Chapter Text
There once was a tale of two people in love, but everything about them was forbidden.
For one, they were two men which at the time was punishable by death, hated and revered.
One was a monstrous being that lived off of the human’s life, and the other was a simple human.
They hid from the town, the city, and anything else and built a home far away in the woods together.
The monster, a vampire, didn’t need much to survive but his own love who was happy and willing to provide. The human cultivated the land, had a farm, and made food for himself.
The vampire hunted animals, gathered materials, and did the hard labor.
An unlikely duo, so perfectly in sync.
Months turned to decades.
The human was aging and the vampire would do anything to stop this.
Their love was so pure that the Goddess of Love granted them another chance, that the human would be reborn one day.
.. but that was just a tale.
Romeo and Juliet was a tale, so was Goldilocks and others. A story to be told with a moral.
Of course “Blood Bond” wouldn’t stick for years and years like Jack and Jill.
Was it the title name? Or the story? How opposed society (humans) are to anything not ‘normal’ in their eyes?
Unlike all of those stories, Vampires existed. So did a few others. But that story was real. And it happened. And the vampire wrote it. Every word.
No, a Goddess didn’t come down like in the story. But he wrote it for a story telling effect. He missed the human every single day that passed. The vampire promised the human a few things though.
The human loved his stories and wanted others to know, so he wrote them and let the world judge. The human also wanted people like them (gay) to not have to fear being just that.
They were people too, who just loved things not accepted. How was that wrong?
The vampire agreed to this and many more. So for decades he wrote stories and grew popular as an author. He started by dropping hints of an underlying romance between two men, two women, or otherwise.
By the twenty first century, humans were far, far more accepting than centuries prior. They were nicer too.
Simon hoped his human was somewhere, watching and seeing this with joy. He could never truly move on from him. He never loved another human.
Instead he sought to do what his human wanted, what he wished. So he taught at a college, informing generation after generation. Small changes. He was sure in the end he hardly made a difference. Technology was a powerful tool that just made things so much easier.
He wrote textbooks for Students to read without needing to purchase. When typing books became a thing, he jumped on it. Typing was far faster than writing. He favored it.
Funnily enough most vampires hated technology and didn’t make the switch. Simon, though? He saw what it could achieve.
It was amusing when ‘Twilight’ became popular. Such media would have flopped if it was decades ago. But due to technology? Hm.
They got vampires all wrong. They didn’t sparkle or burn in the sunlight, they were just weaker. Steaks, no. That was just wood. Silver? If they were allergic, maybe.
But each one had a unique power. Simons? He could use his voice to hypnotize people. Even other vampires. He didn’t use it often though but it sure did come in handy.
He soon learned a new type of book was invented. Audio books. Bored, he decided to try.
Almost instantly, his voice was a smash hit. Many popular authors were contracting him just to read their books in his voice. His power didn’t work through technology, so he didn’t understand.
He got paid a lot for this on top of his college job and books he had sold over the centuries. Wealthy, sure. But not highly, like billionaires. Money didn’t really matter to him.
He and other vampires mainly focused on blood. In this society, it was impossible to sneak a maiden for a one night stand and eat without her knowing.
Countries governments knew, of course. A mutual exchange of help and they could receive blood bags. Vampires exposed by humans were taken away by the government.
So it was good to be hidden. They even helped with changing identities for them when in a normal human time frame they should have ‘died’.
That was how he ended up here, teaching a class of students all eager to learn from him and hear his voice. He often found videos of himself online in these lectures with tags like ‘his voice!!’ And more.
“There will be no more recording me without my knowledge.” He said to the class first thing the next morning. Maybe he added some of his power in there.
Simon taught psychology at first. Then he just made up his own class about writing, stories, prompts… Basically English class.
He learned over decades various ways to teach the generation so they understood and liked the material. Often, the principal would allow him to sit in on other teachers' lessons and criticize how boring they were.
Why make things so boring? The entire point was to learn and enjoy the material. Sure, not everyone was going to click on said subject, but why punish them for what they enjoy?
“How long do you think a book should be?” He asked the class. Of course, participation credit was given. It was the beginning of the semester, just the second day in. He needed a Teacher Assistant (TA) to be able to properly give out the credits.
