jeff, sensing trouble in paradise. Hell, she did, too. That was why she stared at me, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Colin…” she sounded reasonable, almost, but it raised the hair on my arms.

I scrubbed a hand across the back of my neck. “Delilah, please… it’s not a good idea.”

“Tell me and I’ll give you a verdict,” she said sharply.

I looked to Jeff, more than a little angry. He took the lead. “Normally, to summon a demon, it would take a blood sacrifice, a human one, but naturally we cannot do something like that without causing irreparable damage to our souls.” Before Wayne could ask, he added “Yes, I believe I still have one when I am awake.” He fluffed an elegant hand through his hair and sighed. “We would need an awesome amount of raw energy to make up for the missing blood, but nothing short of a lightening strike would work…”

“You would need someone with incredible control over their natural abilities to channel that amount of power…” she mused, chewing her full lower lip. “And hope they won’t get toasted like bread in the meantime.”

“Who do we know that can do that?” Wayne asked, watching Delilah as she reached the same obvious conclusion. He knew, and he also figured out why no one else had brought it up.

“Me,” she sighed.

“You could die.”

“True, but there’s also a chance one could survive it,” she shrugged.

“You aren’t seriously considering it, are you?” Wayne asked incredulously.

“We know we aren’t one of her cats, Wayne,” Jeff said quietly, but it had a curious effect on both of them, and Wayne stilled like he’d been insulted.

“I simply want to know why she’d risk her life and her position when she’s only just got what’s left of her Pride situated. It is a large sacrifice, not just for her but her people, who are already trying to cope with a massive loss,” he said firmly, giving Jeff an eye.

I’d definitely missed something here. Delilah spoke up first before I could ask about it. “One owes them for the remnants of ones Pride being here in the first place… They have all of the Pride's utter loyalty. And, as Colin protects everyone, not just his own, with his life, so will one endeavor to return the favor.” She rose from her place on the edge of the bed, straightening the invisible wrinkles in her pencil skirt.

“Yes, but Colin or the others aren’t yours.” Wayne said flatly, frowning. “They aren’t Pride, hell they aren’t even Were.”

“Sometimes, one must look beyond the physical differences for the people one must protect. One would think you more than the rest of us would understand that, Wayne,” she said softly, watching him, face impassive and regal once more. Wayne scowled and crossed his arms, pouting without looking in the least cute.

“Well I think the whole argument is moot,” I said suddenly. I wanted to shrink back, a little embarrassed as they all turned on me. I flexed my foot, watching it for an excuse to blush without being seen, though doubtless they’d smell it. “We are NOT asking Delilah to potentially sacrifice herself just to get Sherwood over here.”

“How else can we?” Jeff asked.

I glared at him. “We’ll find another way,” I said pointedly.

“There is none,” she said quietly, eyes soft in a sad smile. “This is the only cheat. So you see, either someone is murdered to do this, or someone makes the sacrifice. It’s still blood, but it won’t stain a single soul…”

“But you might die!” I protested before shaking my head, wincing as my frazzled brain rattled around inside. “Listen, no one is dying, okay? We’ll figure something out or, worst case scenario, I’ll go over there and send Sherwood back to Hell myself.”

“You can’t do that Colin,” Jeff said quietly. “You’d be caught, and Sherwood would hand you over to the Nazis and give them their best weapon of all…”

“What?” I asked, paling a little.

“You are a combination of many worlds now. Part demon, part vampire, part human… What if they found out how to duplicate your circumstance? No, you can’t go and kill him… it would have to be a member of the council overseas,” he sighed.

“Isn’t that bad to ask favors of them?” Delilah asked pointedly.

“Very,” he nodded.

“Then that rules that out,” she said with an air of finality. “We have no choice but to wait for a storm and hope for the best…” She looked over and me and shrugged gracefully. I held out my hand and she took it.

I pressed her hand to my forehead. “You shouldn’t have to do this… it’s wrong,” I said heavily.

Her fingers brushed across my scalp, caressing the sensitive skin there. “Why?”

“Because… I can’t ask you to do this and I won’t allow it…” I said angrily, looking up at her.

She smiled that soft smile with her liquid brown eyes. “You can’t keep surviving like this. You, Greg, or Ryan… How long do you think it will take for the assassins to think to pick us off? You love too many people, Colin.” she caressed my cheek. I heard a soft noise and we all turned to find Ryan and Greg frozen in the open doorway, watching all of us with soft frowns.

“What happened?”

I didn’t release Delilah as I told them, instead holding her close without wrapping around her. That would be odd. They listened quietly, sliding back onto the bed. By the end of it, they both looked as I did. Like the only possible solution was absolutely out of the question. Well, except for Greg. “Well, if that’s what you think will work, more power to you,” he said weakly, ignoring the look he got from me and Ryan.

“I knew I’d have your vote, Gregory,” she purred, sounding more than a little amused.

He grinned and shrugged.

I sighed, pressing my head to her hands almost desperately. I needed to touch her, needed to keep her here and to keep her from killing herself for a stupid reason. I felt her hand press me to her stomach and she hugged me closely, resting her lips on my head as I wrapped my arms around her slim frame. “This is so stupid…” I muttered angrily.

She pursed her lips. “One agrees, wholeheartedly in fact, but… it is a fair trade. Besides, you would do the same for any one of us, no?”

I blinked. “Of course, in fact I think I should-”

“You are more of a ready, fire, aim fellow, Colin…” she smiled patiently. “You don’t have that sort of control… sorry.”

We parted and I sighed, pressing a kiss to her hand. “This is nuts…”

“Yes,” they all agreed.

“Okay… as long as we’re all on the same level,” I rubbed my face.

No more was said about the subject that night, and for once I had no problem with that, because I couldn’t stop over analyzing it in my head, much less actually talk about it without spouting out one crazy solution after the other that would never ever work.

Wayne, Jeff and Delilah left, going to speak with their respective groups about the plan, and possibly to Drew and the Witches. They might be able to help somehow, we didn’t know exactly how, but better to have what you didn’t need than to need what you didn’t have.

I sat on the bed, my knees to my chest and my arms looped over them, nibbling at the skin of my forearm, thinking hard. Apparently I was the subject of a rather heated discussion, because when I tuned back in, Ryan was growling at Greg, who was trying to growl back but only managing a sound like an angry gooses hiss. “-don’t think I’d enjoy watching that!” Ryan snapped.

“Ask me if I fuckin’ care!” Greg snapped right back.

I rubbed my eyes as a headache instantly manifested itself right between my ears. “What is it now?” I groaned.

They both turned to glare at me, and the jealousy in the room swelled to impressive proportions. I realized I was still in just my pants with its torn, bloodied leg and I thought about pulling the sheet up to cover myself, but dismissed it as too girly. That and they were both sitting on the it. “You need to feed Col, I was talking with Sandi and she says you’re still healing,” Ryan said impatiently.

“Not as slowly as a human would, but slower than a vampire, so you need blood to keep the healing going or it will never happen,” Greg grated, giving Ryan the evil eye.

“Okay…” I said pensively. I could see this coming a mile away, but I still stepped in it knee deep with gusto. “So what’s the problem?”

“Who will you feed on?” they demanded.

“I will not watch you feed on him!” Ryan stabbing, pointing his finger at Greg but jerking it away before the bespectacled man bit it off.

“And watching you with him is soo not on my To-Do list!” Greg added, sticking out his tongue at Ryan.

“Know what,” I sighed. “I am truly sorry that I am unable to choose between you two, I am. I love you both, in different ways,” I hastened to add before Ryan could open his mouth, “and there is nothing more that I’d love to see than both of you satisfied. But I’m hurt, not much anymore, but I am, and I don’t have the time, or the patience to soothe both of your egos tonight. And right now, I don’t think I could feed…” I said softly, thinking of Delilah… and the sacrifice she would potentially make.

“Oh Col,” Ryan said softly, and as I felt arms wrap around me, I heard him growl and looked up to see him glaring Greg down from holding me, too.

“Out,” I sighed aggravatedly.

“What?”

“Get out… I don’t have the patience for this tonight,” I said, finally angry. Greg gave Ryan, who looked alternately furious and ashamed, a very smug look before I pointed my finger at him. “You, too.”

“But Col-” he began, but I cut him off.

“No. Both of you, leave. And please… next time, try to put things in a larger perspective than who is getting laid,” I said as I limped over, following them to shut the door. They both gave me hurt looks, but I was beyond caring right now. I was just too frustrated with them both and the world at large to care. “I am not a prize in your pissing contest,” I said flatly before I shut the door with a snap. It felt good and I heaved a sigh of relief, but I also felt bad. I’d caused this particular spat, but I couldn’t help it anymore… and I was tired of trying to tip toe around Ryan’s delicate sensibilities.

That was one point in Greg’s favor, although from this little snit, I think Ryan was rubbing off on my ex-demon lover, and not in a good way.

I looked at the massive bed, rumpled and smelling a little rankly of fear sweat, and sighed. It was huge… and now it looked so lonely. I shrugged, limping over to it and sliding in, burying my nose in one of the pillows searching for their scents, knowing they would make me feel better. I fell asleep clutching one pillow to my face and curled around another.

What I wouldn’t give for the ability to make decisions…

pweet Brain Fart

Tue, 30 Dec 2008 07:32:42 GMT

If you ever go across the sea to Ireland,
Then maybe at the closin' of your day
You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh
And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.

Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream
And the women in the meadows making hay,
To sit beside the turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.

