seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Ireland
seen from United Kingdom
Teale and Mona as prompted by @headcanonsfromanelfblossom ! I feel like I’m really digging this friendship
Teale finds herself more and more surprised with each room she passes through. While the walls were painted in more warm tones, it’s nothing as dreary as Drusilla had loudly (and, honestly, obnoxiously) had claimed it to be. While there was a sense of a more classical time in decor, it was all so very modern at the same time.
She comes to a pause once again in the drawing room, where an elegant chandelier hung proudly, gleaming bright. Her hand reaches up, and a low hanging crystal skins against her fingertip. “Is this recent?” Teale asks, sensing a presence behind her.
Desdemona lays her coat over a chaise and shakes her head. “No,” she replies, coming to stand beside the blonde vampire. “It’s from the mid 1800’s, one of the most envied possessions in New Orleans, a gentleman of quite high standings had owned it.” She explained. The light illuminates their faces as they stand under the grandiose display of glass, crystals, and even some pearls Teale spotted.
“Can I ask how it came to be yours?” Teale asks, her eyes flick to Desdemona. She sees a quirk of a smile tug at the shorter vampire’s lips.
“I won it in a gamble,” Desdemona responds, moving back to gather her coat. “Poker.” She adds casually.
Teale’s eyes widen for a moment before a laugh shakes her shoulders. “You used to gamble?” She asks, picking up her own coat, slipping it on. Pink and bright, frilled at the ends, and a stark contrast to Desdemona’s long, heavy black flared coat.
They were quite a contrast themselves, but Teale had a feeling, it would work very much in their favor. All good friends had their differences.
They make their way outside into the cool night.
“Used to?” Desdemona responds, raising her brows in mock offense. “How do you think I got this house?” She asks, motioning to the grand Queen Anne home. Teale stares speechless, before Desdemona grins. “There’s quite a bit we must learn about another, Miss Teale.” She says, a genuine smile coming to her lips.
Teale grins this time and hooks her arm into Desdemona’s. “That’s what this girl night is for, Miss Mona.” She responds, tugging her new friend along toward the city.
is it really a good party if no one dies?
Context: Nira’s experiences with parties are very different than the parties Teale throws and that, like most things, confuses her.
If it weren’t for Oleander’s delight anytime he and Nira got an invitation to one of Teale’s parties, and his subsequent concern of offending or upsetting Teale if they didn’t make an appearance, Nira wouldn’t intentionally go to any party, especially a party attended by mostly supernatural creatures. Even with everyone on the best behavior, it’s a situation that begs for chaos and disaster.
Aside from the events Teale hosts, Nira has been to very few parties. Where she grew up, parties were uncommon, and when they did happen, they weren’t considered a good time unless at least one gorgon ended up dead or severely maimed. She’d never attended a gorgon party as a guest, only as the hired entertainment, a gladiator who would either kill or get killed. In her case, she always ended up being the one killing.
After leaving Greece, the only parties she attended were on behalf of The Hidden One, usually to get information for him, and similar to the events of her youth, they resulted in her seriously maiming or killing someone.
No one has been maimed or killed at any of Teale’s parties, but with the guest list consisting of so many supernatural creatures known for violence against humans, Nira’s sure it’s only a matter of time. She glances around the room, tense and wary as she again makes note of where everyone is in Teale’s large, glamorous apartment, paying special attention to the vampires and vampire-like creatures, and the pale, wet-haired girl that tells stories of the men she’s drowned. Though she’s not personally threatened by any of them, they do pose a very real threat to Oleander, whether he recognizes that or not.
Nira turns her gaze to Oleander, who’s sitting next to her in a corner of the apartment on a pink suede loveseat. He’s watching the other guests with bright, curious eyes. Though he looks content, his expression neutral, Nira can tell he’s uncomfortable. She doesn’t know how to read anyone else, but she knows Oleander. He’s tapping his toe lightly against the floor, offbeat with the music that plays over a vintage record player, and he’s missing his usual smile as he observes the chatter of the other guests, unwilling to intrude on their conversations. His usual party buddy, Donna, with whom he socialized the most, had her attention seized some time ago by Anya, who dragged her into a conversation-turned-debate. The giantess is making polite attempts to escape, but in the meantime Oleander and Nira are left alone on the loveseat. Though Nira is far more out-of-place in this environment than Oleander is, she’s not uncomfortable. His comfort is more of a concern to her, and she has something she knows will put him at ease.
