We are coming to the end of nominating period with the Nomination Ballots due in just 7 more days!! All Fangreaders that received a ballot are eligible to vote so please get those ballots in. Any questions please email thefangreaders@gmail
Now to continue the excitement before the Public Voting begins , let us enjoy our second promotional fic from Merick :
A Vampire and a Wizard walk into a bar.
They called it a Vampire Depth Charge; a pint glass of Royalty Blended with a shot glass of Fairy blood dropped in just before you drank it. You had to be careful when you shot it back, so that the little glass inside didn’t chip a fang. Bill didn’t know where they got the Fairy Blood to put in it, didn’t want to know, really. What he did know was that it gave his head a pleasant fuzzy feeling, and that it cost a small fortune. The first of which he appreciated; the second of which didn’t bother him a whit as he motioned over the male bartender; (a well built sort of man, large shoulders, but not so large that they didn’t fit within the sleeves of the pressed white shirt he wore,) and ordered another. It went down just as smoothly as the first, though the fog in his head did little to lift the misery he had piled on himself. He would have let out a great sigh just then, if he had actually had to breathe. In its stead he looked around at the other guests in the hospitality suite. The Fangies had certainly grown in their popularity of late, and he noted that there were many new faces milling about the room, very different than in years past when it was only the Vamps and the Weres sharing a tremulous peace for Fairy’s sake.
But now Bill made out all manner of Supernatural, and regular natural creatures; witches, warriors, and a few little elves scurrying about; though they seemed to be part of the help. The one creature that interested him the most was sat one barstool down from Bill, looking as intently at his glass as Bill has been looking at his, when it had been full that was. He (Bill was fairly certain it was a he), was quite grey, with sunken in features on his face and an all-encompassing black robe. His fingers were skeletal, and his head quite free from hair, and Bill couldn’t quite sort out if he were alive or dead.
“Something interest you Vampire?” The thing muttered without even turning his head.
Firewhiskey burned, but it was a good burn, at least it meant he could feel something. He didn’t want to look around at all the other people in the room, he didn’t even know why he’d bothered to show up. One of the minions had mentioned that it would be good PR if he did, and apparently there were new categories this year, and, oh hell, he’d just been hoping to get a glimpse of her, maybe get a chance to say a few words, try to change her mind about the whole ‘rejecting his offer’ thing. Or rather, part of him wanted to do that, the stupid, weak part of him. Of course, he wasn’t going to be able to accomplish that if he kept himself hung over the glass in his hands. He slammed back another shot. He could feel the eyes of his mate down the bar on his back, and contemplated for a moment stupefying him. But Voldemort wasn’t even certain if those kind of spells would work on the dead; and he hadn’t taken the time to read up on the Gollum spells at his disposal, mostly because the aforementioned minions had insisted that this night be low-key, and without bloodshed. It so went against his nature that it nearly made him sick to think of it. He hissed slowly into the empty glass and put his hand over the concealed wand in his cloak.
“Something interest you Vampire?”
The air between the men grew suddenly thick, and though the people around them didn’t know why, they all unconsciously moved away as both men finally stared at each other. Bill held up his glass and bared his fangs as if it was some kind of feral acknowledgement of the other’s presence. (And partially out of fear as he finally saw the full force of the grey face he had heretofore only seen in profile.) Voldemort raised his own shot glass, just refilled and tipped it slightly towards the Vampire, admiring the fangs, and wondering how much better he might look with a set of them. Not that he was about to admit any weakness or envy in front of the undead.
“You have a problem?” He asked the question again.
“Really? Then why are you watching me?”
“I’m not watching you.”
Voldemort sighed very deeply, trying to keep in check the desire to turn the Vampire into a pile of ash; mostly because he knew if he tossed out a good solar spell it would likely kill off most of the denizens of the room. The voices of his minions rang in his ears; ‘just try to keep it under control, we need to get back in the game here’. Another deep sigh rattled in his head, and he found himself clenching the glass hard enough to probably shatter it, fingernails cutting into his palm around the firm cylinder. He tried to remember exactly when his minions had turned into spin-doctors, and snagged the bartender, procuring the entire bottle of firewhiskey for his use.
