gladly!! cherryiron is one half of a twin peaks duology/series i've had loosely planned, where agent cooper is a vampire and sheriff truman is a werewolf. as you could possibly guess, cherryiron is the "how cooper became a vampire" fic and was meant to be a prequel to the events of the tv show as well as kind of a sad angsty disease/disability take on vampirism. i'd love to finish it soon, i've just been beset by Life at every turn this year!!
excerpt:
Without his tape recorder to occupy himself, he lay back, closed his eyes, and set about building a mental barrier against the sounds and smells of the hospital. Gradually, Dale was able to make the still-irregular beeping of his EKG fade away, and the antiseptic smell of the room also tempered itself. But in the absence of other stimuli, Dale’s mind drew back to two grisly images: first Caroline’s body, resting in perverse serenity in his arms. Then the bloodless body of the innocent, nameless young woman that Dale had attacked. Each memory made Dale shudder with a different chill of horror, and neither left him alone, no matter how he tried to ward himself against them.
“Excuse me? Agent Cooper?”
Dale opened his eyes to see a squat, middle-aged nurse standing before him. She smiled at him and reached into the pocket of her scrubs; at the sight of his tape recorder, gleaming metallic under the hospital fluorescents, Dale breathed a sigh of relief. The nurse laughed as she placed it on top of his blankets, within reach of his right hand. Weak as he was, Dale still had the strength and dexterity to wrap his fingers around it right away, finding the familiar rubber grip and stroking over the record button with his thumb.
“I heard you would be excited to have that back,” the nurse said, still watching him with a kind smile. Dale managed to give her a tight-lipped smile and a polite nod as she set about checking him over. He distracted himself from the worst of it by staring down at his tape recorder and running his thumb back and forth over its buttons. But when Dale felt the tug of the IV line on his left arm, he couldn’t stop himself from turning to look at it. The line of blood running down from the dwindling bag hung up overhead glimmered like carnelian in the afternoon sunlight. Another stab of superfluous hunger drove into Dale’s stomach, this time coupled with the instinctive, animalistic fear that the nurse might remove the IV. But thankfully, as Dale watched, the nurse simply replaced the near-empty bag of blood with a fresh one.
“You sure lost a lot of blood, Agent Cooper,” she remarked conversationally, as she moved the connector of Dale’s IV line into the new bag. “You’ve got some pretty nasty anemia.”
Anemia, thought Dale, as the nurse continued her business. Was that what his new condition looked like?
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New cherry iron pieces! They fired so well, thank you @goldieclay_ru #ironclay #goldpendants #cherryiron #metalclay #discpendant (at Stroud, Gloucestershire)
