eirenical | Grading Hell and a prompt meme

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Grading Hell and a prompt meme

OMFG.

IF I NEVER GRADE ANOTHER PAPER AS LONG AS I LIVE, IT WILL BE TOO SOON.

That was just... it was painful. Really. I need to scrub my brain clean from all that atrocious grammar. UGH.

So... a prompt meme. ^_~

Originally stolen from

elrhiarhodan:

Use one of your favorite icons, and post a ONE WORD prompt with it in the comments. I will then write you a ficlet to go with it.

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steam

...there are so many bad places I could go just with that icon, alone. XD

I know. I planned it that way.

*laughs* I had a feeling. Because you've met me and all. And seriously, one day I am planning to write that centuries-long disturbing dubcon for Hal and Mr. Snow. It's in the queue, I swear!

OMG. O_O Why can I never write you short drabbles? I haven't even read this through, much less edited it, and I'm not even entirely sure it makes sense, but I'm posting it for you, anyway... otherwise, it's not going to happen before I come over and it's LATE and I have to go to bed. -.-;;;

Also, somehow this became mostly Snow x Hal with a little Hal x Fergus thrown in? I don't even know. >.<;;;

Enjoy?

It was hard to remember, equally hard to forget. He lashed out, certain for a moment, that he could feel the ephemeral, clinging crasp of another mind. It was impossible, of course. He was far away -- on the other side of the world, in fact -- and nowhere close enough to have an influence, still... Hal could feel him. He felt him like the film left behind from second-hand bath, coating him like a second skin. Some days he thought he'd never be free of him, never be free of that cloying, clinging filth. He lashed out, again, caught someone a glancing blow with a fist that barely felt the connection.

"My lord! Stop! It was just a dream."

Hal wrenched his eyes open, stared into the darkness of the empty railway car, fought to make out details in the gloom. The voice came again, "Must've been some dream, milord. You awake, now?"

Fergus. Hal snarled, yanked his arm from the younger vampire's grip. He was in no mood -- not for this, not for him. When Fergus reached out a second time, Hal lunged forward, snarled him off a second time. Fergus had the audacity to smile, to flash his own fangs, "Feisty tonight, are we? Maybe you'd like to do something with all that energy, milord?" At Hal's viciously snarled response, Fergus laughed, "A little hunting, that is. Maybe you're hungry?"

Hungry. He was always hungry, never satisfied. That was how it worked. All those years spent denying himself, all those years spent hiding, standing for the side of good... worthless. Less than worthless. Those years didn't matter. They never mattered. The others always found him in the end, always brought him back into the fold... back to him. They'd brought him back before the shift last time, before he'd committed to the fall... while he'd still considered himself a good man, or at least a decent one.

Mr. Snow had enjoyed that.

Hal had not.

They'd come to him, day after day after day, paraded an endless stream of nubile young men and women in front of him -- some whole, some already blooded, some for whom death would have been a mercy -- and Hal had refused them all. It had become like a game, then, the sort that Mr. Snow most enjoyed. He pushed at Hal, pricked away at his defenses, his sense of self-worth, his willpower... until there was nothing in Hal with which he could fight. In the end, he'd begged, begged Mr. Snow to release him from this torment, begged him to call him back to his side, begged him to take that hated responsibility from off of his shoulders. Only, he wouldn't. He refused to make it that simple. He was a kind and gentle master, he'd said. He only wanted what was best for Hal. And since a part of Hal was determined that what was best for himself was to resist the need to rejoin with them, to be what he was meant to be... well. Far be it for Mr. Snow to argue with that.

It had taken weeks, months, maybe only days -- Hal was no longer quite sure -- for Hal to begin to crack, but crack he had. He no longer had the strength to fight. On that day... that very last day, Mr. Snow had sent Hal the one delicacy he had always had the most difficulty resisting. She was a plump little thing, strong and built for breeding, solid like the bedrock of the earth. Dark hair, dark eyes, still beautiful underneath the grime and the bruises and the tears. She had a husband, she'd said -- children, too. She'd begged for her life, begged to be spared... begged for her eternal soul. She'd pressed herself against him, heaving bosom straining at the laces of her dress as she sobbed and clung.

And the last gasp of what was human in Hal shuddered and died in that moment. He gave in. He drank. He killed. Her name was Molly.

And the Old Ones rejoiced.

Edited 2013-03-27 05:57 (UTC)

Satisfied that Hal had come around on his own, Mr. Snow finally called to him, filled his soul with a different need. And, as wild as the beast inside him was, as desperate to breathe deep the air of freedom... still, it bent its head to the yoke when Mr. Snow called. The sound of that voice was a leash so tight, so necessary, that not even Hal could break free of it. He didn't want to. He accepted that bondage, and all that came with it, as though he'd never wanted anything else. He had once. He knew that much... but it was hard to remember when his master pulled at the other end of the lead.

Hal's memory of those days were a blur, awash in crimson stain that covered everything else. There was blood. There was killing. There was Mr. Snow. There was pain and pleasure in equal measure, a craving... a need to submit, to be broken anew into a shape of his Master's making. And when his Master was through with him, when he finally released his hold enough to give Hal back his head... even he was disgusted with what he'd become.

He'd struck out for himself, then, left the southern continent to return to the British Isles. He needed to clear his head, as much as his Master would let him. He needed to be his own man, to make his own way, as much as his Master would let him. And as long as their purposes ran in tandem together, his Master would allow him much. And so he rallied, tore a hole through Europe until he reached the isles of his birth.

