Guys Pyro is my favourite vampire but I can’t draw him good :( I tried so hard to doodle something because I associate him to the song “I’m Always Walking as Somebody Else” by American Murder Song. Man didn’t plan to become a vampire.
what if vampirism is spread by copying and passing over the vampire DNA to the living individual. what if a girl vampire turned a boy into a vampire and he suddenly started having symptoms of female puberty. what if vampirism can be hrt
Thanks to @miggleverse for her beta reading, always such a source of inspiration & a great collaborator!
When a creature older than modern memory stepped off the edge of a plane into the abyss, he never imagined he would be dragging the only human he cared about down with him. Leaping into the dark was an easy task for a man who couldn’t die, for a creature with infinite time, but for a mere mortal, jumping into the vast desert below would change his life indefinitely.
One jump, that was all it took to shatter lives, to change the face of the SAS in an instant.
On a night where the elements shook the earth, where the wind whipped relentlessly and the night sky was a haze of grit and dirt, the men of the SAS leapt into the unknown.
They had no visibility, no alternative if things went wrong. They had their parachutes and their bravery. When Eoin McGonigal stepped over the edge, into the unfamiliar, he couldn’t have imagined the pain and the uncertainty that would follow.
The wind roared and groaned, as if enraged by the sudden intrusion from these foolhardy humans, each gust scattered the men to the far corners of the desert, leaving many dead, some captured. The lucky few who survived now wandered under the watchful eye of the moon, in search of their compatriots, in search of any sign of life.
Paddy landed in that barren wasteland just as they had practised, landing gracefully amongst the windblown sands, surrounded by high cliffs and rolling dunes. He accrued a few scrapes and cuts, battling the elements that raged around them in the night sky, but his body healed quickly. His skin had stitched itself together in a matter of minutes, each fibre and cell regenerating in the blink of an eye, erasing all evidence of a struggle. It wasn’t long before he was tramping through the rolling hills in search of his team, the sand parting before him with each step. The landscape around him swallowed the horizon, sand and rock stretching as far as his sharp eye could see. But absent from the vast landscape were his team, his men. Over 60 men had jumped that night, and thus far, Paddy had not encountered any survivors. Though anxiety wasn't an emotion he felt regularly, as he walked through that desert, utterly alone, Paddy felt unnerved, acutely aware that he may have been the only one to survive such a treacherous mission. The rest of his team, just ordinary men, had been condemned to an uncertain fate.
Under the sparse light of the moon, sand rolled with the wind, heat rose from the earth and a dust storm lingered in the distance, but generally the earth looked calm, as if a storm had never passed through at all. Only the lingering black clouds dropping their contents onto the sands below revealed nature's dastardly deeds that night, the remnants of a devastating tempest, a violent disturbance of what should have been a fairly mundane incursion.
As he pushed forwards into the night in total silence, the stench of blood rose into the air and called to him like a siren in the dark, giving him direction and a course. With heavy stride, he climbed the sand dunes, following his keen senses towards the source. Only the sound of grains crunching underfoot and the wind whipping through the undulating dunes could be heard. Each step seemed too easy, as if his body carried no weight. He floated on the wind, mindlessly following his nose towards that unmistakable iron rich scent, every sense heightened by the thunderous roar overhead and the aroma of death carried on the breeze. An eerie silence filled the humid air, carrying with it a sense of dread and remorse. His body struck by an inexplicable feeling that everything had gone terribly wrong and he had led his team to their deaths.
Paddy knew the smell of rust and salt, mixed with the stench of fear all too well. He could recognise such a distinct scent from miles away, though the closer he got to it, the more pungent it became, instinctively driving him mad with hunger.
Every man he had drained dry had the same scent, every poor soul he butchered in the desert emanated that putrid odour, it haunted him, yet it called to his body and drew him in, as if his bones moved of their own accord towards the source.
Paddy knew he was following the scent of a man close to death, the muted sound of a faint heartbeat in the distance echoed loudly in his ears. The beat was irregular and struggled onwards bravely, but he could tell it was fading, slowing down as the blood trickled from its master's body. Each thump quieter than the one before, each pulse of blood just that bit slower. Though every hair in his nostrils stood on end at the thought of a meal, a refreshing reprieve from the unappetizing rations he had been surviving on, he truly dreaded stumbling across a poor creature so close to their end, teetering on the precipice of life.
His feet followed the trail, the odour wafting around him getting stronger and stronger as he happened upon a lifeless figure in the dirt. As he trudged towards the body laying face down in the sand, that familiar metallic smell enveloped him, completely overwhelming his mind with pure unadulterated bloodlust.
But as he cast his eyes downwards upon that poor soul, as the moonlight illuminated their sharp features and he focused on their withered face clinging to life by a breath, a terrible dread settled in the pit of his stomach, snapping him from his thirst-fuelled daze. He could scarcely believe the sight before him, a man he knew intimately, a man he had come to trust, and loved dearly.
A face once so bright, so full of vigour and a genuine joy for life, now lay pallid and cold under the night sky. His heart struggled on, sluggish and weak, but his pulse beat faintly under his skin.
His body was strong, though battered and beaten by the unforgiving desert. He held on to this sliver of life as long as possible…..he fought hard and held tight to this world until Paddy found him, until he could be by his side once more.
His life force drained drop by drop into the sand beneath him, a pool of crimson stained the wretched earth beneath his body. His injuries were grave, and if Paddy had a heart to beat, it would have stopped at the sight of him.
Eoin McGonigal.
He immediately rushed to Eoin's side, his feet slipping and sliding clumsily through the tepid sand and his body lurched forwards as quickly as his legs would take him. His usual grace and coordination gave way to clumsy stumbling, all reasonable thought replaced by sheer panic. His blood lust now fully abated and devastating grief settled in its place, swapping one debilitating fog for another. Every thought consumed by Eoin and his beautiful face, his sun-kissed skin now marred and torn, his flesh ripped, blood pouring from every gash. Every fibre of his being ached at the sight of his friend, his confidant, his one tie to the mortal world, lying helpless to the elements under the pale light of the moon.
This was his fault. Eoin would've followed him anywhere. He would've walked through fire if Paddy asked him to. He was sweet, trusting, the closest thing to heaven that Paddy would ever see, yet he wasn’t naive. Eoin saw through the facade to who Paddy truly was - something no other human had done in a very, very long time. He saw the poet, the scholar, the creative soul hidden behind decades of wrath and untethered anger. When the world couldn’t understand him, Eoin always did. Eoin saw beneath the mask, beneath the unfiltered rancour and the tough facade, he saw past the walls Paddy had placed around himself as protection from a cruel world. Eoin saw the man beneath the beast.
