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💀 ι ωαѕ вσяη ωιтн αη ιηѕαтιαвℓє αρρєтιтє ƒσя ѕєℓƒ ∂єѕтяυ¢тιση 💀
Knock, knock, let me in. Let me be your secret sin.
‘Strictly business,’ He grins. Swiping the wad of cash from the table with a tattooed hand and depositing the bundle into the inner lined pocket of his leather jacket, Maere’s marblesque countenance tilted back, chin raised smugly. Muscular trunks wrapped in charcoal denims carry the broad-shouldered male towards the exit, inked fingers slicking effortlessly through the dark mop of hair dusting his forehead. A lit fuse, the demon took it upon himself to pay the ferryman a visit.
Storm clouds gathered, dark and foreboding. Obstructing the starless universe from view until he’s swiveling those inhumanly void of emotion optics elsewhere. A delightful young femme with ambitiously blonde hair cut just shy of her shoulders parades herself around with a drink in one hand, stilettos in the other. She’s quite drunk. An easy target if the desire to bed someone this night called to action. But alas, Maere found little interest in the slurring broad.
Settling into the soft leather he tosses the wad of cash into the Torana’s glove box, shifting the vehicle into reverse and cruising out of the parking lot. Remembering that running over drunks wasn’t his idea of a good time on the way out. Once he’s back on the highway, he kicks the Torana into high gear, letting the metal beast purr soothingly beneath him. Light flickers, casting rich shadows across his bronze-kissed flesh. A true nightmare when glimpsed from certain angles.
His cheekbones looked sharper, angrier. Pools of vacancy sweep the open road, memorizing the feel of the asphalt beneath the Torana’s tires, the stillness that lay far beyond what the eye could see. Knotted muscles tightened beneath the leather confines of that leather jacket. A simple addition to his smart-casual ensemble. A faded red sign advertising the roadhouse loomed on the left of the horizon.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Maere slows as he nears the roadhouse driveway, peeling across the loose gravel until he’s able to park. Like a poorly constructed slow motion movie, time slows. His breathing steadies. Hands squeezing around the steering wheel as he sits, letting the animalistic purr of the metal beast dwindle into the background. He shuts off the engine, takes a deep, shaky breath and climbs out, slamming the driver’s side door with more force than expected.
The roadhouse is busy tonight. A ghost of a smile curls the lips of the bartender as she eyes him from behind the bar, fixing a line of shots for a rowdy bunch of middle aged men that reeked of leather and intoxication. Giving the woman a two-fingered flick, he signals for a bottle and a glass to be brought over to his usual booth in the back, passing tables and chairs littered with patrons from all walks of life. Demons, like Maere himself, included.
Who am I? the Bedtime Spook
Meaning: “Nightmare” in Old English
Relationship Status: Single Available
Sex: Yes Male
Motel 89’s sign flickered obnoxiously over Room 804.
Maere’s feet dangled over the edge of the shabby but comfortable bed. His frame elongated across the dimpled, musty covers, face partially buried in the lump, twice folded pillow. It’s warmer than expected for this time of year, and especially around these parts. Snow was forecast from tomorrow onward but all they’d seen was rain. Icy pellets of water descending from the broken skies. It was wet, miserable nights like this that would see him sleeping undisturbed. The brutish, demonic snoring drowned out by the bellowing thunder. His unconscious state could be determined by the amount of empty liquor bottles scattered around the room; propped up on the television stand, on the bedside tables, the bench tops. Hell, somehow he’s managed to get a handful in the bathroom sink, the water left inadvertently running at a trickle.
Maere wore confidence like the Devil wore a suit. With a rise of a shoulder in a nonchalant manner, he shrugs. ‘You may call me God if you wish, but I’d much prefer Daddy.’ There’s a glint of humour behind those void-filled eyes. 😈
Take your time, friend. I shall be here for centuries to come.
+ My RL workload's increased tenfold and I've been quite unwell the last several weeks, so please, please bear with me over the coming days. +
A giggle would escape the nephalem woman like an excited school girl as she was effortlessly carried towards the VIP rooms. “Feisty~” She purred as she would stare down at him considering she was held a tad bit high enough to do so. A hand wrapped itself around his throat and gently slid upwards, pushing his head back until he was looking at her. And only her. “I love my men like that.” She cooed. Crimson eyes bore into his for a moment. Pupils turning into their natural slit-like nature. Her thumb would gently caress the skin under his chin. God how did she get so lucky tonight? No one in this building was as attractive as this man. Lowering her face towards him, she spoke his name. “Maere~” She purred against his lips before closing the tiny distance between him, capturing himself into a kiss while that hand was still around his throat. Only when she could feel her bouncer did she pull back enough to look towards the man. “Hiii~” She said to the man who nodded to her before glancing towards Maere.
