#Anyways MORE vampire george i want MORE

[ribcagebonemeal]

rough doodle that turned into starrison. Sigh

[cbrownjc]

Spoiler for 2x02 (EPISODE 9) -- And the thing I scream out loud during one scene (and if you are a Devil's Minion fan, you know the scene I'm talking about):

"OH MY GOD ARMAND IS ALICE!!!"

Yes, that is literally what I screamed out loud when we got that quick flashback of Armand back in the 70s talking to Daniel about stealing and selling his dad's Playboy magazines . . . and then the cut back to Armand saying Alice wanted to say yes to his proposal, but didn't trust him.

Armand was basically hinting at what split him and Daniel up which is -- Armand didn't trust Daniel's love for him!

Which, you know, actually fits the book. Because Daniel so badly wanted to be a vampire and was addicted to Armand's blood, Armand would very much feel that once Daniel was turned he'd just run off or something and leave Armand behind -- that Daniel didn't want Armand at all, that he only just to be a vampire and that was it. (Wasn't that scenario in the Rice's Tulane notes, IIRC?)

Which, oh man, when Armand realizes that Daniel did really love him . . . 😩

But anyway, what I mean by Armand being Alice isn't that Alice didn't exist. I do think she does because otherwise there is something off because in Season 1 Daniel calls Alice his first wife. Meaning they did get married . . . unless Daniel has been lying all this time that he and Alice did get married because she really doesn't exist?

Gah! I need more dammit! (I need ep 2x05 now dammit! 🥺)

Anyway, I do think there are LOT of memories in Daniel's head that are truthfully about Armand but have been replaced with Alice to fill in/hide what the actual true memory was, which has been my long-standing theory about all this. But if Alice really does turn out to have never existed . . . and everything about Alice really IS just about Armand but Daniel really can't remember that . . . then what about her pregnancy? Does at least one of his kids not really exist?

. . . and as I just wrote that . . . I have long been thinking that Season 3 in Dubai was going to be very much like the play Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And, if you know anything about that play -- particularly the plot point regarding George and Martha's son . . . 😮

Holy shit. . . yeah I think I now know why some reviews of Season 2 were comparing some of it to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? 😧 😮

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟲: 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 & 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀/𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. vampires. dubcon (from the inherent plot). safe, sane, and consensual though. coming untouched. no penetrative sex. implied sex. blood drinking. biting. mention of multiple orgasms. unnecessary world building. the grid & mercedes knows about george being a vampire. hickeys/love bites. bruises. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: george russell x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: prey • the neighborhood

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i guess i got too into the plot and lost myself in the exposition. i was originally going to delete the beginning ramblings of setting the scene and what not, but this would be like 500 words if i did that. for some reason, the entire grid knows george is a vampire? i couldn’t find the brainpower to explain who he’s hiding it from or how that would work in f1. the kink is more of the inherent tension from drinking somebodies blood. lol, anyways have fun reading 🫶🏽

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george had gotten enough schooling to learn what classical conditioning is. pavlov conditioned dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell ringing; a conditioned response. george may have done the same thing to you–he made the mistake of making sure you orgasm as he bites and drinks from you. now every time he feeds from you, you cum, even if there’s no sexual build-up at all; it could be the most bland feeding session and the minute his venom enters your bloodstream, you can’t fight it—he’s pavlov-ed his girlfriend. he should’ve never allowed himself to feed from you.

when george first met you, he was enamored with you from the start. after every morning run, he would end at a local coffee shop and you would already be cozied up in a corner seat working away on your computer. you smelled delectable, george quickly picked up on that. he was thankful the barista had already memorized his usual order, because he really wouldn’t have enjoyed explaining why his canines had elongated into fangs. he couldn’t handle the way your blood was calling to him and left the coffee shop as soon as he got his drink, running into several people on the way out. you would be in the coffee shop on two out of the three days he came in, and he would be a serious hazard to any customer who came in during the five minutes he was there. it was like this for two months and twelve days (not that he was counting or anything), until you weren’t in your seat one day. george sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing and the fixed grimace in anticipation sliding off his face—what he didn’t expect to feel is disappointment at the lack of your appearance and addicting scent. he dismisses the emotions, convincing himself that he’s just used to the constant repression of his instincts around you. he even takes the time to engage in small talk with the baristas; two months ago he was well-invested into their lives, he has a lot of catching up to do. he allows himself to be forced into a seat at the counter to drink his coffee and indulge in a few pastries that are definitely breaking his diet. it’s an off day for him, his only plans are to stream in the evening with the usual quartet, so he can afford to dine in this morning…and indulge in catching up on the coffee shop gossip, he’s only a man, alright?

george is halfway through his cup of coffee and laughing along to a story about how this adorable kid tried to buy hot chocolate with monopoly money when the entrance door jingles open. he chokes on his sip of coffee, almost spraying it over the counter in surprise as you walk up to the counter. he turns to look at you ordering at the register, to confirm he’s not imagining your presence and—you look amazing. you’re wearing flared black trousers with a short-sleeved, white, collared shirt tucked into them, elegant gold jewelry accented against your brown skin—you’ve dressed up today. it’s different from the usual hoodie and headphones george sees you wearing in that corner nook of yours; at least that’s his excuse for why he ends up staring you down. after finishing your order, you head towards your usual seat and end up making direct eye contact with george, because the universe hates him. he sees your attempt at a polite smile and his cheeks burn red at being caught, and jerks his head forward breaking his stare. he hears you continue to walk past him, and the barista stares at him disbelievingly, “mate…you fumbled that.” george stutters through a denial, but then he hears your footsteps stop—and he knows you haven’t reached the corner seat yet. he picks up on the sound of you turning on your heels and heading back in his direction, and he drops his head into his hands, resigned. 

“ah! someone’s taken your seat today,” the barista in front of george calls out to you—george narrows his eyes at the man in warning, “come sit at the counter then; you can tell me what you’re all fancied-up for.” the barista glances at george with a smirk, and he swears this may be the first time he bleeds a human dry.

you laugh and sit at the counter, one seat in between you and george. and george sighs in relief for the second time today; you’re wearing perfume and it taints the smell of your blood, enough for him to not start salivating, at least. its silent for a minute, and george can feel your awkwardness radiating. 

“so…” you question teasingly, “not in a rush today, then?”

george turns to look at you, shocked that you’re even talking to him—he never figured he’d be in a conversation with you. while your voice may have been teasing, your eyes are soft, warmed with kindness, and george melts. he manages to muster a tease back in your direction, “no, not today. but, look at you—in business casual attire, i was starting to believe you only knew how to dress in sweatshirts?”

you roll your eyes at him, and a smirk replaces your painfully polite smile, “ah? today must’ve not been the only day you’ve been staring at me, if you’re so familiar with how i dress…even though we’ve never spoken to each other before.” george’s mouth drops open at you checking him, and he can hear both baristas giggling behind the counter. and at that moment, george is pretty sure he fell in love with you right then—even though he didn’t have the balls to ask you out for another month and a half. 

for those weeks, every time george came to the cafe, you would wave him over to your table with a bright grin and invite him to sit down across from you. even on days when he really couldn’t afford to be late, he’d find himself sitting down to chat with you. instead of being early to zoom meetings with the mercedes team, he started being on-time, often enough for lewis and toto to comment on it. his only response to their gentle prodding at the change in his behavior being, “i added another mile to my morning run,” when he really was spending those minutes talking to you after his run. after he built up the courage to ask for your number (platonically, of course), he would show up to the driver’s briefings a few minutes late, rushing in yet tapping away on his phone struggling to hide the smile on his face. for all of his superior senses, he doesn’t notice how his grid mates stare at him like he’s lost his mind; eventually, one of the officials calls him out when he glances down at the notifications popping up on his phone screen for the fourth time in five minutes, “mr. russell, i am sure that whatever you find so interesting on your phone can’t be more important than our discussion about track conditions, can it?”

george flushed red (he knew he shouldn’t have fed until later) and stumbled through an apology. after the briefing ends, the drivers start teasing him for being ‘so unprofessional,’ and lewis doesn’t help when he reveals how george has started being late to mercedes team meetings, too. charles pretends to faint, alex gasps in horror, and lando’s eyes light up at the opportunity to be a gremlin.

“boysboysboys,” lando grins, gathering everyone’s attention, “i think it’s finally happened.”

george sighed, over the dramatics already, “what’s happened, lando?”

“you’ve managed to get yourself a girlfriend!” lando shrieks, his high-pitched laughter hurting george’s ears.

george flusters, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “she’s not my girlfriend!” and, he’s only made it worse. 

alex’s eyes widen, pointing at george in shock, “oh my god—so you are talking to a girl!” george groans and spins on his feet to leave the room, ignoring the jibes and teases of the grown men behind him. 

later that night, his hotel room is infiltrated by almost half the grid (including fernando, for some reason), all seeming to rally behind their common goal of getting george to ask you on an actual date. they debase all of george’s points about why he shouldn’t ask you out—the main point being that he’s a fucking vampire—and ask him the one question that he’s been refusing to acknowledge, “you can smell how she feels—does she smell like she likes you?”

george hisses at them half-heartedly, more like a frazzled kitten than a terrifying monster, “yes, i’m already aware that she’s interested in me—that’s the problem! i’ve already led her on this whole time, and she doesn’t know that she has a crush on an undead, immortal, vampire!” the room quiets at his outburst, and he can only groan and drop his head into his hands. 

“so just tell her,” max states bluntly, not looking away from the fifa game he’s beating charles’ ass in. george stares at max, appalled.

“let her make the decision for herself, right?” max starts, pausing the game to look at george, “for some bizarre reason she likes you for who you are,” george scoffs, “so, just tell her from the jump—you’ve already led her on enough, so give her the opportunity to decide whether or not if she should date your lame ass.”

the vampire stares at max disbelievingly, “that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

the red bull driver shrugs, ears turning red under the surprised stares in the room, and quickly un-pauses the game and scores on charles. the monegasque screams dramatically, and the tense air is broken. george shakily sighs, anxious, and pulls out his phone to ask you on a date. originally, he was thinking about asking you through a text, but with almost every driver in the room disapproving of any way he goes about wording it, he bares his fangs at them, and steps out of his own room, to call you. 

the phone doesn’t even complete the first ring before you pick up, and a pleasant, “hi, georgieeee,” slips from your mouth; he can hear how you’re smiling through the phone. he banters with you for a minute, listening to how you're singing praises about his performance even though the actual race isn’t for another day. when the conversation dies down, he blurts out the question, “do you want to go on a—“

“i would love to go on a date with you!” you cut him off, eagerly, “i mean–sorry, yes. i would like to go out with you.” george laughs, relieved and comforted by the fact that you’re as gone for him as he is for you. he can’t even bring himself to be mad when he hears the men in his room raucously cheer.

and when george took you out for brunch to the same cafe, ignoring the baristas’ proud expressions, he realized he had nothing to worry about. the conversation flowed easily, he made you laugh and you made him laugh, and most importantly, he didn't think about draining you dry like a caprisun. you’ve ditched the cozy outfits and dressed up again—dressed up for him—and george is out of his running attire and fancied up; and you make a off-hand comment about how unnatural this feels, and george is reminded of the one important thing he was supposed to tell you. time has flown by so quickly while the two of you were hidden away in your preferred corner seat, and it’s become mid-afternoon. george surveys the surroundings briefly and is shocked to find that it’s only the two of you, and the baristas in the cafe; it’s the perfect time to tell you. 

when george states that he’s a vampire, you obviously think he’s joking, “well, you’re not burning in the sunlight, georgie–so i don’t believe you! i am afraid that if this is a kink of yours, i don’t see a second date in the future.” he tries to smile at your joke but it ends up as more of a grimace, and he exposes his fangs for you to see. he hears the breath catch in your throat, sees your eyes widening in shock, blown-out pupils shrinking in fear, hears your heart beginning to race in your chest, blood rushing in your veins, and smells your scent souring.