She reaches into the pocket of her joggers and says in a quiet voice, “Oleander, look.”
He turns his attention to her, his eyes clear and wide. When Nira looks down at what she’s pulled from her pocket, he follows her gaze, and then squeals with delight.
“Bucatini!” he says, a smile spreading across his face as he carefully takes a young ribbon snake from Nira’s hand. The snake begins to wind himself around Oleander’s fingers, and Oleander’s pure, childlike joy overwhelms Nira, hitting her with a surge of deep affection. Unable to help herself, she kisses his cheek.
With Oleander’s attention now absorbed by the snake that Nira had put in her pocket before they left the house, she looks back to the other guests, on alert. Bates, who had been talking with Orthanach, the leprechaun that Nira found confusingly endearing despite being loud and chaotic, crosses the room with a drink in his hand and plops down in one of the two armchairs across the coffee table from the loveseat.
Bates raises his eyebrows with muted interest when he catches sight of the snake slithering between Oleander’s fingers. He watches silently for a few seconds, then asks, “Where’d the snake come from?”
“My pocket,” Nira says.
The demon gives a small nod and tips his drink in response, then takes a sip.
“His name is Bucatini, like the noodle,” Oleander says, tilting his head to look at the snake’s face. “He’s a ribbon s-s-snake.”
“Nice to meet you, Bucatini,” Bates says.
Nira smiles. She likes Bates. He never talks too much, and he doesn’t ask her annoying questions and try to get to know her. And, most importantly, he’s kind to Oleander and listens to him with what seems to be legitimate interest. Maybe he’s just acting interested, but that doesn’t matter to Nira. He seems interested, and that’s enough.
“Wasn’t Langly over here with you guys?” Bates asks.
“Anya asked her to join a conversation,” Nira says.
“Oh,” he says, and turns in his chair to look for her. She’s with Anya and Wyatt Leslie, towering over both of them, yet managing to look so small as she nods politely. Bates sighs and throws back the rest of his drink. He puts the empty glass on the coffee table and says, “I should go rescue her.”
“Probably,” Nira says.
“Not—not because she needs rescuing,” he says. “She’s capable—”
“She needs rescuing,” Nira says flatly. “She is not capable of telling anyone she doesn’t give a fuck about what they have to say.”
“Nira!” Oleander says, briefly looking away from the snake. “That’s not nice to s-s-say to people.”
“Yeah, and that’s why Donna won’t say it,” she says. Oleander frowns a bit, but doesn’t argue, and returns his attention to Bucatini.
Bates looks at Nira for a second, his expression somewhere between bored and curious. He shrugs and says, “I guess.”
Nira watches as he gets up and approaches the giantess and her two opinionated friends. With an ease that Nira will never understand, he naturally slides into the conversation, nodding along and offering an occasional comment, before pulling both himself and Donna from the conversation. There’s no tension, no discomfort, just smooth conversation.
One of these days, the party will end in a fight, Nira thinks. That’s what happens at parties.
Aaron meets Tess
Aaron stopped as he was walking, moving out of the way of other pedestrians on the sidewalk. He liked the Winter, it provided him more time to be out during the humans’ waking hours. It was just passed five, and people were hustling and bustling their way home before the rest of the night came in and it became overbearing. Aaron found it charming. Despite advances in the technology and with the invention of lightbulbs to light up the night, there was a primal instinct that humans still had; something that told them that dangers lurked in the night, and that it was unwise to tease them.
They were right, of course.
However, what made Aaron take pause in the middle of rush hour was the distinct, and unmistakable stench of human blood. Not just a papercut or a nosebleed; a jugular was clearly ripped out of some poor soul’s throat. Now, Aaron would normally let them be. He knew that there were other creatures in the city other than himself and Bruce, but what led him to follow his nose was the complete lack of concealment. He pinpointed the massacre to an alley off the way, far too close to the humans. Should this creature be caught in the act, that would be a headache for the supernatural community as whole. Perhaps they were new in town, and didn’t know the mores as of yet.
