Qsmp And tntduo stuff thats on ao3

Eat your heart out

Quackity steps into the ballroom and is hit instantaneously by the strong smell of expensive perfumes, strong liquor, exotic tobacco, and money.

He’ll admit, it’s not the usual scene he finds himself walking in on during these missions. A client will give him an assignment and he’ll end up nine times out of ten in a greasy warehouse, a dingy cottage in the woods, on the rare occasion a nice house or a mansion, but never has he seen a vampire nest like this.

Mansion is not the right word to describe his target’s nest. Palace is far more fitting.

Classical music swirls around the room and couples of rich aristocrats sway to the tunes, making idle conversation and chatter, drinking gallons of costly wines at a time, and Quackity is admittedly out of his element. It’s simple enough to hunt and kill a vampire in a lair that resembles little better than a drunkard’s studio apartment, harder then to track down a bloodsucker in their mansion, but between crowds of exquisitely dressed men and women, all with money enough to pull off a sire’s luxurious lifestyle—that’s not something Quackity is familiar with.

In ten years as a vampire hunter, you’d think he’d have encountered a powerful vampire’s lofty accommodations before.

The room is packed and teeming with activity and nowhere near an easy environment in which to pick the odd one out and easily dispose of a crucifix. He has to play this one smart. He has to mingle with the crowd, act like he belongs, lay low and drink disgustingly expensive alcohol and laugh at gloriously unfunny idle chatter.

So he makes his way into the crowd and begins to survey.

His first two conversations yield nothing. One, a rich woman making heart eyes at him, and her daughter wearing a disgusted expression. The next, a couple with thick, posh English accents that make Quackity want to scoff. Of course accepting an assignment at an estate in the English countryside he’d expected some pretentious manners of speech, but the sheer lengths to which the couple goes to show off their distinguished and obviously purposefully cultivated accents are frankly embarrassing.

It’s not until a third conversation that he gets a clue.

“I’ll have to find a way to give my compliments to our host before long,” he says to a stout older man holding a nearly empty glass of champagne, who returns:

“He’s truly outdone himself. Why, I believe I saw him just moments ago if you’d like to be acquainted.”

Huh. Well that’s easy.

“That would be perfect, actually,” Quackity replies, and the old man laughs heartily.

“Follow me, follow me. I saw where he went.”

And that’s how Quackity finds himself face to face with the most obviously vampiric vampire he’s ever met. The creature doesn’t even bother to try to hide his monstrous attribute, blood red eyes and sharp fangs on proud display.

But of course, it could be easy to disregard those things when considering his… everything else…

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Beautiful voice, first. Charming demeanor second.

“Just to give my thanks to you for organizing such a lovely event,” Quackity feigns sincerity. The vampire looks him up and down and Quackity feels smaller. That’s without mentioning the full head’s height difference between the two of them.

And if the vampire’s height is imposing, his stature is doubly so. He stands tall and proud, arms crossed with undeniable authority.

But that’s not nearly the worst of it. It barely takes a glance for Quackity to be struck by how gorgeous the creature is. He has a strong jaw and fluffy brown hair, and deep eyes that though red as blood swim with confidence. His suit is expertly tailored to the curve of his waist, his broad shoulders and chest, and long legs in perfect straight line pants.