“george russell,” you whisper yell, glancing around anxiously, “what the fuck! i believe you—you shouldn’t do that in public! what if someone else saw?!” and that’s when he realized that sure, a small amount of your fear was from the confirmation that he is a supernatural being—but mainly that, you were afraid for him. and at that point, george knew that he could allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

and after three years together, he fed from you for the first time. a lot of planning went into the initial feeding: after the end of the racing season, a trip away just for the two of you, george would satiate his thirst with his usual blood donor supply, he wouldn’t drink more than six ounces from you, you’d eat a full meal and be properly hydrated, and of course, he’d drink from you when you orgasm. the bite hurts in the beginning—george has been told many stories from feeders—and the most common distraction to the pain is a simultaneous orgasm. you were apprehensive yet extremely willing to allow george to drink from you, and told him that you trusted him completely—you even sat through his numerous clinical rundowns of the plan without complaining. 

however in the moment, george diverted from the script. instead of having you cum once, george forced three orgasms out of you and bit you on the last one. he practically mauled your neck, chest, and hickeys throughout the night, as if he was teasing himself with the indents on of his teeth on your body before he bit into you. you couldn’t figure out if it was the venom from his bite or the multiple orgasms that had you floating pleasurably. george couldn’t deny that seeing you covered in love bites and his actual fang marks didn’t provoke a hidden possessive trait in him. the love bites he left on your body would fade within a few days, the bite mark would fade in around two weeks—and you told george explicitly that if he ever wanted to feed from you again, he’d be more than welcome to do so.

the vampire always thought that he was the one who was at risk for getting addicted to your blood; his greatest fear being that he wouldn’t be able to resist sucking you dry. however, it rapidly dawned on him: you’re the one who formed an addiction.

george always made sure his thirst was properly sated with his usual blood bags before he drank from you. over three months, he’d consistently make you cum whenever he bit you, whether it was with his fingers, cock, mouth, thigh, etc. but he never quite realized that he conditioned you into cumming whenever he bit you, until the singapore grand prix.

singapore was hot. it wasn’t hell on earth like qatar, but it was still fucking hot. and then, he crashed. as he made his way back to the mercedes garage (stomping under the force of his self-deprecation), he became increasingly aware of the tingle in the back of his throat; he’s hungry, he needs blood. he ignores his race engineer asking if he needs medical attention, and asks for a ‘juicebox,’ the codeword for a blood-bag. only to find out, he had his last one yesterday after qualifying—the hotter race weekends have him draining his supply quicker than usual. the vampire whimpers, and suddenly he’s bombarded by you speeding over from the back of the garage. you’re tugging his face down to eye level, worriedly asking if he’s hurt, but george can only register how alluring your blood smells. contrary to popular vampiric-belief (if that’s a thing, he has no clue), blood does not smell sweet. it smells metallic, and the overall scent is affected by water content and ph-level; you smell velvety, and absolutely perfect to george.

the vampire briefly reassures you that he’s fine, before he grabs you by the hand and turns to toto. george begs his team principal to postpone any of his post-race interviews for as long as he can so he can get a brief feeding in with you before he loses his mind any further. toto cuts george’s pleads off immediately and allows him to do whatever he needs; the brit's temper is short enough already, if your blood can calm his mouth toto will personally send you a brand new g-wagon. 

george pulls you along to his driver’s room, slowing when he hears how you’re tripping over your feet two match his speed. he shoves the door open, but kindly guides you with a palm on the small of your back into the room, before he steps in and slams the door shut, locking it with a quickness. he speedily sits on the edge of his couch, and pulls you onto his lap, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“love,” he starts, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, “may i drink from you? i should’ve been smarter about preserving my supply, usually i’m more careful about it, but i think i was just overager with everything this weekend. i’ll only take a small sip, just enough to hold me over until we fly back home, yeah? i mean, if you’re uncomfortable, i will not drink from you. i should be able to wait—”

you cover the vampire’s mouth with a hand, and smile softly at him, “yes, georgie, you can feed from me. the whole point of drinking from me was to have me acclimate to the feeling for rare situations like this, yes? i’m okay with it, you can take as much as you need from me.”

george stares at you for a few seconds, for some reason, he’s surprised at your easy allowance, before he’s shaken out of his stupor by you waving a hand in front of his face.

“i won’t be able to make you cum—i need to get out there as soon as possible,” george rambles out.

“ok,” you state, looking at him oddly, “i’m pretty sure i’ll be able to handle it, and if not you’ll know before i do.”

the brit asks if you’re sure one last time, before he effortlessly stands up with you in his arms, spins around and places you on the couch, sitting you where he was. the vampire kneels in front of you, and parts your legs gently, before tugging at the waistband of your pants for permission. you’re still reeling from his easy manhandling (you forget about his superior strength, he never makes it obvious), and how he fell to knees for you—the duality of his actions has you embarrassingly hot. you lift your hips up allowing george to tug off your pants, and you see firsthand how he loses his train of thought. 

when george brings you along to a race, he avoids leaving marks in a visible spots, so unfortunately for him, your neck and torso are complete bruise free; the humid weather in singapore meant that you would be wearing tank tops or cropped shirts, so he can’t risk someone seeing a smidge of a bruise on your body; they wouldn’t understand. although, george could take his fill of marking you up on your thighs. the dark skin of your inner thighs is mottled with bruises from his lips and indents of his teeth, all in various stages of healing observed by the various shades of purple they’re colored in. george slowly presses a finger into one of the marks and smirks when a strangled gasp escapes you from the pressure. if the vampire wasn’t so focused on the scent of your blood, he’d probably notice how that motion alone already had you wet.

george buries his head between your thighs, close enough that you can feel the exhales of breath from his nose over your panties. you shift, squirming away from the feeling—this is about giving george blood, which he needs for sustenance, not for you to get turned on at, you try to remind yourself.  the brit halts your movements, his hands flexing around you only slightly. you try and buck your hips away to test his grip, and you don’t move a single centimeter. you glance down, making eye-contact with your boyfriend, and the teasing smile he’s hiding behind your thigh has your heart rabbiting faster, even though you roll your eyes at him. george begins to lick and nip across your thighs searching for the best spot to pierce your skin, and you are trapped in your own mind. you’re at the mercy of an immortal being, you have no chance of fighting him off if you needed to. of course, you’re very aware that george wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but your hindbrain runs off of instincts, and it’s telling you george is a predator and you’re clearly his next meal. the adrenaline thrumming underneath your skin causes you to start breathing a little heavier and you manage to wrangle the instinctual fear away to relax under him. george startles you from your thoughts when his cold hand leads yours to rest on the nape of his neck, and he pauses when he feels you jump underneath him. 

“hey, you can still say ‘no’ if you’re not ready for this yet. there’s no pressure, love,” george reassures you. the calming tone of his voice has no judgemental lilt, and his words soothe you enough to double-down with your agreement.

“thank you for doing this for me, love. as soon as we get back to the hotel, i’ll take care of you properly–i promise,” george praises you, “now, remember, this won’t take any longer than ten seconds. if you need me to stop beforehand, pinch the skin on my neck and i’ll stop, okay?”

you swallow, clearing your throat, “yes, george. can we start already? my nerves will scare me away if we wait too long.”

george nods, hands petting at your waist reassuringly, before he focuses back on your thighs. his nose tracing along your sensitive skin for a few more seconds, until he stops and nuzzles at a spot almost on the underside of your left thigh, close enough to your pussy to have the fear fade under the anticipation of pleasure. the vampire kisses at the spot three times, before he lets his fangs slide out with an audible shlick. he presses them gently against you skin for a few seconds before he bites down.

the pain isn’t from the invasion of his fangs, but from the spread of the venom. it burns as it spreads through your bloodstream; you imagine this is what boiling alive feels like. the feeling is immense but fleeting. the initial bite has always been paralyzing, but when george takes the first pull of blood, the venom must have reached your brain and taken effect, because the pain instantly switches to an immobilizing amount of pleasure. the scream that was originally building in your chest transforms into a keening moan, the burning pain no longer present.

you feel your core tightening as george continues to feast on your blood; thighs trembling in pleasure, eyes rolling back overwhelmed, and toes curling. it’s happening so quickly, quick enough that you don’t register that you’re cumming. waves of pleasure crash over you unendingly, and you’re unable to figure out why. every drag of blood george takes ruins any chance you have to think. the pleasure is so catastrophic that you don’t even register when george releases the bite. 

the vampire can only stare up at you in awe as your mouth parts, drool beginning to leak from the corner of your lips, your eyes slamming shut, and face scrunching from the force of the orgasm he ripped out of you. george soothes the bite closed with careful sweeps of his tongue, allowing you all the time you need to come back to him. he softly sucks a few more marks into the meat of your thigh before he fights himself away from cradle of your legs, brushing a kiss on your cunt over your panties.

the vampire slides his way onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms to allow you to shake through the aftershocks in his grasp. he presses kisses to your forehead, while he murmurs praises freely. while his mouth is running in one direction, his thoughts take a completely different turn.

he’s ruined you for any other person. he’s trained you to orgasm with a simple bite of his fangs. your body has correlated the painful spread of his venom with pleasure. george has tied you to him for the rest of your life. this is a huge fucking problem. his mind starts racing; if that’s the case he either needs to work that out of you, or he can never feed from you in situations like this again. you’ll be useless for the rest of the day, your brain has turned into jello. he needs to make sure that he manages his blood supply properly in the future, so he doesn’t have to drink from you where the media can discover how gone you are. 

george has no idea how he would go about un-training your…pleasurable…response to his bite. on second thought, george doesn’t want to change your newfound reflex. if anything, it’s like an equal exchange. the vampire satiates his thirst, and you satiate your thirst. george coos at you adoringly when he hears the near inaudible moans your breathing into his neck—yeah, he thinks you’ll agree with him when you’re aware enough to do so.

he finds himself tracing the fresh bite mark with a thumb, groaning when your hips grind against him in return. he fumbles his phone out of his pocket to tell toto he needs at least another twenty minutes.

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© httpsserene 2023

[doctorcurdlejr]

Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

[wisteria-lodge]

That's a good point about the DADA position. In one of the books (4?) Hagrid says people are starting to say the position is cursed. They wouldn't be only starting to say that if it's been cursed since before the first war.

In Book 1, Hagrid describes Quirrell like this:

“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience. . . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where’s me umbrella?”

This tells me that Quirrell did teach at at Hogwarts. Hagrid, who doesn't seem to really leave Hogwarts, knows him him well enough to say "he was fine." He took a year long sabbatical (met Voldemort) and came back all jumpy, okay.

Then in a 2007 Q &A, JKR says (unprompted) that "He was teaching at Hogwarts for more than a year, but NOT in the post of D.A.D.A. teacher. He was previously Muggle Studies professor."

And like... no. That's a retcon. "Scared of his own subject" means scared of the subject Hagrid knows he teaches, and was "studying out of books" before he went to get some practical experience with dark creatures. Like he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. That's why he took a defense-themed sabbatical, and didn't like. Idk. Hang out in some muggle museums for a year.

What makes this doubly funny is that Voldemort, who cursed the position in the first place, is living on the back of Quirrell's head.... while he is in the cursed position. Like, Voldemort, guy, you're already dealing with the unicorn curse, let's not willingly stack them like that, okay? If Quirrell really did teach Muggle Studies, just let him him keep teaching that. It's safer, and a better cover anyway.

(I suppose you could say he wasn't planning on staying longer than a year, like Barty, but still. Voldemort's health is kind of delicate in Book 1, you'd think he'd take all the advantage he could get.)

Like you can absolutely watch the idea of a cursed position take form over the course of the books. In Book 2 "People [are] startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted long fer a while now." Which is pretty different from 'one year or less' deadline we eventually land on.

(If the position has been cursed since slightly before Voldemort's first rise to power, that's been at been at least 25 different DADA professors, all lasting a year. gee Snape, it's a little dark that you want that position so bad.)

In Book 3 there are "rumors that the job was jinxed," and in Book 5 Fred and George talk about "what’s happened to the last four [DADA professors]" when they should have seen six come and go. In Book 6, Harry very confidently says, “That job’s jinxed. No one’s lasted more than a year. " Which is confirmed later on by Dumbledore, who says "You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort.”

What gets me about this is that - this is a dumb thing, right? It's a small thing. It's not even an important plot point. If JKR had said "Yes, I decided to develop that idea after the first book was already published. Maybe I'll go back and tweak earlier editions, like JRR Tolkien did with the Hobbit to make it match the Lord of the Rings better." Literally no one would have cared. That would have been fine.

But I don't know. She somehow wants to say that the entire thing was entirely planned out from the world go, and she has never even changed her mind. And the way her instinct is always to add a ton of extra stuff, to (hopefully) retcon away the original problems... it's almost like she's trying to convince herself that she's infallible, and has never been wrong ever.

[insomniac4000]

Chained Together Part 7

“We have a problem,” Florence sighed. Her and George were sitting on the sofa in the living room of the hose. The other four were actually playing pool in the other room but neither Florence nor George wished to join.

“What apart from the fact we’re shackled together?” George replied not taking his eyes off his phone.

“Why did you agree to be a part of this video if you didn’t want to be with someone? Is it really worth ruining a video over?” Florence asked. Since the others were playing pool the cameras were on them, leaving Florence and George with their go pros, because of that she was feeling a lot bolder talking to him, people had been walking over her most of her life, she wasn’t about to let him do it too.

“If I knew I was going to be stuck here with you I probably wouldn’t have,” he scowled.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a snap judgement about me when you don’t even know me.”