As he rounded the corner to the alley, his suspicions were confirmed. The trail of fresh blood that led behind a dumpster could be mistaken for oil after it dried, in the right light. Aaron kicked some dirt into it as he approached the dumpster to speed along that process. He shoved down the sudden ache in his throat that came with the smell of fresh blood, though he was old enough to be able to control it now. It appears that the creature before him, on the other hand, was far too new to do the same.
The creature, a new vampire as Aaron suspected, was hunched over the poor sap in the possessive way that dogs are protective of a bone. She had sucked the man nearly dry already, though a lot of the blood had gotten on her clothes. Aaron noted the old blood that was stained in, as well as the thin layer of dirt that seemed to encompass her entirely.
Though, now that Aaron got a whiff of her as well, she wasn’t as new as originally thought. Not more than a couple decades old, certainly, but far too old to be this careless.
“Excuse me-“
“Get away from me,” She snarled, her head whipping in Aaron’s direction. Her honey hair hung limply in her face, and she didn’t seem to care that it was also accumulating blood. She barred her teeth as she held the body closer to her. “This is my meal,” “I can see that,” Aaron confirmed. “I’m not here to take it from you,” he assured.
“Then leave,” She growled. Obviously, she had enough control to not attack him on sight, Aaron recognized. She wasn’t mindless, just blood thirsty, it seemed.
“This is a little close to humans for comfort, yeah?” he suggested, taking a step closer. He wasn’t worried about her overpowering him. He had centuries on her, and he wasn’t blinded by thirst. “This trail of blood will lead someone right to you,” “More to eat then,” She said, wiping her mouth, before tossing the body to the side like it was fast food trash. She stood up, not even bothering to brush herself off. Not that brushing anything off would do much good. She was tall and lithe, and couldn’t have been more than twenty when she was turned.
She looked at Aaron warily, still breathing heavily, a little bloated from her recent meal. She must not go long without feeding, Aaron assumed.
“Are you new in town?” He asked.
“No,” She answered curtly, picking the body up by the arm, and shoving him in the dumpster in one fluid motion.
“I see,” He acknowledged. “How long have you been here?”
She looked back at him then, searching his face for something. What exactly, Aaron couldn’t be sure.
She snorted, wiping her mouth again. “What does it matter?”
He felt a twang of pity for her then. Though she was older than he had been. He remembered what it was like to first be turned. To be always hungry. To watch the world age around you while you stayed timeless. To watch your family die. To make your first few kills. To be disgusted with yourself while doing so. He remembered, and he could see himself in her expression. Maybe she didn’t have anyone when she was born. Maybe she was still trying to figure it out. Maybe Aaron was the first other vampire she’d seen.
“I’m Aaron,” He said softly.
The girl blinked, taken aback. “Tess.” “Do you need a place to stay?” he asked.
She-Tess, blinked once again, staring at Aaron in confusion.
“My friend and I have a place,” he continued, “a shower and blood bags-“ “No,” She snarled, crouching down once more. “Stay away from me.” She said again. “I have hunting to do,” and then she was off. Disappearing into the night.
Aaron spent the next couple of days thinking about the young vampire. She seemed lost, and confused. And dirty. But they had all been that way once. Most of them had guidance. Maybe that’s what she needed.
“What’s got your goat?” Bruce asked as he flipped through the TV Guide in boredom, only half reading.
Aaron stood up, “I’m going to go find that vampire,” he announced.
“What makes you think she’s in town?” Bruce called as Aaron pulled on the jacket he didn’t need.
“This city is an all you can eat buffet.” He said, swinging his keys. “You coming?” Bruce glanced up from the TV Guide and looked at Aaron before sighing.
“Yeah, let me get my shoes,”
the things you put up with for friends
Characters: Nach, Rhonda, Teale
Summary: Drunk Nach going to Rhonda’s after getting into a fight.
Thunk…thunk…thunk…
The mostly-empty beer bottle knocked rhythmically as Orthanach swung it, tapping it back and forth against his thigh and the apartment door. He was leaning his forehead against the doorframe, mumbling garbled lyrics to an Irish rebel song as he waited for a response. The left side of his face and head ached, a mixture of dull throbbing and sharp pains.