His class? It was a lecture hall. Nearly all 200 seats were taken up. So many eyes staring at him. He was used to it.
Someone raised their hand. He locked eyes with them and gave them a smile, granting permission to speak.
“70,000 words?” They pipped up.
“Correct, and not.” He waved his hands with a smile. “Books don’t have to be anything. Think about a poem. Some are merely 20 words yet strike true to the heart. A book can be as long as you want!” He left a pause.
“And if the publisher also agrees.” He joked.
Some of the class chuckled. That made him smile.
“What makes you love a book?” He went up to the white board and wrote in the most pristine handwriting with little effort. But his marker stayed on the board, unmoving.
He turned to the class with a look that said ‘well?’
“The story!” Someone said. He wrote it down. “Characters!” “Plot development.”
Simon was proud that lots of students were speaking out. It was a feat, as 199 other students were there.
He wrote a few more things like ‘title, summary, cover art,’ and more.
“All of these elements make a story. Your story. No matter what it is, you made it. It’s yours. Sometimes you will get criticized, and others you will be praised. Whether you write or not, draw or not, compose music or not, anything you do in life is still your story.”
He was wooing them, he knew it. Some had notebooks out, others laptops tapping away. He was glad no one was recording him. That just.. irked him.
He went on with his lecture about literature and students took notes. At the end of class he opened up a file under his class on the college’s website.
“I’ve unlocked something on the campus website. It is a number system, 1-1000. It is optional. You may guess a number in between those. I will then randomly decide a number. Whoever is closest gets to be my TA.”
Simon watched most of the class leave. Of course, a group always stayed behind. Mainly to ask him questions, get buddy buddy, etc. It always occurred.
“Do you have a favorite book? Or author?” One asked.
“Blood Bond, by S. Parable.”
It took another 15 minutes for the others to scurry off before they missed their next class. He did notice one guy staying behind, tapping away on a laptop.
Simon went to the podium and looked at his schedule. He had a good 45 more minutes until the next class was due to start.
The guy still didn’t leave, even when the next class filed in.
He did the same lecture almost exactly the same way for that class. Its what teachers do.
After that class the guy finally looked up at him. Simon locked eyes with him and gave him a confused expression. “Why do you stay so late?”
The man shrugged before taking out his notebook and writing on it. He flipped it over to show him.
Luckily, the guy sat in the first row in the middle section. One of the most fought over seats, though not directly center.
[Why are your eyes yellow?] The paper said.
“Well, that's a question! I don’t know, the lighting?” He shrugged. What an odd question. Others always asked for writing tips, or to speak. Stuff like that.
He heard scribbling and mentally sighed. “Why not speak? Are you nervous?”
The man looked up at him with a neutral expression before going back to writing. He flipped it over.
[What, can I not ask questions? I’m mute, duh.]
Simon sighed and packed up his laptop and papers into a satchel. What an odd man. He left the lecture hall, glancing behind. The student still stayed, tapping at his laptop in the silent room.
He left the lights on for him.
Sunday night he went to a random number picker and got ‘427’. He checked the TA responses and scrolled around. Someone had actually guessed that exact number. How rare!
Simon replied to “Stanley P. Rodgers” with a ‘congrats! If you want to be my TA, talk to me tomorrow!’
He got there early Monday morning and set up his laptop and got it connected to the projector. As students filed in, he kept an eye out for anyone.
To his surprise, the mute man from before walked up to him with a pre-written note. [I’m Stanley.]
“I do know sign language, Stanley, if you’d prefer.” Simon informed.
Oh, how the students' eyes lit up. Someone else who knew sign? That had to be rare. He packed his notebook away and got to moving his hands.
[I want to be your TA! Do I get paid?]
“Oh, we will discuss after class. Okay?” He gave him a smile.
Stanley rolled his eyes. They had time now. Whatever..
Simon just didn’t want other students to get the idea that they could talk to him before class. He already had to deal with a group after it!
When class started, Simon put his powerpoint on. It was of three pictures. “On the campus website, I want you to pick which book cover looks the most interesting.”
