nancy. (
stauncherhearted) wrote in
undergrounds2015-06-01 05:01 pm
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do you fly in the day, darling
[A June catch-all! Pick an option and say hello, or start something more specific in the comments. Hit me up on plurk if you want a specific starter!]
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A Just another Saturday night out, Nancy's lips painted blood red and staining the side of her low-ball glass. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, black pumps and fishnets on full display under her short leather skirt. It's a night out, another night working. People around here knew who she was, what she offered. It was easier in supernatural bars, Nancy knew, to find vampires looking for a feeding, or even just a john wanting some company.
She props an elbow up on the bar, and looks down the the way, eyes peeled for any familiar, or unfamiliar, face. She'll just try not to think about how great it would be to be watching Netflix right now instead of work.
B Do you believe in fate, baby, ask me, ask me, the music played in her earbuds as Nancy jogged in place at a cross-walk. Trainers on her feet and hair pulled up in a pony-tail, she was doing her usual exercise routine. Always good to be fast on your feet, she'd learned as a child, and running was a great way to keep that up. Even if she had ways to get away, her feet were still just as important.
Besides, there was something relaxing about running, she'd found. She could shove the world away and concentrate on the music and running and the city. She'd found her way down to the Thames, and was running on the paths near it, past youths with skateboards and graffiti'd walls, business men grabbing a bite to eat right outside the Globe. It was astounding the way the culture and history blended together so seamlessly. She'd never get over that.
The light turned green, and on she ran.
C Choose your own! Private starters in the comments.
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A Just another Saturday night out, Nancy's lips painted blood red and staining the side of her low-ball glass. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, black pumps and fishnets on full display under her short leather skirt. It's a night out, another night working. People around here knew who she was, what she offered. It was easier in supernatural bars, Nancy knew, to find vampires looking for a feeding, or even just a john wanting some company.
She props an elbow up on the bar, and looks down the the way, eyes peeled for any familiar, or unfamiliar, face. She'll just try not to think about how great it would be to be watching Netflix right now instead of work.
B Do you believe in fate, baby, ask me, ask me, the music played in her earbuds as Nancy jogged in place at a cross-walk. Trainers on her feet and hair pulled up in a pony-tail, she was doing her usual exercise routine. Always good to be fast on your feet, she'd learned as a child, and running was a great way to keep that up. Even if she had ways to get away, her feet were still just as important.
Besides, there was something relaxing about running, she'd found. She could shove the world away and concentrate on the music and running and the city. She'd found her way down to the Thames, and was running on the paths near it, past youths with skateboards and graffiti'd walls, business men grabbing a bite to eat right outside the Globe. It was astounding the way the culture and history blended together so seamlessly. She'd never get over that.
The light turned green, and on she ran.
C Choose your own! Private starters in the comments.
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Hopefully, he was a better father than Fagin.
"So no chances he's a witch then, either? Or a vampire?" She needles at him, just a little with her elbow. She will not mention werewolves.
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"No way," he huffs, amused even by the suggestion. "If you'd met him, you'd know how ridiculous the idea is. Good thing is, he's totally in the dark about that stuff."
Except it's not really a good thing; it's the reason Stiles is here, away from his family and friends.
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"Ah- good luck. I never had to explain any of this, I can't imagine what it would be like. Dad, I'm a bloody vampire." She chuckles into her beer at the thought, pressing the start menu. "For what it's worth though, I'm real glad you're here. even if you aren't."
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The protest is a bit weak, though; he's caught off guard that she saw through him so easily. Feeling guilty for not being enthusiastic enough, he reaches over and hits the start button on her controller so the game gets past the main menu.
"And let's be real. At this rate, I'm more likely to be bitten by a werewolf than a vamp."
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"That's... true." So long as he didn't come around while she was working. Then all bets were off. "If you did get turned into a vampire, I'd make sure you were alright." She had her amulet that kept her safe. And had a bit of potion to make her blood poisonous if need-be. She always brought it in her bag with her, just in case.
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Shifting Juliet in his lap, he uses Nancy's player one controller to get them started on co-op, before finally returning it to her.
"Like, would you stake me or give me blood? Blegh."
Stiles is repulsed by the very idea, and shudders.
"Derek told me that they were serving blood at the party last night. That wasn't a lie, was it?"
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"So I'd-" oh but that look on his face. She can't tell him she'd do that. Instead, she decides to answer his next question. "No." She was serving blood, at least. "It's from blood banks generally. Or volunteers."
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"Oh my god." A full-body shudder wracks him. "Is it like, still warm!? What does their urine even look like!? Vampires don't make any sense."
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"Stiles, I have never, in my life, seen a vampire pee." And that was 100% true. She wasn't into that stuff.
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In a complete 180, he no longer seems disgusted by the conversation. In fact, he seems enthusiastic.
"I mean, it's not that offensive of a question, right?"
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"And it is, truthfully. It's like... You don't ask vampires how old they are." Either physically or mentally. Take for instance, Cooper. Seventeen physically. Over two-hundred mentally. It was just rude.
"You're not going to ask a vampire to let you see them pee."
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The “you don’t ask a vampire how old they are” etiquette is news to him. Then again, so is “vampires exist” so he figures his ignorance is to be expected.
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And she would totally have gotten away with it too, if she hadn't burst into giggles afterwards. "But it isn't! So don't say otherwise." Or maybe it was. The science of magic. Oi.
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"We're going to start the game now, cool? Unless I can sweet talk you into giving me one of your vamp friends' numbers..."
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"You can try, but I like to keep their privacy." She didn't give out information about her clients. Even if they were also friends. Sorry, you're not going to meet Cooper through her, Stiles.
"So it's more likely that I'll win this game than I'll give up a number."
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"Hey!" She scowls at him, wrinkling her nose. The result displays her dimples and she really is a lovely sight. "You're supposed to be helping me, not bloody killing me!" She, meanwhile, had gotten a little lost trying to figure out which screen she was.
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“I am! This is training. Gotta keep you on your toes, Nance.”
And then he starts humming the Jaws theme while he makes a beeline for her position.
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"Stiles!" She's just going to shoot at anything that moves right now.
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“Okay, okay. You’re gonna want to run now. I think the locals have had enough of your gunslinging. Try running up the building there and getting on the roof!”
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"My character can't bloody jump for shite!"
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Without thinking, he leans over and slides his hands around hers on the controller to help. Almost immediately, he realizes what he's doing and jerks away as if burned. That was probably way too intimate, right?
"Um. Is...dinner ready?" he asks, voice a little high-pitched.
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She's known him for what, two weeks, and already knows when Stiles is just being Stiles-y. (the last time they hung out, he just kept looking down, he st-st-stuttered when she asked him what he's thinkin' bout).
"Bloody- yeah. Hang on. Let me see." And she's on her feet, setting the controller down to take a look. It takes her a moment before she pops her head back. "Yeah- about five minutes, I've got to put the garlic bread in, take the lasagna out. D'you want to help with a salad?" Already the smells were wafting through her apartment.
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"Sure. Can Juliet help too?"
And he's picking her up, flapping her paws at Nancy. Both cat and boy give Nancy an imploring look.
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"'course she can. Actually, come to think of it, in the cupboard there," she points to one of the lower ones. "I've got her food, if you want to give her some. Bowl's by the door."
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