He could hide himself from the world. Hide his true nature behind the fury of a beast, behind the mask of an enraged soldier…but he could never hide from Eoin. He could mask the parts of his being that he was ashamed of, his insatiable thirst for blood, his animalistic desire to feed. But there was no hiding his incredible strength, his keen senses or how his skin didn’t age in all the years they had known each other. Eoin had a rare talent for seeing the truth of things, and though the totality of Paddy’s immortality had never been revealed, Eoin knew he was a little more than human. A little more than a standard soldier. It didn’t colour his opinion of Paddy, or influence their relationship, but sometimes as he caught a glimpse of Paddy in the scorching desert sun, he saw more than a man. He saw muscles sitting sharply under his cool skin, he saw eyes bluer than any ocean. He saw a man enthralled, no, obsessed with him, and despite the enigma surrounding this mysterious fellow, Eoin rather enjoyed his attentions, so broached the subject. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he was kind and protective. He seemed to have the heart of a poet, despite his hardened exterior. That was enough.
Now, as Eoin lay before him, a whisper from his demise, Paddy could only mourn the time he had lost with him. Years they could have spent together after this blasted war, as friends or perhaps something more…but they would never get that chance. Paddy would never get to see Eoin grow old, see those wrinkles that he loved so much grow deeper, see smile lines form from decades of laughter and joy. He would never see those perfectly auburn, bouncy curls grow grey. Grief swallowed him whole, engulfed him in its open maw, though Eoin had not yet left this earthly plain.
That night, that terribly tempestuous night, he followed Paddy into the void, stepping into the blackness without a second thought, without thinking of what it would cost him.
He squeezed Paddy’s shoulder before they leapt; one last touch, one last moment of gentility before plunging into the terrifying black unknown. Paddy could still feel where his warm hand scorched his cool skin, he could still feel the pressure and the comforting presence behind him. Eoin had a way of making any situation okay; he had a calmness and a light that illuminated any shadow, a warmth that would heat any room. Paddy often imagined being the object of his affections, the focus of all that love and beauty, but he was a monster and he couldn't damn Eoin to a life with him. Instead, he basked in his radiance for as long as he was allowed, enjoying the comforts of Eoin's glow. But here, lying so close to death, Paddy felt the night creeping in around them once more.
Eoin had been dragged through the desert by blistering winds, his body mutilated and disfigured from rocks and brush. Paddy scarcely recognised the man by his side, he was a mess of muscle and bone, sharp edges protruded from his tattered skin, exposed to the brutal elements and glinting in the cold moonlight. Blood leaked out of his veins at an alarming rate, staining the earth a deep crimson where he lay.
Even with the iron-rich stench of blood wafting through the air and permeating his senses, Paddy could only focus on the man lying before him. Even with every fibre of his being screaming for blood, desperate for sustenance, Paddy only had eyes for the one man who ever truly saw him, not the thing he had become, but the man he once was.
If it was anyone else, any other hapless human, Paddy may even have relished in their impending death. He may even have rejoiced at finding nourishment in such a barren waste….but he could only mourn for Eoin McGonigal. He felt only grief and despair at the state of his friend, his one companion lying an inch from death in the dirt.
In the depths of grief and despair, Paddy barely registered that he was standing over Eoin, staring at his unmoving frame, as the full spectrum of human emotion came and went in a matter of minutes. Every possible feeling washed over him, pulling and dragging at parts he had buried for a long time. Parts of his humanity he thought long deceased, stolen by this condition, this affliction that had been forced upon him.
Decades of life replayed in his eyes, hundreds of years condensed into a matter of seconds. He saw the love, the pain, the loss - a lifetime of experiences that all came flooding back to him as he stared blankly at his soulmate in the shifting sand.
He vaguely remembered his own death - it was all a blur of pain and grief, but he remembered how it felt to have a life wrenched from him too soon. He was a little older than Eoin, but still in the throes of youth when he had everything snatched away. Everything he had, everything he was - taken in an instant. It took him a long time to adjust to this new existence, to find parts of himself that the creature who attacked him had stripped in a single bite. Eoin gave him back more than he could have ever imagined, more than he ever deserved. He gave him a semblance of humanity, something to live for. He gave his existence meaning again.
Paddy never thought he would have to go through this torment again, the agony of losing a person he gave a piece of himself to. A person he never meant to fall for, but who had captured his cold dead heart with simple glances and a gentle hand. Eoin was a rare gem in a life of death and suffering, a shining light amongst a life spent in the shadows. As he stood in shock, those dreadful years spent in solitude and total despair replayed, flashing across his haze filled eyes.
Only the faint cries of pain from Eoin’s lips broke him from his trance. Those pitiful sounds broke through and spurred him to Eoin’s side. Despite his blood calling to him, beckoning to him like a beacon in the night, Paddy knelt dutifully beside him, cradling his head in his lap as gently as he would hold a newborn babe. He ignored every instinct, every urge and demand his body gave him, burying his hunger beneath layers of anguish.
His hands held him firmly, as if he could somehow shield him from death’s call through touch alone. As if he could make everything right by simply cherishing him, as he should’ve done all the years they shared together previously. He had so many chances to show Eoin how he felt, to hold him against the world and shield him from it, but he let fear get in the way of happiness. Now Eoin was a hairs breadth from the snarling jaws of death. Paddy had many preternatural abilities, but calling off death’s hounds once unleashed was sadly not one of them. He would have given up forever if it meant shielding Eoin from the end.
Eoin drew quick, painful breaths as his broken ribs pierced his lung. Each inhale felt like the sharp point of a knife. He drifted in and out of consciousness, overwhelming pain and blackness overtaking his hazy vision as his body expelled his life force into the warm sands below. But he knew Paddy was there. He could feel the feather-light touch of a calloused hand against his cheek, the almost reverent way he held him and Paddy’s strong, muscular frame beneath him. It brought some comfort knowing he wasn't alone. That he wouldn’t die an unknown soldier in some faraway land, with nobody to remember him.
The weight of Paddy's hand against his skin brought some peace to his pain riddled body; heavy in its sincerity, yet gentle as though he would crumble beneath it.
Raindrops fell vigorously from the sky above, settling in the creases of Eoin's torn flesh and washing some of the dried blood from his eyes.
