Rules: share your last seven lines and tag seven people to do the same!
‘That's my point, Datian, that was my influence.’ Now, now comes the shock and the anger, Adory thinks... except it doesn’t.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Datian says, shaking his head. ‘If it was, you have been influencing my thoughts for far longer than either of us have realised.’
This conversation is going off the rails with impressive speed, but Adory tries to do his best to hold on to the last shreds of sensible thought he is able to muster.
‘Wha— what do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ Datian begins calmly, but with the rapid, nervous tapping of his fingertips betraying his trepidation, ‘that I have been dreaming of kissing you long before last night.’
So I was tagged by the fantastic @jeannedarcprice who is a creative powerhouse (seriously? art and fic??? and both of such incredible quality? god does play favourites after all. by the way she has way fewer kudos than she deserves so why don’t we all go and give her some) to share something and, well... as usual there are about 4 things I should be working on, so of course, let me give you a little bit of thing no. 5, aka the thing I’m working on instead! Because there is literally nothing I like more than coming up with yet another ridiculous AU and torturing my boys in novel ways.
Datian’s body radiates heat and there is a feverish flush across his cheeks. Superficial scratches cover his arms, his thighs and, as evidenced by the tears in the fabric and the traces of blood on his shirt, probably his torso as well. His fingertips are pink and raw and so are his lips, the latter explained when another wave of spasms wracks his body. Datian gasps for air, revealing sharp canines that seem to grow and then shrink again as the fit subsides. Adory holds him steady, watching as Datian’s eyes turn a sickly yellow, the desperation in them giving way to dull incomprehension for a moment.
Adory waits a second for Datian to catch his breath — granted, that only means a return to nigh inaudible whimpers —, then gently drags his palms down the other man’s arms, sides and back, feeling for broken bones or anything else he could detect as a major cause for concern. He finds nothing, at least for now, so he takes Datian’s hand in his own to offer support, before asking his next question.
I have been tagged by both @jeannedarcprice and @awhellstothejoe ! I’m boring, predictable, and I work increeeedibly slowly so I’m still in the middle of That One Vampire/Werewolf AU... with that said, have another snippet!
The sudden force with which Datian grabs his arm takes Adory completely by surprise, and as he glances down at Datian with a wide-eyed expression, the same greets him from the other man's face.
‘That's it,’ Datian mutters, and Adory shakes his head, bewildered.
‘What are you talking about?’
Datian pushes himself up on his elbows and pulls him closer, his hand running up Adory's arm and finally latching onto his shoulder with a vise grip. His eyes are red-rimmed and pleading, pupils blown in the low light.
‘You're a vampire—you can keep me from shifting, Adory, you can—’
Adory stares back at him, his mouth suddenly dry and his spine tingling in abject horror, and time seems to stand still for a stomach-lurching second.
‘No—’ Datian stops, the twitch of his mouth hurt, or scared, or maybe both, and Adory continues. ‘No, I—Datian, are you out of your bloody mind?!’
Datian snaps his teeth at him.
‘No, I'm dying,’ he gasps, and the statement is punctuated by another fit of shivers rocking his body.
Hey, so @jeannedarcprice posted this challenge showing off her amazing OCs, so I took it upon myself and spread some of that OC love! 💖
From the top row, left to right:
Datian Pryce and Adory Blaine, the MCs of Consequentiality (and the roughly 7 or so AUs thereof… I have a problem)
Yun Sungjae and Miles Glorious, the dream team heading the investigation of Gloomy Sunday
Arkadiy Lisitsyn and Lysander Caywood, the MCs of my newest and yet untitled story idea. Expect magic, science, adventure and romance (as usual!)
I was tagged by the fantastic @jeannedarcprice (as always) to share a WIP! It’s… still the accursed yet-to-be-titled, self-indulgent, hurt/comfort, vampire/werewolf AU one-shot featuring the main boys of Consequentiality... and I’m still trash for writing it but I Do Not Give A Damn.
Tagging: anyone who has anything they would like to share! ❤️
‘Go to sleep, then,’ Adory says gently, but Datian doesn’t move.
‘What about you?’
Indeed, what about him?
Adory looks out of the window, at the unfriendly grey in the East draining the colour out of the night sky. If he were to leave immediately, he could still find a safe place to hide during the day. Probably. Maybe.
If he weren’t, however…
He looks back at Datian. He knows he would only need to ask and he wishes, desperately, that he was a little better at asking.
‘Sun’s coming up—‘ is all he manages, and even that gets cut off by a hesitant shrug. Datian understands him nevertheless, looking up at him wide-eyed and with a raw openness he’s simply too fatigued to hide.