Thunk…thunk…thunk…
“I’m coming!” an aggravated voice from the other side of the door called.
The door flung open, revealing a slightly disheveled and very annoyed looking woman in boxers and an old, over-sized gray t-shirt. She scowled at him, her mouth already open to chew him out. His head was spinning, and his face hurt, but seeing his best friend standing there, ready to gripe at him about showing up drunk at some godforsaken hour, filled him with a giddy delight.
“Nach, what the fuck? It’s like three—”
“Rrrrronnie!” Orthanach bellowed. With jubilation, he threw his arms around her, pulling her into a bear hug. He managed to only spill a couple drops of his beer, splashing them on the carpet outside the apartment door. She hissed at him to be quiet. His head spun as he pulled away from her, and he steadied himself by gripping the doorframe.
“Yeah, hey,” Rhonda grumbled. She tugged at the shoulders of her t-shirt, readjusting it, and gave him a glowering once-over. “Jeez, what the fuck happened to you?”
“Huh?” As his eyebrows moved up, a sharp pain erupted above his left eye. Oh, that. “Oh, bar fight.” He gestured vaguely with his bottle. “Notta big deal. Ye’should see the ot’er guy.”
“Rhonda? Is that Nach?” an airy, light voice asked in a perfectly crafted transatlantic accent.
Teale had emerged from her bedroom and as Nach caught sight of her, another burst of joy hit him. Seeing Teale was almost as great as getting to see Rhonda. And she was way less likely to be pissed at him. And she was pretty.
She wore a pink silk nightgown that kissed her ankles as she moved, with a silk robe trimmed with fluffy pink fur to match. Her honey hair, voluminous and styled, tumbled over her shoulders. Wow, she was pretty. With a dumb grin, Orthanach looked at Teale, then at Rhonda. How she ended up with Teale would always be a marvel to him, but he was happy for them both. Rhonda deserved good things, and yeah, maybe Teale was way out of her league, but Rhonda was hilarious and great person to spend time with and—
Teale’s hand flew to her mouth, covering a gasp. “Oh, my goodness! Nach, what happened?”
For a second, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, distracted by his list of Rhonda’s merits. He blinked, and the pain reminded him.
“Is it that bad?” Nach asked, looking at Rhonda. It didn’t feel that bad. Well, no, it did feel pretty bad. But he’d definitely had worse.
“It’s pretty bad,” Rhonda said. “I think you have glass in your hair.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t—” Rhonda grabbed his wrist before he could reach up and tousle his hand through his hair, still holding onto the beer bottle. “You’ll get glass all over the floor. I’m barefoot. I don’t want to step on glass. That shit hurts.”
“Oh,” he said.
“Are you okay?” Teale asked, clutching one hand against her chest. “Do you need to go to a hospital?”
“Nah,” Nach waved his hand. As soon as he let go of the door frame, the room began to tilt. He steadied himself again. “Jus’ need a fuckin’ nap.”
“You’re a fuckin’ dumbass,” Rhonda said. “Your head is bleeding.”
“It is?” He asked. Before he could reach up and touch the top of his head to confirm, Rhonda grabbed his wrist again and glared at him.
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” she sighed. “But if you need stitches, you’re going to the fucking hospital.”
“’M fine,” he said. “Really, Ronnie. I jus’ needa place to sleep an’ then I’ll be outta yer hair.” He stepped into the apartment, and Rhonda closed the door behind him, before she disappeared into the bathroom.
“C’mon, Nach,” Rhonda called. Feeling far wobblier than he looked, he took a few confident steps toward the bathroom.
“Hey, Teale,” he said with a grin as he passed her.
Teale bit her lower lip. The pink lipstick she wore was slightly smudged at the corner. A stray strand of hair fell over her forehead. Weird. Teale never let herself look anything less than perfect. It was late, though; maybe she’d been sleeping. Wait, no, he was pretty sure she didn’t sleep. Huh.
Her hand was still clutched against her silk nightgown, her brows curved with concern. “Nach…” she said gently, sounding very worried. She was always so worried. He was fine.
“Y’look gorgeous, as always,” he said.
Teale smiled slightly, but the concern didn’t leave her expression.
