Bluff (an acrostic poem)

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Bashful with a dash of humility was his favorite drink
Leaving him sated every time he partook of that sweet nectar
Under the moonless sky, he would go out for a pint or two
Fortune smiled when he found a sweet young insecure thing looking for tall, pale, and handsome
Finding a dark spot to sip her vitality, he never saw the wooden stake till it was too late

Grit (an acrostic poem)

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Given she was down at least a pint and a half of blood

Really, she should be passed out on the ground

Instead, she looked the creature in the eye and growled

Thatโ€™s what finally broke the monster and it fled into the darkness