“If you know what’s good for you,” he began to say, when an odd noise in the far corner of the room forced everyone’s attention towards it. The whoop whoop whoop accompanied the materialization of some sort of tall rectangle, with ‘Police Call Box’ emblazoned on it near the top. All the guests turned to see it and stare as the door to it opened up, and a tallish sort of man, with untamed brown hair, a brown blazer and a wine colored bow tie emerged from it. The grin on his face was that of a man walking into a party where he knows everyone, and where he knows that he is surely the most important and most interesting one in the room; yet without any of the arrogance that normally goes along with such things. Hushed whispers reached Bill and Voldemort’s ears at the same time. And both faces screwed up with confusion.
“Doctor who?” Both said at the same time as the man spotted them, and his grin grew even wider as he made his way across the room towards them both, arms outstretched.
“Gentlemen! How fortunate to find you both here. Well, of course, I knew you’d both be here like this, so perhaps more fortunate for you than me, however, good enough, no time to quibble about semantics.”
Bill wondered at the frenetic nature of the words that tumbled from the odd man’s mouth, Voldemort wondered if there was a way he could kill him, and escape without any consequence. Unfortunately there was little time to ponder either idea as the man joined them at the bar, draping an arm over each man’s shoulders, his head bobbing back and forth between them like he was watching a tennis match, albeit a very confined one.
“Well how very predictable this whole time and space sort of thing when it involves affairs of the heart.” He announced to them both. “Bringing both of you together here with the same type of misery.”
“I object to that characterization.” Voldemort began; only to be interrupted by Bill.
“Of course, because you have been such a ray of sunshine since you arrived.”
“And what exactly would you know about rays of sunshine Vampire?”
“Oh, like I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Gentlemen!” The suddenly harsher tone quieted both aspiring combatants. “Much better. Now we can get down to dealing with your problem.”
“I don’t believe I have a problem.” Voldemort’s voice was turning to a hiss again.
“Neither do I.” Bill echoed.
“Really? Then why gentlemen, are you sitting here alone, without the benefit of female company, drowning yourselves in your respective anesthetics of choice?” The Doctor paused. “So, if you’d like, we can get down to exactly why you two are Bach’ing it tonight. Or I could just leave? Your choice really.”
“Leave.” They both echoed.
“Well, you see, unfortunately I’m not exactly allowed to do that, being the host of this event and all. And as the host I have a type of veto.” Bill fell silent at that announcement, but not the Wizard.
“So you aren’t leaving?”
“No, that was just a sort of polite way of making you think you had a bit of control over the situation.”
“What if I just kill you?”
“Many have tried, believe me, thing is, I just keep coming back, so it’s hardly worth the energy or the negative repercussions.”
“I see.” Voldemort turned back to the bar, hoping that if he just ignored the man that he might just go away. He had better things to concentrate on, like where Hermione had gotten to; he fully expected that she was going to be in attendance at the event. While he didn’t yet see her, he did become aware that the Doctor had turned his attention back to the Vampire; even though his arm was still draped in a very uncomfortable way, linking the three men together. He would have given his kingdom for a handy Floo network.
“So William,” The Doctor began, “Why is it you don’t have a date for this evening’s festivities?”
“Because she’s with someone else right now. But I know she’s going to come back to me, we were together before and we will be again.”
“And you know this because?”
“Because I love her, and she loves me, she’s just caught up in the glamour of his big muscles, and blond hair, and physical assets.”
“I see.” The Doctor finally let go of both men and sat himself down between them at the bar, focusing on Bill. “And why did she leave you in the first place?”
“We had a misunderstanding.”
“Meaning she didn’t understand why you were trying to ensnare her for your Queen, and were lying to her about your purposes?” Voldemort snickered, and poured himself another drink, quite happy not to be a target just then.
