shuffling through the halls in a dressing gown, holding up his phone flashlight as if it’s an old lantern. “hhgh.”

mm. mmm. neck.

leaning his forehead against a cool windowpane. it’s so difficult to stay on his feet, but every time he lies down, he’s back on the demeter, with a monster bearing down on him.

oh, that was awful.

//thinking about bride thomas

a faded scar sits just behind his ear. it itches, after over a century.

he won’t be turned. he won’t.

I don’t want to play cards with dracula.

~ 𝙋𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙏𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 ~ ~ 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬|𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝑹𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓|ᔆⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵖⁱᵏᵉ ~ OCs|AUs|Crossovers Welcome ~ List of TWs Below ~ MV|MS|Pan

humming a soft tune, curling closer to his spouse in a half-sleep. safe. warm.

watching from a (hopefully) safe distance. there’s curiosity these days, almost a bit more than there is fear.

//thomas muse is in good boy mode so that’s a thing

even now, thomas’ own smile holds a touch of tightness. he takes a few steps forward, polite and reserved as ever. “as accommodating as you’ve been, count, I try to…keep out of your way, where I can. not be a bother.”

“if not our manners, what do we truly have?” another few steps, until he’s close enough to smell and taste hints of that blood on the air. it brings a bit of a rumble to his stomach. “not at the moment, thank you. I’m full up.”