“Nach!” Rhonda snapped.
“’M comin,’” he said.
She stood with the first aid kit open on the bathroom counter. As he walked in, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and Teale’s reaction made sense. He looked bad. Blood covered the left side of his face, streaming from a wound above his hairline. More blood stained his mouth and his chin, clinging and clotting in his beard. His nose and left eye were aggravated, bruised and swelling, but he was almost positive his nose wasn’t broken, so that was plus.
“Sit,” she said.
Without comment or protest, Nach sat on the toilet seat lid. He let her move his head and examine the wound on his scalp.
“It might not be that bad,” she said. “Head wounds bleed like a motherfucker.”
“Well, it doesn’ hurt so bad—ow!” He winced as Rhonda pushed a warm, damp rag against his head more aggressively than necessary.
“Put pressure,” she said.
He took the rag from her and held it against the wound, watching her as she pulled a piece of dark brown glass from his hair. The scowl she wore wasn’t as intense as it had been when he’d walked in the door, but she still looked peeved. Although he understood why she was annoyed at him showing up early in the morning, drunk and covered in blood, she seemed unduly annoyed. This wasn’t this first time this had happened, and he’d dealt with her when she was in much worse shape.
“Why’re ye so fuckin’ grouchy?” Nach asked.
“You have bad timing,” Rhonda said.
“Huh?”
“I was busy,” she said.
“Doin’ what?” he snorted. “Binge drinkin’? That’s wha’ ye do every fuckin’ night.”
She said nothing and plucked a few pieces of glass from his hair, which she tossed into the trash can next to the toilet. The bright lights of the bathroom were making his head throb, sharpening the ache behind his eyes and making the room spin. As he flicked his gaze across the bathroom, trying to find some dark corner to stare at, he saw a dark mark above Rhonda’s collarbone. Without thought, he placed his beer down on the counter and reached out to poke the bruise. She slapped his hand away.
“Knock it off,” she said.
“You have a bruise,” he said stupidly. In his inebriated state, the compulsion to poke the bruise had been too strong to consider resisting.
“Yeah,” she said.
Then it clicked.
“Ohhhh,” Nach said. “You guys were fuckin’. My ba’. I’ll leave an’ ye can get back to it. I might be able t’ crash at Bates’ or Gideon’s.”
He started to stand, keeping the washcloth pressed against his head, and the room began to move at an alarming velocity.
“Sit down, dumbass,” she said, pushing him down by his shoulder. There was a small smirk on her lips.
He obeyed and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to stop the feeling of vertigo. Rhonda continued to pick glass out of his hair. Time felt unreal to Nach, and after what felt like an hour, but was more likely only a couple minutes, Rhonda touched his hand.
“How’s the bleeding?” she asked. He pulled the washcloth back and let her look, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Oh, you’re fine,” she said. “The bleeding’s almost stopped.”
“I tol’ ye I was fine,” he said.
“Think you can get yourself cleaned up without passing out?” she asked.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
“I’ll set up the couch for you,” she said.
“Thank yeh,” he said in a sing-songy voice. For another indeterminate amount of time, he sat leaning against the counter, his eyes closed, and the cloth pushed against the wound.
Once the world stopped feeling so unsteady, he opened his eyes slowly. He folded the washcloth and pressed it against his head again, then checked to see how much blood came back. Only a faint pink-ish line. He tossed the cloth into the sink and stood slowly, then started the water for the shower. As he waited for the water to warm, he glanced around the bathroom again.
“Hey, Rhonda?” he called. “Yeh got any towels I can use?”
A moment later, Teale appeared in the doorway, holding a neatly folded stack of soft, plush towels. He was tempted to ask if she had any towels that were older and scratchier, more appropriate for someone like him, but he knew the answer without asking. On top of the towels was a folded set of clothes. A white t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a pair of boxers.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A while back you brought Rhonda home, and you were covered in blood. You were running late to a shift at 79s and didn’t have a change of clothes. So, I bought you some changes of clothes, just in case something like that happened again.”