For a moment he would stare the man down, a glare slowly forming. He would question it had it been some other woman, but he knew Fia was fine. She wouldn’t have gone with the man if she didn’t want to. And well, Maere wouldn’t have been able to make the woman either!
“You sound so sure.” She teased the nightmare demon. A sly smirk appeared on the woman’s face. He wasn’t wrong though! She most certainly did want the man! Turning back towards the bouncer, she giggled. “Cocky isn’t he? It’s alright. Let us through.” She told the man with a not-so-innocent bat of her eyelashes.
Without second thought, the bouncer would nod then move out of their way. There was a moment when he would uncross his arms and grab the curtain, pulling it back.
“You’re the best Sal!” She called over the music before rolling her attention back towards Maere. She gaze at him for a moment before capturing him in another kiss. A more heated one. One that involved her tongue sliding along those delicious looking lips. It wasn’t in at the moment but the woman had a tongue piercing that she planned on using on the nightmare demon when they got back there. One hand found itself sliding up the back of the man’s head while the other drug those nails into that clothed back, scratching at it a bit. There was enough space off the to the side that the man could see where he was going unless he fully trusted himself to wander blindly. However the woman soon broke the kiss to lean next to his ear and whisper, “Take the last one down the hall. It’s my favorite.”
That room was quite lavious with red walls, black furniture. A black, comforter bed with ways to cuff or tie someone’s wrists and ankles. A dresser that was filled with various toys depending on how far one wanted to go. A comfortable black couch that was perfect for bending someone over either on the back or the armrest. Just various things that said why this room was her favorite. She probably visited it often or often enough too. “Wutcha think?” She asked in a sultry tone as she looked around the room. “I hope the toys in the dresser don’t scare you away.” She teased with a laugh, “I need my tongue ring! Put me down.”
1963, 01:34 PM, Cassel Hospital, Richmond, England
Nothing is ever as cruel as memory can be. After all, in the mind's eye, in the most sacred of our cranial rooms, we can replay the past joys of our lives indefinitely, and from there we can look at them fondly and use them as groundwork to build upon our future. Yet when these memories are nothing but a distant thing, far in the past of our lives, then these joyful moments are nothing but a sadistic prank by the brain, a chorus of screaming synapses and a true mockery of the reality of the situation; that you are altogether rather empty. Alone.
Robin imagines himself now, digging through happy memories to place himself back again on the sandy plains of Whitby’s shores, feeling there how with every motion forward there was some backward and down, just like walking in freshly fallen snow. Yet, unlike the crystalline blanket of white during the wintertime, the fine grains under his naked feet gave him warmth. And the beautiful waves rolled in, spreading themselves like fine lace over the beach after they crash in their soft way. He can still hear his mother from atop the cliff, calling for his attention as lunch stands ready for their enjoyment, and how his father rustled the newspaper as he turned a fresh leaf. He imagines himself with a red bucket and spade, with nothing to worry him, no fears, no responsibilities…oh happy memories.
“Robin?” A gentle hand closes around his wrist, wrinkled skin against his silken smooth. He snaps out of his thoughts, brought back to reality. He moves in his chair, leather jacket creaking as he slowly views his hospital surroundings, his gaze settling finally on his mother, who lays in bed before him, tucked away under a snow-white cover. She looks comfortable, but he imagines she is anything but; he can practically smell death on her. “Yes, mother?” His voice is soft, meek, and apologetic.
He wished he could form tears for her, that he could feel more sadness for her obviously decaying body. Yet looking at her; she’s practically a shadow. He did still love her, she was his mother, after all. But the emotions were hollow, and mostly out of reach. He felt great shame he couldn’t access them fully, felt guilty over not feeling more for the pitiful creature that had once been his mother, and still was. He was scum.
“I am proud of you.” She pats him softly, interrupting another dark train of thoughts from overtaking him, a smile forming around the wrinkles on her face, which all lift in unison. She looked so weak, so fragile, surrounded by modern contraptions meant to keep her alive. So far removed from the woman he once knew. Those soft kind eyes, however, while worn by time, were still fierce and strong.