“Don’t you worry big boy, you’re not much purer over there are you?” Voldemort slammed back the firewhiskey and shuddered as it hit his gut.
“If you knew the answers why did you even bother to ask the question?” Bill also turned away and focused on another drink.
“So you would understand the truth of your situation William.”
“Go to hell.”
“Tried that, not as exciting as you might think.” A cup of tea was placed in front of the Doctor and he took a long drink, the china cup peeling against the saucer like a bell. “And now you Mr. Voldemort. Why is it that you are unescorted this evening?”
“She wouldn’t take my owls.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“No idea, I apologized for the whole torture thing, and in my defense, it really was one of my minions who did that. And she’s dead now, so the whole thing should be even.”
“But funnily enough she won’t forgive you?” The Doctor’s eyebrows rose up in a psychoanalytical kind of way; not that Voldemort was aware of the implications of the body language.
“Yes, such unreasonable creatures, lie to them, cheat on them, torture them a bit and they run off screaming, fancy that.” The Doctor took another drink. “But the question is, what do you two do about it?”
“Wait for them to come to their senses.” Voldemort answered. Bill remained silent.
“Somehow I think it may take more than that.”
“Well what then? Go back in time, take it all back?” Bill mumbled into his pint glass, looking more and more inebriated and disassociated from the goings on.
“Ah, we don’t use the TARDIS for things like that I’m afraid. These lessons are all about personal growth don’t you know.”
“And what do you suggest then Doctor?”
“Well, I suppose you could start with sincere apologies to these ladies.”
“What about ruling the world, and keeping her at my side while doing it is not sincere?”
A great sigh rolled from the Doctor’s lips.
“Perhaps I’ll have to tell Fairy that this isn’t going to work.” He muttered into his teacup
“There’s a fairy behind this?” Voldermort asked.
“Isn’t there always?” Bill continued to mumble, leaving Voldemort, with his own sigh, to continue the conversation with the Doctor.
“Not a Fairy, the Fairy; the person organizing this function; the person who wants to ensure that everyone is having a good time, and that everyone is behaving. But you two may well be beyond saving.”
“Well you’re one to talk, I don’t see any women on your arms.”
“That’s because the show hasn’t started yet. We still have work to do on your behalf.”
“So you’re set on getting women for us?”
“Not so much set on that, as set on putting you two down the proper path to find companions of your own; honestly. And without the need for torture I might add.”
“Sookie.” Bill moaned to himself.
“You do take all the fun out of things Doctor.”
“You have an odd definition of fun Wizard.”
“And what about him?” Voldemort thumbed over to Bill whose head was now down on the bar.
“All he needs to know is to be honest with the women he likes, and to understand how important trust is; and that once you’ve broken it sometimes it can’t be recaptured. And sometimes you just have to move on.”
“Oh Sookie.” Was the muffled punctuation to that statement.
“Although you may be right Wizard.” The Doctor conceded.
“Then what would you suggest for me?”
“Well, giving up the whole World Domination thing might be a good start.”
“It wasn’t my choice to do so, but that damned Potter boy has seen to that. It took a great deal of magic just to get myself together for this evening. It will be many centuries before I will have the power to muster that type of campaign again.”
“So in the meanwhile, perhaps an honest job, some flowers occasionally, a coffee date? Let this woman see the new man you want to become.”
“That’s what the minions keep saying.”
“Maybe I need minions.” Bill mumbled to his empty glass. The Doctor waved off the bartender who was prepared to bring him another.
“He needs a coffee.” Voldemort and the Doctor stared at the Vampire, still slumped over the bar, shaking their heads. “Does that work on Vampires?”
“I don’t believe so. He needs something else entirely I think.”
“Can I just kill him, to put an end to all our sufferings?”
“I think you are missing the point of this whole ‘turning over a new leaf thing’.”
“I am not a druid Doctor.”
There was a subtle change in the lighting of the room; a gentle flickering that drew the attention of all assembled. It was a signal that the show was nearing its commencement and a focused and excited buzzing began to fill the room as women checked their makeup once more, and men had their bowties adjusted by their companions.