Paddy didn't even feel the water running down his cheek, the cold drops sticking to his hair and soaking his uniform thoroughly. In truth he felt nothing but sorrow, his body numb to his surroundings, to the remnants of the roaring storm overhead.
The weather seemed to mirror how he felt at that moment. He had often seen the poets describe how they use the weather as a personification of the protagonist's feelings, though he never thought it to be true until now. He never thought that such art would be reflective of his life, that he would ever go through such tragedy again. Fat droplets of rain camouflaged the tears gathering in his eyes, blurring his usually crystal clear vision & obscuring his view of the disfigured man in his arms.
But as he sat silently, Paddy thought even the poets couldn't have written a tragedy so poignant, so raw and indescribably painful. He had never imagined a scenario where the sweet boy he had grown to love would end up bleeding out in his arms, where this beautiful Dublin boy would be teetering on a knife's edge from death…with only Paddy standing in its way. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Here he sat, immortal, immune to the bullets and bombs, the slashes of a blade and to the unrelenting forces of war, but half a man. The gentlest creature he had ever met, a truly kind soul with a pure and loving heart - lay crushed, maimed beyond repair.
It seemed rather an unfair end to their story, a true taunt from God or the devil, whichever one was responsible. True malignance from a higher power, the only justification Paddy could think of for this heinous act. Eoin didn’t deserve to meet his maker in this manner; he didn’t deserve to die at all. But surely in this state, he wasn’t long for this world.
His blood trickled onto Paddy’s hands, falling over the curve of his fingers and washed into the dirt by the drizzle of rain. Not even the sensation of blood running between his fingers summoned Paddy from his daze, instead he began to hum an old folk tune, one that had always stuck with him through the years and brought him comfort when he needed it. He couldn’t even recall the name of it now, just the lilting melody. He hoped it might bring Eoin the same comfort, even if he couldn’t hear it, even if it was too late.
As he sat, his focus purely on the heartbeat of the man in his clutches, Paddy wrangled heavily with his conscience, weighing up his options in a dire situation where hope seemed to be lost, with his friend withering away in his arms. Clinging to life, yet almost in deaths cold grasp.
His choices were few, and none of them were what he wanted. He could keep him company, do his best to make his final moments peaceful and steward him into the stillness beyond or he could selfishly offer him a taste of the life that had been thrust upon him many many years ago.
A life he never chose, but the one he was stuck with.
A barren, cold subsistence where death was a constant companion. Where time was no longer something to be feared and no longer a cause for celebration but instead a distant thought.
He never wanted to turn Eoin, he was the one bright spark in Paddy's world. Where there was once apathy, a void he had no interest in filling, Eoin stepped in and brought light. He reenergised a tired creature, bringing purpose and meaning to his days once more. Further still, he was the one man who made Paddy crave his own mortality again.
He longed to grow old with him, to spend his dwindling days by his side. But he knew, as soon as they jumped from that tin can in the sky, that their days on this earth might have been numbered. That things would irrevocably change from that night onwards. The jump was too dangerous for any mortal to endure, a true suicide mission for most. Never did he think it would be so gruesome, the very sight of Eoin's mangled body gave him pause - even with all the bloodshed, all the gore and horror he had seen in his long life, Paddy never thought he would see someone he cared about in such a state.
Now he was faced with an impossible decision. To offer Eoin a chance at eternal life, to help him yet damn him to a life he would never choose willingly, or to usher him into the dark peacefully. To remain in those sands, to spend his final moments with the one he loved dearly…. Or spend an eternity utterly changed. He would never be the same bubbly boy he was before that night. He would never have the same lust for life, the same endless optimism even in the face of hopeless situations. Paddy agonised over it, though he knew he didn't have long to consider the pros and cons of either option.
He had watched everyone he ever loved die….from time, from violence, by their own hand. He had never offered them this chance because he would not have taken it himself if he had been afforded the luxury of choice. He did not wish to damn the ones he loved to his fate, to a life of solitude and loneliness, to a life in the shadows, even when he could walk in the sun’s warming rays.
He would not have condemned Eoin to the cold, not if there was any other way.
“I wish I could take away your pain, mo chroí, but all I can do is offer you a lifeline…a way out of this”
Eoin always had an inkling that Paddy was different and not entirely forthcoming about his true nature, but it didn't matter. He never asked, never pried. But now, as Paddy held him gently against the harsh winds, and offered him an escape from the pain, in his brief moments of clarity, as his mind fought against the pull of sleep, Eoin wondered what kind of a life that would be.
He felt Paddy's uneven breath against his face, and though he was struggling to stay awake, his eyelids heavy against the tide of sleep, he heard what Paddy said next.
“It's your choice lad… I wouldn't make it for you”
Eoin couldn’t fully comprehend what Paddy was offering, his body had already started shutting down, and his mind had become trapped in a thick fog as the darkness rolled in, but even in his weakened state, he felt safe with him. He felt at home and knew that whatever came next would be better than facing eternity without him in it.
Paddy, despite his flaws and rather prickly demeanour, was always kind to him, always soft and almost sweet in his own way. The man who seemed to be around Eoin was a complete and total contradiction to how he acted with the other men in the unit. He seemed particularly fond of Eoin, almost smitten, and reserved a soft spot just for him, where poetry and gentility lived. He kept every drop of kindness he possessed for that man, and Eoin got to see a side to Paddy Mayne that was hidden from plain view, secluded and protected behind a thin veil of rage.
He saw underneath the shell, the rugged exterior and the pain that masked it all.
He had the privilege of peeking underneath the curtain of a vulnerable man, who kept his walls up at all times. Paddy never once raised his voice or lifted a finger to him, whereas other men felt his wrath on a regular basis.
Eoin would have followed him anywhere, so strong was the bond between them.
They were intrinsically linked, by fate or by love, whatever it was. But that night, as he stepped foot first into the abyss, Eoin knew there was a chance he was following him into forever.
He knew that this may have been the last time he peered into those striking blue eyes, yet he followed Paddy into the dark anyway.
Now, as his body struggled against the impending eternal night, Eoin lay in the lap of the one man he would have walked into Hades for. And despite not knowing exactly what he was signing up for, he simply nodded and accepted Paddy's offer. Anywhere Paddy was, he wanted to be. Even if it wasn’t the same, even if he wasn't the same.
Paddy had long accepted the fact that he would be alone forever. It was a fact of the life he led.
He avoided getting too close to anyone, for he knew he would eventually have to watch them die. He lived too long, had been hurt too many times.. but this man was different. The moment Eoin McGonigal stepped into his life, all his rules changed. Every code he ever lived by, gone in an instant. All his defences crumbled under the weight of those treacle brown eyes.