Nach assumed “some” meant more options than he’d ever owned at any given time, all of which were probably more expensive than he had a right to wear. At that moment, in his duffel bag, he had two t-shirts and one pair of jeans, plus the shirt and jeans he was wearing, and not much as else as far as outfits went. Teale didn’t seem to know what moderation meant when she was doting on her non-vampire loved ones, and if she’d bought him one outfit, she’d likely bought back-ups, just in case he didn’t like the first one.
Confirming his suspicion, she said, “Oh, I guess you’d probably prefer sweatpants to jeans, since you’re going to bed. I’ll go get those.”
“Teale, yer a peach. You didn’ have t’ get me any clothes.”
“It was just in case,” she said, her voice soft. “Do you want me to get the blood out of your shirt?” she asked, nodding at what he wore.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate tha’. Ye really are a peach,” he said. If he wasn’t covered in blood and fighting off dizziness, he would have kissed her cheek. Instead, he said, “Thanks, Teale.”
“Of course,” she smiled.
As she left to grab the pair of sweatpants, Nach gently shut the door, leaving it cracked open a few inches, and stripped out of his clothes. The hot water was warm and comforting, relaxing his muscles as he stood beneath it. After scrubbing the blood from his beard and gently cleaning up his face, he stepped out of the shower. His blood-stained clothes were gone, and the sweatpants sat neatly on top of the towels. A glass of water was next to the sink. He drank the water as he slowly got dressed.
Leaving the bathroom, he found the futon converted into a bed, made up with floral print sheets and a heavy pastel quilt. As he climbed onto the bed and curled up beneath the sheet and quilt, Rhonda came in.
“You look better.”
“Feel a bit better,” he said, his eyes falling closed.
“That’s good.”
There was a pause, but Nach couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes and look at her. There was a soft clink on the side table, and he opened his eyes just enough to see that she’d placed a large glass of water beside him.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Yup.”
Another pause. Nach wasn’t sure she was still in the room.
“Hey, Ronnie,” Nach mumbled.
“Don’t call me that.” she said. “What?”
“I love yeh,” he said, fighting off a yawn. “Sorry I interrupted ye an’ Teale. I’ll make it up to yeh an’ buy yeh a few beers.”
“You better,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice.
errands
Summary: just a sibling-esque moment between Nach and Rhonda
Though it was well past noon, Orthanach couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. There was a dull ache around his temples that got worse when he sat up, and the futon was a comfortable nest of pillows and quilts. The futon was in Teale’s craft room, made up with soft cotton sheets and a thick, cozy pastel quilt, with two more quilts folded at the foot of the bed. Teale kept her apartment at a comfortable temperature for her non-vampire roommate and occasional couch-surfer, but that didn’t stop her from fussing anytime Orthanach stayed the night. As winter crept over the city, Teale’s concern grew, and so did the pile of extra blankets within Nach’s reach.
“Mornin’, fucker,” Rhonda said.
Orthanach tilted his head up, looking away from the endless scrolling on his phone, but not lifting his head from his pillow, to look at the woman standing in the doorway he’d left open. Wearing a sports bra and boxers, she squinted at him through eyelids swollen with sleep. Her hair was mess, sticking up in every direction and curling at the ends. She took a noisy sip of her coffee.
“Mornin’,” he said, giving her a grin.
He moved over in the bed, giving room for Rhonda to sit next to him, and patted the empty space invitingly.
“Come sit,” he said.
She stared at him through squinted eyes, and took a long, slow sip of her coffee. He half-expected her to tell him to fuck off, but after a consideration that seemed far too long for the triviality of the request, she shrugged and walked into the room. Balancing her coffee, she stepped onto the futon and folded her legs into a pretzel shape. Content with the company, Nach turned his attention back to his phone and resumed his scrolling.
A couple minutes of easy silence passed between them, with Nach distracting himself with social media and Rhonda pulling herself from grogginess with each sip of her coffee.
“Teale wants to know what the fuck you want for breakfast,” Rhonda said, interrupting the quiet.
“She doesn’ have ta make me anythin’,” Nach said.
“I fuckin’ told her that,” she said. “And she told me to ask you anyway.”
Nach shrugged.
“Well, come up with somethin’ or she’ll make you a whole fuckin’ buffet.”
A notification pinged on Nach’s phone, and a second later he groaned.