When everyone submitted he showed the results. “One got.. 30%! Two got 60! Wow. And poor three only got 10%..” Simon then smirked.
He flipped the slide. “They are all for the same book! And yet you all preferred two!”
Stanley tuned him out. He looked at his screen while taking notes. He mainly took his class because.. he didn’t know what else to take or major in. He knew he liked working on laptops and desktops, but..
Writing? Eh. That wasn’t his thing. This class though, he was lucky to get. Apparently the teacher was some famous author. Stanley had read one of his books as it was required in his highschool. Crazy.
He tapped away on google docs, typing at a speed almost that of matching Simon’s words. Everything he said, he documented.
How did he tune him out? Well. Stanley wasn’t processing the information. He just felt like a machine, hearing the words and getting them on documentation.
Maybe he’d like writing? Or he could be one of those court people who log whats said. Hm..
“—is Stanley!”
Oh fuck. What did he miss? Suddenly the class was clapping. He looked panicked.
“Stanley got the number exactly right! He will be my TA for the semester. Stanley, please stay after class!”
Stanley realized no one was looking at him. Not even the teacher.
Oh.
He was acting like he didn’t know who Stanley was yet. Like summoning a student after class. He was.. thankful. Really.
He saw Simon glance at him. He swore his smile got warmer.
Stanley looked back at his laptop, realizing he typed ‘the new ta’ and nothing else.
His heart was pounding and he was shaking a bit. Adrenaline. Maybe he didn’t want to be the TA, if it meant attention would be on him. He didn’t want to be seen. He wanted to be a nobody that got a nice job and retired at 65 or something.
Stanley continued to type out every word Simon spoke. He was a bit slower and made typos but he’d fix them later.
Focus focus focus.
At the end of class, Stanley stayed back again. Not because he was the TA now. He was fixing his errors and editing the document layout to look neater.
“Stanley?” That oh-so-rich voice ripped through his brain. He looked up at him, fingers frozen in place.
“Oh, sorry. You were in deep thought. May I?” Simon asked, glancing to the seat beside Stanley. He nodded and scooted over a bit to give him room.
Simon sat beside him. “Being a Teacher's Assistant is nothing worrisome. It's just extra work for you, in a sense. But with reason. You help me grade their work.”
[But I am not qualified. I am a student, learning. Just like them.]
“That is true. Normally we get TA’s from students who have already taken the course. But I find it helps everyone. No one wants to show a fellow student how little they know. And the TA doesn’t want to grade wrong, because if they do, I will know.”
[I don’t want to be a TA.] Stanley turned back to his laptop, ignoring him.
Simon sighed. “Okay. You don’t have to grade. That's just an option. I do need help with keeping attendance and making sure no one is on their phone. Also, participation credits. Can you just keep that information for me?”
Logging information? That was his best trait. He nodded. “Good. Being my TA will also look amazing on your resume. What are you majoring in?” Simon asked politely.
[Nothing.]
“Nothing? Can't decide? Are you still a freshman?”
Stanley stared at his computer. He sat back and looked at him. [I’m 35. I just left my soul sucking job. I don’t know what to do.]
“Thirty five? Wow. N-not that that's bad! Its just rare.”
Stanley sighed. [I didn’t go to college. Didn’t need to. But I couldn’t stand my job.]
“Well.. hm. If you give me some time I can help you with a job hunt. Even use me as a reference!”
Stanley’s eyes lit up a bit. Was he serious?
[I don’t need a reference. I just need to figure out what job I want to do for the rest of my life.]
Simon hummed. “I see. Well, I saw you tapping away really fast on that laptop. Is that a skill you possess? Why not do something technological, or logging information, such as accounting?”
Stanley tensed. Math? Hell no.
“Right uhm.. well. Why do you stay for two of my classes?” Simon questioned.
Stanley looked at him. He then turned his laptop to show page after page in google docs of everything Simon had just said in the lecture.
“A transcript! Wow. You wrote everything I said down? That fast?” Simon was baffled.
Stanley nodded and looked away. Was it really that impressive? Did he actually have a talent?
“I do have another 50 minutes to kill.” Simon said softly. They both had a sneaking suspicion that over the semester they would become friends. An hour? And Stanley had nowhere else to be. He didn’t have a class after this.