“I’ve heard enough. Anyway what’s this problem?

“How are we going to get ready for bed?” Florence asked brushing a hand through her hair sighing. There were clear instructions about showering and dressing in the morning but no one had mentioned about getting dressed for bed. There was no way she was going to sleep in her clothes, it was daunting enough having to sleep next to the guy who clearly hated her for reasons unknown.

“Am I going to have to sit through your beauty routine?” George whined rolling her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you sleep naked,” Florence feigned disgust. Sure he had those beautiful eyes, chiselled jaw, perfect hair but the way he was acting was making her hate him. The last thing she wanted was to feel even more conflicted having to sleep next his muscular frame.

“You wish,” he winked at Florence who rolled her eyes.

“Look I know you have this idiotic pre conceived notion that I’m this horrible person but you could not be further from the truth. You on the other hand are acting like I’m supposed to fall at your feet despite the fact you’ve been nothing but cruel to me. I’ve had enough shit in my life without egotistical shitheads like you trying to ruin my career and is supposed to be a fun shoot.” George was incredibly taken aback by Florence’s outburst. He was about to open his mouth to say something when everyone else came rushing into the room, Theo and Cal in a very good mood.

“I’m not having that, I demand a rematch!” Chip shouted

“You alright mate?” Arthur asked George who had a very pensive look on his face, his eyebrows pulling down, eyes looking deep in thought and his mouth was pursed and in a slight frown.

“Fine.”

“We were just wondering how we were going to get ready for bed, unless we all plan to sleep in our clothes?” Florence steered the conversation, despite blowing up at George just now she really wasn’t one for starting drama and was hoping he wouldn’t stir things up either. Luckily for her it was Simon who spoke first.

“You know we didn’t think about that…”

“Does this mean I’ll find out Arthur’s beauty routine which will reveal why he looks so youthful,” Chip joked elbowing Arthur.

“I secretly think he’s a vampire,” Florence joked. She could feel the tension radiating from George’s body, she could feel the heat, not warmth in a good way but in a red hot anger way. She was hoping bringing Arthur into the conversation would calm him down a little. George was acting awfully to her but she still had to be around him for thirty six hours.

“We’ll allow you time to get dressed but any other vampire ritual has to be done together,” Simon eventually informed everyone after talking to all of the producers. Everyone decided to all get dressed together quickly thinking it would be better that way and they were all going to reconvene for the night.

“Actually I think I might turn in if that’s okay,” George commented when he came out of the bathroom, the handcuffs were placed back onto his wrist.

“Oh? We were just talking about the beginning of all or careers?!

“Yeah Florence I’ve heard you have such a great story. I mean you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Arthur’s big brown eyes had a hint of sadness to them, Florence’s breath caught her throat a little, how did he know? She felt all eyes on her, no more so than the man currently chained next to her.

“Maybe not in front of the cameras eh, save the editors a job. Plus I guess I’m turning in,” Florence looked at George who stood frozen for a few moment before nodding.

When the pair were safely in their bedroom with the door closed George turned to Florence and placed his free hand on hip, his eyebrows were furrowed which accentuated the small scar on his eyebrow he sustained by falling off the e-bike.

“What did Arthur mean when he said you had a story?” George asked her. Florence bit her lip, she knew she had to talk about it one day but George was not someone who had proved trustworthy of knowing. She also thought and wondered why Arthur knew she had a story to tell, suddenly it dawned on her, Esme and Chris had been talking he must have mentioned something to Arthur.

“Earth to FloMC?” George’s voice pulled her out of her train of thought, his voice was a lot softer this time, Florence couldn’t remember a time when he had spoken to her without any hint of distain or sarcasm.

“I know it’s going to sound weird because of our job but there are just some aspects of my life I’m not comfortable with making public,” Florence responded, rubbing her upper arm a little, she always did something like that when she was nervous, fiddling with her sleeves or her hair. George’s eyes looked a little shocked, almost taken aback initially before they softened, the mulleted man nodded in understanding.

“That’s completely understandable. Here was me thinking you live your whole life in front of a camera,”

“Well you can add that to the long list of wrong assumptions you made about me,” Florence replied as she started to climb into bed. George followed, he had no other choice but to join her. Florence closed her eyes as soon as she laid on her back, she let out a sigh. She hated this, she had visions of going to lie on her side which fling George across the side of the room by the joined arms. Florence smiled a little bit at the imagine before squeezing her eyes tight and ignoring the warmth and the breath of the man lying next to her.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

I read GRRM’s interview regarding book vs show canon and I thought the way he was approaching an adaptation of his own story, and fiction as a whole, was very interesting. I do wonder though - does the concept of having a separate show canon kind of become like a cop-out? Because in that case, any TV/film adaptation can just decide to change the plot as they see fit and go “oh, well, that’s our canon, the book is a different canon.” Doesn’t it cease to be an adaptation after a point, or at least become a loose one? In the HotD context, a lot of the changes being made I actually quite like because I can see them fitting in the canon, because there’s nothing suggesting otherwise.

But say, Sansa marrying Ramsay (or, alternatively, the moment that show was dead to me) we can say with absolute certainty did not take place and will almost definitely never take place. D&D knew that too but they went ahead with it anyway; it’s not quite like the Scarlett example where it makes no difference to the story because this change does. I feel like the whole point of adapting written words into something visual loses some of its sanctity if we just accept TV changes a whole separate canon, as opposed to simply a change made by the writers (good change or bad change is up to personal opinion).

I have followed your blog for almost a decade so I’m really curious to hear your thoughts on the subject.

GRRM's "Scarlett example" -- his question of "how many children did Scarlett O'Hara have?", because in the book Gone With the Wind she had three, one with each of her three husbands, whereas in the movie she only had one -- has been his go-to when asked about the difference between book and show canon since at least 2012. Or to quote him from 2015,

How many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story.

This is IMO one of the most sensible ways for an author to look at adaptations of their work (even if I have gotten rather tired of GRRM using the Scarlett example specifically, pick something different George, we've seen it before lol). There is book canon and there is show canon. They are different parallel universes. They're separate canons because they contain changes made by the writers, and also because the very process of moving from the written word to visual media must involve some kind of change.

And this applies to all adaptations. That's why I brought up X-Men comics vs the Fox X-Men movies vs the X-Men cartoon (original 90s and 2024's '97). For example, there's 4 different versions of the Dark Phoenix Saga between those canons, at the very least. Wait, sorry lol, I forgot the Ultimate canon version. And the various in-comics alternate universe versions. And god knows when they finally bring the X-Men into the MCU they'll probably do yet another DPS there too. And that's only one of many storylines that are radically different between the various canons.

Or look at the various Interviews with the Vampire. Is the new tv show "not an adaptation" because its Claudia is a teenager rather than 5 years old as in the book or portrayed by an 11 year old as in the movie, thus resulting in extremely different relationships and a reshaped plot? (Among many other changes?) No. IWTV has book canon, movie canon, and show canon.

And I can't speak that well about Transformers since it's not a major fandom of mine, but go take a look at their various continuities if you want some more perspective about just how very far the meaning of "adaptation" can stretch.

Or hell, look at Stephen King, where among his many many many adaptations, some of which just barely resemble the original text, the only one he sued to have his name removed from was The Lawnmower Man, because they literally used an entirely different story and just slapped his title on it.

And then there's the movie Adaptation, which is a wildly meta-adaptation of the non-fiction book The Orchard Thief (it's a story about the process of adapting that book and involves a fictional version of the writer, the screenplay writer, and an entirely invented screenplay writer's twin brother)... and it was nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay for multiple film awards (and won a few times), and the original writer even said it kept to the book's themes.

Suffice it to say, HOTD has a long, long, long way to go before it could ever "cease to be an adaptation after a point". Changing the timeline to make Alicent and Rhaenyra the same age, or doing Blood & Cheese differently, do not even compare to what some book-to-visual media "loose adaptations" have done. Even GOT, as wildly terrible as their non-book storylines could be, both their changes to the text and after they had no actual text to work with, never became a "loose adaptation". Certainly it became a less than faithful adaptation -- and let's be real, it always was unfaithful for both themes and the essential elements of so many characters -- but it also always was a remarkably accurate adaptation of the whole span of Westeros (in geography and breadth of characters) and the general (not specific) book plot. (Consider previous attempts at adaptation that GRRM rejected, such as a single 2 hour movie, or eliminating Jon and Dany for being "irrelevant", or only making a Jon movie with none of the other storylines, etc.) Which is why, when GOT was different (and awful) it was such a betrayal, like a zombie or evil alien wearing the skin of your best friend or beloved child, and worse, that this twisted lookalike was the only version millions and millions of viewers ever saw and believed to be true.

But again, this just underlines what GRRM has said. "The show is the show, the books are the books." There is book canon and there is show canon. They are separate things. Parallel universes -- very close parallels, often touching in many places, but sometimes they're quite different. Sometimes the differences in adaptation enhance the themes of the original canon; sometimes the author may even consider certain adapted characters (Shae, King Viserys, Helaena) to be better than his original canon; sometimes you know there's only those tricky NDAs (and payments of lots of money) that prevent him from expressing his disappointment in more ways than dropping the Sansa TWOW preview chapter only days before the release of GOT S5. But perhaps if we're lucky, maybe one day we'll have yet another parallel canon to compare to the others.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Letters Part Three

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 3196

Summary: Mitchell and the reader try to create some normalcy living in the same house for the first time in eighty years. 

Notes: I’m not going to lie, this series is also a place where I get to hate Lucy as much as I want because I despise that woman. 

Part One; Part Two

-

Y/N: Do you know where the towels are?

J.M.: Who is this?

Y/N: Right, sorry, it’s me.

Y./N: I mean it’s Y/N. Annie gave me your number.

J.M.: I didn’t give you my number? I thought I did.

Y/N: No, you must have forgotten before you left. 

J.M.: Right. Sorry. Good that you have it now. 

…

…

Y/N: So towels?

-

Mitchell shot you a text explaining that they were in the cupboard in the bathroom, though he didn’t know why Annie couldn’t have just told you that. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and returned to cleaning out his cleaning bucket, which always felt counterproductive to him, but whatever. 

He could still see you standing in that doorway, so different yet so much the same. Even speaking with that new doctor, Lucy, all he could think about was the fact that you were waiting at the house, worrying about Lizzy Kain and God knows what else and he was in the hospital mopping up shite. 

He still didn’t understand it all. Lizzy being a vengeful, psychotic bitch, he could understand. In his brief acquaintance with Herrick’s reluctant Irish aly, he recognized both her and her disgusting husband’s brutality, even for vampires. How you got mixed up with them…

Mitchell gritted his teeth. 

He knew how, of course. 

Because he let you get away. 

“Right, so George tells me we have a new house guest?” Nina appeared in front of him, hands on her hips, and eyes holding her usual contempt for him. “Were you planning on asking the rest of us?”

“Where did you even come from?” He peered over her shoulder at the long hallway. 

“Don’t avoid my question, Mitchell.”

“It wasn’t my idea, okay?” He snapped. Mitchell ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It was Annie’s.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Sometimes she forgets the complicated nature of having relationships when you’ve lived over a century.”

Nina leaned in and lowered her voice. “So it’s true then? She’s your… your wife?”

Mitchell turned away. 

“Wow,” she scoffed. She shook her head, surprise clear on her features. 

“What?” Mitchell was getting tired of this conversation. 

“Nothing,” Nina shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have thought you the type.”

“I did have a life, you know.” He crossed his arms. “A very long one, actually.”

“Right.” She exhaled deeply. “I forget that sometimes, I guess.” Her tone softened from interrogation to just regular curiosity. He couldn't tell which was more frustrating. “So are you two, still, you know, together?”

“If by that you mean are we still legally married?”

Nina nodded. 

Mitchell let the tension in his shoulders relax. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.” He noticed her lingering surprise and elaborated. “Things like divorce get a little trivial when you-”

“Live as long as you do, I get it.” Nina bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not to keep walking or say something else. She chose the latter. “Listen, I’m not trying to be that flatmate, I just…” She looked up at him without disdain. “After everything that happened, we have to be careful.” 

Mitchell gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Nina.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She started to back away, raising a brow. “I can’t wait to hear all about you in your younger days from Mrs. Mitchell.” She held up crossed fingers. “I’m hoping for a photograph and a bad haircut.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes but laughed anyway. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said. 

She took a deep breath and pushed through a set of doors into a different hallway. 

After another hour, Mitchell finished work for the day, though a part of him wanted to stay there forever. The hospital was far from a palace, but there he could be something else. He could be invisible. 

You could see him. Better than anyone else, you could see him. 

He walked slower than usual down to his locker. 

“Mitchell!” A woman called after him. Lucy hurried towards him. “Sorry, I know you’re about to head off, but could you do me a favor?” 