For the breezes blowin' across the sea from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow.
And the women in the upland diggin' praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know.

For the strangers came and tried to teach us their way.
They scorned us just for bein' what we are.
But they might as well go chasin' after moon beams
Or light a penny candle from a star.

And if there's to be a life in the hereafter --
And somehow I'm sure there's going to be --
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven,
In that dear land across the Irish sea

And How.

Lyrics taken from Galway Bay, The Quiet Man

Okay, so it's been a while

Thu, 18 Dec 2008 01:55:14 GMT

What would you like to know?

Okay... hells bells where do I begin?

Okay, Hi, my psuedonym is PD *hi PD* and I'm just updating whoever reads this stuff on my life. Like verbal trots or something I'm sure. Awesome.

I'm the artistic director of a women's fight club now. It's owned by my aunt and my mother, so I get free lessons since I work there. I'm dating the teachers best friend, who has an interesting technique of kissing that for some odd reason makes me think he would give a good blow job. Other than that I have to grab his head, tell him to stay still, and show him how that the twirl and hoover technique shouldn't be your default setting. But he's a fox, he's funny, and we have lively arguements on who could kick butt more, Picard or Kirk *prefers Picard*

Had my third eye opened, so now I give card readings to family members that I've only seen two or three times in my life before I moved here.

Aunty Dearest, former prison sergeant (sp?) now thinks of me of her mother confessor, so I get to hear all sorts of interesting things on her affiars with men, we smoke herb together, it's a whole wonderful thing. She cleared my chakra's today and made me stop thinking like I was about to rip someone apart with my bare hands just to satisfy my curiousity. So that's nice.

Went down to Phoenix to visit my father for Thanksgiving and got seriously disillusioned with his side of the family.

I connected with My Aunt M and Uncle J, who never before ever saw fit to talk to me because I was an uncontrollable child who might influence their babies. All of their babies have now done enough hard stuff to take down a small elephant.

Aunty M's mother asked me if I'd gotten pretty because I was older or because of my haircut. Which looks really cute, by the way. An A-Line bob. Rad.

I told her I blamed the government, and she didn't get it.

My grandparent's stopped giving me the cold shoulder after two hours, so that's nice, and even offered to let me set them up a myspace account so they could monitor my movements. Sure. When Hell opens up a hockey rink. Avery will be head coach of the home team, methinks.

My father is thinking of dating an old high school girlfriend who is already divorced twice with four kids from those marriages. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, but I know damn well he isn't.

I gave my ex of three years a reading, we patched up the shitty relationship it had been left in, and then had sex. Twice. I wonder if Dad's taken out the trash yet. My best friend came into my room after the sex, and demanded to know why. I had no answer of course.

Then I made out for 45 minutes with a girl. We'd both been chasing each other, but she's a cock tease, and so whenever we could have done something, she shied away. So I pushed her gently away, and lo and behold, she had me pressed against the car going '5 more minutes' and getting so excited she left a damp spot on my knee where she was grinding on it. TMI, I know. Lulz...

Now she wants desperately to come up to Idaho and fuck me, but I don't think that's going to happen, even if she does come up. She never holds herself accountable for anything she does, and that can really disenchant a gal, you know?

Mmmmm, dark chocolate MM's.

Watched Buffy last night til three in the morning, bawled my eyes out when Giles found Ms. Calendar dead in his bed with the roses, wine and music playing. Fuckin' Angelis. So I fantisized that I was a character, soothed all his hurts, and went out to beat up people as an awesome, feline-esque demon who really likes shoes and vanilla cupcakes. Dunno why. I think I dropped off at that last bit.

Well, I think that's all for now. I won't bother with the fight I went to, since our gym's girl, who lost 22 lbs in two weeks to fight the other girl, didn't actually get to fight her. Her opponent said she had a concussion and so couldn't fight. Geneal concensus is she saw how badass our fighter was and chickened out.

Okay. Done now. Comments?

Kay thanx bai

PDdddddd

OH... MY... GOD facepalm

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 00:02:16 GMT

Cue the most awkward sex dream in my life

Okay, so the start of the dream is, I'm home for the holidays in Phoenix, Arizona and I go back to highschool to visit my favorite high school teacher.

We've emailed each other at least twice a week since I've left, first name basis, everything. It's the weirdest. He was my ceramics teacher and passed me to advanced ceramics even though I failed the beginners class. Maybe it was because we talked about old movies a lot, laughed, etc. etc. about stuff that made the other students go 'huh?'

Anyway, he's really cool, one of the last cowboys, and looks like a biker dude. Long salt and pepper hair in waves between his shoulders in a pony tail, a fumanchu moustache, tall, 57-ish, with the most beautiful hands I've ever seen. Even more beautiful than Ryan Stiles' (sorry man)

When I first met the man, I would stare at his hands the entire class period just watching him work the clay into effing AMAZING pieces. The man imitates Da Vinci's anatomy drawings and you can't tell the difference, he's that good.

ANYWAYYY, I don't know what brought it on, but my dream last night featured him...

I'd come to his classroom to say hi, like I'm planning to anyway, and when I hug him, he kind of stiffened, like I'd hurt him. We're all the suddenly so hyper-aware of each other it's intimidating. Then he kisses me... and I won't say I wasn't surprised, because I was. Like the Dickens. But then I notice just how damn good he is and melt.

I don't melt. No one I've ever kissed has been able to make me melt. Goofy, sure. Weirded out or uncomfortable? Most definitely, but melt? That was a first.

Then he sets me on one of the classroom tables, and I know I've got clay dust on my jeans, but all I really care about is how amazing he feels and tastes and then he cradles my face in those hands and I marvel at how I didn't freak.

Someone touches my face, I freak. I'm weird like that. But not him. He got away with it, and then he let me pull his hair free and I can still feel it between my fingers. It's soft, baby fine, and falls in waves.

And it wasn't like I was Wonderwoman and he was Superman. I know we spoke, because I voiced to him my insecurities, how alone I'd been for a while, how rusty as a lover I am. He voiced his nervousness because of our age gap, his body. It made the dream all the more real to me, making it tangible, especially when we decided to go ahead, insecurities be damned.

Then the dream shifts and we're in his bed, me still playing with his hair or his beard, tracing his cheeks, feeling the hands I'm still in love with drift up and down my sides, my favorite spots. He looks at me and smiles, blushing a little, and all I can think is how right it all feels...

... Shit... I'm screwed

Private I Vampyre: Ch 19/ 24

Fri, 07 Nov 2008 05:15:27 GMT

Private I Vampyre

By: PD
Edited by: Glyph
Rating: R for unsettling images and language
Disclaimer: Do not own
Summary: In which Colin sleeps with both of them and has a nightmare... with both of them

Chapter 19

“Stop it, both of you,” I said quietly, shifting to get out of the bed, wincing as my ribs throbbed.

“Go slowly,” Delilah said softly, helping me shift across the massive bed.

“Don’t you touch him!” Ryan spat as he struggled in Jeff’s arms.

Delilah gave him a quiet look and turned to the other women. “Ladies, if you could leave us please.”

“I’m not leaving if Mr. Stiles over there is going to hurt you or Colin,” Michelle growled evenly as the nameless girl flowed off the bed and disappeared.

“Well Ry,” I said quietly. Ryan looked back at me, more than a little confused and very lost. “Are you gonna hurt us?”

He opened his mouth in outrage, but his eyes were fastened on my bandages as the sheets slid off of me, my leg still in its cast, and my ribs. He deflated slowly, his anger seeping away from his body. “No,” he mumbled, trying to rub his eyes but hindered by Jeff’s grip on his arms. “No… I won’t hurt anyone…”

I nodded. “Jeff?”

Jeff nodded and let him go, and at a glance from me, Michelle stalked out with a very stern warning glare at Ryan. Ryan meekly shuffled over to the bed as Delilah unwrapped my ribs and sat on the other side, watching. He hissed as the bandage finally came away, and I looked down to see old bruises in their final stages of development. They were still pretty impressive, covering my entire back and wrapping around on the left side.

“We heard what happened…” Greg’s voice was thick, and Ryan growled at him, but neither of them moved. “Didn’t think it was as bad as they said it was…”

“I see now, though,” Ryan said quietly, angrily, “why they wouldn’t let us see you before now. We could’ve made it worse…” He admitted it reluctantly. He took my hands in his, resting his forehead on my shoulder, and I felt a wetness on my bare skin. The bed shifted as Delilah moved off, but my attention was all for Ryan. “Sorry… I reacted… stupidly. I thought the worst when I saw you surrounded by… But what were they there for?” he asked, looking up at me, suspicion lurking somewhere in those green eyes.

It was Greg who answered, looking a little angry as he looked anywhere but at the two of us on the bed. “He needed the energy to heal quickly. Were’s are the best. Looks like he’s compatible with the kitties,” he sighed, glancing over at Delilah before touching a finger to his split lip.

“How are you?” I asked quietly.

“Well, I was alone in the house for a day and a half before someone thought to come over and let me out, but after another night waiting alone, Wayne stopped by with a fucking army and brought me here. I didn’t know what had happened to you until Mr. Stick over there got here, too,” he waved offhandedly in Ryan’s direction. Ryan, who had been running a gentle hand up and down my back, turned to glare at him.

