Theodore Nott wasn’t your average small-town dentist. Oh, he certainly looked the part during daylight hours. Crisp white coat, reassuring smile (the kind that made even the most anxious patient feel a sliver of calm), and a gentle hand with the drill – he was the epitome of dental professionalism. As he arrived and re-opening his practice, “Floss & Gloss,” had become something of a local institution that sparked the interest. Children came for checkups, teenagers for braces, and the older generation for dentures, all finding a strange sort of comfort in Theodore’s meticulous care. What they didn't know, of course, was that Theodore's meticulousness extended far beyond the confines of the human mouth, delving deep into a world of shadow and…well, let’s just say other things.
People addressed him as "Dr. Nott ㅡour affable dentist". But, behind all of that, he was also, quite inconveniently, a vampire. A dentist by day and a vampire by night – it’s a duality he managed to hide for couple of years. Theodore had learned to navigate this bizarre existence with a blend of grim humor and surprising efficiency. He had a code, of course, a set of rules that kept him from turning the city into a scene from a B-movie horror flick. No preying on the locals, for one. He sourced his late-night sustenance from… well, let’s call it a carefully curated “donor network” that operated outside of town and with (mostly) willing participants.
Theodore would often sigh, in the privacy of his moonlit study. He often wondered, with a shake of his head, if his ancient lineage ever considered the irony of their chosen lifestyle and how it conflicts with his chosen profession. After all, a dentist is supposed to prevent the gnashing of teeth, not partake in a centuries-old tradition of it. The duality was, to put it mildly, absurd.
The days at Floss & Gloss were a masterclass in applied normalcy. Theodore would expertly navigate the intricacies of root canals and fillings, all the while battling the internal urges that whispered in the back of his mind.
Just one little sip of that nice Type O+… one such urge might begin. He’d quickly banish it with a mental image of his patient, little Timmy from Mrs. Henderson’s third-grade class, bravely holding still for his cavity filling. A little empathy goes a long way, even for a creature of the night.
His staff, bless their oblivious hearts, found him to be a bit…eccentric. There was the way he always wore gloves, even when not directly treating patients. They attributed it to germaphobia, never realizing that it was also a clever method to conceal the unnaturally pale skin and sharper-than-average fingernails. The faint scent of cloves and cinnamon that always seemed to follow him around was dismissed as some sort of herbal toothpaste he preferred, not the lingering aroma of midnight escapades. Then there was his insistence on keeping the office cool, always at a brisk 60 degrees, which, while a necessity for his body temperature, was also conveniently conducive for keeping the dental equipment running smoothly.
Theodore had become quite skilled in the art of the cover-up. He always had a plausible explanation for everything. Late nights? Catching up on the latest dental journals, of course.
The dark circles under his eyes? “All this meticulous work takes its toll,” he’d explain with a weary smile.
The heightened senses? “Just a keen eye for detail!” he’d proclaimed once, after detecting a minor chip in a patient's molar before anyone else could.
The irony wasn’t lost on Theodore. He would spend his days meticulously fixing teeth, ensuring that his patients had beautiful, healthy smiles. Then, at night, there was the other side of the coin. It wasn't about destruction, not really, as he had become a patron of what one would call "alternative diets". But still, the duality of it all could be, at times, quite amusing. Sometimes, when he had a particularly difficult extraction, he would find himself whispering, “Now, that was a tough bite,” and then have to quickly amend it to, "I mean... procedure."
The “donor network,” as he called it, was an exercise in delicate diplomacy. He had to be discreet, efficient, and above all, respectful. The very last thing he needed was an inquiry from the local PD. He always made sure that everyone who participated was well compensated, and that their privacy was fiercely protected. It was, in its strange way, a sustainable partnership.
Theodore was aware of the risks he was taking, of course. The possibility of discovery loomed over him like a perpetual dark cloud. But he had become remarkably proficient at keeping his two worlds separate. He was, after all, a master of compartmentalization. He could seamlessly shift from the compassionate dentist to the enigmatic creature of the night in the blink of a (rather bloodshot) eye.
To anyone observing him during the day, Theodore Nott was simply a good dentist, a kind soul, and a pillar of the community. They would never suspect the hidden life that lurked beneath the surface. They would simply see a man dedicated to his craft, a man who could make a smile shine just a little bit brighter, one that was completely oblivious to the unique demands his nocturnal hours place on him. For them, Theodore was a skilled dentist. For himself, he was a testament to how one could exist, maybe not so peacefully, in two drastically different worlds, all the while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, a clean bill of health, even when things could become so, so very gnarly. So when you walk into Floss & Gloss, just remember that the kind dentist who greets you with a warm smile is, quite possibly, keeping an even bigger secret than you'd imagine, one that might make you rethink your next late-night craving for sugary treats. And the next time you hear about a weird noise in town after hours, well, perhaps it's not just the wind.
People addressed him as "Dr. Nott ㅡour affable dentist". But, behind all of that, he was also, quite inconveniently, a vampire. A dentist by day and a vampire by night – it’s a duality he managed to hide for couple of years. Theodore had learned to navigate this bizarre existence with a blend of grim humor and surprising efficiency. He had a code, of course, a set of rules that kept him from turning the city into a scene from a B-movie horror flick. No preying on the locals, for one. He sourced his late-night sustenance from… well, let’s call it a carefully curated “donor network” that operated outside of town and with (mostly) willing participants.