That smile melted his cold, unbeating heart and every time Eoin looked at him felt like the first.
He had never fallen in love before, let alone with a man, but Paddy couldn't help but succumb to the charms of this skinny Dublin boy. He was thin, but strong. And beautiful, so beautiful. Like a gift crafted specifically for him. Not just physically, though there were aspects of his form that stoked fires within Paddy, ones long extinguished by time and contempt.
He was light itself, a ray of sunshine in the everlasting darkness, a beam of light in the black night.
Paddy never thought he would end up in this situation, stroking the soft mop of curls on his head as his body lay broken and battered in the barren sands of Libya.
He never imagined falling this hard for a human, never thought it possible. But now, as Eoin inched ever closer to death, Paddy selfishly wished for more time. He wished to spend his life in Eoin's radiant light.
And even if he didn't want Paddy, he needed to know that Eoin still walked the earth….that those mesmerising eyes still roamed this plain of existence.
Paddy offered Eoin that chance; more time. Even if he didn't quite know what that entailed, he hoped against hope that Eoin would choose to live, would choose him.
When Eoin nodded, when he accepted Paddy's offer, he was set alight, but somewhere inside, a little part of him grieved the man Eoin could have been.
“This'll hurt a bit, I'm sorry lad. I'll make it quick” Paddy muttered, sniffling softly, hesitant to inflict any further pain.
Eoin nodded imperceptibly once more, peering into the glimmering blue pools of Paddy's eyes. Even in the dim light of the moon, he felt at peace lying in the arms of a man who cherished him.
Paddy repositioned Eoin carefully in his lap, taking one last look at his beautiful human form before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, where the skin was thin but blood flowed in abundance.
His pointed teeth pierced through the skin before Paddy drew a mouthful, suckling at the tiny pink puncture wounds. A shuddering gasp & pained groan escaped from Eoin's lips, his body too fragile to fight against the sharp sting, against the intrusion into his fragile frame. Pain was no stranger to him now, but this felt different. It felt like a fire underneath his skin, scorching his nerves at the root.
He could feel the draw of blood to the surface, the pull of Paddy’s lips around the pierced skin and muscle. But he also felt Paddy, his lips, his breath, his teeth and tongue lapping at his essence. He felt every muscle as his body enveloped him, the smooth plains of his chest and the strength of his arms supporting him. It was as erotic as it was painful, but he felt secure knowing Paddy would not hurt him any more than necessary.
Never had Paddy tasted nectar so sweet, blood so pure, so velvety smooth yet riddled with guilt and heavy with anguish with each drop. For the first time, Paddy didn't delight in the ritual of drinking blood from another. Every drop came with a stark reminder of innocence lost, of his failure to protect the one person he cared about in this world.
Pangs of guilt overwhelmed him as he lapped at the open wound, at the decimation of Eoin’s humanity beneath his lips. He could have all too easily sucked him dry, drained his frail body of its life force and sent him hurtling towards oblivion without much thought. It may even have been kinder, but he trusted Paddy; he placed his future in his hands, and Paddy felt the crushing weight of that trust in every trickle of liquid that passed his lips.
His saliva quickly began its task of corrupting Eoin’s blood, paralysing his muscles and numbing his body. Though not its sole purpose, it freed him of mind altering pain yet prickled under the surface. Venom ran through his veins, coursed through his battered body and began its intrusion quite rapidly, but the real change would not yet begin to take effect until he drank from Paddy. Until he consumed that which bit him.
In the quiet of the desert, Paddy’s greedy slurping could be heard loud and clear against the silence of the barren nothingness. Once he had his fill, his spit sealed the wound, preventing blood loss when he withdrew from his flesh with a pop, his lips slick with blood.
Eoin could only direct his heavy eyes to Paddy’s plump lips, droplets of his own blood hanging on the skin, until his tongue darted out to lick the remnants from them, consuming each and every drop.
“I would not have you face the sweet pain of death alone” Paddy whispered, before sinking his teeth into the thinnest point of his wrist, an offering for the man he was about to save. It wasn't enough just to feed, in order to save him, he had to offer up a piece of himself too. In order to heal and transform, to truly change, he had to accept a part of Paddy in exchange. “Sup up lad.. it’ll help.” Paddy’s voice fluttered, unsure he was making the right choice. He nodded towards his wrist, where darkened blood dribbled from an obvious nick in the skin. Never had a decision weighed so heavy on his heart, never before had a choice caused him such distress.
“I long for our souls to be so deeply intertwined, that death himself would weep when faced with the thought of separating us” Paddy mused, his voice barely loud enough to carry on the wind, lost in thought as Eoin stared intently at Paddy's wrist, his eyelids weighed down and tired mind whirring before latching onto the exposed flesh.
Eoin, drained and weak, supped lightly at Paddy's open wound, while his hooded eyes were trained on Paddy's blood soaked face in a vain attempt at finding a focus through the haze. There was no animosity, no anger or rage to be found in his eyes…instead he saw sadness, even regret..
He didn't question it, or change his mind. It was this, or death of a more permanent kind.
Each mouthful of blood was electrifying, he could feel everything and nothing all at once. At first the change was painful, the sensations wracking his mangled body beyond its capabilities. But eventually Eoin felt a strange warmth bloom within him, almost as if his body was fighting against this foreign invasion, this unnatural transition.
His breathing gradually became easier.
The pain that kept him company in the hot sand gradually subsided, bit by bit. It felt like a sharp wave ebbed and flowed over him, taking his pain with it, replaced by a different sensation.
Every one of his cells saturated with Paddy’s essence. Perhaps in someone healthy, buzzing with the vitality of life, this may have been intense pain, shooting through their limbs like electricity through a wire, but for Eoin, whose body had been mangled by the harsh terrain of the Libyan desert, it came as a reprieve, a release from the prison of anguish he had been locked in since he fell from the sky.
Paddy couldn’t help but let the tears form in his eyes as Eoin’s heartbeat slowly faded away. That soothing sound that was his constant companion through the years of training, the only sound he focused on in the quiet of their shared tent in the desert, an invisible friend through those humid nights, a rhythmic almost hypnotic beating that signalled he was okay - now faded into nothing as his human form embraced his blood and began a slow transformation. A bittersweet metamorphosis indeed.
On one hand, it kept Eoin in his life, but he would be forever changed. He would no longer be the sweet, caring young lad Paddy had fallen so deeply for.