I watched Greg, frowning lightly. I wanted to hold out my hand to him or sooth his hurts or something, and wondered why I wanted to do that. The door opened and Wayne came in, successfully distracting me from my private debate. “Ah good, he’s alive. How’s it hanging Mochrie?” he asked, giving Greg a weird look. Greg just rolled his eyes, sniffled a little, and moved off to closely examine something on the other side of the room.

“Beaten but not broken. Well… not much anymore…” I sighed, shifting a little.

Wayne nodded, pacing in front of Ryan and myself. “We had Emily lead us to the place where you toasted the demon,” he sighed. “It was a lower circle critter, so whoever,” we all frowned, knowing exactly who it was, “sent it after you obviously has a lot weight to throw around that he can order around a very powerful demon. Thankfully, demons aren’t fireproof.” He grinned, his brilliant white teeth flashing. “And thankfully you had your handy little sidekick there with you when the shit went down.”

“Hell, I hadn’t brought her with me. She was just there,” I snorted, very thankful she was.

“She’d gone to see her parents,” Ryan spoke up.

I nodded, leaning into him and letting my eyelids droop. It felt really nice. “I think he needs to rest some more,” Delilah said softly. “You two should stay-”

“Uh uh, lady, no fuckin’ way-” Greg began.

Ryan started saying pretty much the same thing at the same time. “I will not share a bed with that son-of-a-”

“Silence, both of you…” she hissed. They did, and I nearly smiled. “Colin needs both of you.” She fixed them both with a glare. “Now put aside your petty little fight right now or I will take your place and you can both go and sit outside with the rest of them.”

They glanced sullenly from her, to each other, then to the floor. “Yes ma’am,” they chorused.

“Good,” she said, and turned to shoo a highly amused Jeff and Wayne out of the room. “He’s still healing, so bare skin would be best. And please, do not fight… he needs you both right now and fighting will do nothing but harm to him.”

Hell, I wasn’t that damn fragile. At least I hoped I wasn’t. But if this was what it took to get them to shut the hell up for a minute or two and let me sleep, I’d play dead.

We ended up with me in the middle cuddled around Greg, still in his pants because Ryan would not stand to have him that close to me in anything less, and Ryan cuddled tightly behind me in his briefs and a long sleeved shirt. Initially, when he tried to wrap his arm around me, he kept brushing Greg and would flinch and sigh aggravatedly. Finally, I grabbed his arm and hugged it tightly to my chest like my comfortable prisoner. He finally gave up and settled in.

Greg was remarkably quiet. He was tense as a whip-wire, especially with Ryan’s hand pressed tightly between our bodies, but eventually he relaxed, cuddling into my embrace in a way I’d never thought we would.

Caught between the delicious warmth of the two men I… well, the men I loved most, I fell into a luscious sleep that lasted for hours before dawn came up and stole me for real.

It was pitch black and a feeling of wrongness filled me. My breath quickened and my eyes widened, searching for the reason. I was cold and alone, even though I knew the men were still on either side of me… Weren’t they?

Then I felt him. I hadn’t felt him in years and I’d hoped I never would again.

It was the nameless man, the one with the dark curly hair and the eyes that saw my soul and wondered how it would feel to tear apart. “You…” I swallowed hard, fear threatening to choke me.

“Me,” he agreed. He straightened his impeccable cuffs, looking at me, a disappointed gleam in his eyes. He looked at Greg, snoozing away peacefully. “You have a rare power about you Mr. Mochrie, and frankly, it’s very bad for business.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I? I won’t do a thing,” he said as innocently as he could. I almost believed him. Almost. “Did you know that it isn’t true that a person will die for real if they die in their sleep? But with a little help… it is possible.”

I paled, my terror sharp and clear. I put a hand on both Ryan and Greg, relieved to find them still there, warm and alive. “Don’t touch them, they have nothing to do with this…”

“I think they have everything to do with this, and with you… but they’re human so they get a free pass. You on the other hand are a different matter altogether.” With a snap of his fingers, I was in Hell.

It had to be Hell, but it was my Hell… my own personal roaring, vomitous, terrifying Hell… and I was going insane.

I was back in the No Man’s Land between the trenches, a gore-encrusted bayonet in my hand, the skin of my feet so soaked in foul, disease-ridden water that the skin was sloughing off layer by decaying layer. The smell of old death and new mixed with the putrid muck and the gas, choking my senses, coating my tongue… I wanted to throw up.

The razor wire hung with the bodies of those who’d tried to get over or under it, cut up and shot, pecked at by birds before the enemy used those for target practice, too. Nothing lived here. Nothing. So why was I here?

I heard a distant sound that I knew was gun fire… the war was approaching… My frantically darting eyes finally settled on a body hanging, alone and sad, on the wire and I screamed.

It was Ryan.

His eyes were sightless, staring at me, his hand outstretched… He’d been dying and I couldn’t save him, I hadn’t been there in time. A lone bird pecked casually at him and I ran forward, tearing it off of him, crushing it in my fist as I fell to my knees in the slime in front of him. “Ry… Ry… why did you come here…” I sobbed, wanting to touch him but was terrified to do so.

I blinked and he was gone, though his gore soaked uniform with the bloody gaping hole in his chest were burned into my mind. I turned slowly, shaking so hard I fell over another body, this one frozen in the throes of mustard gas. His face was twisted in pain, his eyes clawed out and his body covered in boils where his skin showed beyond his muck-encrusted clothes. In one of his hands, a pair of broken glasses…

I vomited noisily before rising. “Greg… Greg are you alive, please tell me you are…” I whispered. I could smell him from here. He wasn’t alive…

I clutched my hands to my eyes, knocking off my helmet and screaming, trying convince myself it was a dream but oh my God it WASN’T! I felt their skin under my hands, smelled them, smelled their death.

Everywhere I looked, they were there, rotting slowly, never at peace, and suddenly they were joined by the others: Sandi, her body blow in half by a grenade… Karen and Emily, clutching each other as they burned… Jeff nearly torn in two as bullets from a Gatlin gun ripped through his fragile body… Chip…

I screamed.

I screamed and screamed and screamed and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop.

A hand landed on my shoulder and I turned to see Ryan and Greg, Greg gripping my shoulders and shaking me, looking terrified. “Col! It’s okay, it’s a dream!” Greg cried as Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off of Chip’s body, a bullet through his brain, the back of his head leaking thicker things. “Dammit Stiles, help me!” Greg cried as he clutched me to him. “We have to wake him up, dammit this isn’t real!”

But Ryan wasn’t listening. He stumbled over and knelt by Chip’s body. His hands were shaking, his legs covered in black and red mud, and he gently picked the crumpled body up, cradling it. He let out a howl that shook me to my core.

I cried out, clutching at Greg. “Don’t leave me!”

“I won’t but you gotta wake up man! Just wake up!” He shook me.

“I can’t!” I cried, “It’s all real! They’re dead! They’re all dead and I couldn’t save them!”

“Colin,” he said, gripping my face, “I am right here… and I need you to-” He was torn from my grasp by invisible hands with a gurgling shout, which turned into a blood curdling shriek of pain. As I watched, he began to boil from the inside out, tearing at his glasses and his clothes, trying to make it stop, screaming.

I froze, blinking between him, writhing, and Ryan, tearfully eyeing gun. “Ryan!” I cried. He looked up, but I could tell he didn’t see me. I peered through the darkness where he was looking and saw me. I was there, dead, my heart missing… all that was left was a dripping red cavern. I wouldn’t be coming back from that. “Ryan it isn’t real!” I cried, and suddenly the spell snapped. I was still in the trenches, but the place had no smell. It was just a photo, a realistic photo that I could stand in, but it had no feel, no smell, nothing. It was exactly what it looked like, an illusion.

“Bravo…” said, the dark-eyed man, though he was clearly happy with me. “Now. Choose.”

“Choose what?” I watched Ryan pick up the gun, turned and saw Greg’s frantic writhing slow to spasmodic twitches as his body began to give up, his mind still trying to protect itself.

“Choose one of them, because you can’t have both.” He smiled.

I looked at him, sick to my stomach, drenched in fear sweat. “I can’t. I can’t choose between them.”

“Then they’re both going to die.”

I looked down at my hands but I couldn’t do anything. I was powerless, and they were both going to die because I physically could not choose. I loved them both too much. “God help me…” I whispered.

I felt hands guiding me, stretching my arms out impossibly wide and felt two familiar forms fill them. I wrapped around them tightly, so tightly that I didn’t think it would be possible to ever let them go again, and I woke up.

All three of us gasped, our lungs inflating painfully after who knows how long of not breathing, and all three of us cried out for joy. We held one another, shaking and clutching each other tightly, sweat and tear soaked, weeping for horror and for sheer relief. “Is this real? Are we awake?” Ryan whimpered at my neck.

I wrapped around him, pressing kisses all over his face and neck. “Yes, yes it’s real…” I whispered before turning to Greg, who was shaking and staring at some distant point I’d never be able to see. “Greg, look at me…” I croaked, grabbing a handful of his hair. He did, reluctantly. “It wasn’t real.”

“Colin… I’m scared…” he said softly, quietly. It terrified me.

I pulled him pretty much on top of me, curling an arm around him, and Ryan curled around both of us, desperate to touch and be touched. I whispered to them both, stroking Greg’s back, my hand at the back of Ryan’s head pressing him to my neck, all of us shivering so violently the bed shook.