“Well, it would seem our time together has come to an end then Mr. Wizard.” The Doctor stood up from the bar and straightened his brown jacket, running a finger through his hair; not that it made a great deal of difference to its overall appearance. “I hope that you don’t forget the few things we have spoken of.”
A hush fell in the room as the broad doors opened and two women entered, sweeping towards the Doctor in floor length red ball gowns. The Doctor smiled again, and Bill finally raised his head from the bar, sensing the presence of the one he loved.
“It’s time to go Doctor.” The women said, almost as one.
“Sookie?” Bill whispered to the blond one, his voice reverent of her beauty. Her hair fell in large curls over bare shoulders, and the sweetheart cut of her bodice revealed ample breasts, the kiss of the sunlight in their coloring, her careful breathing making them rise and fall in a way that was pure seduction.
“Hello Bill.” Her voice was music to deafened ears, opening senses that were dulled nearly beyond resurrection by the drink and misery. And it was kind, something he had not expected.
“Oh Sookie. Can you ever forgive me what I have done to you?”
“Oh Bill.” She stepped towards him and put a hand on his cheek. She was warm; he had missed that warmth, but felt himself unable to even raise his own hand to cover it. “Bill I have already forgiven you.”
“You have? Then you will come back to me?”
“But why Sookie?”
“My path has gone in a very different direction than I imagined it would when we first met Bill. I’m sorry. You need to find your own path too.”
“Is it Eric?”
“It isn’t any one person Bill, except me. I don’t know where I am destined to end up, or who with if anyone at all, but I know that I have to move forward. And you are part of my past. I am sorry.”
“So am I Sookie.”
“Go on, enjoy the show, I’ll see you later. I have to take the Doctor backstage now.”
Bill could only nod as he stood, all the drunkenness slipping away from his mind. Sookie smiled, and stepped back to take the Doctor’s left arm.
At about the same time Voldemort was looking at the woman at the Doctor’s right arm.
“You look exquisite this evening.” And she did. Her red dress was different than Sookie’s, a deep V covered, or barely covered her breasts, held by ribbon-like straps over her shoulders, a natural waist, from which a liquid drapery skirt fell, pooling around her feet like a spell. Her dark hair was drawn up in a loose chignon, free wisps framing high cheekbones and pale skin, ruby lips begging to be properly attended to.
“Thank you.” She smiled demurely, holding fast to the Doctor.
“I am so glad that you felt comfortable to attend.”
“And you as well.”
“I am, turning over a new leaf, thanks in part to the good Doctor here.”
“I am glad to hear of it.”
“Perhaps you might do me the honor of allowing me to apologize to you properly at some point in the future Hermione?”
“You can send me an owl sometime, I suppose. But for now we have to go.”
“Thank you Hermione.”
Both women, arms linked with the Doctor did a pirouette of sorts. The Doctor looked back over his shoulder at both men, grinning.
“Do remember what I said gentlemen. Now, on with the show.”
Voldemort and Bill watched as the women they wanted sashayed from the room, hanging on to the strange, slim man in the bowtie. An unspoken word passed between their glances and both straightened their ties and robes and prepared for their duties.
Many thanks to Merick for writing such a fantastic promotional fic for the Fangreaders Awards . Be sure to show some love by leaving her a review.
***If you would like to write a promotional fic showing our favourite SVM/True Blood characters getting ready for the Fangies, please send an email to email@example.com***
Important Dates for the Fangreaders Awards:
9th of December 2012- Nomination Ballots go out to all the members
20th of January 2013 ( 6 weeks of nominations)- Nomination Ballots Due
3rd February 2013 - Public Voting Begins
17th of March 2013 – Public Voting Closes
30th March 2013 - Award Ceremony announcing the winners on the Hall of Fame Site at 9pm GMT
There will be much more information to come, so please stay tuned.
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Fanfiction.Net : http://www.fanfiction.net/u/3514708/The-Fangreaders-Awards