When he offered no explanation for the noise, Rhonda asked, “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”
“I promised Gideon I’d pick up some shite for him from the fuckin’ Home Depot, and now I’m hungover and don’t fuckin’ wanna,” he said.
“Boo fuckin’ hoo,” Rhonda said. She took a loud slurp of her coffee.
“Ooh!” Nach sat up, propping himself on his elbow as an idea dawned on him. “Do ye wanna go with me?”
“Yeah, why not—hold on, why are you fuckin’ askin’ me? Are you just askin’ cause you want someone to go with you? Or are you askin’ me cause I’m a fuckin’ lesbian and you think lesbians just like to go to Home Depot?” She asked, hitting his arm.
“Does it fuckin’ matter? Ye’ll say yes either way,” he laughed.
“Yes, it fuckin’ matters,” she snapped. “And I’m gonna say no.”
“It’s a bit of both,” Nach said. He was still laughing, but the laugh had turned into a high-pitched giggle.
“Fuck you,” she said, but Nach could see the smile hidden behind her coffee mug.
“So, you’ll go with me?” he asked.
“Yeah, why the hell not?” she shrugged.
prompt: "just let me look at you for a little bit."
what can i say, i got inspired
The ring fits perfectly on the ring finger of Teale’s hand, as though it was always meant to sit there. The stone sparkles in its setting as she turns her hand this way and that, admiring the band as she has for the past few hours.
“Hey babe,” Rhonda says sleepily, her arm tossed around Teale’s shoulders, head against the blonde’s, “Can we go home now?”
“We just got engaged, and you want to go home?” Teale asks softly, focused on the sparkling ring on her finger. Her hands do not look so monstrous to her now, with her beloved’s ring on.
“We’ve been celebrating all night T,” is the exhausted response, “I’m pretty sure Grant wants to get home to his wife and kids now that the sun’s coming up.”
Rhonda lifts a hand, waving haphazardly to the werewolf behind the bar, slowly sipping a cup of coffee.
“I guess you’re right,” Teale replies, as the two women push themselves to stand. Leaving the quiet booth at the back of the bar, Teale slips her hand into Rhonda’s, pulling her close. “I love you,” she whispers, with a small, shy smile, her fangs barely peeking out over pink lips.
Rhonda kisses her quick, squeezing her hand.
“Love you too,” she murmurs, pulling back, “S’why I proposed.”
The vampire giggles, reaching down to hold Rhonda’s hand with two hands, leaning in for another quick kiss.
“You know now I get to plan a wedding, right?” Teale says as they head to the door, picking her coat up off the coat rack. Rhonda tips her head back, taking a deep breath.
“We’ve got all the time in the world babe,” she replies, grabbing her own jacket. “So uh, take it.”
Teale laughs, though the sound slowly turns to panic as she looks out the window. Whatever guests are left in the bar barely give the newly engaged vampire a passing glance as she nears hysterics.
“Whoa, Teale, what’s wrong?” Rhonda asks quickly, as Teale grabs her arm.
“It’s sunrise, I completely forgot what time it was,” she gasps, “I didn’t bring a parasol with me-”
“S’okay,” Rhonda interrupts, lifting a hand to pat Teale’s hands gripping her arm too-tight. “Can I have blood flow back to my arm please? You’ll be fine.”
“In sunlight?!”
Rhonda nods, her finger tapping against the ring on Teale’s left hand lightly.
The vampire’s jaw drops.
“Aren’t you full of surprises tonight, my darling,” she says quietly, red eyes wide and soft. Rhonda grins, pushing the bar’s door open.
“Thanks again Grant,” she hollers, waving to whoever’s left in the bar as she steps out into the early morning sun.
Teale stands in the shadowed entrance to the bar, her hand clasped in Rhonda’s. Her fiancée tugs at her hand gently, and the vampire takes a hesitant step forward.
She doesn’t burst into the flames as the sun’s light touches her alabaster skin.
It’s early enough that the morning is still cool, and the sun provides little warmth, but it is still a heat Teale hasn’t felt in over seventy years.
She steps forward, tilting her head towards the sun and breathes out slowly, her eyes closing. She is motionless, a statue in the sun as she basks in the early morning glow.