It took a long time for us to calm down enough to stop shaking, and by that time, Ryan had completely forgotten his hatred of Greg, touching him voluntarily without so much as a grimace. I held them both, burying his nose on the top of Greg’s hair as his head pillowed on my chest along with Greg’s. I blocked out my mind, simply shut it down and concentrated on both of them. How they felt under my hands, their gentle weight pressing me into the bed… I’d never thought how good they would feel at the same time, how safe I would feel…

Greg lifted his head from my chest, his face wet with tears. He looked at both of us, from my peacefully empty face to Ryan’s tired and wary one. “I… you… please don’t send me away…” he whimpered, begging Ryan.

Ryan’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Then… he opened his arms and held them out to Greg. Greg looked positively terrified by the tall man, but he scooted out from under my other arm, forward and moved to fill Ryan’s arms until he was nestled between us, me from behind and Ryan from the front. “You’ve never been on the receiving end of a war… have you?” Ryan asked him softly, watching me over his hair, stroking my arm softly as I threaded fingers through Greg’s hair and caressed Ryan’s hip.

“No… fuck no… that was… that was…”

“Hell?” I offered softly.

“Yes… that was Hell… but so much worse…”

“Welcome to the human world Greg…” Ryan sighed, eyes glittering, remembering what he’d seen.

I leaned forward and kissed the tears away. “It wasn’t real…” I said quietly.

He nodded, cupping the back of my neck and kissing me desperately before pressing our foreheads together. “What was that?”

“It’s happened before,” I murmured, “but I don’t know who he is…”

“He who?” Ryan asked, but Greg followed right along with me.

“What did he look like?” Greg asked. I described the man, but Greg shrugged. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay. He’s powerful…”

“I’ll say…” Ryan said quietly, pulling back enough to look down at Greg clutched to his chest. “Will you be okay?”

Greg flushed but nodded. “This is comfy,” Greg murmured at his chest.

“Mhmm,” I agreed, smiling lazily at them both, breathing Greg’s hair, watching Ryan’s eyes twinkle at me from over Greg’s head.

“Col…” Ryan asked. “You couldn’t choose between us, could you?”

I knew what he was talking about, and I sighed, knowing what this would mean to him. “No… I love you both. I’m sorry…”

Ryan sighed aggravatedly. “Don’t be…”

That shocked Greg and me, so much so that Greg lifted his head to stare at Ryan. “What?” he asked.

The blood roared to Ryan’s face as he flushed. “Don’t be sorry that you love him…”

Greg and I looked at one another, then back to Ryan, before Greg did something that made my exhausted brain turn to sludge. “Thank you, Stiles.”

It surprised Ryan, too. “… No problem…”

We settled back down, wrapped around one another, or rather both of us wrapped around Greg, with a truce in place that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t want to push my luck by questioning it, but I prayed to whoever was listening that this would stay, because I literally loved them both too much to choose between them.

Something told me that that ‘whoever’ had heard me.

Private I Vampyre: Ch 18/ 24

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 21:24:24 GMT

Private I Vampyre

By: PD
Edited by: Glyph
Rating: R for violence and language
Disclaimer: Do not own
Summary: In which Colin gives you a little background and gets the crap beat out of him

Chapter 18

A lot has happened in the world since last I spoke to you.

Benito Mussolini made peaceable agreements with the French not to infringe on each others colonial agreements, though the rest of the world was quietly snickering on how long it would last.

Hitler began to actively make armaments, violating the Treaty of Versailles.

FDR brought in a new thing from his New Deal, his Works Progress Administration which assigned young men everywhere to jobs building roads, school houses, dams, pretty much anything and everything.

The Dust Bowl swept away anything not tied down from eastern New Mexico to western Oklahoma.

The Babe hit his 714th home run.

And Porky Pig made his stuttering debut.

That was just the first half of 1935.

Nineteen thirty-six wasn’t much better. But… things were getting just a little easier, what with Chicago churning out thousands of tons of raw steel to factories everywhere in the United States, building the latest machines in warfare for our friends overseas and shipping them to the British and French, who in turn were paying us enough to slowly sink our nails in the slippery slopes and pull ourselves out of the hole we’d dug.

But I won’t bog you down with history, because if you honestly wanted to read that stuff, you’d put this book down right now and go off in search of something by Studs Terkel.

During this time, it was still hard for everyone, but as I said, things seemed to be picking up. People weren’t going hungry as often, what with the influx of new jobs and things. The heat of the steel mills could be felt for miles, feeding the warm glow in people’s souls where only desolation had been before. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw two bums laughing and sharing a bottle of wine. Then I gave them money for more.

And thought our friends across the ponds were saving our skins by buying our steel, it was impossible to forget what we were making for them, and what it all meant.

We weren’t actively participating, but so far, it was just a matter of who had the biggest gun. And there were rumors that the Germans had something much more interesting than just a gun up their sleeve.

This was made obvious when the ship carrying the last of Delilah’s Pride was irretrievably destroyed, and no one knew how.

We stood at the port they were due in, myself, Delilah and Jeff, and Wayne and most of his pack, waiting… until dawn was less than an hour away. But nothing came. I dragged the Shipyard Master down and we found out the ship had been sunk by a German U-boat. ‘For target practice,’ the Shipyard Master muttered, shaking his head and walking away.

We had all turned to Delilah, ready for anger, or rage, but she just stood there for the longest time before Jeff and I led her away. It took her a while before she spoke to anyone but the Pride members that had made it across.

But still, these submersibles were the least of my worries. The hits were still going out, and in force, so much so that I’d been hiring some of the local kids to help me make the bullets for five cents a cylinder. Other than a few cheap hit men trying to sneak into my workshop to take me out, it’s been okay. I’d had to sharpen my bullet mixture, removing the garlic shavings and putting in Holy Wafers. Sounds sacrilegious, but hell, it worked against the undead and worked very well against the damned. The kids helped out the most with those, because I couldn’t get anywhere close to them with my hand as it was.

But the hits were getting more professional, and much more frequent. So much so that I was getting very tired of it all and was seriously considering slaughtering a rapist just to get Sherwood’s demonic ass over here. But I didn’t, because something told me that that would be a little too much for my battered, teetering will against the demon already living inside of me.

So I lived with Greg for two years more, fending off what advances he gave before he found out that Ryan and I were back together. It wasn’t hard for him to find out, but it was hard for me to live with him when every time I came around the corner there was a booby trap waiting for me.

I think after the knife in my shoulder I decided to put him back in the hole for a day and a half with the lights on before I let him out to meekly go back into his bedroom. I locked it, don’t worry.

“I don’t fucking understand you Mochrie!” he cried one night as I let him out for food. “I give you everything you could possibly want, and you drop me like yesterday’s newspaper when Ryan finally decides that his morals aren’t too high for you anymore!”

I set down the bag of pieces of silver and the chest of vials of holy water. The priest didn’t ask me why I wanted them, as long as I kept giving him money for them.

He stayed well away from them and followed me, grabbing my arm. I let him, sighing. “You love me, I know you do! And you know that I feel… like that,” his face twisted like it was physical pain to say it aloud. “You know I do, too.”

“Greg… you’re poison… Ryan helps me deal, helps me believe that I can be more than just a monster…”

“Ah I see. So because I accept all of what you are and I don’t let you pretend you aren’t something potentially demonic… you write me off.”

“That’s not-”

“Yes it is! You can’t play pretend around me!” he rose to his full height, glaring up at me. “Well I have news for you Mr. Mochrie, pretending won’t make it go away!” He grabbed my face and dragged me forward, sucking on my lips and forcing them open, dancing his tongue along my eyeteeth, coaxing them out and deliberately nicking himself. I groaned at the taste of him, moving to wrap arms around him when he pulled away. “Now fuck off and go play pretend,” he snapped, marching off to his room and slamming the door shut.

I licked my lips, calming myself down and hitting the back of my head on the wall he’d pushed me against. Was there no one who would just let me be happy with the way things were?

I put on my coat and hat and grabbed my guns, I had two now, and set out to check out some rumors that there were some cheap deals on silver in the uptown area. Perhaps I could even get them blessed by the witches, who were in regular contact with me these days, keeping tabs as best they could on Sherwood.

The shithead was still overseas, but that was all we knew. And he seemed to be staying in one relative spot, which concerned us greatly.

Back to Chinatown I went, and this time is was like walking into a ghost town. Everyone but the women and small children were gone. Even the old men were gone. Probably off trying to make money amongst the other able-bodied workers on one of FDR’s projects.

I’d just finished haggling with an ancient looking old women over a bunch of genuine silver spoons and stepped outside only to jump onto the huge wooden awning across the small street before I knew I had. My reflexes were very sharp these days. I glanced over to where I’d been standing and found a very odd looking, pale blob-like creature staring up at me, almost oozing out of its tatty old coat and hat. It gurgle-hissed up at me, ignoring the people running screaming for cover.

I growled back down at it, drawing a gun with my free hand, baring my teeth in warning.

It crouched, and already a wet trail oozing out around it. Man, it smelled as bad as it looked. I sighted down my arm and shot it, watching it shriek in pain as its hat flew off and clear ooze began to pour from the hole in its… head.

My jaw dropped as the hole sealed over, revealing one multifaceted eye blinking angrily up at me. “Ah shit,” I muttered. It struck so fast I hardly had time to move as it extended something that punched the awning out from underneath my feet. I crashed into the one next over, but it collapsed under my weight, sending me crashing into some chicken coups stacked there. I sat up, spitting feathers out of my mouth and grunted when that weird tendril thing grabbed my ankle and tossed me across the street into a brick wall.

