I Do Stuff

“There he goes. One of God’s own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.” -Hunter S. Thompson var sc_project=10826643; var sc_invisible=0; var sc_security="1cc43344"; var scJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://secure." : "http://www."); document.write("");

[miller-mayfair]

When did you know you were in love?

When he looked me dead in the eyes as a bright-eyed predator and didn't kill me.

When he put an earbud in my ear to make me listen to music. He shared with me something that he loved without me asking. It was him letting me into his world. And it was a powerful gravity.

When he kissed me the first time and I felt the world tremble outside and inside of myself.

I fell in love far too early and acted on it far too late. At least now there's still time to make up for.

[miller-mayfair]

How's sex with a vamp?

Insatiable.

Erotic.

Anemia-inducing.

The best I've ever had.

I'm learning things that I definitely did not know before. Maybe I just have a really great educator.

[miller-mayfair]

How difficult and stupid is monogamy with Rose and Bianca around?

They are both absolutely stunning women. Not just in their appearance, which is obvious just by looking at them. The incomparable beauty that they each possess.

It's also the appeal of their hearts. They're passionate, they're driven to achieve or obtain whatever they want. They have brilliant minds with sharp wits and keen intellects.

I admire them for the people that they are. If I had but an inkling of their confidence then I would take over the world.

For now, however, I am honored just for the opportunity to hold their purse. Or clutch. Or whatever they want me to carry. Yeah, I'm down with that.

[miller-mayfair]

How are you handling your boyfriend constantly picking fights with god?

I'm handling it so fucking well.

There could be a case study on how well I'm handling it, and they would put a picture of me in their published book with the caption under it that just says: Guy who handles it well.

Though I MEAN it would be great if maybe Nicolas didn't decide that he needed to get into fights with anyone. Let alone God.

How the fuck am I going to punch God in an honor duel, right? My fists are weak and my arms are noodles.

[miller-mayfair]

Are you going to go through with it?

Yes, I'm going through with it.

Fuck!

Asking me questions like that is giving me performance anxiety and I'm not even in the middle of the process right now.

Now I'm going through it at the thought of going through with it. Thanks.

[postergirlfornothing]

[geminiundead]

"A litter!" I don't quite catch myself before I repeat it, at once delighted and curious about the concept but of course it's tragic too. "Oh but I'm sorry that's awful...did you ever get to meet any of them?"

I can guess probably not and I instantly regret asking it. I try to imagine what it would feel like if Jamie and I had a third we never met. I don't dare ask Elliot how many he means by litter.

His questions are far easier to answer than the ones on the page. I wave away his concern, feeling grateful for the company. "Well we're made from vampires, sort of, or our makers are. We're...not half made, but also...kinda botched. A vampire can make someone like me, or someone else like me can do it to a living person too. But we can never punch above our weight and make vampires ourselves. We have a lot of their strengths, but also a lot of strengths they don't have," I shrug. "For example...a really healthy vampire just looks more like a vampire...luminous, you know? Uncanny. When a zombie is really healthy, we simply look...alive. Better than this...." I hold out my hand, it's not quite pinkish colour, the grey at the roots of my fingernails.

"As far as we know, there aren't too many of us...we do have an uncle though. Mm. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a file here--if any zombie does it'd be him. He has blood-relatives...my maker made by the same one who made him. Alexander and his three blood-sisters were...collected, I guess you could say. But," I give him a quick glance. "Maybe that's better left for another time. I don't have any memory of meeting my maker, and I don't know his other two sisters at all."

My stomach instantly falls, hoping I haven't said too much already. If they do have a file on Alexander, I've now linked me and Jamie to him. Elliot is so easy to talk to, he looks so innocent but is interesting enough sharing his own dark past. Stupid of me to fall for this, if there's anything to fall for at all.

I clear my throat. "Here I am, spilling the family secrets already. Forgive me if I'm a little...cynical, Elliot. It's really hard for me to grasp that this place is really just here for the fuck of learning, you know? But I trust Miller, and I think that means I can trust you too."