Every day he had the class was the same. Simon lectures on a new topic, Stanley wrote the transcript. There was daily participation credits.
Stanley logged who did what, always. Those not paying attention were logged. He jotted down who raised their hand. Even more stuff.
The first test was coming up.
Stanley was.. not a test taker. He could know everything about a topic but fail the test. It was over all the chapters he had gone through so far.
Luckily for him it was taken and graded electronically. Yay.
It was open note. Open book. They had all class to do it. That was an hour and a half.
Stanley had the online textbook pulled up on another tab, the test in another, and his notes on a third.
Panic was seizing him. The questions were muddled. He read one over and over but it didn’t make sense. The wording felt weird.
If the question was “what color is the sky?” The options were “yellow, orange, black, teal”. All of the answers made sense since the sky could be all of those colors at any given moment.
That was what every question felt like to him. All answers made sense or didn’t. The question didn’t.
.. he failed.
Stanley stared at his 42/100 with a heartbreak. For the first time he got up and left the class early. There was no way he was staying to hear whatever Simon’s opinions were.
Simon hated this part in class. Test day. For him it was beyond boring. Watching students take the test. He couldn’t say or do anything.
He did know who would pass. He could tell on their faces and by him watching them each class period. Of course he also included Stanley. He always took notes and when they talked after class he understood the material. They even debated on topics.
He was.. very taken aback when he noticed Stanley, who was in the front row, looking like a deer in the headlights. Then he got up and left.
He got up and left. They were two weeks into the semester and he had never left this early.
Simon checked the grades and stared. A 42..? Did he do that on purpose?
No, no. He knew Stanley, a little bit. This was.. shocking. He decided to send him an email. Though that was.. odd to do. Him, sending an email to a student.
‘Hello, Stanley.
I noticed you left class earlier than normal. I saw your grade. I know for a fact you understand the material. Please talk to me when you feel comfortable.’
Simon stared at it before adding onto it.
‘Don’t be ashamed. Take your time.
-S’
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Simon checked up on the student files he could access. Stanley hadn’t applied for mental health help via the university.
All colleges provided some assistance for disabilities of any kind. Ranging from needing more time to complete projects to outright teacher help.
Did Stanley need assistance in some way? What if he didn’t know?
Simon was probably just.. overthinking. Worrying, too.
The next time he’d see Stanley was Wednesday, and today was monday.
.. great. That was if Stanley showed up of course.
Simon showed up an hour early to his class. He set up, got ready, and checked his emails. Nothing back from Stanley. He was so scared he’d get that dreadful email that ‘a student has dropped your class!’
This was the first time he had really bonded with a student like this.
The lecture hall was empty and silent, so he heard the door open. Simon looked up to see Stanley peeking in, looking around. He saw Simon and fear washed over him.
Simon stood up. “Stanley, come here. I can help.”
Stanley looked very uncomfortable. He walked down to him and set his laptop down to free his hands as he rapidly signed.
[I’m sorry I left I just can’t stand how stupid I am every single class i take i fail okay? I didnt want to tell you but i always fail all of my tests! Its why i take so many notes but they never help—]
Simon grabbed his wrists gently. “Stanley! Slow down. I know sign but it's rusty.” He quickly let go, having tried to get his attention but Stanley had just zoned out trying to tell him his problem.
“Stanley, breathe. Sit down okay? Nothing is wrong.” Simon coaxed him.
Stanley sat down and pressed his hands into his eyes, breathing in shaky breaths. It hurt. He had become friends with a teacher then he failed their test. It was beyond embarrassing.
“Stanley.. I can tell. You aren’t a test taker. Have you applied for help from the university? Do you, uhm. Sorry if this is personal or rude, do you have any mental issues?”
Stanley rubbed his eyes and looked up at him.
“Oh, no you don’t have to tell me. I’m saying if you do have something that could hinder your learning, you should contact the university. They can assist you.”
Stanley looked at his hands, clearly trying to find the words.
[That.. exists?]
“Yes. It prevents things like this. I know you know the material. You know it very well. I’ve had students in the past like that and others. We all learn differently.”
[Email?]