Now, I am tougher than when I first started life as a vampire type creature, but this still knocked a few ribs loose, and I think one actually broke and punctured a lung, because it got real hard to breathe all the sudden. I blinked and fired at it again, punching holes in the gelatinous thing, trying to stand, but my fancy bullets only managed to slow it down, going straight through before they had a chance to do much damage other than messing up the merchandise behind it. It shrieked and hissed, but I think the only thing I was accomplishing was pissing it off.

I rose, grabbing my bag and staggering off down the street, away from spectators, constantly one step ahead of the tendrils it sent after me. My only happy thought was that the damn thing was slow and had to ooze its way after me. I rounded a corner, hoping I’d los it and gagged, coughing up blood and feeling a burning pain in my left lung. Fuck it hurt! I heard the sliding sounds and cursed, going for my other gun, but all I would succeed in doing was using up more slugs.

I tried to sigh and hurried off down the alleyway. What the fuck would kill this thing? I could always just ask it, but something told me that it wasn’t about to give me that information. I broke out on the main thoroughfare, and the people began hurrying away from me, darting worried glances at my blood spattered face and clothes.

The smells of cooking foods and greasy meats invaded my nose and made me want to throw up. Grease… grease fire, shit! He hit me again, out of fucking nowhere, catching me on my sore side tossing me into a stack of massive wooden crates. They splintered underneath my sudden weight, and I felt my lung collapse, cutting my breath in half. My arm suddenly went tingly and numb, and I glanced over at it, blinking blood out of my eyes to see it twisted an awkward way and wet bone glistening out of a hole in my coat sleeve.

I think my brain had it at that moment and decided against me feeling pain anymore, because I could move, and distantly I knew it hurt, but that didn’t stop me from charging past the thing. And it didn’t stop it from tripping me just short of the grease filled pans. It’s grip on my ankle brought all of the pain in my body into full focus, and I screamed in rage and agony.

It pulled at me, and I pulled back, feeling it’s grip on my ankle turn crushing just as my fingers brushed the skillet… my last chance… the skillet was jerked away from me, and I looked over to see “Emily!” I cried, “Run, give it to me and run!”

She just stared at the thing trying to pull my leg off and her face contorted in anger and defiance. She dashed the boiling contents onto the critter and I heard it cry out in anger and pain. I seized my chance and pulled my leg out of its weakened grip, skittering back as far as I could before I fell. I took my gun out, aimed, and fired, sparking the grease and turning it into fuel for a fire that seared the creature’s film-like flesh, boiling it alive.

It screamed now, high and piercing, and I watched with a nasty little grin as its eye exploded in a cloud of steam.

No one rushed to douse the flames, and as long as it didn’t travel to the buildings, I didn’t think anyone was going to.

A flushed little face blinked down at me from my place flat on my back. Well, what face I could see between her massive cap, with all of her black hair tucked under it, and the scarf wrapped around her face. She was dressed like a newsie, and it fit her very well. “You did that well,” I coughed.

“How’d you know that would kill it?”

“I didn’t, but I was hoping it would…” My vision was dimming, and I felt damn tired. I tried to rise, but couldn’t. My adrenaline had left me and I was now about as mobile as a lump of overcooked noodles.

“Mr. Mochrie?” her voice was tinny and far away, and her blurry face looked something close to worried. Couldn’t really tell.

“Get me… to Jeff…” and I was gone, fainted and now in the care of a sixteen year old girl in the middle of China Town.

Well… Shit.

I woke to find dirty faces peering down at me warily as my body shook with rattling, wet gasps. I croaked at them, trying to say help, to ask for it, but they stayed well away from my bloodied hands.

Emily was nowhere to be seen.

I fell once again into the black, feeling much worse about everything in general.

I was aware… that much was true… vaguely aware that I wasn’t in China Town anymore… and whatever I was laying down on was a lot softer. And I smelled people… women next to me… felt their amazing heat… “Delilah?” I croaked, and the form on my left shifted.

“Hush now, love…” she whispered, brushing a warm, gentle hand across my cheek. “Sleep… you’ll feel better soon…”

What a capital idea.

When next I woke, I tried to open my eyes and found I couldn’t. That made me feel like I should to panic, but I was too tired, my entire body so sluggish and unwilling to participate in anything that I just lay there, trying to assess my situation as subtly as I could.

After a few seconds of fidgeting, I found that I was almost naked, still wearing my drawers, my right foot in a cast, my arm in another one, my eyes bandaged closed, and my ribs tightly bound. All in all, a good scrap. I felt that form next to me sigh softly again and smelled her hair as she shifted to tuck her head into my shoulder. I smiled faintly. “Delilah?” I whispered.

“You’re awake,” she murmured, sounding pleased and not a little relieved.

“Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to all of us.”

“Us?” I asked.

“Do your eyes hurt?”

I thought about it for a moment. “No. They sting, but no…”

“Good. You awoke as we were transporting you in a bag during the day. Your eyes were damaged, but they should heal perfectly, if not now then after you’ve fed.” I felt her hands taking off my bandage and blinked dimly, trying to get my eyes to focus. They hurt, but the blurry shapes slowly slid into some semblance of focus. Delilah blinked down at me, smiling faintly. “Hello.”

“Hello,” I grinned, chancing a glance at who else was in the bed with me. “Hi Michelle.”

She beamed up at me from her place by my hip. “Hi Colin.”

I blushed and turned to the other girl. “Do I know you?”

She shook her head before snuggling back down, eyes already slipping shut.

Delilah examined my eyes. “Are you still in pain?”

I shook my head but winced. She gave me a look and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fudge this one. “Yeah, and tired.”

“Then we’ll sleep… and when you wake you must take some blood.”

“Sounds fantastic… Will you guys stay?”

“Of course…”

“Good…” I whispered. I knew she was smiling as we both snuggled back up and I sank into their warmth like a much loved blanket. God, this was nice. Would’ve been nicer if it was Ryan was with me, too, but right now I’d take what I could get.

I lay in Delilah’s lap, drinking from her wrist like a parasite as she caressed the side of my face, holding me close, her face impassive throughout it. It was strange. I’d never had such an… impersonal feed. Even the muggers and the rapists had felt something when I established the link that was now a reflex, in order to pacify them. But all I’d gotten from her was a soft sigh as I’d sunk in my teeth.

She was acting tender, not aroused, and though it confused me, I liked it. I felt so damn safe, like a child suckling on its mother.

But that building pressure in my mind… I felt it, felt it rise, making my eyes water until… with a soft pop, it released to everywhere I needed it and more. God she was so powerful! She was like Jeff, letting me taste in glimpses everyone tied to her, but so alive, practically shoving power down my throat! Like racing fire where Jeff was cool stillness.

I pulled away, panting, slumping into her embrace. She brushed lips against my brow. “How do you feel?”

I giggled, wiggling my fingers and breaking the cast off. “I feel fantastic…” I smiled up at her, watching her clean the bite.

She flushed. “One will take that as a compliment.”

“Oh believe me, it was one,” I assured her, breathing easier for the first time in a while, though the bandages were making it harder than it should have been. “I can’t thank you and the ladies enough,” I said, reaching down for Michelle’s hand. I found it and sent her a thankful smile. She blushed and just snuggled up closer, my hand still tightly clutched in hers.

“Well, when we got the call from that Karen woman’s little sister, Emily, there was little else we would ever want to do. Strangely enough, however, you didn’t react well when Wayne’s wolves lay with you, trying to give you their warmth and energy to heal. When my cats tucked in, your pallor turned for the better… Michelle arrived soon after and wouldn’t leave your side,” she smiled quietly down at me, still stroking the fringe of hair still left on my head.

I mulled it over, sinking into her hands, just letting her power continue to mend and make me feel one hell of a lot better.

I was just drifting off to sleep again when I heard angry voices on the other side of the door.

“-let me see him!”

“Neither of you can, he needs rest, not you two bickering over him!”

“I don’t fucking care, I have to see him!”

“Why? So the only person who doesn’t want you dead thinks you still give a damn about him?”

“Fuck you human-”

“I got news for you, fuckup, you’re human, too,”

“Gentlemen!” That had to be Jeff, stepping between them before the punches I know were ready were thrown. “Please… let me see if he can actually accept visitors.”

“Shit… Is he actually that hurt?” That was Greg, sounding a little worried. How the hell had Greg gotten here? I looked a question to Delilah, but she didn’t give me anything, just looking from me to the door, curling around me a little protectively. I could feel the potential in her limbs and felt a little worried.

“Let me see him, damn you…” and that was Ryan, sounding frightened.

The door swung open, and Ryan stormed in looking like a nervous wreck, his eyes settling on me in bed with three women, two of them naked, and one of them holding me close in her lap, her wrist freshly bitten. I blinked and winced at how it must look, but he didn’t get a chance to be jealous, because Greg came in right behind him and chuckled. “You sure don’t waste time, Col.”

Ryan turned on him, happy for a target that he could manage, and snarled, “Don’t fucking call him that!” Greg turned in time to see Ryan’s fist land squarely on his jaw before Jeff dragged the tall, angry man back before he could do more than give Greg a bloody lip.

Ah, the loves of my life, how I missed them.

Private I Vampyre: Ch 17/ 24

Tue, 21 Oct 2008 07:33:43 GMT

Private I Vampyre

By: PD
Edited by: Glyph
Rating: PG-13 for something, I'm sure
Disclaimer: Do not own
Summary: In which Colin does some detective work, talks to some witches, and discovers a way to save the day... at a price

Chapter 17

After we dropped Delilah off at Wayne’s place, and after a nice, long, undisturbed, sleep, I left Greg at home to go out a-questing for the witches.