"Do you uhm, do you live here? Do the uh, crypto-guys live here on site? It's really..." I look around the room, at the panelled walls and velvet drapes and big, plush bed. It's so big for just one person. Oh god, I haven't even thought about that. I've never slept alone in my life.

"...Fancy as fuck," I finish, quieter than I mean to.

[miller-mayfair]

Elliot dipped his head in a matter-of-fact acknowledgement. "Mmhm. A litter. We had a very large burrow from what little I recall. It was very warm with everyone in there."

His interest immediately shifted upon what Jeffrey had to say. He maintained that sympathetic attentiveness, as if everything the man had to tell him was not allowed to be forgotten. Not out the impression that he would be putting it all into a file but due to Elliot's own naturally curious nature.

"You don't have to worry. I am not going to tell your secrets. Vampires are a whole different Division. And if they have not uncovered that knowledge by now then it is on them for lacking in the capability."

Was there an unspoken rivalry between Divisions? Some tension beneath the surface? Elliot seemed to supply an implication of such. Perhaps the Order was not nearly as cooperatively cohesive as one would imagine.

At the mention of Miller, the liaison smiled again. Softening. "Miller is great. He is the one that pulled us all here. At least in the Cryptozoology Division. We would never have come to know that such a place existed without him stumbling into our lives. So it seems that you have also been pulled into his gravity. Which is good. To have a friend and ally from him has never been a regret of mine."

Looking around, Elliot nodded towards the building. "This is our home and where our operations reside. There are other Motherhouses throughout the world with their own separate Cryptozoology groups. Information passes between the different Motherhouses, into the Grand Archives. That is the global network through which the Talamasca shares its knowledge."

"I tend to travel between the Motherhouses when it's required of me but for the most part this is where I dwell. Miguel, Julius and Edward all live here full time. There is an expansive residential area above the office spaces for people. Some Agents keep housing outside of here for their own peace."

"You are of course welcome to your own room for as long as you wish to stay with us. The Motherhouse lacks in a sense of privacy given that there are other people underneath its roof and many keep odd hours -- but it is safe, protected from outside interference, and relatively quiet despite the operations happening around the clock." Elliot pointed out.

"Miller flagged your file as an 'Aspirant'. So you will be considered just an average new member under the Talamasca's standards. That also means that no one will be suspecting you of being.. well. Any different than anyone else." He winked in reassurance.

[geminiundead]

I laugh at Julius, pleasantly surprised at the humour. With the way he ran up the stairs, I hadn't expected that he'd brought his sense of humour along with him. It's almost like he simply came here with the expectation of meeting up with old friends, unfazed at all by the mess we greeted him with as soon as he realized it was all just fun and games.

I hope the others understand that too. From what I know of Edward through Jeffrey's memories of him, that won't be the case. Guess I'll just have to be extra charming then.

I ignore Elliot, sharing a grin with hunky-tech-nerd as he passes off the orange microfiber too.

"Oh no come on, the more the merrier," I say before Julius can put the sponge back. "You want my blood, Daddy? Get on the floor," I point to the mess, encouraging Julius to throw the sponge onto the smeared blood.

I've done one pass with a damp mop already, hoping to soak up more of it before washing the hardwood clean with the microfiber. I slap the mop down again beside the demented little face. "You like that, Daddy?" I laugh, and step on it with my bare foot to move it around in the mess...it does absolutely nothing to help the clean up. "Mmm get it, that's right, clean it up...."

I laugh at myself, holding my hand over the wound still healing in my gut. I'll need to find the duct tape after this.

"Fuck," I laugh and grimace at the same time, shove my bare toes in the mouth of the sponge's face, now stained dark red, and use my foot to plop it in the mop bucket. Enough of that for now, we have to get this cleaned up. "Dirty slut."

Jeffrey sure is taking his sweet ass time.