It took Simon a second to realize what he was asking. “Oh, right. Yes. I can send you the email to contact you about assisting you. Once you get it squared away I can edit your grade. Okay?”
Stanley stared at him. He sure did a lot of staring. Simon smiled at him a bit. “Don’t let testing ruin you. I’m shocked no one has told you sooner about this. You’re not alone.”
He wasn’t alone.
Those words rang in his head over and over. Stanley nodded and snorted a bit.
“What? What’s so funny?” Simon said, confused.
[You. You’re a famous dude coddling the most noone grown man for failing a test.]
“Oh, Stanley. You’re not a nobody.” Simon sighed. “You know you remind me of someone I knew long ago.”
Stanley tilted his head a bit, perplexed. Simon shook his head. “Sorry.” He noticed Students filing in and went to the podium.
He felt a lot better. He had been so close to dropping the class out of sheer embarrassment. But he needed the credits.. so.
Stanley sent the college an email.
Simon always showed a chart of the bell curve of graded students. He… decided not to since Stanley was on one of those ends. He went on with his lecture.
Stanley noticed his lectures followed the textbook he wrote. That was given. But he provided way more information than the textbook could ever give. He wrote everything that spilled out of his mouth over and over.
When class was over, he got an email back, asking for documentation of any issues and once that was in order, they would provide him assistance.
Stanley wanted to crawl into a hole. Showing a random person all of his issues?
When Simon was done with the hoard of people asking questions after class he sat beside Stanley. “Did you send it?” He nodded. “Good! That's one step forward.”
[They want documents.]
“Oh. Well, yes. Not just anyone can say ‘I have this issue! Give me free help!’ You know? Students abused it before.”
Stanley understood but..
[I haven’t gone to a doctor about anything. Just.. lots of research on myself.]
“I see.” Simon tapped his own chin. “Ah, I know. The psychology department has a study case going on where Students diagnose people for a grade. If you participate, you can get a grade for it too!”
Stanley winced and shrunk away.
“It's okay, it would be a one on one. The student is not allowed to speak outside of that setting. Afterwards, the teacher, who is a psychiatrist, will officially help you if you want. They can also provide legal and real documents. All for free.”
Oh, free? That sold Stanley. He nodded.
“Okay! I’ll email her right away. Oh, and please refer to her as Madam.” Simon informed. Stanley nodded.
[When?]
“Hm.. are you busy after this next class?”
-
Stanley was regretting everything. ‘Madam’ was inspecting him first, to officially diagnose his brain. He felt like a lab rat but knew why. He didn’t know what to expect.
Stanley sat in a nice little room on a soft couch that he touched softly for a few minutes. When the texture got too much for his fingers he went back to picking his nails.
The clock was so loud. She was probably busy. He glanced at the time. He had arrived fifteen minutes early. Stanley hated being late. He always had to be early.
After a while he picked up a fidget toy he saw on the table in front of him. It was in the shape of a game controller with buttons, spinny parts, and texture parts.
Looking around the room it was neat, but also personalized. There was an lgbtq+ flag, lots of stim toys, books, and a sand table.
Yes. A sand table. It was a wooden table that had a dip in the middle forming a “bowl” with sand. Sensory. Probably kinetic sand? He kind of wanted to touch it. Why did the purple sand look edible though?
Someone knocked on the door. He quickly put back the toy and sat politely. A woman walked in with a business dress and heels on.
“Oh! You’re here very early. Stanley, right?” She asked.
He nodded and fidgeted on the couch. “That’s about the extent I know about you other than you’re here for documents and to assist one of my students.”
He nodded again and signed.
[That’s correct.]
“Oh! May I know if you are selectively mute, or just can’t speak?” She asked in a very nice and polite way.
She was.. really nice. Stanley liked her. He felt comfortable with her.
[I can’t.]
She wrote that down. “How long have you been attending here?”
[Two years.]
“Two years.. and no one has told you we provide assistance to those like you? Mute, deaf, blind, and others?”
He shook his head. She wrote something down.
The clock was ticking far too loud now. He looked at it with the slightest frown.
“Sorry, is the clock bothering you? I’ve been meaning to replace that old thing. It's ticking often bothers everyone.” She explained.