Red eyes flutter open to the sight of Rhonda smiling, her eyes crinkling at the corners in the most delightful way. Her hair curls in her face, and Teale reaches out to push a lock away from her eyes.
“C’mon, let’s go home,” she says gently, squeezing Teale’s hand.
“Wait,” the vampire protests, pulling Rhonda to her. “Just…let me look at you for a little bit.”
“You’ve literally got eternity to look at me,” Rhonda replies, her eyes rolling despite a faint wash of pink on her cheeks.
“But this is the first time I’ve really got to see you in the sun,” Teale murmurs, her fingers tracing gently over Rhonda’s cheekbones as she pushes the curls back behind Rhonda’s ears. “Please.”
Standing on the sidewalk outside of the Oak & Swan, Teale savours the moment, committing every detail to memory.
“I love you,” she says emphatically, leaning in to kiss Rhonda softly. “So much. Thank you.”
“Love you Teale,” Rhonda replies, kissing back as she slides a hand to Teale’s waist. “You callin’ the Uber or should I?”
“Let’s walk,” Teale says softly, looking up at the sun, “It’s such a beautiful morning.”
college au prompts: 1/6
prompt: “you’re good at this subject, I’m not, I’m good at this subject, you’re not, let's be study buddies” college au
prompted by @randomheadcanons ♥
The house always smells of boy, and Tess resolves to buy them scented candles next time she goes shopping. Or opens her phone when she’s drunk. There’s a party at the sorority house this weekend, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to get blackout so that might be the right time to buy Bruce and Aaron some candles.
She finds Aaron at his desk, swathed in a huge sweater that does nothing for his thin frame. He’s hunched over his laptop, and the bags under his eyes are decidedly not Gucci. She leans in the doorframe, crossing her arms.
“Can I help you T?” he asks tiredly, not looking away from his screen. “I’ve got a history paper to finish.”
“I know,” she replies primly, “That’s why I’m here. I’m in Rachkov’s other section.”
Aaron turns, his chair spinning creakily towards her.
“I need your help,” she huffs out after an awkward silence with her former roommate. “I’m not doing so well on his papers, and I need the credit.”
“What program are you even taking this year Tess?” he sighs.
“Uh, psych, I think,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “But I need the credit. Listen, I’m also taking ceramics with you, with Professor Summers? I’ll show you how to use the wheel.”
He crosses his arms.
“I know how to throw clay,” he mutters, and she snorts, lifting a hand quickly to cover her face, eyes widening at the unladylike display.
“Yeah, and I can write a well cited paper on the ramifications of the American revolution,” she shoots back. “Come one, we’ll help each other out,” she whines, clasping her hands together. “Please, A?”
He groans, sitting back in the chair. It protests obnoxiously at the movement with a gruesome screech.
“And I’ll get you a new chair,” she adds, wincing. Aaron smiles innocently, rocking in the screaming chair slowly, watching Tess’ discomfort with something akin to brotherly glee.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
quick fic prompted by @2twinveggiesheadcanons; teale and rhonda watching wife swap (based on this tiktok i sent to them that sparked the thought)
“this is horrific,” teale snarls, the pair of knitting needles in her hand bending as she squeezes her fists.
“they’re all terrible,” rhonda agrees, taking a swig of her beer and slinging an arm around teales shoulders. “there’s nothing you can do about it though. you’re the one who put this on.”
“i thought they’d all open their eyes, and learn to change their ways a bit,” teale groans, red eyes flashing as one of the husbands yells at the guest wife. “this is just…the scum of humanity.”
“definitely,” rhonda says, squeezing teale’s shoulder. “it’s pretty funny to watch them all yell though.”
teale turns to rhonda with pouting lips, bent needles in hand.
“they’re just all so cruel to each other. i don’t know if i can stomach much more of this.”
rhonda shrugs again. “then put something else on babe.”
the blonde reaches for the remote and exits the episode, scrolling through the selections.
“i need you to know how much i appreciate you,” teale says, leaning over to quickly peck rhondas cheek. “i may have just finished the episode otherwise, because i started it.”
rhonda grins and turns her head, catching teale in a kiss. “it’s one of the many reasons you love me?” she says, with a small smile.
“of course,” teale murmurs against rhondas lips. “i love you so much.”