He stopped walking and waited, but she just kinda… looked at him. 

“What is it?” He asked, a little more impatient than he intended. 

“Right, sorry.” That look in her eye didn’t go away but he couldn't quite tell what it was. “Could you show me where room 303 is? You would expect it to be next to 302, but no, finding anywhere in this bloody place is impossible.” 

His confusion must have shown on his face because she continued. 

“I just figured they make you clean up all round, so…”

“Um, sure,” he said. “It’s up this way.” 

He couldn't help but feel her watching him as they walked. She looked away every time he glanced at her, but he could still sense her eyes every time he turned his head back. 

“Alright, what?” He said. “Have I got something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Lucy sighed. “It’s nothing, I just-” She shook her head. “God this is stupid. I just feel awful about how I was earlier and I wanted to say sorry.”

Mitchell shrugged. “It’s okay. Really.”

“This transfer hasn’t exactly been what I expected and I took it out on the first bloke I saw.” She fixed a loose strand of hair. “So, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Really, Lucy, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse from some of the white coats around here.”

“Can I make it up to you?” She blurted. She cleared her throat. “Buy you a drink or something?”

“Oh, I…” Mitchell grimaced. “You know, I just had a lot come up in my life and-”

“Okay,” she cut him off. “Forget I said anything.”

She walked away before he could say anything else. 

Mitchell stood in the middle of the hall, looking utterly flabbergasted. “Well, that was weird.” He ran his fingers through his hair and headed back toward the locker room. Shift change had already happened, so the place was empty. One of the lights was out, flickering overhead. It set him on edge. He opened his locker. 

And a rose fell out. 

-

You didn’t know how long you’d stood with the fridge door open, staring at the light while the cold air seeped out around you. 

“You…okay?”

The sudden voice made you jump, slamming the fridge door shut. 

Mitchell stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He held out his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Christ, well you did,” you exclaimed. “If I could, I’d have a heart attack.” 

He snickered. “I said I was sorry.”

You turned to him, trying to look angry, but you just couldn’t. Not when he was smiling at you like that. Even with everything that had happened that day, you couldn’t keep yourself from laughing with him.

“Hand me a beer?” He asked. 

You opened the fridge again and grabbed two, popping the top off of your own. You took a long, slow drink. 

Mitchell took a long, slow drink. 

Then the two of you exchanged a long, slow look. 

It was enough to drive both of you mad. 

“How was your day?” Mitchell wondered, unable to keep the awkwardness from his voice. 

“It was fine,” you said tightly. You could still feel the heat of Daisy’s stare and the chill of Ivan’s indifference. “You?”

Mitchell thought of the rose he’d thrown away on the way here. He thought of the only person who would have sent it. 

He shrugged. “Fine.” 

“Great.” You took another drink. 

So did he. “Great.” 

“I found the towels,” you said. 

“That’s good.” The image of you in the shower popped into your head and just made him all the more awkward. “Does Annie’s room suit you okay?”

“Oh yeah, it’ll be fine while I’m here.” You leaned against the counter. “I really appreciate her letting me stay there.”

“She doesn’t really sleep, so,” he shrugged. 

“Still,” you said, “it’s nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

You both finished your beers. 

Was this how it was going to be? Sitting in silence, walking on eggshells, never knowing what to say? It used to be so natural. You could tell him anything and he you. He was your best friend. Now, were you anything more than strangers?

You finally both spoke, words overlapping each other.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner.”

“Do you want another drink?” 

You blinked, processing his question after yours. 

Mitchell looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, I don’t cook much and Nina and George are working tonight, so I thought…” He stood, picking up the empty bottles and tossing them. “Never mind, it was a stupid idea.”

“No,” you said, following him. “I think that sounds kinda nice.” 

After the day you had with Mr. and Mrs. Crazy, you wouldn’t mind a nice meal. And eighty years left a lot of catching up to do. 

“Really?” Mitchell asked, brows raised in surprise. 

You nodded. “Maybe you can show me around Bristol. I haven’t been in ages.” 

He smiled and your knees felt weak.

“Great.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just going to take a shower and then we can go?”

“Alright,” you said, turning away to keep from melting entirely. 

So that answered that then. Even after all this time, you could never be strangers. Not really.

-

It was a quiet night. The pub had few other patrons, which let you and Mitchell eat in peace. Though, without the bustle, it left room for the awkward silence that plagued the two of you still. 

“Good chips,” you noted. 

He shrugged. “It isn’t the nicest place, but it’s George and I’s favorite.”

“It reminds me of the place my father used to take me to,” you said. “Do you remember?”

“How could I forget? I’d see you in there when you were just a girl, waiting to help walk him home.” He shook his head. “Drunk prick.” 

It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but for some reason, the frustration in his tone comforted you. 

He still cared. 

“Not all of my nights at that pub were bad,” you said softly, looking at him over the top of your beer. “We first danced there.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Dancing is a generous word for you stomping all over my feet.”

“Maybe I was just giving you a reason to give me more lessons.” You smirked back. 

You looked at each other for a long while, his soft hazel eyes staring into yours and making time stop. For that moment, it felt like you were back in that pub and he was asking you to dance. 

Mitchell looked away first and cleared his throat. “So how long were you with the Kains?” 

You set your stein aside. “I met Lizzy around the turn of the century and she took a liking to me. When she asked me to stay with them, well-” You took a deep breath. “She isn’t exactly the type you say no to.” 

“I remember her being,” he tried to think of the right word, “intense.” 

You snorted, bitterness lacing your tone. “She’s a right crazy bitch.” Taking a long swig of your beer, you shrugged. “But having her for a friend for the better part of ten years had its perked. I mean, no one messed with us. It was like we were untouchable.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Another uncomfortable tension filled the air. 

Mitchell couldn’t help the frustration burning in his chest. All those years ago, you left him behind. You left him with the power you both feared more than any other. And you left only to stumble into another situation that was just the same. 

You felt his demeanor change and anger bubbled up your throat. 

He had the audacity to judge? After everything he’d abandoned you to be a part of? After everything he’d let Herrick get away with?

You shook your head. 

In his defense, he didn’t know everything.

“Maybe we should be getting back,” you said, keeping your eyes trained at the table. 

Mitchell leaned back in the booth. “I’ll get the check when she gets back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s not a problem.”

Christ, it was worse than a bad first date. 

Daisy’s mocking words from earlier rang through your head. 

“You’ve been apart longer than you’ve been together.” Her blue eyes sparkled wickedly at you. “I’m surprised he even remembers you.”

Was it possible? Had he blocked out your past together while you’d spent every day for nearly a century thinking of his smile? 

“Oh, um-” Mitchell scratched the back of his neck, his awkwardness turning less irritated. “There’s a sweets place on the way back. They’ve got those old-style chocolates you like if you want to stop by.”

“Are you buying those too?” 

A small smile returned to his lips. “I’m a hospital porter, Y/N, and I don’t mop up money.”

“We could always swipe it like we did that bottle from McQuinn’s place,” you snickered. 

“He almost shot us.”

You waved your hand. “He was half blind. The man couldn’t hit the side of a barn.” 

Mitchell stood and held out his arm. “Let’s just go, alright?” 

“Alright, John.” You took his arm and let him lead you out. 

Things may have changed, but he hadn’t forgotten. 

-

Y/N

I would like to see you again. I know it might be complicated because of your father. We can meet by the river at the spot where you hid the whiskey. Meet me there tomorrow night when your family falls asleep. If you don’t want to, I won’t bother you anymore. But I’d really like to hear more about your story. 

Yours,

John

-

Back at the house, Annie greeted you with a cup of tea and a big question.

“Were you two on a date?” 

You nearly choked on the tea. “What? No!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitchell sputtered. “We went out to the pub, that’s all.”

Annie simply raised a brow and took your hand, leading you into the living room. “Well, I think he has hogged you long enough.” 

Mitchell scoffed arms out at his sides. “We were gone for two hours.” 

“But Y/N was gone all day,” Annie said, confused.

Mitchell turned to you with brows furrowed. 

“Annie, why don’t you show me some of your favorite channels?” You hurriedly picked up the remote and let the sound of the TV take over the growing tension. 

Mitchell narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push it, heading upstairs to take a shower and wash the memories out of his head. Being sentimental now wouldn’t help anyone. Even if your laugh reminded him so much of how it felt to be young. To be human. 

“So.” Annie’s curious, bright eyes found yours. “Where’d you disappear this afternoon if it wasn’t with your husband?” 

Daisy’s piercing eyes and Ivan’s smirk popped into your head.

“I just wandered around,” you shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Bristol. A lot has changed.” 

“I know!” She exclaimed. “Just last week they finished building this awful shopping mall and I don’t think I’ve ever seen an uglier building.”

You laughed, reminding yourself that even though the two of you weren’t exactly amongst the living, she was still so new.

“Sounds awful,” you agreed, though not without a teasing tone.

Annie nudged you with her shoulder. “Just wait til you see it.” Her mouth fell open and her face lit up. “Oh my god, we should have a girls' trip and get you some new clothes!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “It’ll be so fun. And you didn’t come here with much in the way of outfits.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” You looked down at your ratty jeans and jumper. 

“It’s… fine,” she said. “A little too ‘on the run from my crazy vampire coven’ don’t you think?” 

You gasped in mock offense.

“This is my favorite shirt.”

“Maybe we can get you a new one?” She snickered.

“You’re terrible,” you exclaimed, letting the laughter take over. 

She was right, of course.

It was a fucking hideous jumper.

-

Summer 1909 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

He threw the bottle.

You raised an arm to keep the glass from hitting your face as it shattered against the wall. You ran.

“Get back here ya ungrateful-”

The slamming door cut off your father’s shouts. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

Thunder rumbled over your head but you didn’t care. The sound cleared away the stinging words in your mind, washing everything away like the rain that was sure to follow. You hoped it was a tempest. You hoped lightning struck that house and burned everything to the ground. You hoped it took you up in the wind and carried you far from here. 

You don’t know where you’re going by the time you get there, finding yourself at a crossroads down the lane from your cottage. A wheel with a broken wheel sat abandoned on the side of the road, providing a good specimen to focus your unfiltered anger on. 

Wood splintered and metal creaked with every kick you landed against the vehicle. Screams of frustration mixed with the sound of the destruction. You tore off pieces of the seat with your hands and threw them into the field. 

You attacked the object until you were out of breath and sweat stuck your hair to the back of your neck. 

“That’s an interesting tactic to fix a wheel.” A voice said behind you, making you jump. A boy your age stood with his hands in his pockets, watching you with an amused smirk. “I could help you if you like.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” you snapped, tucking your shaking hands under your arms. 

“Is that why you’re attacking a poor, defenseless wagon?” He stepped towards you. “Because I think there might be an underlying issue here.”

“I know you.” You glared. “You’re that Mitchell boy who used to chase me around with frogs. John.”

He laughed. “In my defense, we were six.”

“I hold grudges.”

“Is that what happened with the wagon?” 

You let out a growling yell and threw another piece of broken wood at him, which he aptly dodged. 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” John held up his hands in surrender. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He raised a brow, ready to make another comment about the splinters you’d kicked in. 

You looked away. 

John took another step towards you, his tone sweet and gentle “Can I walk you home?”

“No,” you answered a little too quickly. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “I don’t want to go home.” 

“Can I walk you somewhere else then?” He smiled. 

You scoffed. “If my father saw you alone with me, he’d shoot you.”

John glanced around, holding out his arms. He shrugged. “I don’t see him anywhere.” He held out his arm. “McQuinn’s’ll serve us so long as we don’t tell him how old we are.”

You smiled, feeling a small weight lift off your shoulders. 

He was rather cute, you supposed. 

“Okay, John.”

