#mcnecter

flynn half expects her to bite him.    isn’t that the way it always goes for vampires in literature?    one drop of blood, a whiff and their self control turns to shambles?    he should have been prepared for it, had been once upon a time when her role was less clear   (   not that he fully understood the woman in front of him, her motives still as shrouded and mysterious as the first night    )       it had been a while since he had seen her as something dangerous, she was an ally of sorts, a friend in a manner of speaking.       when she crosses the distance between them, he freezes.

a rookie mistake.    the sort which makes a librarian die on their first mission out.    it allows her to press a finger to his cheek, blood coating her thumb.     he waits, and waits and yet nothing happens.    julia’s expression remains troubled, not murderous.    oh.     he is not going to die.    the realization makes his shoulders drop, nervous laughter bubbling from his lips as he leans into her touch.    “     a student did not like his grade, believe it or not.     ”

@mcnecter​ asked: ❝ you’re no good to me dead ❞ - mcnecter

“You tell me the nicest things.” Raspy complaint is accompanied by a cough as he pulls himself up against the wall, blood clotting against the white of his shirt as the knife still lodged in his stomach moves. “I’m better half-dead than most are with a full life to live.” With a push, he peels himself off the wall, wobbles three steps before he can stand on his full height, teeth bruising his bottom lip as he keeps himself from crying out in front of the vampire. “Didn’t expect your master to send someone to stab me. Or do you think this is the weirdest coincidence in the history of mankind?”

@mcnecter asked: come on, i don’t bite. - mcnecter ( for flynn im so sorry lmao. )

Peering at her from the corner of his eye, Flynn let his displeasure with her little joke show. What a dangerous creature the Bride was — Julia Tepes had all the darkness that he had seen swimming in the region coiled around her, a shroud of mystery she wore beautifully. It was in these moments, though, that made him shudder and shrink in fear.

It was the glimmer in her eyes, resembling something almost human — humor. It allowed her to blend in with society and carve her twisted gangs into the world. “Now, why do I find that hard to believe?” All of her actions so far had surprised him. He should be dead, she could have killed him ten times over, and yet she had no moves to end his life, content with toying with him. “What do you do then, Miss Tepes?”

 [      @mcnecter    ] 

Renfield had proved a disappointment, and a tedious one at that. His plan had originally been to settle the deal with the man and send him home to be a servant there in England, to aide in his travels. Yet the man couldn’t handle the meager amount of power given to him and had fallen mad. It didn’t matter much to Dracula. Mr. Hawkins was diligent in sending out a replacement solicitor in the form of a Jonathan Harker.

He thumbed through the pages of his book, only momentarily glancing over to Julia.

“I suppose you’ll tell me I should have listened to you in the first place?”

& clockwork || accepting (any muse) ! >> @mcnecter

The 'modest accommodation' he'd been given was fine until it is Friday night with Porkie's rowdy crowd spilling onto the street, about twenty feet away from his window while he's trying to sleep. British accents are charming and funny unless they're under five pints and loud as shit– that's when Guy wants to punch the next john that bleats 'maaaate'. Don't mind him. Sleep deprivation does that, he's not really a violent person, he'd just rather avoid... people.

To give his body the odd break from clonazepam, he's made the bright choice to take up casual smoking. It dulls the edge a little bit, and sure brings a little fire back into his freezing frame as he treads the mulchy grounds of the cemetery behind the closest church, yellow sneakers already caked up with a lip of mud, a place he would presume to be thoughtless and safe from club-going folks, or even street-lurking creeps. The dead don't usually bother him, nor is he particularly squeamish; just a young man trying to find some peace until he's tired enough to go back to bed.

It's a hard silence out here. The air sits still, heavy with the metallic nip of rain gone, fog descending like a cloak over scattered headstones and drooping, bare branches of willow trees. Guy walks without aim, hood up and obscuring most of his face save for a burning cigarette, intermittently bright, faint embers in a belly of darkness.

One distracted misstep and his foot sinks into a mound of soft dirt– and then it keeps sinking into what Guy alarmingly notices – a second late – is a freshly open grave. Somehow amidst trying to rescue himself from fully going in the hole, arms flapping without purchase, he loses his cigarette and stumbles back onto his ass with all the grace bestowed upon him at birth, and in his periphery catches glimpse of a pale, watchful figure, Death herself for all he knew. What a stupid way to die.

Meme Tag -- @mcnecter

Voice from his nightmares curled around his ear, sending a shock down his spine. But rather than pouring fear, instead he found his back replaced by cold iron. He wasted a moment's regretful breath on the fact that he'd stopped carrying his kukri with him at all times. It had become something of a habit that ultimately he and Mina had agreed to be useless. There were no more vampires to be worried about, right?

his smile was as charming , ( or did it not leave a little delight that she could stare upon ? ) as turned over as a sunlight morning. though one neither his charms, nor his vacancy could enjoy. his brown eyes settled past her , briefly , to listen to the noises within his dungeon. only within a trained vampires earshot. a human would never be able to catch it. the screams of agony as he settled into the village below - collecting as he went. now stored away - locked in his dungeons.

eyes returned to her as she spoke. arms snaking around her waist , to settle there. not quite pulling her in , only settling on devouring in the darker hours , " it means that I am a devoted man. " he praised her then with peppered words and cupid abode love trimmed languages, " devoted to you. "