My, what sharp teeth you have
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Thirty-sixth time's the charm by AnxiousPotionofGloom for EntropyHours
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
25 Dec 2024
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Summary
He wonders, not for the first time, what had led him to this. Butterfly wings fluttering near his face, in his open mouth, crawling down his esophagus to settle in his stomach, wings beating, always.
It had been a simple decision in the beginning. The vampire had a high-level clearance, was charming, easy to get along with. Not much escaped his watchful eyes, horizon point of the city assigned to him - Scar knew everything going on in its belly and then some. Applying to work for him had been a calculated risk.
It had started to be less simple when Grian had handed in his resignation letter the morning after Scar had discovered him towering over a vampire's corpse, guts out and knife in.
Scar had only laughed in big, full-bodied breaths petering off into small restrained giggles as he tore the letter in two. And Grian's foolish feet still dragged him to Scar's room every day, just to feel that electric tingle on his skin whenever the great, titanic wave of Scar's joy drowned him in salt and foam.
The line between hate and love is very thin, and Grian, tightrope dancer that he is, keeps falling on the wrong side of it.
Series
- Part 6 of My Scarian Fics
- Part 1 of My, what sharp teeth you have
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Bon Appétit by AnxiousPotionofGloom
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP, Life Series | 3rd Life SMP Series
11 Apr 2025
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Summary
It's on today's schedule, in bold red letters - a one hour slot, close to lunch in the twisted irony most things in his life seemed to have. Maybe Scar had made it that way, just to spite him.
Feeding.
The meal had already been selected, left to Grian's own choice, long auburn hair with a tired look in her eyes.
That too had been cruel, Scar dropping off the task to him: I'm hungry, he'd said, and for a suffocating moment Grian had thought things, much more terrible things than a stranger to sacrifice under the vampire's sharp teeth.
Even now it presses down his skull with a weight impossible to escape, forcing him to bow his head at the knowledge that it was his own hands who chose which of his kin to offer on the butcher's altar.
This might have been a sign of trust, were the circumstances different: what greater proof of affection than to eat the warm meal prepared by hands you had faith would do you no harm?
As it is, it feels like a leash around his unblemished neck, a noose putting him on the tips of his toes as he calls for another to join him on the gallows.
Or: Scar feeds on someone in front of Grian. They are both so normal about it.
Series
- Part 2 of My, what sharp teeth you have
- Part 9 of My Scarian Fics