That sounds so much more interesting than it was.

Okay, maybe it was a little interesting, because if they had a card, maybe they were registered at the telephone operators. A short phone call later, and I was in front of their little shop. The damn thing had been hard enough to find. I had to go all the way into downtown, up Columbus and right at Randolph. It took me a few confusing moments before I realized it was actually in the Illinois Central Railroad yards. Strangely enough, there were patches of greenery between the massive cars and storage units filled with trees. And here I was thinking it was just a bunch of railroads Mr. Burnham had claimed for himself.

Nope. In a little section not yet plowed over for railroad use or for the public as a place to hold large functions, there were a bunch of little shops that had nested in amongst the beech trees, with a sprinkling of rowan and ash between them. The whole place made me want to snort in disdain, but considering what I was, I guess I didn’t have the high ground to scoff.

So now here I stood outside Ms. Laura and Linda’s magic shop, which seemed very worse for wear, what with the ‘you’re the devil’s advocates’ etc. written all over it.

I rolled my eyes and made to knock on the door when a spark and sharp pain, like an electrocution from a doorknob, spiked up my arm. “Ow!” I cried, hunching over my hand and backing away from the damn door. It hurt a hell of a lot more than a damn doorknob spark should have. I heard whispering on the other side of it and looked up in time to see the white lace curtain flick behind the diamond glass windows. “Hey, anyone in there? Can you make whatever buzzed my hand off stop?”

The door opened, and a tall, pretty and very, very pregnant brunette with short hair was glaring down at me, brandishing a broom. How cliché. The anger didn’t sit well with her face, which was incredibly gentle looking, even as the eyes narrowed at me. “And why would we do that, creature of evil? So you can devour us?”

“Ew, no,” I wrinkled my nose.

It must’ve thrown them, because a bleach blonde peeked around the brunette’s shoulders. “‘Ew, no’? What kind of a demon are you?”

“I’m not! Why does everyone think I’m a damn demon?” I rose, flexing my hand and crossing my arms.

“Our wards protect us against all things of evil or the demonic,”

“Oh… um… that would be my hand…” I raised it, embarrassed just a little. “I’m not a whole demon, just my hand…”

“Does that mean… you’re the White Ghost!” the blonde said, a little excited and a little afraid.

I nodded.

“We speak of you when we meet with the others during the full moons, trying to decipher what you belong to, as far as good or bad…”

“And?”

“We don’t know,” they admitted, looking a little lost.

I sighed, sweeping off my hat and running my hand over my scalp. “If you ladies ever figure it out, or maybe if you figure out how to get rid of the evil part, will you let me know?”

“Um… sure…” The poor things looked so confused.

“So, does this mean I can come in?”

“Certainly not!” the blonde cried. “Laura’s pregnant, we can’t chance any evil energies infecting the baby.”

“Okay, whatever, but I need to talk to you both about a customer you had a few years ago, a very influential man. I don’t think you’d want to discuss business out of doors where anyone can hear,”

“And why would we tell you about our customers?” the one who could only be Linda asked haughtily.

“Well, because I’m trying to keep some people, including myself from being killed by one of the things you might’ve set my friend up with.”

They glanced at one another warily. “And who would your friend be?”

I looked around, scanning for life or unlife or whatever else might be out there. The place was so charged with dormant magic it was like trying to see in a fog. I sighed. “Mr. Carey?”

They both paled, and Laura sagged against the wall. “We can’t let you in, but we’ll still talk…”

We ended up sitting on either side of the door frame, them pushing cups of tea out to me, and me listening as they spilled the beans on exactly what Drew had asked of Sherwood. It wasn’t at all pretty, but then, when was dealing with demons ever a pretty thing?

A couple hours later, I was driving home pondering what the two women had told me. And it was a little frightening.

To summon a demon, you had to go through some channels no human normally went through, then you needed a sacrifice, because to be honest, nothing in our world can stand a good blood offering.

But the channel was the scary thing, because the only persons Drew could have gone through were either Greg or Max. And Greg would most certainly not bring another demon on his turf on purpose. And therein lay the problem, because Max was very, very dead.

She was the old master of the city before Jeff took over, and boy she was as scary as she was beautiful. Tall, black hair, storm colored eyes, pale skin, red lips, full figure… she was enough to get any man… or thing… she wanted. But she’d tried to get the werewolves and the human mafia pitched against one another so she and Sherwood could take over completely. I put a stop to her evil scheme and she was killed in a duel for the city against Jeff.

She almost took me with her, but hey, surviving and living well is probably pissing her off as she rots in hell.

And now, she was probably laughing her undead ass off.

Only she could give me the information I needed as to who she went through to get Sherwood over here, because if I had that, then we could perhaps send out a warning, or at the most, drag his ass back here and put a couple slugs into it and send him limping home to his maker. I hoped.

I drove to Jeff’s. Hopefully, he could help me with this, being as old as he was, and perhaps he was there when Max had done the summoning or whatever and could tell me what was to be done. And who knows, maybe we could get away with it without having to do a sacrifice.

At Jeff’s place in the Cemetery on Pulaski, right near my place, in fact, I walked down the large, broad stone steps and knocked on the huge door. Angela met me at the door. “Mochrie, how good to see you again.”

I swept off my hat. “Indeed, we always seem to meet in odd circumstances.”

“Something tells me this one is no different,” she cocked her head at me.

I shrugged, sighing as she led the way through the entrance hall where hundreds of vampires always seemed to congregate, only this time it was empty. How freaking weird! I blinked, amazed at how large the place actually was when it wasn’t filled to the portholes with vampires. I contemplated shouting out something just to hear the echo, but that would have been silly. Angela led me down a few flights of steps to Jeff’s chambers and knocked on an ornately carved wooden door.

She opened it and strode in, beckoning for me to follow before she bowed out, leaving me along in Jeff’s living room, looking around. I walked over to the fake fireplace, wishing it were real because the place was damn cold, and looked up at the stuff on the mantelpiece. There were cracked clay pipes, an old mantel clock that seemed to have stopped working, a few very old books, and above them all, a massive painting. There was a man and a woman with their child. The man was Jeff, dressed in very old finery, possibly 1800’s? He looked as he always did, stoic but faintly amused. His hiding face. And the woman seated next to him was small and plump, blonde, with a bright smile contrasting him wonderfully. In her arms she held a plump little child with dark hair and a bright face.

The kid looked very familiar, but I didn’t have time to think why, because Jeff came out from a side door, looking very perturbed. “Am I here at a bad time?” I asked.

“No, no, no, don’t worry,” he shook his head, making his hair fly every which way, and motioned for me to sit. “What is on your mind, Colin?”

I pulled out my notepad, sighing again. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Delilah and I were attacked last night, a hit designed to take me out before they went on to get Greg. Greg is okay, and Delilah is fine, but the hit nearly worked. If Delilah hadn’t slapped a fingerbone loaded with a quick dissolving silver dart out of my hand…” Jeff paled, but motioned me to continue.

I told him about Delilah’s interrogation and our subsequent investigation of Mr. Carey, who had come to the same conclusion. Something made me pause in my narrative, though. “Delilah said that something non-human was behind the war in Europe… What did your friends you left to talk to say?” I asked hesitantly. He stiffened slightly. “Jeff?”

“Something non-human is key in the German’s war on Europe. My contacts overseas are convinced that someone with a lot of knowledge is aiding Herr Hitler, though we don’t know who, because not just were-creatures are being attacked. Vampires, were’s, lesser demons… everyone is being discovered. The ones somehow not fit enough to be kidnapped are exterminated, usually the revenants or the non-predatory weres.”

“Non-predatory?”

“The avians, the birds… the foxes, the horses…”

That boggled my mind how diverse the were’s were, but hey, it was a whole species. Why the hell not. I wrote it all down in my trusty notebook.

“Thankfully, the were’s and the vampires have banded together, momentarily, with the fey to make sure none of our secrets are spilled to those monstrous creatures the Nazi party calls scientists,” Jeff snarled, rising to pace. He looked more like a caged tiger than a man.

“Well, you may not enjoy this, but it will definitely make your and your fellow’s jobs easier, because I happen to know who might be behind the information leak to the Nazi’s…”

“Who?” he demanded, suddenly in my face.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You can’t get rid of him yet. I need some answers from him first…”

“I can’t promise that, Colin,” he said quietly, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Give me your word that you’ll do your best to keep him alive until I can question him in person.” I felt myself get a little crispy at the box I was sticking him in, but hell, I’ll get over it and so will he.

“Fine, you have my word.”

“Good…” I sighed. “It’s Sherwood.”

His eyes narrowed even further. “How can you be so sure?”

“I spoke with some witches, and Carey, just to be sure, but I need you to try and tell me how Max got a hold of him in the first place.”

He sat down, rubbing his palms together. “That’s right, she called Bradley out of the dark to service Drew… He couldn’t do it, didn’t have the psychic weight to throw around to even get Bradley’s notice, but she did… curse her…” he spat.

I almost asked him again why he cared so much about Drew, but stopped when he spoke again, heavily. “I was there when she summoned him, but I don’t have the exact name to summon him by, and I don’t think that even if I did, you’d want me to raise him…”

“Why?”

“It takes blood, Mochrie… human, and I don’t think we know anyone we’d care to spill a drop for that bastard son of a devil’s whore,” he growled.