‘You could stay… Just to be safe,’ he says quietly.
Safe? For which one of us?, Adory wants to ask. Then the penny finally drops and makes his chest tighten with an aching fondness.
It looks like Datian is almost as bad at asking as he is.
This thing doesn’t even have a title yet! It’s a vampire/werewolf AU, because why am I even on this planet if I don’t spend my time coming up with ungodly amounts of AUs, anyway?
It feels a lot like attempting to calm some scared, abandoned creature cowering in the corner of a cage somewhere. Adory allows waves of Datian’s fear to wash over him. Not just a passing, momentary terror — this is old fear, heavy with years, not the kind that lends you quick feet with a surge of adrenaline, but the one that weighs you down until you can do nothing but wait for the end. Adory can taste it in Datian’s veins, black and oily as it intermingles with the crimson taste of blood. He waits until it overtakes his senses, breathes it in and slowly out. This is good, he tells himself. He knows fear and he knows abandonment. He knows how to fight them.
And he has to, fast; another white-hot surge of foreign pain shoots through his mind, Datian convulsing in his arms in spite of his steady grasp.
Calm. It’s not easy, with someone else’s suffering bitter on his tongue, but Adory tries. He wonders how vampires more powerful than him do this, how they’re able to command another mind to feel a certain emotion, when on most days he has trouble controlling his own. It doesn’t matter, anyway — there is nothing he wants less than to command. All he can bring himself to do is soothe, guide, coax; get the panicked beast in Datian’s subconscious to curl up and slumber for a little while.
He finds himself settling on that thought, the image becoming comfortable and familiar. Rest. Quiet.
Being this afraid for so long must be exhausting, isn’t it?, he thinks, maybe only to himself. He’s not even sure how much of his thoughts are getting through to Datian, so he focuses on the feeling itself instead. It’s okay. You can rest a little.
The other man must understand something, because there is a dim spark of cautious curiosity awakening in some deep recess of his mind.
Rest?
Rest, Adory repeats, not the word but the concept, images and sensations of cozy, warm places, enveloping darkness and quiet. He focuses until he feels it spreading, pushing back against the taste of viscous fear, replacing it with a faint, cloudy sweetness.
Safe?, comes the question, much calmer now, but still uncertain.
Yeah, he thinks in reply. I’m here. The sudden warmth blooming in Datian’s bloodstream at these words is like a kick to his chest. You’re safe. Saying these words just as he’s committing perhaps the worst trespasses his kind is capable of — conquering Datian’s mind as it lies bare before him, while his fangs are buried in his throat — the irony of the moment is not lost on him at all. Still, he has time to dwell on his guilt later. For now, the only thing that can absolve him is being able to help, so that’s all that matters. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.
He repeats that, concentrates on the intent, lets it fill his mind, both of their minds, until there’s nothing else left. Until their connection is a microcosm of two, intertwined in a haze of absolute serenity.
It takes Adory a while to gather the will to break it. But the harsh reality is that they are sprawled out on the bathroom floor, Datian is still wet, half naked and bleeding. And so Adory sighs, licks the two small puncture wounds his teeth left behind and presses his lips against Datian’s neck to seal them.
The good news is, of course, that Datian is not writhing in agony any longer, but that also means that he’s currently dead weight in Adory’s arms. His eyes are closed and his breathing is regular — for the first time since Adory’s stepped through the window —, and so Adory isn’t even sure he’s awake. That’s a problem, because carrying him off to bed is one thing, but Datian needs to put some dry clothes on, and Adory definitely doesn’t want to be the one doing the honours. So he attempts to rouse him by shifting his hand cradling Datian’s skull and stroking the side of his face with his thumb.
‘Hey… you awake?’ he asks. Datian’s eyes blink open and slowly focus on his face — his irises back to their reddish amber, pupils relaxed and open in the low light.
‘Mmh… I’m– I’m tired,’ Datian mumbles, and Adory can’t suppress a smile after hearing that.
‘Good, you should be. Come on, let’s get you to bed… Can you walk?’
Datian mulls over the question for a bit, gingerly flexing his legs.
I realised that none of my characters ever got a proper introduction on this blog, and it’s time to remedy that — especially because I’d like to post about them more in the future! Let’s start with the MCs of Consequentiality!
To make things a little bit more interesting, I thought I’d conduct a little interview... but not about themselves! Since people are more likely to talk honestly and candidly about someone else, I decided I should ask them about each other.
Datian talking about Adory in the other post
What can you tell me about him?