Her features become more serious, yet the smile remains. "Your hands may be cold,” she begins, and Robin can feel how she carefully studies his sharp nails. Eventually, her fingers intertwine with his. She lifts his hand just a bit, and he feels her elderly muscles struggle to do so, and so Robin takes over, leaning in and grabbing her hand with both of his, holding her tight, yet gently. Her lips widen further, wrinkles deepening, a warm glow in her eyes. She continues; “But your heart is not. And whatever you are, you are still MY son. Please do not ever forget that you are still human at heart. No matter what HE says to you, please remember my son, my darling boy. And promise me that you'll not bend to his evil, that you will at every turn that you can, choose to do good instead? I love you so very much. And I always will....my sweet, sweet boy." She sounds so tired, yet never had so much care been poured into words. A mother’s love never dies.
Robin’s eyes shut to a close, his body tensing. After all those years, hearing her say those words elicited an almost unknown reaction within him, like a strange resurgence of something long lost and gone. Something he didn’t know he still had. A powerful feeling overwhelming him. It felt good, felt human. “I love you too.” He cries. He does not dare look at her, he does not deserve it. “And I promise you, I promise you that one day I will be free of him. I promise to be good. For you, mother, and for father.”
A promise made, he opens his eyes only to be met with eyes that stare blankly into his.
On top of the roof of the hotel
One hour later….
His mother and father now both were gone. Robin stares blankly ahead, his soul feeling empty, more so than usual. That human feeling he felt before having since slipped through his fingers, passing through them like running water. It was a strange sensation, one that he couldn’t explain properly or make sense of in his brain. And he wouldn’t have the time to do so, contemplate and make peace with his feelings, because he had a mission. The reason he had initially come here in the first place; intercept and at any means bring back a particular person of interest. Maere. It was not a priority mission, but Robin knew failure was never an option with Dracula. He sighs, relenting to his fate and what he has to do.
Suddenly, he leaps forward, for a moment soaring through the air like his namesake before landing effortlessly and gracefully into a crouching position on the balcony ledge.
May 22, 2022. 2:15AM
Amari didn't have a problem with working the overnight shift in the ER tonight, she didn't have any plans, hell she didn't even have a life other then going to work and going home to rest and work again the next day, but the good thing was that she had an off day tomorrow from working the ER. Though tonight have been a slow night for her honestly, not that many injured people were coming in which was a good thing, the last thing she wanted to see was someone laid out on a stretcher fighting for their life, she had seen it all too many times dealing with young people whether it was from gun violence or a robbery gone wrong, she had seen the worse of the worse and even had people to die in her arms cause they didn't want to die alone in a room full of people that they didn't know and were trying to save their lives. The last person to have came thru the ER earlier was someone who was apparently shot in the head by a jealous girlfriend; luckily the man survived the shooting but she knew that he was going have some memory lost when he woke up but nonetheless, she managed to save one life tonight right?
She was currently sitting in her office finishing up some paperwork that she wasn't able to finish up earlier that day while she was working, just the normal paperwork involving some of the people that she had seen today as well as signing people out the hospital, not to mention that she had to perform surgery today and needed a report on how the surgery went with the patient that was being operated on. She placed her pen down and leaned back in her chair, head tilted back as she let out a heavy sigh, glowing lavender eyes stared up at the ceiling of her office until she heard a slight noise in her office. She rolled her eyes as she sat up in her chair again and went back to writting something down on the paper that was in front of her then something strange happened. Call it weird but Amari wasn't alone in her office as most people would think she is, she had company with her but the only thing was couldn't no one see the enity that cling to Amari other then beings who had a connection to hell of some sorts.
"Aiden, chill out okay? I'm trying to finish my work, we'll be home soon okay buddy, just give me some time to finish up my work again?"
The enity's name was Aiden, someone that clung to her and refuse to leave her side, though she grew to accept that Aiden wasn't leaving her side no time soon, she had to make extra room to share her body with a creature and an enity that made it upon itself to move right on in without warning, but she doesn't seem too bothered by it though. She knew that her friend Aiden was ready to go home, having to been around nothing but humans all day didn't settle well with the enity, he was ready to leave but she had work that needed to be done before she left so he would have to wait a bit longer until she was done. Just when their night couldn't get any better, the sirens of the amblunace rang into the air, Amari turned in her chair quickly and looked out the window to see the truck pulling into the ER center part of the hospital. Great, someone else just had to be that one person to end up the ER tonight, getting up from her chair, she grabbed her coat and placed it on her arms as she made her way out the office, quickly making her way downstairs towards the ER center to meet with the paramedics on who was being brought in on this lovely night tonight...