I sat back, sighing. He was right. “I spoke with two witches today, Laura and Linda… they said they knew a way around the blood sacrifice, but it would take more power than any of us had just laying around…” I rubbed my hand across my face.

“You know… there are ways of getting mass amounts of power without spending any of ours… but we’d need a very good conduit. Someone who can channel without being affected… and could survive such a transaction…”Jeff scowled.

“A sensitive?” I asked, frowning.

“No, they’d have to be more than a sensitive. They’d have to know how to use the power given, as well as how to control it. Like a slim blade, utter control.”

“Who do we know who has that control?” I wracked my brain. No one I knew was psychic enough to do this kind of thing and survive it. Wait… yes there was. Jeff looked at me as I looked to him.

“Delilah…” we said together.

“Shit, Jeff, we can’t ask her to do this…” I said heavily. “She could die, couldn’t she?”

“Possibly… but I’ve never heard of a were surviving a lightening strike,”

“What?!” I shouted.

He shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I’ve heard of it happening accidentally, but never on purpose. Harnessing that amount of raw elemental power, using it to basically force yourself around the set doors…”

“I am not asking Delilah to get struck by lightening just to get Sherwood over here and tell him to knock it off at his assassination attempts.”

“What choice do we have?” he asked quietly.

I glared at him, then at the floor. “This isn’t fair, not to her.”

“Life is not fair to anyone, Colin, you should know that by now.”

I looked away and didn’t argue. I couldn’t, because he was right on so many levels now it wasn’t funny at all. We were silent for a while before I turned to him, a question obvious in my eyes. “So what do we do? I can’t ask her to make this kind of sacrifice… not when she’s just getting her people to safety…”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Then we are at an impasse. You can’t ask her to do the only other thing to bring Bradley here for questioning, and we won’t do a blood sacrifice for him, so… nothing will happen. There’s nothing we can do.”

I thought hard, hating the feeling of uselessness. “We can do one thing. We can warn the others.” He frowned at me as I rose, taking the idea and running with it. It was a good one, too. “We can warn everyone in Europe, from the revenants, to the were’s, to the Fey, to get out of where they lay and head for the hills. The German war machine may be quiet now, but everything is pointing at something big. They’re hunting down the supernatural critters for a reason.”

“But what reason?” Jeff asked.

“A whole new race of soldiers? Super-fast, impervious to most disease?” Jeff’s jaw dropped. “If they were undead, they wouldn’t need to eat or sleep or fear sickness… and you could make as many mindless freaks as you wanted…” I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach as the possibilities hit me. Hard.

“Are you sure this is possible?” he whispered, looking ill.

“They’re hunting the strong, killing the weak? You said so yourself, that we had to kill our own before they fell into the hands of the Nazi scientists…”

“Gods preserve us…” he rose. “We must warn the others… I’ll send out the word, and hurry the ships carrying Delilah’s people… but Colin,” he paused, looking back at me. “This won’t solve your problem. You and Greg will continue to be attacked from every shadow, and now… possibly the ones you love as well. They aren’t safe anymore, Colin…”

“Jesus…” I hadn’t thought of that. Shit. “Where can I take them? They won’t all fit in my place, and I’d rather take my chances than stick Ryan in the same city block with Greg for a long period of time.”

He smiled briefly before he went back to his serious face. “Bring them here, it’s safe, with many charms and spells to protect it. Nothing as good as your heavenly and demonic charms.”

“Yeah, and that worked real good when Clive decided that he’d make a try on Greg’s life,” I snorted, picking up my hat and shoving my notepad into my pocket. “I’ll bring them over real quick, hopefully they won’t put up too much of a fuss. Jeff?” I froze. So did he. “One of them is Karen’s little sister… she’s only 16… will she be safe here?”

“I swear no harm will come to her while she’s in my keeping,” he said firmly, gripping my arms tightly before clapping them. “Now, to battle Colin, we have loved ones to protect and enemies to thwart!” he cried, hurrying off the way he came.

I chuckled, going out the front door and piling into my car, my mission firmly in my brain. Get Ryan and the others to Jeff’s, give Delilah a call and give her the good news/ bad news on her people, then go home to Greg and prepare for a big wait.

We couldn’t move forward with Greg’s or my own protection. I couldn’t ask Delilah to potentially kill herself just to question a demon we were almost positively sure was responsible for the Nazi’s coming to power in the first place.

And this was only the 3rd of January, 1935. I sighed, feeling fatigue creeping up on me as I drove back home and parked, shutting down for the night.

I locked us both away, Greg pouting at once again being confined to his room. I still hadn’t told him Ryan and I were, well, Ryan and I again, and for some disturbing reason I felt bad about it. I pushed it from my mind, feeling sleep creeping up on me along with the dawn and decided it would all be best considered tomorrow night after a good sleep.

That was two years ago.

Private I Vampyre: Ch 16/ 24

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 05:11:49 GMT

Private I Vampyre

By: PD
Edited by: Glyph
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Do not own
Summary: In which they have a talk with the most powerful human in Chicago and Colin gets hugs

Chapter 16

Going back home was interesting, with Delilah walking briskly alongside me wearing naught but her heels, and her knee-length coat with her little purse tucked under her arm. She was an interesting riddle. She spoke like royalty, but had no illusions of modesty or that she was less than attractive.

And once we got home… well, that was a different story.

“Where the fuck have you been oh hi there…” Greg’s indignant screech smoothed out to his most suave as he eyed Delilah’s barely hidden form thoroughly. “Wait… I know who you are…” he frowned. “Who are you?”

“Delilah. Bast’s daughter.”

“Ohhh…” Greg wilted a little. “Sooo… what brings you to the states?” he asked brightly, edging behind me. I grinned quietly.

So did she, though her grin was no more than an amused tightening around the eyes. “Not you, so there is no need to hide.”

“Who’s hiding?” he snarked before turning to me, looking me up and down, cataloguing my scuffed knees and the fact that my coat was a bit worse for wear. “So… what happened to you guys?”

I told him, and he wilted even more before firm anger replaced what little fear there had been. “Those bastards. Whoever sent those guys is one sick son of a bitch. What did the vampire say he’d been told?”

“‘To Mochrie from an old pal.’”

“Who do we know would talk like that?” Greg frowned for a moment, then looked at me. “Brad-” he said.

“Sherwood.” I finished for him.

We all just kind of stared at one another for a moment before I asked the obvious question. “So… how to we get a hold of Sherwood?”

Greg frowned. “Well, I can’t anymore.”

“Oh please,” Delilah sighed. “We need Mr. Carey.”

I scowled. I hated going to that part of town.

We took my car. A Dodge Brothers Business Coup, beat up, battered around, shot at and patched over more times than was probably good for it.

My scruffy pride and joy.

Greg sat in the back amid the flotsam and jetsam, see garbage, of my life, keeping uncharacteristically quiet as he nibbled at his nails while I drove and Delilah rode shotgun. She was also quiet, but had laughed softly when I’d asked her to buckle up. Yes, she’d survive a trip through my windshield, but I liked having my windshield where it was.

The American public might thought them a silly idea, but I thought they were wonderful, since they’d kept me in the car a time or two in my youth when it rolled.

She’d also declined my offer of more… discreet clothing, opting to stick with her long coat, shoes, gloves and hat. She was covered, but still. I had a gorgeous, half-naked were-woman riding next to me, her long, elegant legs hardly covered at all. The car swerved and Greg snickered, making me blush furiously. Change the subject. “What makes you think Boss Carey will want to talk to us? Sherwood was a rather undesirable chapter in his history, after all, and call me silly but I don’t think he’ll want to reopen it.”

“He will. He likes you, and hates Bradley, or Sherwood as you call him. He’ll most likely wish to help all he can.”

“How are we getting in? It’s kinda hard to do.”

“I’ve arranged a meeting in a few hours.”

I glanced sideways at her. “Oh?”

She turned and gave me that quiet smile. “You’ve been told already, Mochrie, that one intends to live here. One cannot set up house without speaking to all of the landlords.”

“I notice you haven’t asked me if you can stay here or not,” Greg grumped.

She didn’t even look back at him. “If by some odd twist of fate you again become a power to be reckoned with, then perhaps one shall ask your permission, but for now, one doesn’t make deals with people one can eat.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. Even Greg didn’t have a reply to that one. On we drove.

Boss Carey was one of Al Capone’s most trusted advisers. One of the top bananas, not someone to cross by any means, not that mobsters were people you’d want to cross in the first place.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on which side of that particular fence you sat on, Carey was now the head mobster of Capone’s ring while Scarface served time in Alcatraz for tax evasion.

Taxes… such a little thing to take such a big time man down.

As a man, he was good and generous, with a fair judgment and always willing to help someone out of a tough spot. But just as he was good he was ruthless. He did his own killing when he had to, and he rarely if ever gave a second chance, and even when he did, he gave them grudgingly.

He hadn’t been half so influential once upon a time. Once he’d just been one of many business owners, sending the mobs half of all their earnings. He’d owned a small strip club, turning it into a respectable gentleman’s establishment with the best girls and the best booze. Capone had taken a liking to him, and a dark deal with a demon named Sherwood had helped him move up the ranks. A little suggestion here, a little nudge there, and Carey had become one of the most powerful men in the country.

After Sherwood had been sent back to Hell, Carey’d been kept on by Capone as the new liaison between the mob and the preternatural community. So he was pretty much the second most powerful human in the country if you took the government out of the mix. And he liked me best of all.

