Ok, so a while back I thought about posting a “thank you” story when the 500th person followed my blog (great choice, yo!). Now, WP divides follow count into two sections: blog and email, but for the purpose of this nefarious scheme of mine I’m counting actual blog follows since the total follower count would have risen far too quickly for me to have coughed up a decent story (it was well into the 600s total when this notion struck).
To that end, I’m currently 11,855 words into what will be a single-post long one-shot. (Yes, there will be intermissions.) This monster, The Night Eric Northman’s Life Changed Forever, begins just after Eric arrives home from Fangtasia the night he first sees Sookie and will encompass only that night (it’s a busy night). As with anything I write, it goes AU at the speed of fangs snicking down and may include wee tiny tidbits from SVM. This is written entirely in Eric’s POV with lots of thoughts and some snark. Hey, it’s Eric, ya know?
Yes, there’s even a cat.
A little while ago my 501st follow just signed on board the WP express, so here’s a nice excerpt. I won’t be posting the entire work until it’s completed but I expect it to be finished soon.
Without further ado, and to thank all my delicious followers (WP and email alike – y’all all smell fantastic, btw), here’s a little teaser that will MOST likely remain unchanged when the story is actually posted, but no promises:
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Once home from the bar, Eric Northman automatically headed straight to his shower. As financially pleasing as Fangtasia was, its accumulated stench was an entirely different story. Even when his “glaring from the throne” time was cut short, the reek of desperation mixed with too many chemicals still clung. Mechanically proceeding to soap up, scrub down, and rinse off, he let his thoughts wander through the night’s unusual events.
For the first time in…he couldn’t remember how long, the evening’s burdensome load of deadly, generic boredom had been shot all to hell.
Thank. Fuck. Even if it had included yet another raid for the crime of being vampire…
By this point he knew he would normally be fuming over the way money kept magically disappearing – for two cents he would suspect his accountant but the human had been glamoured to within an inch of his sanity so he highly doubted the man was capable of even stealing a pencil by now. That only left a scant handful of potential suspects and…his mental rant was interrupted by the memory of eyes that dared to directly meet and hold his own.
That was unusual in and of itself – that he thought of something different and that some young chit of a girl had dared to meet his gaze without flinching or fawning.
Vampires either feared him or were drawn to him, but either way they were innately wary of both his age and the power he naturally exuded. Same thing happened with Weres but with far less “lure” and far more “fear”, thanks be.
Humans were strange creatures. Most didn’t perhaps understand why they were both scared of and drawn to him, but they were and to an annoying degree.
Regardless, few dared to meet his gaze and actively hold it.
The girl didn’t seem to know much about vampires, though, which honestly should have made her even less likely to meet ones’ eyes since far too many of them knew about vampire glamour.
Damn publicity.
Among other things the way she’d held out her hand to Pam had proven a lack of intimate familiarity with his kind, but despite her nervous chatter she did seem to have a backbone when it came to those pictures.
Why was she going round shoving pictures of ugly women at vampires? And why hadn’t fucking Compton filled her in on vampire etiquette, anyway? If she was supposedly “his” then that’s his fucking job. If you take on a human, you take on the job of educating them, damn it!
The fact she was on Compton’s arm said she was either stupid or naive, and Eric was pulling for the latter. Naive…he could work with naive.
As he toweled off, he caught himself almost grinning.
Compton actually thought he could keep such a tasty little drop of sunshine that intriguing all to himself? Moron must be more mentally decomposed than I’d originally thought.
What his disease of a Maker saw in him was the question of the ages.
But…what’s he doing in my territory anyway? Isn’t he supposed to be kissing someone’s ass in the darling queen’s court these nights? Something must be going on…he was trying too hard to be sly tonight…
For some reason that he didn’t bother searching for, he suddenly decided to shave off the scruffy beard he’d been sporting for a while. He glared at his hair as it fell into his eyes over and over again, but there wasn’t much he could do about it just then.
After donning his tracksuit bottoms and his silk robe, he padded into his office, grabbed one of his burner phones, and sent a text to his most dependable ear at the brat-queen’s court. If anyone could find out what was going on, it’d be Rasul.
He noticed a waiting text from Pam and checked it as he wandered into the den, then settled before his unlit fireplace. The option of having a warm flickering fire when he wanted it was nice but it wasn’t cool enough yet to warrant one – one of the many benefits of Shreveport, Louisiana.
***Bribed the bribeables and glam’d the humans, closed bar. Small fine, 2-night closure, blah blah blah. Taryn and her dinner weren’t caught but that bitch is going in a cage when I catch her. WTF was Blondie? Are there more where she came from? How did she know about the cops? I’m thirsty and I have her address – wanna split dinner?***
Eric felt something in his chest tighten at the thought of Pam biting the Stackhouse girl…
•~•0•~•
So…what’d you think: Want more? You know the drill – let me know what you think in the comments. Have a great evening/night/morning, etc.!
~Mer
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