Eoin had awakened Paddy, he had stirred real emotion that he had long buried beneath rage and bloodlust. But more than that, the sight of him, limp and pathetic in his arms stirred up memories Paddy held most dear. Of youth and beginnings, of the very blossoming of their friendship.
They met on the rugby field, Eoin young and scrappy, Paddy desperately clinging to the vague remnants of his youth, but their friendship didn’t fully blossom until years later. Until they both experienced the sting of a bullet, the recoil of a gun and the bitter reality of life under constant fire from the enemy.
In a place not far from home, Paddy and Eoin reunited in the ranks of the Ulster Rifles. It was early 1940 in Ballymena Co.Antrim, but it could have been anywhere in the world. Time nor location mattered when the two of them were in the same place. There was something unspoken, something electric when they were near each other. An invisible connection neither of them could explain. Paddy wasn’t even supposed to end up back in the Ulster Rifles, but frustrated by the slow start and anti climax of the beginning of the war, he bounced from unit to unit, seeking adventure and excitement. He needed to serve, he wanted to be useful in this man made war, but he encountered bureaucracy and red tape at every turn.
Paddy had been part of various units in the British Army, serving in the Royal Ulster Rifles, moving between several Anti-Aircraft Regiments before he transferred back to the RUR, where he and Eoin reconciled once more.
Eoin, a mere teenager, gangly and practically all limbs, Paddy in his early 20’s. He had been in his early twenties for more years than he could count, his body stuck at the age he was when he was forcibly frozen in time. Although he and time were adversaries, always walking beside each other but never meeting, Paddy enjoyed seeing the inevitable change in Eoin as he aged. A transformation most natural and truly a pleasure to witness. He grew into a rather handsome man, honing his body to serve him well in battle. Strong, capable, yet beautiful. Cords of hardened muscle lay under soft, sun-kissed alabaster skin.
Freckles dotted across the surface, evidence of years spent training under the watchful eye of the midday sun. Speckles across his skin, accumulated and well earned. He transformed from an awkward, spotty teenager into a truly breathtaking young man before Paddy's eyes, seemingly in the space of a few short months. Every awkward feature just seemed to fit into place, his wide smile now his most endearing feature, his broad shoulders and strong arms drew Paddy's eye, despite all his attempts to keep things platonic. He brought joy to every person in his vicinity, an infectious happiness that even the grumpiest of creatures couldn’t resist - that even Paddy couldn’t seem to resist. One glance, that’s all it took to melt that cold unbeating heart, bringing warmth back to his chest with one errant smirk.
Paddy looked back at their time in the Commandos fondly. Before the world threw them into utter chaos, before fate saw fit to wrench him from his arms and throw him to the wolves.
In the scorching heat and unforgiving sun, he and Eoin became inseparable. Though he was prone to landing himself in trouble, Paddy made the most of each minute in their makeshift home in Cairo. Every second spent in eoin’s bright glow was worth the sweat and discomfort of sand wriggling into places it should never be. Paddy would have walked through fire to see that smile every day, and when he landed himself behind bars, yet again, he mourned those days together.
Eoin, selfless to a fault and secretly enamoured with his strange companion, joined the SAS specifically for Paddy. He transferred to an untested unit, an experimental regiment with some of the most unhinged officers in the British Army, just so the man he adored wouldn’t rot in a prison cell for his misdeeds. Paddy and his infamous temper had been in trouble one too many times, but it was this gentle boy from Dublin that saved him, and in the process, damned himself. True tenderness is silent and can’t be mistaken for anything else, Eoin showed the depth of his feeling for Paddy in a quiet gesture, but one Paddy would never understand, or ever be able to repay.
In the middle of the Libyan desert, a vast expanse of land the size of India, their bond solidified and grew into something truly special. Eoin and Paddy’s friendship was obvious from the outside, but only the two of them knew the true extent of their connection. Through gruelling training exercises under the blazing sun, to quiet moments shared in a humid tent while the moon peaked through, illuminating their stolen glances and comfortable silence.
Paddy often penned letters, though he had no family left to send them to. In them, he expressed his fondness for McGonigal, long sprawling poetic prose describing the pure unadulterated joy of having someone by his side as they embarked on such a perilous adventure. From those early days in the Commandos camp, under the heat of the Egyptian sun, to their assignment in Kabrit, Eoin was his comfort, his peace.
At night, when the world was asleep and the only sounds were the faint boom of explosives in the distance, Paddy often lay and stared at a sleeping Eoin in their shared tent.
As his body rested, Paddy watched, admired, and quietly protected. He often lay for hours looking at his broad chest rise and fall in time with the soft rhythmic thumps of his beating heart. A sound both comforting and foreign. A noise that had not emanated from Paddy's chest in more years than he cared to admit. That insignificant noise formed the soundtrack to Paddy's sleepless nights and became a sound he craved, a sound his keen ears could pick out of a crowd.
He could have never envisioned the tragedy that would befall them on their first mission out under the SAS. He could never have imagined the cruelty fate would bestow upon them.
“The terms of fate are past all understanding”
Eoin felt Paddy beneath him, the muscular strands of his strong legs supporting his head.
He felt his hands cradling his face, as he drew copious mouthfuls of blood from the fresh puncture wound on his wrist. It felt invigorating, healing…he no longer felt fragile under his soft touch, like he would snap under his fingertips. Paddy had been so gentle with him, so kind and unusually physical…he held him with such reverence, Eoin had never felt such peace in another's arms. And now, as he felt the broken pieces of his body repair themselves with every drop he ingested, Eoin became acutely aware of everything around him.
Everything all at once was quite overwhelming, all too bright and new. The world seemed to vibrate around him, as if the sands themselves were alive. As if the wind were an entity in itself.
A rush of vitality washed over him, a sudden surge of energy coursing through his veins, prickling under his skin, tongues of fire licking at his bones. His body felt foreign, sharper and new, as if it wasn't his own.
All his senses seemed to grow stronger. The air around him seemed crisper, the scent of his own sweat and blood wafted through his nostrils, mingling into one strange aroma. The pale moonlight shone just a bit brighter in the wretched sky. His vision unhindered by the darkness, unimpaired by the limits of human capabilities, he now saw every detail of the landscape surrounding him.
He felt each cell stitch into the next, his wounds healing with every drop of Paddy he consumed. Every mouthful, warm and invigorating. He became very aware of his injuries, but also noticed that some of the more minor ones had already healed over, leaving only miniscule scars on his pale skin.