All the commotion makes a swell of embarrassment bloom in Zach's chest. Some onlookers who'd missed the beginnings of the event have concluded that Maere drunkenly shoved Zach to the ground. It certainly is an incriminating scene. A man in a suit is asking Zach if he is okay as Zach is lifting himself onto his knees. He tilts his head higher and looks at, or rather, looks through the hotel employee and gazes at the shadow looming over an awfully angry-looking man.
"Fuck off, I'm not drunk!" he hollers.
Before long, the offended man is being gently escorted across the room. Zach cranes his head around another concerned bystander and lifts himself onto his feet so he does not lose track of Maere. Their gazes lock. For hardly even a second, Zach observes Maere's eyes with something akin to an owlish blink. Then Maere is promptly tossed onto the street and a hand settling on Zach's shoulder catches the redhead's attention.
"Sir, are you alright?"
"Huh? Yes. Who was that?"
A slight hesitation, then, "are you sure? You collapsed so suddenly, perhaps I should call a-- Wait, Sir!"
The mechanical whir of the hotel entrance door clicks when Zach bolts through it - the cool air on his cheeks is harsh and he feels his hair flip into a wild mess. There is a gentle buzz of adrenaline in his veins as he takes quick, sure steps toward Maere. Without so much as thinking, Zach reaches a hand out to the stranger. His eyes are wide, almost star-struck, but his hand freezes just shy of Maere's bicep. "Hey," Zach says, the desperation in his voice surprising even himself. He drops his hand.
Although he doesn't know what he's doing, there is a certainty that hums in his bones. Very quickly, Zach's gaze flickers between Maere's face and the invisible shadow that chirps next to the man. It feels wrong to be here in the same way it feels wrong to stand on the ledge of a tall building. He knows it is dangerous, stupidly so, and yet, something about that very danger makes him feel alive. "What did they throw you out for?" He asks, grasping at straws here for a conversation.
Meanwhile, a suited woman has repositioned herself at the hotel's entranceway where she is able to observe Zach and Maere from a safe distance. She twirls a loose strand of hair around a finger, subtly murmuring into an almost invisible earpiece. Zach is none the wiser, eyes glued on Maere and his back turned to the watching eyes.
An eyebrow cocked in response to those words. Deep, crimson hues stared at the face of the nightmare demon. Her own smug grin appeared on her face in response to his. “You seem pretty confident that I want to.” She commented, eyebrow still raised. It was an amusing thing to hear from the man. She wasn’t complaining either. “Confidence looks good on you. But do tell – what makes you think I want to?” She purred as her nail dug into his skin a little more. Leaning upwards, she placed a kiss on his jawline before glancing over her shoulders towards the poor human male.
A laugh escaped the female half-demon in response to the poor guy’s misfortune. Sure it was probably a bit harsh, but humans were so easy to get off. It was amusing how easy it was to get them off. “Mm. Maybe I’ll be a little nicer next time.” She cooed, a smug look evident on her face as she was quite proud of herself for what she did. The man at least had a good time. Even if it were cut short by a certain nightmare demon!
Turning her attention back to Maere, her back arched a bit in response to those palms kneading into her skin. “What are you tryna do mister~” She sassed, furrowing her brows as she felt his hands go down lower. There was a surprised squeal escape from the female half-demon, and she skillfully wrapped her legs around his waist. “Mm. Such a gentleman.” She commented then smirked, “I could smother you in my tits now.” Of course it was teasing but she meant that. Technically, she could smother him with her tiddies because he was in the perfect area for her too. However, she held back. For now.
“I want the strongest drinks!” She called out, then grumbled, “I’m not a pussy.” There was a story behind that comment. She went to some bar once and because she was “too pretty” or something, the bartender thought she only deserved fruit drinks because he assumed she couldn’t hold her liquor. Hearing those words, she released another laugh, waving bye to the human male. “So~ handsome, do you have a name? Or am I going to be screaming to God in bed later?” She asked, arms sliding around his neck. One hand slid up the back of his neck then the back of his head, fingers threading themselves through his hair.
Fia would be lying if she said she didn’t like money because money proved to be useful in various ways, however, the almighty nephalem liked her men more. Powerful men at that. She always found powerful men dominating enough to bring her to her knees, and it was quite a turn on. Especially for a powerful woman such as herself.