"Shit, well if Elliot is on a call can you wash the knife?" I ask Julius. "I'm serious though, that thing is fucking sharp so be careful--ah fuck there's blood on the wall too--HEY FUCKFACE WHY'D YOU HAVE TO BLEED SO GODDAMNED MUCH?" I shout toward the bathroom, even though I don't really need to shout for him to hear me.

His muffled shout back from behind the bathroom door comes with a genuine pang of anxiety that the scene isn't cleaned up yet. "SUCK A SPONGE MAGGOT BREATH, YOU STABBED ME FIRST!"

I chuckle to myself and keep cleaning. I try to send an aura of calm, if I can do such a thing. Everything will be alright.

"Miller has been having just the best time with us," I assure Julius with a grin. "How was the trip over?"

[miller-mayfair]

Julius snorted out a deep-throated laugh at the little morbid puppetry playtime with the scrubbing sponge. That smiling face no longer looked nearly as pleased with itself now that it had been thoroughly smeared in blood. There was another motion of nostrils as the man obeyed by collecting the knife and standing.

He moved over to the sink to begin the task of cleansing the weapon. Julius possessed the same calm focus as a crime scene cleaner. So what if he'd walked in on the aftermath of a stabbing? No one's dead body was on the floor. That might have inspired a different reaction.

"The trip wasn't too terrible. I fucking hate airports. And I hate flying. Fortunately, the Order makes up for it by booking us first class. So I get to enjoy several of their tiny glasses of alcohol to make the time pass faster. I figure they can handle the expenses." Julius wagered with a shrug as he carefully ran the knife under the hottest temperature of water that Miller's sink could conjure.

Elliot craned his head around the corner with the phone still pressed up against his ear. "Which he knows will end up getting me a talking to about financial management for this group of idiots."

Julius had turned just enough to start making a mocking kissy face towards Elliot to further tease the liaison. That expression dropped into a more composed one when he perked up. One could almost get an imagined perception that his ears had just stood up like a canine going on alert.

That was when the door downstairs could be heard opening. The delayed arrival of Edward and Miguel, likely, given that Elliot still had Miller on the other end of the phone conversation.

Thick boots made heavy work up the stairs as Edward ascended first. The man's large, burly figure was no less intimidating than it had been the last time Jamie had encountered him. His love for flannel and jeans had certainly not evolved either. Perhaps the only true difference was the infusion of silver that had marked his face and beard.

Sharp blue eyes pierced around the apartment as if making an immediate assessment of the environment. Edward's eyebrows furrowed in a scowl of disapproval to find that not only was Miller absent but there was also a mess of blood still evident there.

His voice rumbled out, deep and bass-rich. "What the hell happened here? Why is there blood?"

At the mention of blood, Miguel's head jutted up from behind the banister of the stairs. His dark skin looked no less skin kissed than usual. The Spaniard was touched by the same advancement of age as Edward yet for the medic there was an effortlessness about his aging.

Miguel lit up with an immediate disarming smile when he spied the sight of Jamie up there. "Jeffrey! Hola, cariño! Are you hurt, my friend?"

Edward was buffeted aside with a grunt, Miguel's haste to push around him barely stirring the man in his spot. He held his space too well. Meanwhile, the medic was already sweeping in to take hold of Jamie's trim shoulders. He happily pressed a kiss to either of the pallid cheeks.

There was a critical flash of gaze towards Julius as Miguel frowned. "Did he do something? Already?"

"I didn't do anything!" Julius protested. Then he added. "--that one's not Jeff, by the way. This is the twin. Jamie."

[miller-mayfair]

[text] Is there anything in your property in Newark that might require special handling?

[Text: Bianca] No, I don't think so. My laptop and computer equipment would be the most fragile items.

[Text: Bianca] There are a few storage boxes shoved away in a closet upstairs. They're full of clothes.

[Text: Bianca] Those can probably be donated if people really want an excess of animal prints. All of it belonged to my mother.

[Text: Bianca] I just never could make myself actually throw it all out.