[adelarsims]

in 1950s, celia was a femme fatale jazz/pop singer in a fancy place that was de-facto run by mafia and was their usual meeting place

the boss (by the way, an Alto) considered her his girlfriend, or his property, or whatever. just "his"

she had to play by his rules because she was powerless against him and was dragged into his business

she and caleb met each other on her birthday party, because she barely had any say in how she wants to spend this day and with who, only what items/favors she wants as gifts ("i'm giving you everything you could possibly want, what else can you ask for?"), the boss just threw a big party for her and she was supposed to look happy and be beautiful, and caleb was invited because the boss needed something from him

anyway, celia and caleb got to meet from time to time and there was an obvious spark, even though they couldn't have any romantic relationship, they found reasons to meet each other and had emotional connection

celia knew caleb as "george" by the way (i like to headcanon that caleb used the names maxis used for him before, "raylan lange" and "george wilson", at some point in his life)

the boss mysteriously died some time after celia confided in caleb about not being happy and wanting to be free from this life

(the taste of Alto's blood was more pleasant than his personality)

before boarding the ship to another continent, she offered him to go with her, to have a life with her, but he couldn't (a vampire thing... he can't stick around people for too long), so their goodbyes were bittersweet

for a second, in his head he hesitated and debated maybe going with her for at least a few years and then disappearing or faking his death, but he knew she deserved a proper closure and turning the page, not a grief and wasted years of her life that are limited

he kept an eye on her throughout her life until her peaceful death at the age of 84, and she had a good life, a loving husband, two kids

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Giving You A Mani-Pedi! 💅

A friend of mine is from another country/culture and we ended up talking about mani pedis. I helped translate them, and I got to learn about their culture and how they view them. It was cute and wholesome! So it inspired this. ((Also it’s called projecting because when you are in a wheelchair you get self conscious, and also can’t get mani’s because of needing to roll and self conscious about pedi’s because of surgical scars

William ‘Bill’

As the eldest, you just develop a lot of skills. Especially when the baby girl of the family needs female support. As the designated ‘man with long hair’ he was the one to help her with polish a lot. So he would know what he’s doing, but would also want to keep them practical to. He would give you nails that would be simple, clean, but with top coats. Making sure they last, so you can enjoy them. He also gives you the full wash deal. He knows better than anyone. Also, he is 100% the grunge type to always have his nails painted black. He’s just the grunge aesthetic king. Black nails are his favorite. If you ask him to paint you little moons and stars on your fingers and toes, he will try his best. They always turn out stunning. Curse breakers have to have a steady hand after all.

Charlie

Hope you like nails that can stab a bitch. He has worked with dragons for so long, you’ll either end up with nails so flat you’ll never get anything done. Or nails so sharp you can use them for cutting the stems off flowers. Sharp, or dull. No inbetween. Hope you like dull toe nails and vampire finger nails. He is also a bit messy with the paint. That’s what cleaning spells, and cotton balls, are for anyway. He’s gonna paint them red every time, hope you know that. He himself doesn’t wear nail polish, because it’s never gonna last long anyway. He did, however, always join in with painting sessions with Ginny. He’s a good older brother!

Percy

He feels it’s to ‘femmine’ and just has an overly traditional view. So never expect him to sport anyway. He does, however, know how to care for his nails. He takes hygiene very seriously, so he would be happy to help keep your nails presentable. Cleaned, nail beds worked on, trimmed, and a transparent top coat to help keep them looking presentable. If he’s in the mood, a French tip will be on the menu. He just doesn’t care, beyond keeping them cleaned. His Percy, what else did you expect?

Fred and George

They are going to have fun with it. It’ll be messy, but it’s going to be so much fun doing it with you. Fred more than happy to do so, and will even ask you to do his. Same for George. They are twins, they love to be cliche and do matchies or complimentary in some fashion. Fred is the messier of the two, while George is able to be more neat and thoughtful. Definitely will work your toes, while Fred works your hands. Expect wild colors, and fun designs. Like glitter hearts, with little beads on them. They wanna have fun with it! They also have their nails painted, typically orange and purple in some fashion. They also love doing gel stuff for meetings, and business events. It’s fashion, and colors. They are the Weasley Twins. Gender conformity? I hardly know her!

Ron

He has no idea what he is doing, please send this man some help. He doesn’t know the difference between gel, and a top coat. He’s mixing the colors, he’s gotten it on his clothes, HERMIONE HELP-! He’s trying his best, but he just has no clue. You’ll need to teach him alot, but he’s willing to learn! He does think it’s neat that you can have a ‘theme’ with your nails. Like paint them as the color of your favorite quidditch team. That’s what gets him on board. Your nails are gonna get so sloppy, but hey. Who hasn’t had sloppy nails? A lot of it will end up being you painting his nails. You are allowed to get more creative with his toes, since less people will see them. Baby steps.

Ginny

The girl of the hour. As a kid, she liked it alot. Helped her stand out against her brothers. Now? She has her own style. Given she’s a Quidditch star, it can be rather rough on the hands. She does, however, really enjoy the subtle styles. Like transparent glitters. That’s her favorite. Just a touch of magic, if you will. She would love to have you more of her model, of what she can do. Have you wear all the fun things she can’t. Like making ombré’s, and tiny designs. It’s a really great way to bond. It helps her with her connection with feminine side. It can be hard. Being raised by six boys, but also genuinely being a Tom Boy. Makes you have a weird connection to what makes a ‘girl a girl.’ So this helps her feel that connection. She loves it. A wonderful way to spend her time with you.

[inkyclone99]

• Bloodied Heartstrings / Michaelis Bros AU •

Completely sane not even slightly odd AU

I don’t. Even know where to begin with this one.

I guess. Maybe like. Ok. I have this DioJona fic called Bloodied Heartstrings on ao3. It’s about Jonathan being revived as a woman by Dio, giving JoJo the body of a woman during SDC (JoJo in that is a trans lady but is still figuring it out)

This fic is kinda like how I like my taste of DJ. It’s fun with all the lil alts it has. Trans lady Jona supremacy. Dio is the ally

Anyway there is a lot here including the crossovers. Kuro makes some sense but I’m aware Star Wars is one hell of a stretch. So under the like Imma explain. It’s a LOT.

Ok. Let’s start from the very beginning.

Yes. The Joestars and Phantomhive are related. But it’s pretty distant enough they know each other but not that close. Claudia and George are cousins.

Mary Joestar is alive and well, because she is a vampire. Yes. She was turned by her own purchase, the mask. And when the carriage crashed, she got in a primal instinct of hunger due to all the blood, and to protect her son, she ran away. (And I hc she was the one that brought the star birthmark to the family, which is very convenient for the Joestars)

Now here is where crossover starts to kick. Dio is not Dario’s son.

He is Sebastian Michaelis’ son.

Eleanor (maiden name Michaelis) Brando married Dario, but she later on was sold by him to work at a meeting…said meeting of a cult. One that summoned Sebastian.

Out of everyone, he chose Eleanor cuz she was the purest (which in his vision, would make her more fun to corrupt and taste). She had very standards wishes, but the third one…she wanted a child.

She was over the age of a young maiden, and she was never able to bear Dario’s child. But she always wanted one.

So, for that, Sebastian gave her his child, later named Dio (because Sebas thinks he is so funny)

Sadly when Dio was 9, Eleanor got deadly sick, and by that point, Sebastian had no idea he had fallen in love with her, he didn’t understand those feelings. All those years with this odd family, he was never able to corrupt the nice soul of Eleanor Michaelis. So, when he devoured her soul, it tasted like splendidly sweet chocolate, which he hates to this day.

And sadly, he abandoned Dio after that. (Shame on you Sebastian) Dio was raised by Dario after that and we know how that goes.

JoJo canon goes JoJo canon, same old same old, Jonathan doesn’t know his gender yet all and all, marries Erina, gets killed by Dio

George II and Lisa Lisa get together, have Joseph, he dies and she disappears

Battle Tendency happens but with a twist: Caesar lives! And he and Joseph marry (don’t worry about homophobia world). Later they ask Suzi to be their surrogate and they have Holly!

Also to clean Joseph of being a cunt, Josuke is not actually a cheating baby…he is a accidental threesome baby. (CaeJose are bi4bi what can you do, lucky Tomoko)

Then my fanfic happens. BHS. Which, I KNOW, it’s not done yet I’m so sorry I’m so slow with it. But believe me, I have the end perfect in mind and I’m gonna spoil it. Sorry

Anyway, after being awaken (he never actually slept in the coffin) in “modern” times in Egypt, Dio revives Jonathan with a body that he always deserved, of a woman (who yes it’s Giorno’s shitty mom).

Fanfic happens fanfic happens they get together they fuck Jona gets pregnant.

Then, spoiler warning.

SDC happens. Dio was almost killed by Jotaro, but Jonathan got in the way and stopped everything (it will be cooler when written down trust)

No one dies too all Crusaders are fine. And it’s an awkward travel back to Japan

Because Dio does have a cure that doesn’t involve killing him and possibly Jona. The stand arrow

The stand arrow awakens Holly’s stand fully. Then Joseph is informed of a lil boy in Japan suffering the same thing as Holly. Realization hits the poor bastard and he sends the arrow to cure the boy

Also…yeah. JotaJona happens. Hear me out. They are so distant and at this point just not really related it’s FINE AJSBSKSNSKSJSKSJKSKSKS

I just really love this ship ok and I don’t have anyone else that I like to ship Jotaro with that much.

But first Giorno is born. He is actually a trans boy here just doesn’t reveal until later. Which is funny, cuz Jona was the last one to discover and understand too. And now she goes by she/her fully.

After some convincing and lil dates JotaJona also get together. Technically DioJotaJona Ofc but Dio and Jotaro still don’t really like each other. But they love Johanna (her new name), so they accept each other like a sitcom. A love triangle without the bottom one would say.

Then Jolyne is born, the most perfect descendant of Jonathan Joestar there could be in canon, is now her daughter. It’s poetic to me <33

And some time later the gen Z Jocelyn is born form DioJona. She is my lovely oc <33 more about her soon promise.

Now going to the Phantomhive fun. Grandpa Undertaker / Claudiataker canon. He hit that.

Anyway canon goes canon goes until the end cuz we have no clue how Kuro will end (though I’m certain it will end with Ciel dying as a child).

Here Undie is defeated and R!Ciel dies Fr this time. O!Ciel covers up saying he was an imposter. Then, he marries Ran-Mao (I have a fic about it, the only fic on ao3 without creepy Lau in the mix)

It’s my rarepair don’t judge me

Sebastian becomes merciful, letting Ciel have a full life before taking his life (he became a softie).

So, Ciel and Ran-Mao have twin girls: Claudia and Rachel. My girly Claudia becomes the Queen’s guarddog when Ciel is incapable of action, and Rachel goes on to have a family.

Years pass and nowadays we have Shiori Genpō. Yes. From the weird Kuro live action movie. She is CANON. And the current head of the Funtom company. (Also dating her maid who is descendant of Mey-Rin and Bard)

Oh and who is that plague doctor mask shinigami with oddily familiar eyes and hair color? Mmm I already spoiled enough here.

Ok. Now.

How the fuck Star Wars fits in this SHIT

Because like. JoJo and Black Butler. Odd. Sure. But somewhat fits in the same universe without contradictions. Mainly with Phantom Blood. (Jack the ripper being multiple killers would be canon here. JoJo Jack is the copycat)

But STAR WARS?

Isn’t that just the tism hyperfixation bullshit at it again?

…yes. But I also have an explanation to it…kinda.

Ok so. Earth is in the SW verse, but it’s SUPER distant from the Known Regions. Barely anyone knows about it and traveling there is almost impossible.

It is possible though, for supernatural beings.

Sebastian can travel around with portals he can create himself. It’s simple and fast.

After Ciel dies at 90s around of age, Sebastian has a lot of feelings to deal with. His love for Eleanor, his care for Ciel that allowed him to live longer…he needs to rediscover himself being more than a soul eating demon.

So, he travels around the galaxy.

Knowing new places, going in adventures, becoming a bounty hunter for funsies, stealing lightsabers and using them like child’s play without the need of the Force

One day, he meets Jango Fett. And Jango is SO IMPRESSED by this fuck ass Weirdo that he invites him to be a trainer in Kamino.

Sebastian goes why not and goes. But because of his abilities, the kaminoans are interested in using his blood to create an enhanced clone soldier, along with other blood donors for the rest of the experimental clone squad.

Sebastian, who is very conflicted with his humane feelings, accepts it. And even if the clone child only has like 10% of his blood just for his enhanced senses, he sees the clone child as his son.

And that son is Hunter.

Sadly, the kaminoans forbid him of interacting with Hunter, because of attachments and bs. While the other boys’ blood donors don’t give a shit, Sebastian does, and sneaks in to have some time with baby Hunter all thanks to Omega, who Hunter later adopts.

During the battle of Kamino in TCW, Sebastian protects Hunter and his brothers from the droids, and then…he disappears. He goes back to Earth.

Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave Hunter if he returned to him after That Day. He’d steal Hunter and raise him for the mistakes he did.

Yet. He once again abandoned a child. Because he lives in conflict.

Years later, after SDC ending, Sebastian reconnects with Dio (it’s VERY HARD as it SHOULD be), and then contacts with Hunter again (who is less hard Ofc, actually Sebas was his idol even without knowing their relation)

And there we have it. Ofc when it comes to Hunter the AU differs depending on which ship and kids I have with him lol. But the Earth part is mostly the same in all.

…so. Yeah.

There we have it. My fucking, weird ass AU. I know it’s a lot. It’s strange. Some would say bizarre. But it’s my baby AU.

I love it. I will most likely reference it a LOT. I might pin this too.

