"Can man and woman do such a thing?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
Craptacularly Spignificant Productions
~ presents, in honor of Samhain ~
Love Hina: Ora Pro Nobis
A humble submission to the Love Hina Vampyre Chronicles,
which has no relation to the works of Anne Rice.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Disclaimer: I don't own Love Hina. I never have, I never will.
However, I do own a sweet Lian-Li aquarium case for my new computer,
though, so it evens out, I think.
I also don't own the concept of Dracula. That belongs to the
fourteenth-century Carpathian lord Vlad Tepes and the late Irishman
Bram Stoker.
This story, however, is mine, and I ask that it not be edited. It
may be posted elsewhere or archived if the user e-mails me with a
link to it.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Utsukushi.
That is the only word that can come to mind. It is delicious, a
glorious ecstasy, the sweet choirs of the gods themselves, the
proverbial ambrosia.
And yet...
And yet it is a sin, a damnable sin to sip of such sweet elixir.
The horrible, agonizing wretchedness of it, living from others,
drawing into oneself their blood, the chi, and in some cases, the
very soul they possess. As I have said, it is delicious, bordering
on the equivalent of a thousand orgasms.
However, depending on the person, the... taste, the subtle nuances
vary.
How do I know this, you ask?
It is simple. I am a vampyre, and I have made my home at a realm
where the sweetness of multiple bloodlines converges. Many would-be
vampyres have sensed it, as have influential people, psychics,
and various adepts, but none have managed to last long here.
Except me.
I blended in perfectly. They didn't expect me to be anything than
what I was. My natural grace, strength, and power were issues, though.
I had to disguise them. It wasn't hard. I just funnelled them into
things that I knew would keep the humans there happy.
Ah, my housemates, they were a rare lot. There was the psychotic;
her perpetually high-strung attitude combined with the innate desire
to excel... she was delicious; her elixir vitae was almost dripping
with repression and the darker shades of the life she was missing out
on.
The dark-haired one, the one with that bedamnable cat, bears a damnable
sin herself, and so she is the one that I turn to for my blood if I
lust for darkness. She lusts for her brother (admittedly, not by blood,
though it would make it all the sweeter for me), and the souls of
sinners, while delicious, are nothing compared to the righteous, innocent,
uncorrupted ones, rare though they are.
I fortunately have one of those near me. The blue-haired girl, a true
innocent in soul, kind and loving, sweet to her "senpai," and always
doing more than her share... ah, that is my ambrosia. Despite her luscious
blood, her intoxicating mannerisms, I cannot but lust for her; none
of the ambitions I have for her can come true. It is truly sad, but it
cannot be helped, and, to quote the dying breath of someone I once knew,
"Holding someone close and giving them kisses isn't the only sign of
love... Quietly watching over someone from afar is a kind of love too."
And so I will watch over her, and see what I can do.
The drunkard; I must be very careful around her. Of all the people,
she is the most canny of the lot, and she would blackmail me until I
shed teardrops instead of blood. She tastes invariably of liquor; I
cannot drink from her more than once a month, lest I wake with a
hangover and somehow wander into the path of the next.
Ah, yes, the next one is violent. She is a tomboy, even more repressed
than the psychotic, with a feminine core and denial of herself. She won't
admit her love, and yet in not admitting it she's damning herself into
making her love deeper. Her blood... oh, my. Perhaps it's just that
she's a woman who can wield her chi well, but... She, she is the one
that I would drink from most often if I could.
I completely avoid the girl with the inventions. While her blood is full
of the boundless energy of youth, were I to even try going after her, she
would, no doubt, instantly whip out some unholy device and obliterate me
from this earth. She, too, lusts after the blue-haired angel, and she, I
must admit, has good taste.
Ah, but we come to the final remaining few in our little camaderie, yes?
The turtle princess is wonderful. A woman so frank, so open, so utterly
selfless... it is like she is an older, more scatterbrained version of
the blue-haired girl. I have tasted of her nectar many times, and she
always seems ravishing at the time... but afterwards, something is missing;
I cannot say what. Perhaps it is the fact that she is, by nature of this
dining, anemic; perhaps it is her nature. I cannot say; I am not a student
of the mind.
Finally, we come to the master of it all: the student. He... is a unique case,
I must admit. For a man to be the manager of a girl's dormitory... and then
to have his own sister (admittedly, adoptive, but still...) lust after him
with a burning passion... as a matter of fact, the man is practically the
antithesis of the classical lover, and yet every woman at this location has
burned with desire for him on more than one occasion - myself not excluded.
But he... he lacks the blood that I seek, and so I do not touch him, and yet
the man seems to have all the blessings of all the immortals. It is...
unusual.
It is really rather amazing, though, that they have not found me out yet.
After all, I live there. My guise is simple. I am not the vampyre, yet I am.
They cannot find me, yet they see me every day. Anne Rice... she was right
in saying that none like me should be created. It was a mistake, but what
can I say? My creator, the owner of the teahouse, made me. She could not
resist me, and so I came into existence.
She was a fool, and I am a lusting being who can only think of drinking of
souls, licking and sucking at the most intimate part of people, and feasting
on them. Ah, it is a life to wish to be free of, but I cannot do so. I lust
for the blue-haired angel, and I cannot have her.
Forgive me, for my ramblings grow long. I bid you good-day.
Most sincerely,
Maehara Shinobu
* * * * *
"Senpai, I'm done with my homework assigment! Want to read it?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Yare yare, forgive me. I seem to be attempting to take Kana's place
in FFN. Look at me; shoujo-ai, vampirism, and soon, a Shinobu/Naru
romance fic.
As is, happy Halloween, and a blessed Samhain to you all.