I’d saved his life at the risk of my own, all because a friend had asked me to. I never found out why Carey was so important to Jeff, and I never asked again after he told me politely to drop it. That didn’t really matter anymore, because Carey thought I was his hero and I could do no wrong.

The thought was a little terrifying, a little, but still… it had its uses when I needed help.

It still creeped me out though.

Carey’s favorite haunt, where he kept his office, was also his best strip club, and he’d done some remodeling since I’d last been in here. Surrounding the main dancefloor where thirteen tables with thirteen pillars. Everything was in black, white, and rose red, much more tasteful than the garish red velvet and gold trim it had been. The incredibly skilled girls danced on metal poles Carey had installed on a whim, making me avert my eyes automatically. I’d never been one for these joints. Honest.

I followed the swaying form ahead of me instead, trying to ignore the taste of prickling energy the place had. Sexual energy, going strong from the alcohol dipped men watching the girls tease them with glimpses of white flesh and promises they never intended to keep. I shook myself, clearing my throat and grabbing Greg’s collar as he stopped to watch one of the more flexible ladies.

“Come on Greg, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Yeah, but Carey isn’t half as good a fuck as she would be, bet me,” he sighed, waving goodbye to the slightly disappointed girl who winked at him and turned back to her other customers.

“And you would know how good Carey is… how?”

“Sonny Jim, I wouldn’t touch that with a fuckin’ pole,” he said frankly.

I rolled my eyes, following Delilah into the back room past the enormous man with the bulge in his suit jacket and his friend on the other side of it not even bothering to wear a suit jacket to hide his massive gun. They nodded to me, and I recognized two of them as the ones who’d stayed behind to save their boss when he’d been dying.

The other fellows protecting their bosses inner sanctum were watching Delilah as someone rang us in. One of them stepped forward. “We need to pat you down,” he grinned.

“There is no need,” she dismissed him, but he wasn’t about to be deterred from his free show.

“Sorry Miss, but what kind of body guard would I be if I let you in to shoot my boss?” He sounded down home, good ole boy nice. Like he should be watchin’ the chickens and skipping rocks with Sally Mae. Obviously new here since he didn’t know what kind of people might be visiting.

“Boy, if you try to pat her down you’ll be dead faster than you could draw any breath to scream,” Drew said from behind his crony. The man jumped guiltily, apologizing and sending Delilah a reproachful look. “Besides, Delilah here is a real lady. You don’t treat a lady like that,” Drew kissed her hand, and you could tell he was trying to figure out if she was wearing anything underneath her coat when his eyes flicked behind her to see me. “Mochrie!” he cried, hurrying us all in and embracing me tightly.

I ‘oofed’ and patted his back before he pulled back, still gripping my arms tightly. “Hello, Mr. Carey,”

“Please, Mochrie, call me Drew!” he grinned. “The man who saved my life at the risk of his own shouldn’t have to use my last name.”

“As long as you call me Colin, sir,” I smiled faintly. He always had that effect on people. Look how jolly I am… Right up until I shoot you.

“And who’s your…” he scowled, his hand straying to his suit jacket as he took in Greg, who was trying to melt into the background. Which was weird, because it was Greg.

“Hey there Mr. C, looks like business is doing great.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you, you shit,” he snarled. Hmmm, prejudiced against demons… I can believe it.

“Mr. Carey,” Delilah’s voice cut across anything Greg, Carey or I might’ve said. “One believes that we,” she nodded her head to include Greg, who settled down from looking ready to dive for cover. “Have some information that could be of interest to you, and find ourselves in need of some as well.”

Carey glared at Greg from around my shoulder before nodding, shooing the guards out with a healthy stare and moving over to sit behind his massive dark wood desk, propping his feet up, his face set and his eyes lightly hooded. We sat, looking at one another cautiously. “You made an appointment in advance to ask for information that I assume you just got now?”

“How’d you figure that?” Greg asked before shrinking back behind me when Carey sent him a look that sizzled my skin.

“You guys look like you’ve just been in a fight.”

I blinked, then snorted softly. That jolly charm always made you forget the sharp, incredibly shrewd mind behind the glasses. “Well, you are half correct,” Delilah sighed. “One came to ask your permission to homestead this country for my people, but that is unimportant at the moment.” She filled him in on the hit on myself and Greg, the box, and its message.

We hadn’t even gotten to tell him our theories when he spoke. “Sherwood.” His voice was guttural and ugly, filled with fear and hatred. Small wonder. Sherwood had been the Mephistopheles to Carey’s Faust, causing Carey to murder his wife and nearly killed him in the process. Carey stood shakily, going over to the bar and poured himself one, not offering, but downing the whole glass before fixing another and buzzing his intercom box.

The door opened and who was apparently his secretary entered, clipboard and pen in hand. “Yes Mr. Carey?”. She glanced up at us from her pen and paper and let out a screech. It was Denny “Omigosh Mr. Mochrie! Are you a ghost? Well, no,you can’t be but Omigosh I thought you was dead! But you are dead but, but… but you could’ve told me you wasn’t really dead ya mook!” She turned from shocked to angry Jewish mother in five seconds flat, while I went red in the cheeks as everyone watched. Even Carey momentarily suspended his brooding to watch, his lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement. That’s me, comic relief.

“Sorry, Denny, I kinda got sidetracked!” I pleaded, hands out, approaching. She smacked me with her clipboard indignantly. “Ow!”

“I thought you was dead, and then I had to go out and get a new job and a new place, then I thought all our stuff had got stolen!” She broke down, sobbing as she fell into my arms. “I thought you was dead! I thought… I thought… I thought I was never gonna see you again!” She hiccupped.

I patted her back, once again wishing I was somewhere else. “It’s okay Denny, its okay.”

“Do you have a secretary Mr. M?” she asked suddenly, tears forgotten on her cheeks.

“No, but business is real slow. Besides, you already have a boss, remember?” I nodded to Mr. Carey, who was watching with a blank face.

She flushed, stepping away and smoothing out her dress, wiping at her face. “I’m sorry sir, what was it you needed?” she sniffled.

He blinked, sucking on his teeth before he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “Could you bring me Laura and Linda’s number and their card, please.”

“Yes sir, right away sir,” she nodded, turning to leave, but not without petting my arm happily and running off.

I shook my head, rubbing my temples when I turned to the rest of them. “What?” They just smirked, grinning. “Ex employee.” I offered. “We worked together for almost twelve years.”

“Ahh,” Delilah nodded knowingly. “Fondness aside, you’re still a… mook, apparently.” She beamed at me quietly, and both Greg and Drew let out bright laughs before they sobered when Drew gave Greg the stink eye again.

“When I first joined this business, I was impatient and more than a little worried for my skin, since the climb to the top, or at least to middle management, is a treacherous one. I’ve always known about the other half of this world since I was a kid, so…” Drew swirled his glass of brandy. He was a sensitive? How had I not picked up on that when I’d been tromping around in his head? Ah well. “I found a pair of genuine witches and hired them to help me with a get rich quick scheme. They wouldn’t participate in the actual… summoning… because of the Threefold Law.”

“Threefold Law?” I asked, searching for my notepad to write all this down. Who knows, it could come in handy.

“The main law of all witches is whatever you do, good or bad, it comes back to you threefold.” Drew said offhandedly. All three of us blinked. He was maybe a little too knowledgeable about our world than perhaps we might be comfortable with. I know I was getting the creeps, but if he was the liaison between our world and his, he’d have to be knowledgeable… wouldn’t he? “And summoning a demon is not something you want to stain yourself with,” he sat heavily, shaking suddenly.

“Mr. Carey…” Delilah began before Denny came in with the card and handed it to me.

“‘Laura & Linda; Witches,’” I read.

Greg snorted. “I’ll bet that gets a lot of business.”

“I’m sorry but that’s all I’m going to say about this subject,” Drew rose suddenly. “I happen to believe in the Threefold Law, even though that didn’t stop me before. I’m trying to get a good thing going, but,” he stopped us as we made to leave. “If you confront Bradley, get rid of him. For good.” His face was set with old pain, but his eyes blazed, fresh and raw.

“Mr. Carey, a demon cannot be destroyed.” Delilah said softly, laying her hand over his.

He jumped at the contact, and Delilah withdrew, leaving Denny to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently. Drew held her hand, eyes flickering for a moment. I frowned between them, but hey, it wasn’t my business. But something else was… “Mr. Carey?” I bit my lip as he looked up at me. “Have you heard about Ryan’s bar?”

He blinked at the sudden change of topic but seized it almost gratefully. “Uhm, yes, I had heard that it was shut down because of the chokehold the government has on the supply industry, yes… Why?”

“He’s a good man, sir, and he’s got a small family of his own to support,” I kneaded my hat in my hands. “But he’s too proud to ask himself…”

“Times change people, Colin,” Carey’s eyes glittered and a weird half smile quirked his lips. Like he knew something I didn’t. “Desperate times change people faster.”

I cocked my head at him, and his eyes skittered away from mine. I shrugged. “Have a good day sir, thank you for your help.”

“Ask and you’ll have it, Colin,” he reached out and we all shook hands and nodded our goodbyes.

All was well.

In the club, I was still pondering what he’d said. He wasn’t normally the kind of guy who enjoyed being cryptic, but then, it was hard to be in this business with werewolves, demons and vampires without getting a little hokey sometimes. Then that smell… I recognized that smell. Very much. “Colin?” Delilah frowned. “What is it?”