Yet, despite his heightened senses, it took him a while to notice droplets falling on his face, coming from the face hovering directly above him. Paddy, in his grief and guilt, had let emotion wash over him. Masked by the rain, Paddy’s tears leaked from his hazy eyes and fell onto the man in his lap.
“Drink lad, keep drinking, it's okay.” he encouraged, his voice shaking and salty tears streaming down his face.
Eoin buried his head back down, the thirst more compelling than his curiosity. Paddy tasted like a new penny, his blood bright and fresh like a day reborn.
Paddy was glad to give him a new lease on life, to stop Death in its tracks and selfishly keep Eoin in his life for a while longer. But Paddy knew the sacrifice Eoin would have to make in order to live, in order to walk hand in hand with him once more. He would have to walk in Paddy’s shadow, would have to leave his old life and start afresh in the dark. He would have to give up too much, forsake everything and everyone he loved. He never wanted such a life for Eoin.
Paddy silently mourned the years of life he had stolen from him, the privilege of growing older, the sunrises he may never get to see. It was never his intention to take such valuable time, to rob him of a life he had yet to experience. Guilt had a way of truly gnawing at the soul. He was too precious, too naive. Too soft for the gruesome life Paddy led.
The rush of emotion surprised him, but Eoin always made him feel slightly more human. More in touch with the range of normal human emotions than he had in a long time.
Eoin dragged him closer to his humanity, forcing him to reckon with feelings that were long buried.
As he stared into the distance, a far away look gracing his features, Paddy wondered what aspects of humanity Eoin would miss most. Would he miss watching a sunrise without fear? A fresh breeze on a humid summer day?
Would he miss craving a cigarette first thing in the morning? The buzz from a good peaty Irish whiskey? Paddy found it was the simple things that he missed most.
And the most banal things that people took for granted. A deep breath of fresh countryside air, appreciating the smell of flowers. That quiet at dawn before the world woke up. The twittering of birds sitting on a line.
He missed just being.
His life now was a pretence, everything a rehearsed pantomime in order to fit in with humans.
Though it was his decision, and one done to save him from the crushing darkness, Eoin would've had no idea what he was sacrificing. What he would miss as he floated through the world, in it but nevermore fully experiencing all it had to offer. He would be but a shell of the bright, bubbly young man he was before.
"How cold love is, to rip him from his arms. "
The first days of a new vampire’s life can be intense, overwhelming. Paddy barely remembered his own transition, but he would never forget the white hot pain; debilitating and exhausting. He remembered how it felt, and was determined to help Eoin through the fever that wracked his broken body, hot and flushed as poison flooded every cell in his body, killing off the last parts of him that tied him to humanity. He cradled him through the shakes so strong Paddy felt his very bones rattle, as if evil had been trapped beneath his skin, desperate to get out. Paddy did everything that his sire failed to do for him.
Whether from guilt or a newfound sense of responsibility, Paddy clung closely to him in those first days. There was a newfound connection, a complete trust and bond forged between them but in spite of the tether they both felt, Paddy’s efforts brought about more strife than he ever intended.
In an attempt at sating his innate urge to feed, Paddy found Eoin blood, bringing him as much as the locals could spare. Paddy didn't enjoy killing, so he took as much as he could whilst leaving his victims alive. Little did he realise, new vampires require so much more blood than ancient, established ones. His memories of his own transition had faded, clouded by fear and frenzy. Despite his best efforts, Eoin remained painfully hungry, his new body craving the satiety of a proper feed. To quiet those hunger pains, to stave off the twinges and aches that come with a carnal thirst, Eoin snuck off each morning to hunt, to satisfy his gut wrenching cravings without disappointing the only person he had left. Paddy never noticed as eventually he returned to his post, he had to keep up a facade, maintain the life he had built in order to provide for Eoin. It was his responsibility, his duty to care for him and give him the life that his sire never thought to give him.
With the passing of time, Eoin grew into his new form, his body now strong and rejuvenated. All his injuries healed. Immortality makes itself known in many ways, for Paddy, his strength and intensely blue eyes were clear indicators. Eoin looked much like himself, but sharper, as if poison had taken all his beautiful soft edges and hardened them, his innocence lost in those Egyptian sands and something darker implanted itself beneath the surface.
In an attempt to bond, Paddy showed Eoin all he knew, imparted as much knowledge as he could onto the fresh new vampire, he was a clean slate with no preconceived ideas of this life. Paddy did his best to show Eoin how to feed, how to nourish his new body with life force freely given. Although Eoin inherited some of Paddy’s abilities, he was not yet able to journey very far in the sunlight. Under the safety of the pale moonlight, they hunted and gathered as much blood as they could. Eoin;s abilities would improve with time, eventually he could walk among humans, assimilate into their ranks once more, but for now, he needed the guidance of his sire, the protection of night and shadow.
Despite Paddy’s best intentions, reality proved that he was a much better soldier and leader on the battlefield than a tutor, a mentor in this unusual lifestyle. He was used to a solitary life, even when in the military, he much preferred the quiet solitude of his own company. Having someone around 24/7 was a big adjustment, especially when they depended on him, looked to him for guidance. Like a child, or a puppy he never wanted, but was burdened with. He was still hopelessly in love with Eoin, even in his new state, and it hurt seeing every aspect of this life take a toll on him, but Paddy didn’t have the skills to guide him through this period of change. He was never shown the path through this life, he never had anyone to mentor him.
The early days of Paddy’s transition were violent, marred with death and blood. He was drained by another, turned against his will and left alone in the night to face an unmerciless world as something new, something unholy. In the early hours, shrouded by darkness, he faced unbearable pain as venom tore through his body, every organ shutting down, dying a slow death before his time. Eventually his body stilled, face first in the mud on a lone country boreen. A rather undignified end for any man. It wasn't until he was revived by the same venom, his nerves firing anew and dancing under his cool hardened skin, that Paddy even realised what had been done to him.
His life had been stripped of meaning, his family and culture ripped from his grasp. He couldn't return to them now. Not changed as he was, not as something otherworldly, inhuman.
He could never go back, knowing he could rip the throats of the ones he loved from their fragile human frames. He couldn't go back to the life he had built, to the home he crafted with his bare hands or the job he loved,though times were often hard. An entire lifetime just wiped from existence, now only in memories of the ones he left behind. He often thought about them and wondered if they mourned him. Time would eventually remove him from memory of course, all too soon he became merely another presence in the night.