So. Yeah. Lol. Now you have context for my other post with Dio and Hunter lol

ALSO SUPER IMPORTANT FACT: Sebastian is Japanese (Yuta Furukawa) so both Dio and Hunter are hafus hehe

[ctimenefic]

i want to ask about them all but maybe thirteen moons makes a year and change??

from this game

Ah, the abandoned Halloweenfest Fic. This was meant to be my @motorsport-halloween fest entry, but I got stuck and so had to go wrestle clonefic into submission instead.

it was also once known as put your canine teeth in the side of my neck, because it is, yes, a supernatural creatures AU featuring Vampire!George, Werewolf!Alex and Leader of Oxfordshire County Council and Known Bird Pervert!James Vowles.

Alex Albon is the freshly appointed liaison for Oxfordshire's largest (only) wolfpack. His predecessor gave him one warning: Don't fuck the witch. Luckily, George is a vampire.

It was rattling along quite nicely and then died a sudden death due to a horrendous lack of emotional stakes. I think if I lean into the melodrama a bit more, however, I might get there. All being well, I'll have it done in time for, uh, the NEXT Halloween fest.

A fairly typical snippet below.

The summer solstice falls about a week before the full moon, so George cancels their usual liaison meeting. Alex feels a brief pang about it, until a follow-up invitation shows up in his calendar, for dinner at Yuki’s on their usual date anyway. 

There’s an open invitation to the whole pack for the solstice, but Alex isn’t surprised that only Doriane confirms. (Nico and Val make noises about being along later with ‘the stuff’, which is the kind of plausible deniability Alex likes to preserve.)

He is surprised, however, when Max is waiting by the car. “Daniel is going to be there,” Max explains, and Alex is rapidly less surprised, and quite rapidly more annoyed. “I think maybe you are not explaining it right, so I will tell them myself that they are being little bitches and I should bite him.”

Doriane, in the back seat, makes a show of putting her airpods in. 

“They are missing, I think, that Daniel would be very sexy as a wolf. Obviously, he is very sexy as a witch. But. It would be better. Also I could bite him in sex and it is very good for me when he does it so I think it will be good for both of us.”

Alex breaks several laws of men and beast to reach the party grounds (to be specific, a circle of oaks beyond the hallowed ground, near the big Tesco off the A41) as quickly as possible, and before Max can list his entire Fetlife profile word for word. 

“Here’s a thought,” he interjects, just as they park up. “You don’t call the entire coven bitches, we act very nice to everyone all evening, and maybe try the diplomatic approach?”

Max pulls a face. “I am always very nice.”

[sketchehm]

im curious on your ideas with team mafia and sapnap in the vampire AU 👀

also consider a scenario where Dream did get captured and one of the bitten ones do get captured (potentially Technoblade considering the time he was stuck with dream in pandoras vault). But also the bitten one managing to get a warning out to the rest which leads to different vampires planning how to save Dream

Bad and Sam wanting to help because they have a soft spot for dream and his friends (Sam more for dream than his friends but those are important for Dream! and therefore important to him!) and just in general their familiarity with them and care

Team Mafia wanting to help because Dream is important to Sapnap (and maybe it will make Sapnap more willing to become a fledgling.) (though this scenario just makes Sapnap scared of becoming a fledgling. Dream got captured and hurt and used for being one. it could put his family in danger. well *more* in danger)

There's too many ideas with Team Mafia and Sapnap tbh but a lot of it is them pestering and annoying Sapnap eheh (Dream is Not happy with the bombardment of scents Sapnap returns with after every encounter with Team Mafia)

In my head Team Mafia are the kind of vampires that kinda go against a lot of usual vampire norms. Not necessarily on purpose, that's just how they roll pfft

Like. First off. They're nomadic. Vampires traveling is odd! They usually stay in the place they were turned or move to a town nearby. Rarely is there some kind of vampire adventurer. Mostly cause Vampires have the instinct to set up a nest and that is Home. And moving or destroying it is not.....great. Very distressing!

Team Mafia are just. Unique. Nest isn't a cozy area to sleep. Nest is each other. Can't separate them for too long or they get antsy!

Something something the guys are just all kind of abandoned fledglings and were able to "grow up" and care for each other. Yep!

There is like a lot of stuff I take from that video and don't end up saying it outright here (oops). But Team Mafia are more based on the "Modern" vampire. And by that. I mean the Hollywood kind of vampire. Not twilight, older than that haha really early Hollywood vampire. It fits them well. (Debonair and erotic LMAO)

Anyways! They end up finding Sapnap hunting in the forest, they were just in their usual travels. Tbf they thought they were gonna find a baby fledgling and instead found a human who smells like one (they didn't realize at first it was Dream scenting him lmao).

They're very touchy very quickly. They threaten drinking his blood often :3c

That kinda clicks in Sapnap, oh. Even bitten are scary...cause Sapnap is genuinely scared of being taken by these guys. They've shown how stronger they are than him, they'll take him away from Dream and George and there's nothing he can do about it :(!!!

Until. A few days of this happening and he gets used to it pft Serpias would whine that he misses hearing Sapnap's heart racing :/

But it's the lot of them tossing Sapnap around and trying to scare him constantly cause they like hearing a human heart go crazy heh They think it's cute!

But they gotta leave eventually :/

Surely....they could....take Sapnap :) They've never actually sired a fledgling between the all of them, can't be /that/ hard, they all were able to develop without a Sire plenty fine :^D! (I do want to think some of them have like....defects? Due to lacking Sire blood. Serpias with his mismatched eyes. Spreen eyes are too sensitive to light. "Oh and shadounes weird hair color!" "OI I was born with this?!" "Oh :/")

But yea :)! They'll follow that weird fledgling scent Sapnap always has on him to try and track him down...and leads to this. Cave? Sapnap didn't tell them he was homeless >:0!

And it's. An actual fledgling in there......why does it smell like Sapnap??

Hehe

Anyways! I haven't thought too far where I've considered who is the Dream rescue squad lmao

I do like to think that there is a vampire in the hunter squad that finds and takes Dream. Only cause. I like the imagery of Sapnap and George trying to prevent them from taking Dream. They see the hunters there and try to reason with the vampire at their side...

"They'll kill him! Don't you care?"

"No."

It's the vampire drinking from Sapnap and George, Dream being dragged away seeing them bleeding out. He can't even vocalize and call out to them, he has no bond to feel if they're still alive, he has no sire blood in him to help tap into any vampiric abilites to try and fight back....he's never felt more worthless...

Which is. The plan really. A distressed fledgling is a great beacon to attract bittens. Lucky for them one was on his way for his monthly visit to his favorite homeless fledgling. But the smell of blood. Is distressing. Something is Wrong.

It is Techno finding snf, taking them to Bad to help recover, and then going to find dream. Telling Bad if he doesn't come back by sunrise, well....let's hope that's not the case.

I wanna say Sam is actually left behind if Bad does go because he is still considered Fledgling too. He'd be super mad about it, staring down at unconscious snf. His own baby instincts revving up and starting to mad cry. "You two promised you'd take care of Dream. I told you guys that humans weren't enough. Now he's gone." He's very upset :(...but he'll make sure snf are stable with the help of Skeppy. Because Dream would want them alive.

I wanna say this happens a little over a year since Dream died. They got through the winter. The three of them got through what they thought was going to be the hardest part of this journey. Learning so much more about the world and all that jazz. Too bad the town got too suspicious of them and finally called the hunters in.

It's how I would tie in Team Mafia also getting involved. They promised they'd come back in a year, they'd send letters and stuff to check up but they're a travelling bunch (they'll try next year to convince Sapnap to join them. And maybe his other two friends too heh) Maybe only a couple or so of them went way ahead of everyone else cause they were excited. (My way of not making it too op against the hunters lmao)

Only to come across an empty cave with a concerning amount of dried blood....

One of them needing to stay at the cave for when the rest of the group arrives, another going to the nearby town to follow Sapnap's scent(finding sapnap awake. Sapnap is scared. Scared of their sharp teeth and red eyes). Another going to follow Dream's(they diverge, which is strange, their scents are always mixed with each and yet...), maybe finding Bad along the way.

I think at the end of it all. Snf would be faced with needing to give Dream up to one of the many Vampires willing to take him as a their fledgling. Broken out of Dream's weird baby aura and finally realizing they really /can't/ take care of Dream. It's tough.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Dancing With Death. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello-Ello! Welcome to my first Being Human fic! I've watched the first few seasons of this show and I'm delighted to continue watching the third. I love Mitchell's dynamic and character arc, Aidan absolutely smashing the role (as always). Do enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, eventual tooth-rotting fluff

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When you'd first laid eyes upon death, you thought he was human. You'd hardly expected the gentle kindness in his eyes, but maybe that's something you would come to love about him?

"I'm sorry, you've gone and done what? ", Mitchell gaped.

"Look, before this gets out of hand—", Annie tried.

"It did get out of hand! When you went and did that! ", George shouted, quickly falling to a panic. Every part of him wanted to break down and rip out his hair all at once. "Bringing a human here?? I thought the neighbours were bad, but oh no, you just had to go that one step further and invite one to live with us!! Gods, Annie, do you even think??".

Guilt churned within the ghost's gaze, her eyes drifting to Mitchell. "This house was for us, Annie", he sighed. "A safe haven where we can be ourselves! A human would take that from us!".

"Please", she begged their calm. "I've thought about this!! Rent is going up with the coming of the new lease, making it harder on both of you. Don't try to deny it". Annie raised a finger in warning. "And maybe some part of me wants a bit of human normality around here?".

"Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, a vampire, ghost and werewolf aren't exactly a part of any human normality!", George hissed. "Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all??".

"Absolutely not", Mitchell huffed. "A human living here is out of the question".

"I'm sorry you think that", Annie sighed, beginning to retreat from the room. "Because she's coming tomorrow morning to inspect the spare room". The boys went slack-jawed,

"WHAT?!".

That's how a very normal you came to meet the not-so-normal threesome of Windsor Terrace.

When you'd first stepped foot into the house, you weren't expecting the merry greeting you recieved from Annie. She made the house seem like a home. You'd instantly taken a liking to this boisterous and kind soul when she'd made you tea and toured you around the home. Her flatmates were cautious of you, but friendly nonetheless. They took a fascination in your studies and work, somewhat thrilled to have someone else sharing the rent with them to combat the pesky costs. From the morning you'd spent with the three flatmates, you finally felt you found where you'd belonged and didn't hesitate to sign up for their little condo.

The rest was history, Mitchell and George quickly warming to the idea of having you around. Of course, keeping their secrets had never been more imperative than it was with you living in the house. But, there were ways around it.

You'd spend two to five days of your week studying and at work. Mitchell and George also worked regularly, meaning that the evenings and their few days off were the only times they saw you. On those days off, they'd sometimes opt to go out, as you liked to clean the house anyway.

However, you couldn't ignore the strangeness these flatmates had about them in their mundane lives.

Annie loved your company when you helped around the house, the both of you quickly growing close. But one day, she'd completely disappeared. When you'd ask them, the lads would tell you that sometimes Annie leaves randomly to run errands or work. Unbeknownst to yourself, she'd still be around and seen by the lads. Even when you couldn't see or hear her, she was comforted by your presence whilst you'd dance with loud music and clean. It was a comfort to see some human normality in the house.

On the days she wasn't restricted from your sight, you'd come to notice that Annie never ate. Strangely, she reasoned that she preferred to eat alone and you'd left it at that. Out of not wanting to be rude, you never mentioned her cold hands or embrace. She was so cold to the touch. But, maybe that was just her?? Mitchell was the same, after all.

The raven haired male was almost completely cold to the touch, as if he lacked all warmth. You'd asked playfully one day, recieving, 'Reynaud's Syndrome' as the answer. He claimed it was a disease passed to him by his family. When leaving the house even on warmer days, Mitchell always covered himself in many layers. He always wore sunglasses, even on cloudier days. When you'd brought it up, 'photosensitivity', was the answer. You'd started to become concerned that Mitchell suffered from everything, yet he seemed perfectly fine..

George seemed to be the most normal out of them. Warm to the touch, cautious of others, but polite and kind. He was dating a colleague of his, Nina, who sometimes passed by the house. The two often bounced off of each other, often undecided on where they stood with their relationship. You'd prayed they'd get it together. However, the brunette would take a once-monthly camping trip in the woods to apparently honour the tradition his grandfather had started with him. He'd come back dirty and battered after one night, but not even you had dared to ask your flatmates what he'd be doing. You offered to tag along once, George desperately insisting that it was the only 'alone time' he'd get. You never offered again.

All three flatmates knew they'd fooled you into thinking that this house was normal, but for how long??

Things were growing more complex in the world of the supernatural and you were the only one in the house that couldn't see it. You only saw the rippled reverberations in the water, the conflict and sadness in Mitchell's hazel eyes when he looked upon you.