[miller-mayfair]

Stray Cat Strut - Nicolas

@darknessmolten

He wasn't certain how long he'd been pacing. Miller's anxiety had reached a fever pitch as he tried to imagine to what extent Nicolas had been injured given the vague mentions in their text exchange. How the hell was he supposed to help a vampire recover from such things, anyway? Open up a vein? Open up someone else's vein?

It should have disturbed him, to some degree, that he was even entertaining the notion of trying to scrounge up some scumbags to feed to his lover. The awareness that most normal relationships meant going out for some quick takeout -- providing one's partner with a criminal off the streets didn't feel anywhere close to a quick run by a McDonalds. This was how extreme Miller's paradigm had become in the last couple of months.

There was also the fact that he naturally couldn't just look like he'd been stewing in anxiety since the texting. He needed to seem as if he were taking it in stride. Cool, calm and collected enough that Miller could prove just how well suited he was to vampire love. Like it were perfectly natural for Nicolas to return home from fights in the streets.

Or in this case, apparently a little spat with an ex. Miller's only understanding from their conversations implicated one singular culprit: Lestat. Though Miller understood that he could have been zeroing in upon the Brat Prince unfairly. Maybe Nicolas had other ex lovers who were also obnoxiously temperamental and prone to violent outbursts?

The possibility that some unknown assailant was responsible certainly didn't spare the concept of Lestat from some surly curses. Miller entertained the possibility of trying to invoke his ancestral spirits just to send something nasty towards the vampire. Something mundane, sure, but potent! A toe stubbing trend, or an unyielding itch. That level of pettiness.

When Miller heard the front door unlocking, the witch scrambled around. He hurriedly picked up a nearby paranormal book that he'd left about and quickly situated himself in a relaxed posture on the couch. Doing his best to look smooth and in control of himself.

He realized three seconds after seeing the figure of Nicolas emerging into the space that he was holding that book upside down. Fuck.

"Heeeeey." His voice came out roughened. He cleared his throat to fix that. "Hey. So, what the fuck happened to you?"

[miller-mayfair]

[text] my train's arriving soon, are you home?

[Text:] I am. Do you need me to meet you at the station, or will you be heading straight here?

[darknessmolten]

[text] I can meet you there.

[text] Heads up: slightly injured

[miller-mayfair]

[Text:] First off: Why are you injured?

[Text:] Second off: What does 'slightly injured' mean?

[darknessmolten]

[text] Ex dislocated my shoulder.

[text] It's back in but it keeps popping and hasn't healed yet.

[text] I barely provoked it.

[miller-mayfair]

[Text:] 'Barely provoked' sounds like you tried to swipe at a bigger predator.

[Text:] Just get your ass here while I Google how to pop in a dislocated shoulder.

[Text:] You are going to cause some government entity to look twice at my search history at this rate.

[miller-mayfair]

[text] my train's arriving soon, are you home?

[Text:] I am. Do you need me to meet you at the station, or will you be heading straight here?

[darknessmolten]

[text] I can meet you there.

[text] Heads up: slightly injured

[miller-mayfair]

[Text:] First off: Why are you injured?

[Text:] Second off: What does 'slightly injured' mean?

[miller-mayfair]

[text] my train's arriving soon, are you home?

[Text:] I am. Do you need me to meet you at the station, or will you be heading straight here?

[miller-mayfair]

From The Archives of The Talamasca:

Actual photographic evidence of the Chartreux stray cat known as Nicolas de Lenfent picking a fight with GOD before consequently returning home to his lover for recuperation.

@darknessmolten

[maggicktouched]

"I'm not telling her you said that." Braxton chuckled as he walked toward the counter. Coffee shop was, perhaps, the wrong word for the current establishment. The room was so long that he couldn't read the dimly lit menu at the counter on the back wall and thin enough to make a sardine claustrophobic. At one point it'd been a dinner. Somewhere in a not-so-distant past an owner had thought neon green was a good choice for the glittering plastic seats and the new owners had decided to "complement" them with an egregious amount of fake plants rather than gutting them out. Tile stuck under his feet as he walked.