Scared and utterly ravenous, hunger pangs occupied his whole mind. He saw red, anger at his situation turned to incompatible rage, and he gave into the bloodlust wholeheartedly. With nothing left to lose, Paddy gave in to the life of a monster.
He ripped through a small community, decimating their population with very little effort and walked out of it still profoundly hungry, his intense bloodlust creating a waking nightmare for anyone who crossed his path.
It took him years to get a handle on his new abilities, on his new reality. It took him even longer to learn how to blend in, to walk among humans and live as one of them convincingly once more.
As he reminisced on the life he once had, and the gruesome method in which it was snatched from him, Paddy also thought of Eoin's predicament. Although he gave him the option that he never had, Paddy placed Eoin on the very same path. One of isolation and loneliness, of hunger and pain, a never ending stretch of purgatory. And as the man who turned him, Paddy had a responsibility to guide him, to teach him, but he didn't know how. His best didn't seem to be enough.
One particular morning, while Paddy was deep in paperwork and bogged down by bureaucratic nonsense, Eoin, in an impetuous moment of desperation, went in search of sustenance and ended up taking the life of an innocent. While out hunting alone, he followed his primal senses, his rational mind distracted by the beating heart and sweet smell of blood and a young boy suffered the consequences. Eoin latched onto him, desperate for relief from the pain that consumed his every thought and sucked every last drop from his veins.
Paddy, worried about his unusually long absence, went out to search for him. He found Eoin crouched over a lifeless corpse; grey, desiccated and utterly drained. In a moment of disgust, Paddy yanked him free of the dead body, and tossed him mercilessly into the wall a nearby alleyway. He saw the uncontrolled bloodlust in his eyes, shimmering and shining under the faint light of the rising sun. An irrepressible urge to feast, all human traits gave way to his most animalistic impulses. All sense of who he was before, devoured by an insatiable lust for blood.
As Paddy looked into his eyes, he saw only traces of the sweet, innocent young man he once was and he hoped against hope that he could find him in there somewhere, that his Eoin would return to him. In his heart, Paddy knew this transition would be tough for them both, but he never anticipated just how much would truly change.
As he stood there, redirecting his eyes back towards the lifeless body in the dirt, Paddy felt a wave of devastating guilt. Both for the life of the innocent boy Eoin slaughtered, and the man he used to be. He placed the blame squarely on his own shoulders, naturally.
He turned Eoin, cruelly stole his humanity from him, even though he was merely minutes from perishing and the choice was freely given. Death may have been a much kinder fate.
Not only that, but he had neglected to supervise him properly. It had been so long since he was turned, he forgot the intense hunger, the insatiable thirst for blood that happens in those first days. No amount of blood is ever enough, it’s a pang that refuses to be sated, refuses to be tamed. And when you don’t feed, the pain is enough to drive you to madness.
Eoin had felt that pain before, the night he turned. He couldn’t face that torture again, so he kept feeding.
Paddy confronted him, his face contorted from a rage Eoin had never seen directed towards him before. More than just anger, it was laced with bitter disappointment but also a hint of guilt, and emotion threatened to overwhelm him on the spot. Under Paddy's intense gaze, he could have broken from the weight of it alone. One hand gripped his arm, and as he wasn’t yet strong enough to escape Paddy’s clutches, he simply stood, trapped under his heavy stare. “I’m sorry Eoin, this is all my doing. I should have let you go that night…but I couldn’t face an eternity without you in it”, Paddy uttered, his face dropping as soon as he opened his mouth.
Eoin paused, in a state of shock. He wasn't expecting an apology and not for a minute did he expect Paddy to turn the blame on himself. That alone opened the flood gates of human emotion.
“I can’t stop Paddy, I don’t know what’s come over me…but I’m so hungry, it hurts…” Tears pricked the corners of Eoin’s darkened eyes, single drops falling onto his blood smeared cheeks and carving a path through the crimson stains as they fell.
Paddy had long learned to control his impulses, to only feed when necessary and only take enough to sustain himself. He forgot how debilitating those urges truly were, the vice grip they had on his existence, holding tightly until he succumbed to them and they turned him into a monster. He had no mentor to guide him, to put him on a less destructive path and for a long time he wandered the earth, plaguing small communities with his presence.
He brought death wherever he went, until he learned to pace himself - to only draw what he needed and leave his victims alive. He had no mentor, but Eoin did, and so far, he had failed him.
Not knowing any other way to show his devotion, Paddy gripped Eoin tightly and pulled him in to his chest. It wasn’t the reaction Eoin was expecting, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, so Paddy pushed further and kissed him deeply, pulling him in by the scruff of his neck.
It was raw, passionate..full of grief and regret, guilt and shame. But also hope, Paddy wanted this to work, he wanted, needed Eoin by his side. He would guide him through this.
Born out of an utter desperation for intimacy, for closeness, but also just for feeling. They both wanted more than the despair filling their chests.
The kiss showed a longing that had long been a companion for them both, a deep yearning for one another. Perhaps it was their newly formed bond, a connection so intricate and implicit in their being that neither man could explain. Perhaps it was the depths of their friendship, or their mutual respect for the other. Neither cared to delve too deeply into the why, in that moment thought disappeared completely, in favour of unadulterated passion and total abandonment of inhibitions.
The metallic taste of blood mixed with their combined saliva, prompted a low throaty groan from the younger man. Eoin’s fists grasped at Paddy's shirt, grabbing a fistful and holding him tightly to his chest. He pulled him in so close, the kiss became deep and almost desperate in its frenzy. Forlorn and tormented, Eoin ached for relief, to feel something other than hunger and pain.
Paddy was the cause and solution of his current predicament, but try as he might, he couldn’t place blame at his feet. Paddy saved him, he dragged him back from the edge of oblivion, he held him close and didn’t let death take him in a manner so ferocious.
Eoin knew how Paddy felt about him, he knew that man hung on his every word, as if the sun shone through him. He knew how Paddy felt, yet he didn’t have the courage to act upon it as a human. Now, with nothing left to lose and a plentiful abundance of time, all his misgivings and doubts melted away, and a powerful yearning for connection took hold.
Paddy was the one man he could share this life with, the one being who knew his plight yet also knew the depths of his humanity. Paddy never wanted this existence for him and never forced it upon him. Eoin never once blamed Paddy for his failures as a mentor, and as he held him tightly to his chest, Eoin felt nothing but love for the man before him.