You'd started to grow close with him as well, sharing in his love for history when he'd spotted you with a book. The conversations and playful debates quickly began, allowing you both to bond even beyond the topics of history. Mitchell was a genius when it came to modern history, as if he'd seen it with his own two eyes. His gaze seemed so old for such a young face and it fascinated you to no end. He struck you as an old soul, especially when he'd started showing you his favourite music and movies as well. All were from the 50's and 60's.

Despite how he'd never truly opened up to you about himself, you felt safe with Mitchell. You didn't care that he was secretive or photosensitive. You truly enjoyed everything his company had to offer. Warm coffee, wicked humour and lazy days binging old movies on the TV, even the occasional walk in the rain. He reeked of comfort, despite being a complete enigma. Yet, for someone so happy and surrounded by company, Mitchell seemed so lonely. And maybe that's what drew you closer to him?

To his own detriment, you were all the vampire could talk about to Annie and George. He was slowly becoming aware of his attraction to you and it was a dangerous game to start playing.

"Just tell (Y/n) how you feel!", George proposed amidst chewing his sandwich. "Things might work out?".

"No problem! It's already hard enough for me as it is to sit by her without tearing out her throat, so I'm sure this'll work out fine!", the Irishman retorted sarcastically with his signature glower. George stiffened.

"Is it really that difficult for you?", Annie's voice was a soft whisper, brows knitted together in concern. Mitchell's hazel hues darted up at the ghost, remorse clouded within them. That was all the answer they both needed.

Animalistic desires often raged through his mind when you sat so dangerously close. He was able to smell the sweet heat of your skin, feel the hot blood rushing beneath it and hear the steady beats of your heart. The predatory side of Mitchell was always devious. Combined with other wants, being near you had become almost intoxicating.

"You deserve to be happy, Mitchell", the werewolf sighed. "You owe it to yourself to at least try?".

"Look, I'm not like you, alright?", he grumbled. "I'm not a monster for one day of the month, I live with this every day. I am a monster 24/7, George. You and I are not the same". Annie pursed her lips, laying her cool hand on Mitchell's shoulder as a form of sympathy. "If (Y/n) and I were—", he started. "And she got hurt or died, I'd never forgive myself. Lauren was proof that I'm not good for her, that I can't be trusted". Tears burned in his gaze. "She deserves someone so much better than me".

"What if she knew?", Annie asked nonchalantly with a shrug. "Would that make it easier??". Mitchell's head shook,

"No, no and no". Heaving a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "She deserves to live a normal life. Unburdened with the knowledge of—", he gestured to himself. "This!".

"Doesn't help that Herrick is trying to stir trouble", George added.

"Don't even start with that", Mitchell dismissed it quickly with a bitter laugh, his brows suddenly furrowing. "Speaking of her, where is (Y/n)?". Hazel orbs danced expectantly between his two flatmates, the werewolf's gaze falling to his wristwatch,

"She texted me earlier. Said that her classes were extended by an hour. I'm sure she's on her way". A chill almost seemed to pass through Mitchell. Something wasn't right. It was nearing 7:00pm, you finished at 6:00pm.

"Where does she take classes??".

"Few blocks down from the hospital? Around central Bristol?", George shrugged. Concern etched its way onto Mitchell's expression, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He shot up from the table, marching over to the door.

"Mitchell!", Annie called to him incredulously. "Where do you think you're off to??".

"I'm going to look for her. It shouldn't take this long".

"Mitchell—".

"Text me if you hear from her or if she comes home!", he called from over his shoulder, pointing at his flatmates before the door closed behind him. Mitchell's senses were buzzing, always more efficient at night. Your scent wouldn't be hard to track if he picked it up.

Bristol was such a peaceful city. Coming away from the bright lights and active streets, you found comfort in the sudden ability to see the stars shimmering above without the interference of the street lamps. The air was cool and crisp, fogging as it left your mouth and nostrils. What usually would've been a peaceful walk home suddenly turned into something entirely different. Pained cries rang out from between a few of the buildings ahead, stilling your breaths. "Help— help me!". You were still quite a way from home or the hospital. Your pace quickened, spying a body between the buildings.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm—". Your heart felt as if it had stopped, feeling a wild wave of nausea vaulting into your throat. The air smelt wet with a stench, blood coating the floor around and on the body. More particularly the neck area. This man had already been dead for some time. If he didn't shout, who did??

"Help me!", a man cried with the same voice you'd heard. "Help me!". Although now, he'd emerged from the darkness. The stranger was perfectly unscathed, his eyes almost predatory as they were set on you. "Honestly, do you lot ever not fall for that one??". A dark chuckle slipped from his lips. Your heartrate quickened, your cooler hands suddenly becoming clammy. "And just like that, it was just all too easy", he mused, nearing you. Your steps backtracked, every instinct you had telling you to flee. You turned, trying to sprint; only to run into another male with the same ravening gaze. He shoved you roughly, your back slamming the wall nearest to you before you fell to the floor by the corpse. A shout escaped your throat, whilst you tried to scramble from it, slipping in the blood only to have the first male grab you by the scruff of your neck. He had a bruising grip that made you cry out. You grunted, clawing at his hand, barely even scraping the skin to your own confusion. "Oh, how I love it when they fight", he giggled through his teeth cruelly. A low growl left your throat, in your attempt to free yourself from his grip.

"They think they actually have a chance", the other laughed. Your foot darted out, kicking your captor's shin. Out of surprise, his grip loosened for that split moment, allowing you to slip from him. The harsh hold he'd had on you left your neck sore, your feet beginning to sprint to the other end of the building. You wasted no time crying or screaming, your heart becoming hopeful at seeing the dim streetlights ahead.

A painful grip suddenly wrenched your arm, swinging you into the wall to your left. Your head was the first to smack the wall, the hit completely disorienting you. Wetness travelled down from your temple, the feeling barely able to register before the iron grip resumed on your jaw and throat. With inhuman strength, you were lifted by one hand and slammed into the wall. Your feet didn't touch the ground, suddenly a few feet from it. In your fight for oxygen, you kicked desperately and held onto the hand that clamped down on you. You spied the first stranger's face beneath you, his tongue clicking in a form of tutting. "That wasn't very nice, Love", he chided, squeezing on your neck, a wheeze barely able to escape. Your head ached, the lump on your face stinging as it secreted more blood. You felt a dizzying pressure building up within you, your lungs growing tighter. "Now look what you've gone and done". His grip seemed effortless, reaching up with his free hand to swipe a finger at your blood before sticking it in his mouth. "So sweet", he hummed to his silent counterpart. 'You sick bastard!', you wanted to roar, barely able to continue struggling. "I enjoyed our little game, Lovely. But, I can't control myself any longer". You whimpered, trying to kick from his grip.

"Finally", the other grinned. Fear pulsated in every ember of your body, your lungs barely able to manage a gasp at what you'd seen next. Whether it was your blood loss, your head having been hit or the lack of oxygen; you didn't know. The strangers' eyes turned to a midnight black, their smiles no longer human. They had the teeth of a carnivorous animal, sharp and glinting in the dim light nearby. You couldn't shout, you couldn't run. It was over.

"Oi!", a yell broke the silence of the alleyway, the grip around your neck loosening to the point where you could rasp,

"RUN—". The squeeze suddenly resumed, your eyes closing.

"Put her down!". You knew that voice, you knew that face. Mitchell. Fear leapt into your throat, your feet kicking desperately, trying to get your dear friend to flee. The raven haired male was completely unintimidated by the two sets of eyes and teeth bared to him.

"Ah, Mitchell", the stranger smiled tauntingly, fully familiar with your flatmate to your greater confusion. "We were about to have dessert. Care to join?". Disgusted with the two males, he stared them down with a glare that could've put fear into your own heart, his face inches from theirs. After only a few moments, they relented, throwing you roughly to the floor by Mitchell's feet. You were winded from the impact, your head recieving another painful hit as well. To your relief, your airways were no longer hindered, gasps and coughs wracking your form.

Mitchell would've knelt by you right then and there if it didn't show vulnerability to his enemies. He needed to make them leave first. "You're such a killjoy, Mitchell, you need to—". The stranger squeaked, suddenly being held up high against the wall, within the same grip he had placed you in. Rage coursed through every fibre of Mitchell's being, his gaze hard like stone when confronting these males.

"Not so nice when it's the other way round, is it, Seth?", the Irishman growled through his teeth. His grip grew harder, Seth's eyes riddled with fear, the way yours had been. Your vision blurred slightly amidst your gasps for air, barely managing to see the way Mitchell's eyes became like death and his teeth pointed. "If you or your friends touch her again, I'll crush the life from your fucking skull!". The other male no longer held confidence within his gaze, eyeing his counterpart and your crumpled form on the floor.

"I'm sorry", Seth was only able to mouth. "I'm sorry". Mitchell allowed him to drop to the floor, holding his aching neck. Surprisingly, Seth didn't gasp for air. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't need it. "Is she special to you or something?", he ground out.

"That's none of your concern", Mitchell replied coldly, his expression seemingly human again. "But, she's untouchable. And you will respect that". Straightening his clothes, Seth eyed you pensively,

"Herrick will be intrigued to know about this, Mitchell. Especially since she knows our secret".

"Run back to him then. Tell him the truth. I want them all to know", he insisted challengingly. Taken aback by this revelation, the two males finally backed off from your flatmate. At last, they'd gone.

Dread suddenly clouded Mitchell's every thought. His form dropped down to yours, still slumped on the concrete. "(Y/n)?", he called softly, so unlike the tone he'd just used with those men. That was the Mitchell you knew. His cool hands held your face, your head wound still bleeding. To his own surprise, the bloodlust never came. There was only concern, care and love. So much love.

His hazel hues searched your neck almost frantically, relief suddenly filling his heart at no puncture wounds. He'd gotten to you in time. The same couldn't be said for the innocent stranger he'd spotted at the other end of the alley. He could do nothing for that person now. You were his priority. "Mitchell", you sobbed, weakly reaching up to hold his hands, hot tears falling freely now.

"I'm here", he whispered, hoisting you up with one arm. His lips pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, his arms encasing you in a protective embrace. "I'm here".

The vampire had wasted no time, effortlessly carrying you through the streets. It wasn't long before he was finally stumbling through the front doors of your shared home with you in tow. Both the ghost and werewolf ceased their worried pacing to rush to your aid. "It's okay, I've got her".

"What happened?!", Annie cried, her gaze growing tearful at your various injuries. Mitchell shared a look with George, the latter able to understand. Vampires. The same two who had taken it upon themselves to beat up George only two years prior. His voice dropped an octave cautiously,

"Is she??".

"No", Mitchell's head shook, his voice gentle. George exhaled in relief. You weren't a vampire. You were hurt, but you weren't a vampire.

The threesome were now faced with the problem they'd attempted to avoid. You knew. How much, was a different matter.

Mitchell had carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the bathtub's edge to tend to your wounds. You weren't concussed. Shaken would've been a better word. Whilst the raven haired male worked gently on cleaning the blood from your face, he filled the tub with steaming water so that you could clean yourself later. Your eyes studied him, the colour of his skin, those lavish curls framing his face. His eyes were kind, even when they resembled the colour of death. He'd protected you.

The cool hands that cradled your face tilted your head back with such gentleness, it brought tears to your eyes. Mitchell was so unlike the monsters you'd seen that evening.

"Thank you", you murmured, whilst he placed a dressing over your lump. His gaze withdrew its focus from your wound, still gentle when it was trained on your eyes.

"It's alright". His words of assurance were hushed, as if speaking normally would scare you. "Just clean yourself up and head to bed. If you're hungry, I'll make you some food".

Although he'd left without saying much else, Mitchell realised that you were in a state of shock. You couldn't hear the whole truth, not until you'd had some time to register everything.

The following days were hard. You were in bedrest, only coming downstairs to silently retrieve food. Your mind reflected on what you'd seen. Those men weren't human. Mitchell knew them. He was like them, but unlike them too. If the concept of Vampires existed, what else did??

Your thoughts were suddenly broken, your protector stepping into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Annie and George are out. It's just us". You nodded, Mitchell moving to sit on the end of your bed. The mirror that sat by your window was blank. You should've been shocked, but there was only an understanding. Vampires have no reflection.

Moving out from your covers, you crawled to sit beside the kind male. "Mitchell", you began shakily, him nodding gently to encourage you to continue. "Those men. They weren't human. They were vampires, weren't they?". A smile twitched on his expression. You were too perceptive.

"That's right".

"They knew you", you continued, your brows furrowed in curiosity. "How??".

"I'm old, (Y/n). 116 years old to be exact", he confessed. "When you live for so long, you sometimes get caught up with the wrong people".