His attempt to order a matcha---even of the shitty variety---were in vain. He settled for a black coffee, walked back to the booth where Miller was sitting, and began dumping a mind boggling amount of sugar into the cup as he stirred. Ceramic tinkled in the stretches of silence between what was being said. They were two of four people in the whole establishment, and the others were alone, hunched over laptops of their own. All but one, who was passed out by a piece of pie and a long-since cooled mug of coffee.

"Is that like your magic power? Do you have like---computer spells?" It felt like a frankly moronic question to ask, but then again nothing had made since in the last five years. Every question was worth asking these days. He gulped a scalding mouthful of coffee without flinching.

"Uhhhh... honestly I'm barely keeping my head above water as a shit member, I'm not sure I'd survive more attention from the higher ups."

[miller-mayfair]

Miller snorted quietly. "Computer spells? No, I haven't got that sort of magic. As much as I would absolutely love that sort of shit."

His fingers flew over the keyboard with a flowing ease. He was locked in, this was clearly an element that the witch was comfortable with. "I spent a lot of time being stuck as a shut in while I was a kid because of my powers. One of the things I got really good at within my little contained environment was working with computers. Getting into things that I shouldn't have gave me a fun challenge now and then. Not that I ever hacked into anything that was going to get me arrested or have government agents busting down my door."

A pause was taken for Miller to refuel himself with several gulps of coffee. It wasn't steaming anymore but the threat of it going cold likely wouldn't deter the witch. He might have turned his nose up at the notion of iced coffee but his gut still loved room temperature dirty water.

Fortunately, his brain seemed fully capable of multitasking. Even if his tone held a sliver of distraction from his work, Miller took a second to flit his gaze towards Braxton, then back to the screen. "What have you done that's made them so unhappy with you? Spill it. What's the worst shit you've pulled to get their ire, B-Town?"

[nodominion]

It was a relief to Rose that Miller was no longer on the other side of the Atlantic. With him, and Nicolas, being in England that meant a quick flight among the clouds before she was in their territory. With more free time, Rose went where she wished, and though her calendar reminded her of the date ahead of time, she had it easily memorized.

Flying with a garment bag elicits memories of all the times she's done this before, mostly with Miller in mind. So Rose goes slow, not wanting to wrinkle things that were custom and tailored, even if it cost her a few extra minutes. It wasn't time that she needed.

The home was perfect for her brunette boys, and Rose is aware of the security as she lands right on the steps to the front door. They would know someone was there, and her mind has low shields, for both of them to peruse if they so wished, but just enough that outsiders would meet a wall.

That granularity with her gift was both honed over time and a result of the training she would forever be grateful to Miller for. As she rings the doorbell, she grins to her dearest friend, thrusting the bag of clothes to him.

"Happy Birthday, Superman. A shirt, jacket, and pants, and I'm taking you to a Michelin starred restaurant here. You have less than half an hour to get changed. I know I'm here early, I'll have you back before midnight, before your real birthday, so you can spend the night with your boy toy. Can't steal that moment from the two of you."

Her grin is wide, fangs on display. Rose is matching with her own outfit, both sets from Alexander McQueen. Except Rose has heels. Her own shirt, jacket, and pants are in the same color scheme as Miller's, but different enough that to an untrained eye they might not be matching. But Rose would know they were.

@miller-mayfair

[miller-mayfair]

It was with a surprised expression that Miller opened the door to find Bianca there. He was caught unawares, scrambling to get hold of the garment bag that was pushed at him through the doorway, and the witch managed to get hold of it so it would not fall. That would have ruined Rose's painstaking effort to avoid wrinkles.

Once the shock wore off he flashed a pleased grin. "I get dinner for my birthday? Holy shit. I mean I've heard of Michelin but I certainly haven't been frequenting such a place. Hell, I'm lucky if I manage to get into a diner that has more than one star on Yelp."