It was a clashing of sharp teeth and tongues, wild and messy. Paddy barely felt the little nicks from Eoin’s awkward movements, his newly grown fangs nicking Paddy’s tongue, drawing small drops of blood to the surface and mixing with their combined saliva. Eoin was desperate for relief, for a connection, any contact with the one man who understood what he felt. He would have done anything to keep Paddy in that spot forever. To hold him like he was the most precious thing. In life, Eoin was independent but personable...he never shied away from human connection but he never needed it either. Now, he felt like he would shatter into a thousand pieces without Paddy grounding him. Like he would vanish without his presence.
Both men lost themselves in the swell of emotion they now shared, both overwhelmed by the rather unfamiliar sense of vulnerability.
Paddy never let himself break like this, he never let the fragile spectrum of human emotion cloud his mind. He always thought humans rather foolhardy to succumb to their emotions,but Eoin always had a way of shattering every pretence, every wall and defence he put up around his broken heart. It had been decades since he gave in to such simple feelings, they had been tucked away into some far recess of his mind, forgotten or simply ignored, but Eoin had a way of wrenching them from the depths.
Eoin’s hands grounded him in the moment, something oddly comforting and familiar to the man he was before. Long, graceful, but earthing; they held firm and steady against his heaving chest. He felt everything, from the tears streaming down Eoin’s cheeks to his ragged breaths, frantic and uneven.
Pulling back, breaking the tether that had formed between their bodies, Paddy held him just far enough apart so he could stare into his glassy amber eyes. They were brighter than before, but still had a familiar tint, a warm hue that reflected the lick of sunlight streaming across the horizon.
“We’ll get through it lad, it won’t be like this for long. I promise.”
Tears welled up in his own eyes, before finally breaking through and streaming down his face, a waterfall of raw emotion that refused his ancient commands.
He held him tight against the rising sun, protecting him from its rays. Cradling him against the merciless light of day as if he would wither in its unforgiving glow. Paddy held him as if his body would crumble under the warmth of the sun's rays, as if Eoin would simply disappear if he left his side again.
“If I could gather courage as one gathers roses, I would place a thousand at your feet and one, trembling, at your heart”
Paddy felt an intense sense of responsibility, a newfound longing to protect him from the world, from those who would wish harm against him, but also from himself. Eoin was new to this life, to the harsh realities that faced a being such as him. He didn’t yet know how to walk amongst humans, how to be accepted into society without prejudice or fear.
He didn’t yet know how to control his impulses, his urges. But Paddy vowed silently to be the one to show him. To teach him to the best of his ability, to impart every bit of knowledge he had gleaned over his lengthy lifetime roaming the vast expanse of this world.
As he held Eoin against the light, as his fingers threaded through that thatch of curls he adored, Paddy vowed to be the protector for Eoin that he never had himself. Not just for eoin’s sake, but his own. He needed him in his life. A lifetime without end was only worthwhile with love in it. And he had never felt a love so strong as he did with Eoin McGonigal.
Some day he could face into the roaring sun, some day he could walk in the light…for now he would need Paddy to shield him, to walk with him in the shadows.
Now does she turn other people through her milk or her fangs? Or does she suck the milk out of them instead of blood? Or it an exchange sort of deal, victim gets milkers or big pecs (or pecs full of milk) for blood.
There's a lot of ways you can do this. I for one would go with milk vampire. Like a vampire who needs milk instead of blood, they just happen to live in a world of hucows so it's pretty easy to get milk, but so much hucow milk has them turning into a hucow and making their own milk but they are so hungry for more milk that not even their own chest is enough
But a vampire hucow would probably be more like, hucow who wants to be more in the vampire smart mind but the hucow part of them is just so horny and needing attention that either they need to be fucking alot...or they can drain someone blood to make the vampire part stronger, thus letting them be out and about more. It just causes, you know, more vampire hucows to spawn. Most of them are happy just fucking all day and getting milked however, sperm is an excellent substitute for blood, at least for them!
Carlos is watching his season unravel before it even starts.
The car is shit, he’s thirty-one, and the team he wants to believe in is already stumbling at the first hurdle.
Not to mention Oscar and Lando are acting weird. Really weird.
Somehow, that becomes his problem.
Because, what he doesn't know is that there's something lying dormant in his blood. And when it wakes, there's no going back.
James Vowles' chin is too weak for the confidence he's trying to feed Carlos when he tells him they won't be participating in the Barcelona shakedown.
The thought is mean. He knows it is. The man has clear, dark eyes, a full head of hair, a mind that’s meant to be one of the best in the paddock, but as he sits there being told the car has stumbled before it’s even seen a track, Carlos can’t summon the generosity to be kinder.
Beside him, Alex drags his tongue off the back of his teeth. It fills the room with a sharp tisk that slices through Carlos, though he manages not to flinch. James doesn’t react. The rest of the meeting is him trying to put a band-aid on an arterial bleed; all contingency plans and simulator programs built on projected numbers. Data they don’t quite trust yet, dressed up as something usable. They talk about extracting information, about maximizing learning, about being ready when the car is ready.
Carlos had been looking forward to Spain; the weather, the food. And now, the reality is this: he is stuck in Grove.
Late January in Oxfordshire sits heavy and damp, a cold that isn't fierce enough to bite and isn't soft enough to leave. The sky stays a flat sheet of grey, daylight thin even when the sun sits high in the sky. It doesn't rain so much as mist, leaving everything damp, the sweet smell of petrichor heavy in his nose every time he goes outside. Every day feels the same, a time-warp of exercise and testing and going to bed, stomach heavy with worry and anxiety he plays off with instagram photo dumps and bike riding vlogs on his youtube channel.
The only good thing missing the shakedown does is open up his schedule, enough that he can take a few days to go to Paris and shoot a L'Oréal commercial. When they'd first approached him, he'd talked it over with his father first, asking him, as he always did when it came to business opportunities, his opinions. His father had told him to do it without a second thought, no space between hearing the question and answering it. Yes. Go. Do it. Build your brand. He'd left the quiet part quiet—in case your F1 career is over before you know it, in case you never win a championship, in case you wash out on a midfield team that gave you empty hope and promises that you fell for hook, line, and sinker — but Carlos had heard it regardless. He always did.
I am going to make a bold claim here and say I am a well-versed vampire nerd. I understand that this title and the respect that comes along with it must be earned, but I promise you I am a trained professional.
My request to the community is for you to tell me your personal favorite methods a person can be turned into a vampire, the method that just scratches your brain the most. This method can be well-known, or an original idea that your brain manifested. Please disclose it to me in the comments, or send a carrier pigeon to your nearest sacrificial-goat hill.