Theodore would often sigh, in the privacy of his moonlit study. He often wondered, with a shake of his head, if his ancient lineage ever considered the irony of their chosen lifestyle and how it conflicts with his chosen profession. After all, a dentist is supposed to prevent the gnashing of teeth, not partake in a centuries-old tradition of it. The duality was, to put it mildly, absurd.
The days at Floss & Gloss were a masterclass in applied normalcy. Theodore would expertly navigate the intricacies of root canals and fillings, all the while battling the internal urges that whispered in the back of his mind.
Just one little sip of that nice Type O+… one such urge might begin. He’d quickly banish it with a mental image of his patient, little Timmy from Mrs. Henderson’s third-grade class, bravely holding still for his cavity filling. A little empathy goes a long way, even for a creature of the night.
His staff, bless their oblivious hearts, found him to be a bit…eccentric. There was the way he always wore gloves, even when not directly treating patients. They attributed it to germaphobia, never realizing that it was also a clever method to conceal the unnaturally pale skin and sharper-than-average fingernails. The faint scent of cloves and cinnamon that always seemed to follow him around was dismissed as some sort of herbal toothpaste he preferred, not the lingering aroma of midnight escapades. Then there was his insistence on keeping the office cool, always at a brisk 60 degrees, which, while a necessity for his body temperature, was also conveniently conducive for keeping the dental equipment running smoothly.
Theodore had become quite skilled in the art of the cover-up. He always had a plausible explanation for everything. Late nights? Catching up on the latest dental journals, of course.
The dark circles under his eyes? “All this meticulous work takes its toll,” he’d explain with a weary smile.
The heightened senses? “Just a keen eye for detail!” he’d proclaimed once, after detecting a minor chip in a patient's molar before anyone else could.
The irony wasn’t lost on Theodore. He would spend his days meticulously fixing teeth, ensuring that his patients had beautiful, healthy smiles. Then, at night, there was the other side of the coin. It wasn't about destruction, not really, as he had become a patron of what one would call "alternative diets". But still, the duality of it all could be, at times, quite amusing. Sometimes, when he had a particularly difficult extraction, he would find himself whispering, “Now, that was a tough bite,” and then have to quickly amend it to, "I mean... procedure."
The “donor network,” as he called it, was an exercise in delicate diplomacy. He had to be discreet, efficient, and above all, respectful. The very last thing he needed was an inquiry from the local PD. He always made sure that everyone who participated was well compensated, and that their privacy was fiercely protected. It was, in its strange way, a sustainable partnership.
Theodore was aware of the risks he was taking, of course. The possibility of discovery loomed over him like a perpetual dark cloud. But he had become remarkably proficient at keeping his two worlds separate. He was, after all, a master of compartmentalization. He could seamlessly shift from the compassionate dentist to the enigmatic creature of the night in the blink of a (rather bloodshot) eye.
To anyone observing him during the day, Theodore Nott was simply a good dentist, a kind soul, and a pillar of the community. They would never suspect the hidden life that lurked beneath the surface. They would simply see a man dedicated to his craft, a man who could make a smile shine just a little bit brighter, one that was completely oblivious to the unique demands his nocturnal hours place on him. For them, Theodore was a skilled dentist. For himself, he was a testament to how one could exist, maybe not so peacefully, in two drastically different worlds, all the while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, a clean bill of health, even when things could become so, so very gnarly. So when you walk into Floss & Gloss, just remember that the kind dentist who greets you with a warm smile is, quite possibly, keeping an even bigger secret than you'd imagine, one that might make you rethink your next late-night craving for sugary treats. And the next time you hear about a weird noise in town after hours, well, perhaps it's not just the wind.
Since it was her day-off, Bartender and Expectant Mother Sindy Tamura was eager to get some appointments squared away. Since her prenatal check-up was on another day, she had decided to book a dentist appointment at the dentistry nearby, mainly because it was much closer to home for her. Plus she needed a new dentist because she hasn't seen one since moving to Florida six months ago. Either way, she did do her best to keep her dental health bill as clean as possible. Brushing her teeth twice to three times a day, flossing, the works. However that was getting tougher and tougher between pregnancy brain and her rapidly growing belly. Three buns in the oven, so there was a bit of distance between her and her bathroom counter. Between the awkward angling and leaning every night and how much bigger she gets each week, Sindy is kind of dreading the upcoming appointment. But she really needed that cleaning done. Hopefully nothing else...
After walking a little bit (since her car was in the shop for routine maintenance), Sindy stepped into the lobby of Floss & Gloss and straightened out both her hair and her dress. Keeping her purse close, Sindy waddled up to the counter. "Hello there, I'm here for my appointment with...Dr. Nott." She said, approaching the Receptionist at the front desk with a smile, eager to get her appointment squared away. "My name is...Sindy Tamura."
After walking a little bit (since her car was in the shop for routine maintenance), Sindy stepped into the lobby of Floss & Gloss and straightened out both her hair and her dress. Keeping her purse close, Sindy waddled up to the counter. "Hello there, I'm here for my appointment with...Dr. Nott." She said, approaching the Receptionist at the front desk with a smile, eager to get her appointment squared away. "My name is...Sindy Tamura."
Moderators: TheCaffeineQueen Eros_Calls