Well. His name is Datian Pryce, he’s, uh… 26, I think? Yeah, he’s older than me, though he sure doesn’t look it. He’s… tall and ginger and sorta posh and a little awkward, sometimes. Looks like one of those nerdy Oxbridge types.
Or, well, sometimes he sleeps in a t-shirt that says Cambridge University across the chest, so… I’m pretty sure he’s got the degree to match. He runs his own bookshop. He loves books, and doughnuts, and staying in bed on rainy days. He takes his tea with an absurd amount of sugar — honestly, sometimes I worry for his health?
He’s quiet, ish. Unless you ask him about something he’s passionate about, and then he lights up and goes off, and it’s… it’s sort of endearing, right? He never uses three words where thirty would suffice, especially if those can include stuff like ‘archetype’ or ‘zenith’ or ‘hyacinthine’.
He usually looks either super serious or super nervous, but he actually has a sense of humour. Not the knee-slapping type, more dry and sarcastic.
And? Is that all?
[He sighs.] And he has these crazy abilities, and they’re glowy and blue and allegedly super devastating and everything, and that’s why he’s so fucking stuffy. Happy?
Honestly, he keeps saying that he wishes that it would all just go away, and, well… Having powers like these, it sounds great if you don’t know any better, right? But he seems so afraid and anxious all the time, and he’s spent the last five or so years almost completely on his own. I understand why he would rather not have them at all. I feel… I don’t pity him, but I do feel sorry for him. I hope I can help him. I hope we all can help him.
Do you know anything about his family?
Not a lot, honestly. He’s adopted, that much is obvious to anyone who sees a family photo.
They live near London and I think his mum works for a charity. Datian calls her every week but he rarely sees them otherwise. I’ve never asked but knowing him, it’s to keep them safe. I doubt they know about his powers…
I’ve gotten into the habit of asking him out for a walk or to play a game after every call, because the look on his face… makes me feel like shit. He sounds so cheerful and optimistic while he’s on the phone, and then as soon as he disconnects, he’s just… sad. So I try to distract him.
How do you two know each other, anyway?
Okay, that’s sort of a funny story really — it was pissing down outside and so I ducked into this one bookshop, right? To browse a little and see if it passes quickly. This bloke comes in and he seems… you know when you look at someone and they just feel untrustworthy, or off somehow? So I pretended to leave and sure enough, the moment he thought I was gone he began making a scene and waving a gun about. So I grabbed this brick of a book — no, seriously, it was about this thick — gave the guy a big smack upside the head and knocked him the fuck out. And there was Datian, pale as a sheet, or at the very least even paler than usual, if that’s even possible.
And then?
Ugh, and then my entire life got turned upside down and now I hang out with people who have weird superpowers and could probably atomise me with a fucking thought. ’S amazing how such small decisions can have these absolutely wild consequences, but here we are.
Do you regret it?
What? No! Not at all. I belong here, I think. I like… being useful, knowing that I can help. And these people are my friends, I would do anything to protect them (even Zenon, the git). And anyway, what’s my purpose in life, if I can’t be of service to anyone? [He laughs.] Better make myself useful, y’know?
So you’re a bodyguard of sorts to Datian, is that correct?
Well, he hired me as a security guard, after that whole mess in the bookshop, at first. And I thought that was gonna be it, but then those two showed up — I mean Zenon and Awasse — and started talking about IDPharm and experiments and shit… And honestly I’ve been trying to just keep up with it all.
Of course that also means that he doesn’t really need me to protect him, he needs me because if he’s forced to protect himself, Bad Things are going to happen. Or so I’m told. Nowadays I’m just by his side as a friend, I suppose.
Okay, one last question. What would you say is the most attractive thing about him?
[He tilts his head, confused.] Like, as a person, or…?
Alright, let me think. Starting with the obvious, he’s super generous. He’s accomodating. He’s fun — seriously, I know he doesn’t look it but he’s genuinely great company. Doesn’t hurt that he has a lovely voice. The classics used to bore me to tears before, and now I could listen to him read for hours.
Or if you were thinking more like, his looks… I mean, he’s cute? If someone is into his type… With the freckles, and the hair, and the hands, and the mouth… [He pauses for a second.] I can see how that could be distracting.
the moment you realise you are stealing dialogue from your own damn self
(also: stealing from your own fanfic to turn into original fiction? boring. stealing from your original fiction for your fanfic and actually making it way better in the process? that's some Good Shit™)
(also also: please reassure me I'm not the only person who needs to use different fonts for different stories/universes to differentiate them visually)