And there... if Hal believed in coincidence, he'd have called this one. As it was, it was just one more strand of proof that Mr. Snow truly did control the world. Hal found them -- Molly's children... Molly's husband. His name was Fergus. So, Hal took him, too. Only this one... he was different. He didn't beg, didn't plead for his life, didn't sob and cling. He accepted his fate with quiet dignity, gave in to the truth of his death in a way that Hal never could... in a way that Hal sometimes wished he could. At the last minute, the very last second, Hal turned him, instead. Then he sat back and watched as he slaughtered everyone around him down to the last... almost the last.

The tiniest babe, the one still in the cradle, that one, Hal forced him to spare -- for memory of a good woman who'd begged for her life... and a good man who hadn't been good enough to give it to her.

They trawled across Europe, then -- Lord Hal and Fergus. The man was loyal, far more so than Hal deserved, and he followed his maker from town to town, always ready with his support, always ready to lend a hand, always ready to give Hal whatever he needed, no matter how strange. They'd been summoned back from time to time, of course. Mr. Snow was willing to let him run a little wild, but he still demanded the basic courtesies be kept. And Hal came willingly, at the sound of his master's voice, presented himself like he'd no will of his own... which he hadn't, not for a long time. And he was eager for it, eager for his master's command, his touch, his need.

It wasn't until they'd gone, until they'd return to the continent, that awareness would seep in -- that Hal would realize that he didn't want that, that he wanted to be his own man, to be free of his master, to not have to answer his call. And yet, answer he did. And Fergus would follow, would help him rebuild every time. Only, this time... this time was different. Hal had heard the call weeks ago, from all the way out on the Crimean Peninsula. He was being called home -- to serve, to kneel, to give of himself until there was nothing left.

This time, he fought it. He fought it all the way across Russia. He fought the call through the continent, across the seas, losing a little more of himself with each struggle. And still Fergus stayed at his side. Loyal, foolish Fergus. And now they'd reached this, the point of no return. They'd returned to England, feasted there way through house after house after house... until that last. Hal had looked into the eyes of that one last serving girl, had listened to her cry and scream and beg from beneath the gag... and from somewhere within himself, he found a fragment of the man he'd been, a fragment of the man who could have been strong enough to spare Molly and wasn't... and he spared her life.

By the time Fergus had found him, hidden away in the master bedroom, Hal could already feel it -- the effects of that refusal -- knew that Mr. Snow could feel it, too, knew that it was nearly time. Fergus hadn't understood -- still didn't understand, but he was trying, trying to give Hal what he needed. Vampire or no, evil or no... Fergus was a good man, a loyal man. He would be waiting for Hal on the other side of this next shift, of that, Hal was certain.

"Lost you again, there, didn't I? Lord Hal... is it time?"

Hal finally regained enough control to force his lips into the patterns of speech, forced himself to say what needed to be said, "It is, but not for what you think." Cupping Fergus' face in his hands, Hal pulled him down for a kiss -- light, yet lingering, something to cleanse the feel of his Master from his skin, something to allow him to breathe freely, again. Fergus didn't question it -- like Hal with his own master, Fergus gave him what he needed, what he wanted, without complaint... perhaps even with a little joy in his heart for serving so well. And when they were finished, when the dawn light broke over the horizon, Hal slipped away, finally ready to shed this skin, this lingering filth, and be his own man, again.

"Farewell, my lord... until we meet, again."

Ooooh, you should do this meme every night. I like waking up to notifications of things like this waiting in my inbox.

I love how part 1/3 could have been a complete and satisfying snippet all on its own and yet you kept going anyway. Note: NOT COMPLAINING. In the slightest. I love it.

I wasn't entirely sure I was on board with the idea that Hal had recruited Fergus when we talked about it a while back, but yes, you won me over here, and left me wanting >10k of Hal and Fergus throughout the years.

Also, Fergus's voice here. Perfect. (I mean, not that he says a lot, but he says enough and I could hear his voice on all of it)

Also ALL THE HAL AND SNOW. So messed up.
It had taken weeks, months, maybe only days -- Hal was no longer quite sure -- for Hal to begin to crack
This entire section and everything before this and all the stuff after this. YES.

Love the image of Fergus leaving Hal with that serving maid and then coming back to find him hiding from himself in the bedroom.

You realize that this is just going to have me pushing you harder to finish that other story you'd been talking about, right? Because now you HAVE to write that. Well, unless you put it off to write ALL the Hal/Fergus. That would be more than okay too.

AW. ^_^ *tail wag* Well, I feel pretty much the same way about waking up to a notification about such lovely feedback, so you'd better watch it -- it's possible I'll take you up on that offer. ^_~ I'm glad you enjoyed it! TBH, I was a little terrified to read through it this morning because I'd convinced myself that I was entirely incoherent by the time I finished it. Glad to see that wasn't the case. ;)

Re: >10k of Hal and Fergus
Uh... yeah, about that... It's possible you may get it. Because I ended up rewatching like two or three episodes last night to research for writing this and that kind of reminded me of how much I loved Fergus and... it kind of opened a floodgate. -.-;;; So, I'm glad you're on board! ^_^

Re: Hal/Snow
I had really intended that to be more explicit, but I think Mr. Snow likes his privacy too much. So, I'm glad that all worked for you!

Love the image of Fergus leaving Hal with that serving maid and then coming back to find him hiding from himself in the bedroom.

Uh... you know what? I'm putting my response to this bit in an e-mail, because it got ridiculously long. ^_^

You realize...
Yes. Yes, I do. I'm surprisingly OK with that. Because apparently I needed a little push.

Anyway, I'm really glad you enjoyed it -- especially because, for now, anyway, it looks like it's about to become part of something much larger. ^_~

You've got my sympathy dude. I just had a presentation and had to lead a group discussion and it made me want to kill people. I can't imagine having to actually grade papers.

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Grading Hell and a prompt meme

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