Stepping forward, Miller closed in to press a kiss upon Rose's cheek. "I think my birthday present is already here. Look at you. Seeing you all dolled up like this is a gift in and of itself, Rose. You had better not waste this outfit without letting Bianca see you in it."

There was a glance over his shoulder inside the place. "Come on in while I get changed. We will need to make sure we get back, just like you said. Once it hits midnight then I might turn into a pumpkin and Nicolas will turn into a raging Frenchman. I know that he's been playing it off but I think he is looking forward to making fun of me for being 'old'."

He stepped back to let Rose in. That garment bag was held in his hands like it were fragile. Miller was overwhelmed enough already given the amount of packages and bags that had arrived during the night. There was a sheepish glance towards them. "Bianca sent me a whole wardrobe of clothes, too. She's really phenomenal. You are, like, the luckiest fucking woman in the world, Rose."

[geminiundead]

I look away when Elliot grins like that, but look right back I catch sight of a sharp little tooth I hadn't noticed before. It's impossibly cute, though I wouldn't be quick to tell him so.

"Pooka," I repeat it, sharing his smile with him. He explains concisely, but not without feeling, his more relaxed posture speaking just about as much as he does. I catch myself leaning back in my own chair in a similar position but shift to sit differently instead, run my hand back through my hair, self conscious over the habit of mirroring.

"I've never heard the name. Did you...know much about your kind before you came here? This lore and literature they have, was it new to you?"

I can't imagine polite, thoughtful Elliot as a troublemaker. Not so much a worker of mischief as a keeper of good order. The Large form he mentions in passing sounds like something I might need to hear from the others about. I am genuinely curious about this strange creature, much more complex than the superficial stereotype he seems to put on.

It's heartening to hear that the cryptos were good to him. I'd thought the worst the way they talked, but maybe I'd been too quick to judge. Maybe he really just was one of the team, and as a team they were open with each other. Like a family...or some dumb cliche like that.

I look at the form. I don't want to fill this out. He says they'll turn a blind eye, but there is a deep and horrible feeling of dread deep in my gut at the thought of eating human meat--whether formally requested or not--in a place where living humans are agreeing to keep and watch over me. It feels like an evil I can't fully reconcile with the rest of my life where I'm perfectly happy to kill and eat without remorse. I cannot imagine any single thing that would make someone a worse houseguest.

I'll check a few boxes, consent to terms, estimate my birthday if they really want me to. The rest...I don't even know where to begin and I don't want to think about it anymore.

"Well it sounds like you went through hell to get here Elliot, but I'm glad you're with me. Thank you...for being kind to me. I know it's your job to see to guests, but...you don't have to be kind. If you have any extra tips on how to survive those guys...I'm all ears."

[miller-mayfair]

Elliot hummed at the question about his species. "I didn't have much knowledge about my brethren. Though I was born in a litter I was taken away when I was fairly newborn. So whatever there was for me to learn, I missed out on. It is was nice getting to come to a better understanding of what I was, and how it shaped me as the being I am."

His bright eyes swept over Jeffrey anew as a thought struck his mind. That curiosity surfacing again with regard to the other creature. "What about you? Do you know anything of your origins? How you came to be?"

"There are obviously many vampires in this world. I have met a handful personally who have passed through here, as well as through the Motherhouse in Rome. They are different from you. Not the same species at all. Distant cousins, if anything."

Shifting around in his seat, he adjusted his position to cross an ankle over the other knee. The hem of his trouser leg barely offered a glimpse of a pristine white sock below the pastel hem. Fine tailoring, of course. "Have you ever encountered others like yourself? Or are you entirely alone in the world to your understanding?"

There was a moment where Elliot seemed to grasp that he was suddenly pelting Jeffrey with a barrage of questions. His pale skin flustered in a bloom of red as he flitted a palm in apology. "I'm sorry. Here I am directing all these questions at you when you were being kind about voicing your own. I apologize, Jeffrey. It is not my place to be throwing questions at you like this. Just my own.. personal curiosity."

"I haven't met many unique people like yourself. We creatures are a limited lot."