Tuxedo Jack
October 31st, 2003
* * * * * * * * * * *
Craptacularly Spignificant Productions
~ presents, in honor of Samhain ~
Love Hina: Ora Pro Nobis
A humble submission to the Love Hina Vampyre Chronicles,
which has no relation to the works of Anne Rice.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Disclaimer: I don't own Love Hina. I never have, I never will.
However, I do own a sweet Lian-Li aquarium case for my new computer,
though, so it evens out, I think.
I also don't own the concept of Dracula. That belongs to the
fourteenth-century Carpathian lord Vlad Tepes and the late Irishman
Bram Stoker.
This story, however, is mine, and I ask that it not be edited. It
may be posted elsewhere or archived if the user e-mails me with a
link to it.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Utsukushi.
That is the only word that can come to mind. It is delicious, a
glorious ecstasy, the sweet choirs of the gods themselves, the
proverbial ambrosia.
And yet...
And yet it is a sin, a damnable sin to sip of such sweet elixir.
The horrible, agonizing wretchedness of it, living from others,
drawing into oneself their blood, the chi, and in some cases, the
very soul they possess. As I have said, it is delicious, bordering
on the equivalent of a thousand orgasms.
However, depending on the person, the... taste, the subtle nuances
vary.
How do I know this, you ask?
It is simple. I am a vampyre, and I have made my home at a realm
where the sweetness of multiple bloodlines converges. Many would-be
vampyres have sensed it, as have influential people, psychics,
and various adepts, but none have managed to last long here.
Except me.
I blended in perfectly. They didn't expect me to be anything than
what I was. My natural grace, strength, and power were issues, though.
I had to disguise them. It wasn't hard. I just funnelled them into
things that I knew would keep the humans there happy.
Ah, my housemates, they were a rare lot. There was the psychotic;
her perpetually high-strung attitude combined with the innate desire
to excel... she was delicious; her elixir vitae was almost dripping
with repression and the darker shades of the life she was missing out
on.
The dark-haired one, the one with that bedamnable cat, bears a damnable
sin herself, and so she is the one that I turn to for my blood if I
lust for darkness. She lusts for her brother (admittedly, not by blood,
though it would make it all the sweeter for me), and the souls of
sinners, while delicious, are nothing compared to the righteous, innocent,
uncorrupted ones, rare though they are.
I fortunately have one of those near me. The blue-haired girl, a true
innocent in soul, kind and loving, sweet to her "senpai," and always
doing more than her share... ah, that is my ambrosia. Despite her luscious
blood, her intoxicating mannerisms, I cannot but lust for her; none
of the ambitions I have for her can come true. It is truly sad, but it
cannot be helped, and, to quote the dying breath of someone I once knew,
"Holding someone close and giving them kisses isn't the only sign of
love... Quietly watching over someone from afar is a kind of love too."
And so I will watch over her, and see what I can do.
The drunkard; I must be very careful around her. Of all the people,
she is the most canny of the lot, and she would blackmail me until I
shed teardrops instead of blood. She tastes invariably of liquor; I
cannot drink from her more than once a month, lest I wake with a
hangover and somehow wander into the path of the next.
Ah, yes, the next one is violent. She is a tomboy, even more repressed
than the psychotic, with a feminine core and denial of herself. She won't
admit her love, and yet in not admitting it she's damning herself into
making her love deeper. Her blood... oh, my. Perhaps it's just that
she's a woman who can wield her chi well, but... She, she is the one
that I would drink from most often if I could.
I completely avoid the girl with the inventions. While her blood is full
of the boundless energy of youth, were I to even try going after her, she
would, no doubt, instantly whip out some unholy device and obliterate me
from this earth. She, too, lusts after the blue-haired angel, and she, I
must admit, has good taste.
Ah, but we come to the final remaining few in our little camaderie, yes?
The turtle princess is wonderful. A woman so frank, so open, so utterly
selfless... it is like she is an older, more scatterbrained version of
the blue-haired girl. I have tasted of her nectar many times, and she
always seems ravishing at the time... but afterwards, something is missing;
I cannot say what. Perhaps it is the fact that she is, by nature of this
dining, anemic; perhaps it is her nature. I cannot say; I am not a student
of the mind.
Finally, we come to the master of it all: the student. He... is a unique case,
I must admit. For a man to be the manager of a girl's dormitory... and then
to have his own sister (admittedly, adoptive, but still...) lust after him
with a burning passion... as a matter of fact, the man is practically the
antithesis of the classical lover, and yet every woman at this location has
burned with desire for him on more than one occasion - myself not excluded.
But he... he lacks the blood that I seek, and so I do not touch him, and yet
the man seems to have all the blessings of all the immortals. It is...
unusual.
It is really rather amazing, though, that they have not found me out yet.
After all, I live there. My guise is simple. I am not the vampyre, yet I am.
They cannot find me, yet they see me every day. Anne Rice... she was right
in saying that none like me should be created. It was a mistake, but what
can I say? My creator, the owner of the teahouse, made me. She could not
resist me, and so I came into existence.
She was a fool, and I am a lusting being who can only think of drinking of
souls, licking and sucking at the most intimate part of people, and feasting
on them. Ah, it is a life to wish to be free of, but I cannot do so. I lust
for the blue-haired angel, and I cannot have her.
Forgive me, for my ramblings grow long. I bid you good-day.
Most sincerely,
Maehara Shinobu
* * * * *
"Senpai, I'm done with my homework assigment! Want to read it?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Yare yare, forgive me. I seem to be attempting to take Kana's place
in FFN. Look at me; shoujo-ai, vampirism, and soon, a Shinobu/Naru
romance fic.
As is, happy Halloween, and a blessed Samhain to you all.
Tuxedo Jack
October 31st, 2003