*Listen, cock tease —*
The words broke her thoughts and a smug look appeared on her face. “Mm. But would you really do that?” She questioned, sounding almost like she was taunting him. Tempting him. And she was. She loved when a man could back up his words with his actions! There was something about Maere that said he was the type of man to do so, and god it sounded fun in her head to egg him on. To get under his skin.
Hence the swaggering away. She needed to test this man out some more. Rile him up. She wanted to see just how much he could take before he snapped. Or something. Men are more fun when they allow themselves to be riled up. Or that’s how she saw it. Teasing usually led to punishment type things and that was just fuuuuun! She didn’t care for human men though but the one she toyed with would do. For now. After all, he wasn’t the one that would be getting lucky by the end of the night.
As Maere’s eyes didn’t break from her, those crimson hues didn’t break from his. A sly smirk plastered on her face to show that she was very much enjoying this. Not enjoying the man that is. But enjoying her little charade of teasing a certain nightmare demon. There was a glance spared towards the man underneath her. “Already coming undone. What a shame~” She cooed before turning back in time to see a certain nightmare demon coming towards them. That smirk reappeared as she eyed the said demon down then up before she was stolen from the human male that gave a weak protest.
She shivered a bit in response to those words but her eyes never left his. “Ooo. Demanding.” She teased, chuckling a bit before glancing towards the back rooms then the VIP sections for a moment before turning her attention back towards him, “And if I don’t give you your turn?” Her hand slid up his shirt and around his back, teasingly scratching the skin as she stared at his face, waiting for his response. “If you want it then come and take it. Back rooms or VIP.”
Her liquor tasted sweet as she soaked in the man’s soiled pride. Distant disdain whispered and grumbled amongst the table behind her with plotting and sour breaths of revenge. So, he comes back for more, hm? Stumbling shuffled behind her as she finished her drink. Her hazel eyes darted to the man in the booth, he too was on his feet.
Oh? That’s new. No one in her 70 years of existence has ever stood up for a dream jumper. They were parasites. She was a parasite. Her head tilted in curiosity, chestnut locks falling off of her shoulder. She finally turned her body to see the stumbling drunk attempt his way towards her, while the tattooed man was in front of him before she could even blink, knocking his fist into the drunk’s temple, making the man fly to the ground. Mimzi set her glass on the counter watching the scene ensue. With bewilderment, she pushed off from the counter and took a step closer as the man blew his stomach contents all over the floor beside him. It wreaked of liquor and bar food. How romantic.
Mimzi’s eyes followed the scene, taking in every reaction of every patron in the room. This was quite intriguing. Once the dust settled, it grew quiet. Her finger tapped against her thigh thoughtfully. Interesting.
As the tattooed man came back in with a mop, a foul smell intruded her nostrils. “Emh.” Her nose scrunched and she turned back towards the bar and picked a piece of ice from her glass, popping it into her mouth. She loathed the stench of vomit. It reminded her of the beginning. The foul stench of broken bodies and horrendous nightmares that took place in that awful camp. Nothing was ever that terrifying. Nothing she could ever imagine to swim in someone’s dreams. She swirled the ice cube in her mouth and by the time it dissipated, the man was finished cleaning up the floor.
She exhaled quietly before debating whether to help with cleaning up or not, deciding it was in honor of both the bartender and the tattooed man to do so. She finally peeled herself away from the counter and went towards the broken table and grabbed a piece to haul to the back. There was no salvaging the table. Legs were splintered, the top was cracked and so on. She went back and forth until all the pieces were placed out of the way and could get tossed in the dump in the morning. To ever think she would help someone out of the kindness of her… wait, she didn’t have a heart. So, why was she doing this? Her eyebrows pinched together at the thought. This was also new. Hmm…
Her eyes landed on the tattooed man once again, he was just finishing up the clean up and Mimzi leaned towards the bartender, “Could I get another drink, but perhaps at the booth where he’s residing?” Her eyes never wavered from Maere. One way or another, Mimzi was going to pick at his brain. Another habit she had, to play with her food. She then turned and walked over to the booth, sliding in the opposite seat of where he was sitting a few minutes ago before the mishap. She could tell he was a creature of habit, his side was well used. The cushion sank in the same spot, table top a shade lighter than the rest right where he sat. While her side was stiff and well kept. She leaned against the back of the seat, and nodded at the bartender in thanks as she came over with another Larceny and set it on the table.
Mimzi took a sip, warmth honeyed her throat and she sighed, waiting for the man to return.