Stanley nodded and fidgeted again. His leg began to tap.
“Do you find it hard to concentrate when your hands aren't busy?”
Stanley nodded. “The toys on the table are free to use.”
He took the controller one back and thumbed the buttons.
In the end he had more than he thought he did. “I believe you may have ADD, some compulsive actions, and autism. Of course, the obvious mutism but we know that for sure. Right?”
Stanley cracked a smile and shrugged. [I don’t know.. maybe I don’t in the end.]
That made her chuckle. He was relaxing bit by bit.
“I can’t get this set in stone instantly. It also won’t be a magical ‘first visit I solved all of your problems!’, but I can email the university that you do need assistance, even without documentation.” She was typing as she said this.
Was she multitasking? Talking and typing two different things? She was insane! In a good way.
“In the email, Simon mentioned how he knew for certain you more than understood the material, and failed the test. That is a common thing to occur among others like you. Don’t worry, we can clear it and previous semesters up. The university has failed you, I’m sorry. Someone should have caught onto this sooner.”
Stanley stared at her for a long moment. Processing. His.. previous semesters, too?
“I promise me and Simon will assist you.”
[Thank you, Madam.]
“You may call me Curator for the time being.”
Stanley nodded.
“Are you alright for my student to examine you?”
He breathed in a bit, then nodded. Yes. He’d be okay.
-
The student said ADD and autism, which was almost right on the dot to what Curator said he most likely had. Again, they only had one session. Things like this took time and everyone was different.
Stanley thanked her multiple times.
“You can keep the toy, Stanley.” Curator glanced at his hand. He blushed lightly and nodded, thanking her again.
Stanley left happy and.. hopeful.
-
After Simon sent the email to Madam Curator he felt weak. Ah, it had been a month since the government's last delivery. He quickly went home and saw a note. A delay.
He wasn’t getting blood today.
What was he to do? Starve? This was horrendous! If he didn’t get blood within a few days he knew his hunger would take over him.
He busied himself with writing a new short story between the ocean and the beach. Maybe it would be delivered tomorrow. If it wasn’t.. he would probably eat one of the government workers who caused this.
.. not really of course. But it made him feel better.
Simon was not stupid. He was always prepared. He had extra stock of blood, but it was frozen and would take time to unthaw. And he’d rather not use his supply, but he would if he had to.
Simon hadn’t bit into a human for a long time. He never really liked it before, anyways.
He looked over his emails while tapping his desk. Fans emailing him, university emails, student questions.. it was sometimes overwhelming. Of course they didn’t go to one email, but he checked them all.
Simon got to replying despite the gnawing in his stomach. He emailed Stanley again- and again he was the one emailing him first.
‘Hello, Stanley.
I was wondering if you could assist me with my emails. I have a few and I am unable to reply to them all without driving myself up the wall. You do not have to help, but it would be appreciated.
-S’
Simon sighed when he sent it. He felt bad but.. really, he had been neglecting his emails. He was in deep. To his shock, about five minutes later he got a reply from Stanley.
‘Hey, Simon ? (Or would you rather Mr??)
Yeah I can, I know that feeling. The most time it will take is setting it up where I can see then reply to your emails. What kind?
Thanks,
Stanley’
Oh, goodie! This was a huge weight off of his chest. He got it all set up for Stanley, having done this before with other people. Of course he observed the first few Stanley sent.
They were the ones replying to student questions. He focused on replying to his fans while checking over Stanley’s emails.
Honestly? The biggest problem he had with Stanley’s emails was his insecurities. He often used parentheses and question marks or sometimes was too nice and beat around the bush.
But he didn’t blame him. Stanley was a good man. He had this appeal to him Simon couldn’t place. He left Stanley to do as many as he pleased while he managed to get through his other hoard of emails.
Within a few hours he got to the last email on the fan list. Honestly? He was proud of himself. He checked his other email and noticed he failed to see one from Stanley, about an hour and a half ago.
‘Hey, Mr. Simon. :]
I finished all the emails. Is there anything else you need?’
Simon stared at the email. His fingers moved before he realized it.
‘Are you free tomorrow?’