"You're nothing like them, though", you breathed, reaching out to trail your fingertips along his cold arm. "You don't— hurt people".

"I try not to". Your brows creased in concern, seeing the shame in his eyes. "I've hurt people before. Lost control. It's hard to live how I do". You nodded. "Does that scare you?". His hazel orbs monitored your expression for fear, unsurity.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mitchell", you whispered, reaching across to place your warmer hand over his chest where his heart rested. If his heart wasn't stiffened, it would have been hammering from anxiety. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously.

"I'm the creature of nightmares, (Y/n)", his voice remained surprisingly steady, his smile growing sadder. "I'm a monster".

"I don't believe that", your words caught him offguard, something unreadable flashing in his gaze when it fell on you again. "Monsters don't save people from other monsters. Monsters aren't kind or selfless. They have no remorse. And they can never be human, like you".

You shuffled closer, Mitchell moving away from your touch. "What are you doing?", his brows furrowed in confusion, growing scared that his inner creature would take its chance. But, you instead answered him in the form of a hug. Your arms clasped around his broad shoulders, allowing him to break from your touch any time he wished. He restrained his senses from breathing your scent, carefully resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wove around your smaller form, bringing himself into a less delicate embrace with you. It was firm and sure.

"I'm trusting you", you answered his question vocally now. Mitchell would have begged that you don't, were it not for the sudden epiphany that came to him. It helped him see differently for once.

Maybe through you, he could learn to trust himself again?

Finally grappling that the household you lived in wasn't normal, you found that you didn't mind. Mitchell had helped you understand everyone in the house, whilst helping them to live unhindered.

"We're home!", George announced, sauntering through the door with Annie in tow.

"Welcome home, Mr Werewolf", you greeted him from the couch where you laid alongside Mitchell.

"Glad to see you up and around again, (Y/n)—", he chuckled, suddenly sputtering, "What??". Your counterpart had a shit-eating grin splayed on his sharp features. "You outed me, Mitchell?? I thought she wasn't supposed to know!", his voice was a harsh whisper.

"She is in the room, George", Annie sighed, moving past him to snuggle up beside you happily. "I'm just glad you're okay. And that I'll never be disappearing from your sight again".

"Me too", you agreed.

"In my defense, she figured out that Seth and his little friend were Vampires. Myself included", the Irishman raised his hands, almost proud that you'd worked it all out. "She suspected Annie might’ve been one. A little hint, and she caught on". George's brows furrowed.

"How'd she figure me out then??".

"You do see the state you're in when you come back home the morning after, don't you?", Mitchell deadpanned. "You're hardly beating up bears by the lake. Werewolf was the only logical explanation".

"Aside from camping?".

"George, nobody goes into the forest for a night to roll on the ground naked".

"Fair point", George conceded with some embarrassment, his eyes darting to you. "And you're fine with all of this?". You nodded,

"Absolutely. Your secrets are safe with me".

The household finally felt free, everyone able to be themselves. You actually enjoyed everything being the furthest thing from normal. Secrets were never hard for you to maintain. You didn't have many friends or classmates outside of the home, your personal circle slimming down to just your roommates.

Nonetheless, they encouraged you to live your life normally and pursue a relationship like George had. One of your classmates had asked you out, the two of you only dating for a month before things turned horribly sour.

You had found out that your date was dating many other bachelorettes. Despite how your feelings weren't overly strong for this man, you felt hurt. As if you were only good enough for a backup plan or affair. Your time had been completely wasted.

The front door of your shared home slammed, your feet quickly leading you up the stairs whilst you ignored three sets of concerned eyes. "Told you that this fella seemed like a cock", George sighed, recieving a sharp elbow from Mitchell and a pointed look of disapproval from Annie. "What?? He was in the end!".

"I'm going to see if she's alright", the vampire huffed, standing from the couch to trail your steps. Your bedroom door was closed, but never locked. Mitchell knocked softly, pressing his forehead against the wood.

"Don't come in, I'm a mess", you sniffled, an amused grin forming on his expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not a roomba", Mitchell joked, conceding that it was a cringeworthy one.

"Mitchell?". Your door creaked open, the Irishman slipping into your room. The door closed behind him, his eyes quickly becoming softer at seeing you so distraught. Wordlessly, he made his way over to where you sat on the floor in front of your bed and slid down beside you. His large arm brought you close against him, now trusting himself more around you to do so.

Mitchell's carnivorous instincts had been present, but dying down slowly, day by day. It was difficult, but he was managing to control himself. "I'm sorry", he apologised for your current situation, wishing there was more that he could do.

"Don't be", you insisted, laughing sadly. "It's not your fault that he was an arse". His smile matched your sadder one, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Mitchell had been envious of this man, but never wished ill on your relationship with him, praying that you could find happiness. Some part of him tore itself up at seeing you like this, but was completely oblivious to your true feelings.

You were in love with Mitchell, not this man you'd dated. You'd tried to pursue happiness with another, not believing yourself to be good for or good enough for Mitchell. It felt hopeless, every part of you screaming for whom you truly yearned for. But, you knew it was too risky, even if he felt the same.

Your head turned, Mitchell attempting to press a comforting chaste kiss to your cheek, repeating what happened once with Annie. His lips had accidentally brushed yours, a jolt running through you both. Your tears had been forgotten, Mitchell's expression lighting up in an amused grin. He laughed softly against your lips, his smile becoming contagious. "Annie did warn me about this— I'm sorry", you giggled, eyes flickering shyly to his own. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, his gaze fluttering over your features in admiration.

"I'm not", the confession tumbled from him in a hushed breath. Mitchell knew, as well as yourself that you were both giving into something so dangerous. His nose brushed your own as the last of his restraint faded from him. There was no going back now.

"(Y/n), Mitchell", George knocked on the door. "I ordered some pizza for lunch. Come down and get it while it's hot!".

"Coming!", you called back, Mitchell forcing a smile when you looked on him again. "Shall we go?".

"I'm hardly one to say no to pizza", he scoffed, coming to a stand with you. Remaining behind, his hazel gaze followed your retreating form before his eyes closed dejectedly.

What had he done??

_________________________________________

Hope you all enjoyed!! Let me know what you all thought! Any and all feedback is welcome!! Part two coming soon!! ❤

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!!

[skylee-spider-lillis]

If Charles and Edwin weren't ghosts what other supernatural creatures do you think they'd be

I think Charles would either be a werewolf or a vampire and I think Edwin would be a siren because he managed to seduce four men without even trying

Sorry for taking time to respond, I debated on answering that.

Using this ask to answer this question myself.

I personally don't agree. Edwin is more than his sexuality for me. Personally it feels reductive to me just perceived his character all about his sexuality like that, George said so himself Edwin's journey was so much more than just sexual awakening they were careful writing Edwin they wanted to show it's so much more than just the sexual part.

I personally think it would way funnier if he will be just some random fantasy creature with accidental powers of attraction, and he has no idea how that's happening. Or just like in the show randomly attracting creatures without any actual reason and has no idea how this shit keeps happening to him everyone are sure he's a siren or that he has seductive powers but he's just some random guy.

Regarding to what he would be, I want to call him a fairy for funsies but as a serious answer I would say he would be an elf. Not sure if they have elves but they have fairies and all sort of other fantasy magical creatures so far so why not.

Regarding to Charles, sorry I'm a bit uncomfortable with your answer as well. I feel like making the poc character a creature known for animalistic feral behaviour is stereotypical and harmful to brown people. Jayden is part black, making the black character/actor of the group the animalistic creature makes me feel uneasy, it's a bit problematic. Especially that it's European folklore, if anything animalistic he would be something from Indian or Jamaican folklore.

And I don't feel like those creatures are a good choice for him anyway. Werewolves and vampires are often known for being feral and intense and hard to control, but I don't feel like it's Charles. To me it feels like saying Charles is just his strong emotions and intense behaviour that are directly caused by his trauma. He was obviously at his darkest point when he beat the Night Nurse (and he justifiedly did so), but that's not necessarily his true self. He's so much more than just his trauma and I don't want to reduce him to behaviour that happened at his lowest point.

Charles doesn't have anger issues or intense behaviour, he's just traumatized kid and he let's his emotions out.

I know, in society that teaches boys to repress any emotional vulnerability it's a real shocker. But Charles is really just a sweet broken boy in my eyes. He's a very gentle and loving person.

Even though wolves are protective, they're still very possessive and known for being feral, rough, aggressive. I don't feel like it's Charles he's not that wild.

Honestly, I don't know what he would be. A fairy possibly? A nephilim (descendant of angels or something angelic whatsoever)? Maybe a dream? Like one of the dreams from Dream of the Endless realm. And then going rouge with Edwin. Maybe also an elf? He could be a lot of stuff.

Anyway yeah, sorry about that, I just had a lot of thoughts about that subject I wanted to express.

Of course anyone can have any opinion they want, unless it's directly harmful there's no right and wrong in holding opinions, I just explained why personally I feel a bit uncomfortable agreeing with those choices and I hc other stuff instead myself. It's all just personal opinions, how I perceive the characters myself since you sent me that ask probably asking for my opinion. Hope that helps!

Edit: damn I didn't notice how long it turned out sorry about that.

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 28: CSI (Crime Scene Incompetents)

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Marchdale tries to argue his case to Flora. Flora doesn't want to listen to him, but he crits his CHA roll so she ends up listening to him anyway. Marchdale thinks it's very unfair of Flora to be upset with him simply because he immediately assumed the worst of her missing fiance at the first sign of suspicion, was initially in favor of not searching for him, and still continues even now to harbor suspicions about him. Still, he pledges to support her fully, even while making it clear that he very much still suspects Charles.

Marchdale's continued suspicion causes him to get in an argument with Admiral Bell, who is pissed off at him for continuing to suspect his nephew of treachery. Marchdale plays the victim super hard and threatens to leave again, but Henry stops him.

They (finally) go outside to search for Charles, and find every sign that a vicious struggle took place at the meeting spot. Marchdale suggests they seek an alibi for one Sir Francis Varney for the previous night, and pledges to duel him should it fall through as a way to atone for being such a reply guy. George, who has only just now appeared in the chapter, notes that there are only footprints at the spot of the struggle, not leading from or to it.

The Admiral spots a torn piece of paper on the ground, on which is written an itemized list of how and why Charles was abducted. No one has any idea what this could mean. Several chapters too late, Marchdale suggests they check the handwriting on the three letters, and the Admiral replies that they were good enough to fool him. No one thinks to check the handwriting on the paper they just found.

Marchdale suggests they call the police, and also offer a reward to anyone with information on Charles. The admiral sets the reward at £200, and the possibility that someone might lie to them in order to claim the money does not occur to them or the author.

The best plan anyone can think of to get an alibi from Varney is "ask him about it", so they ask his servants and they say he was home all night. What's more, they answered promptly and consistently, so they must have been telling the truth. So much for that lead! No more investigating to be done there.

Flora is getting exasperated, and for a moment seems to be about to join the search herself, but Rymer - I mean Henry - talks her out of it. Flora and Henry then get into a theological argument about whether a good God would allow vampires to attack people, and whether all this trouble is divine vengeance, somehow. Marchdale brings up the idea of moving once more, but Flora has changed her mind now that Charles is MIA. The chapter ends with Henry about to ride into town to ask about Charles, and Flora and the admiral about to take a walk in the garden.

This chapter would probably be a good 20-30% shorter if Marchdale would shut up.

Flora gets a couple of witty comebacks against Marchdale in their conversation at the start of this chapter, which is always fun to see.

"All I want to impress upon you is, that I am not to be blamed for doubting his innocence; and, at the same time, I wish to assure you that no one in this house would feel more exquisite satisfaction than I in seeing it established." "I thank you for so much," said Flora; "but as, to my mind, his innocence has never been doubted, it needs to me no establishing."

"My dear," said the mother, "rely on Mr. Marchdale." "I will rely on any one who believe Charles Holland innocent of writing those odious letters, mother—I rely upon the admiral."

Frankly, if I were Flora, I would not rely on either gentleman. Mina Harker found herself improbably surrounded by what may have been the most gallant group of men in all of England; Flora, equally improbably, finds herself surrounded by the very stupidest, just the smoothest-brained dumbasses in the whole country.

Also? Some of the bitchiest.

"Oh, dear, no—quite a mistake. I consider that every man has a fair right to the enjoyment of his opinion. All I have to remark is, that I shall, after what has occurred, feel myself called upon to fight anybody who says those letters were written by my nephew." "Indeed, sir!" "Ah, indeed." "You will permit me to say such is a strange mode of allowing every one the free enjoyment of his opinion." "Not at all." "Whatever pains and penalties may be the result, Admiral Bell, of differing with so infallible authority as yourself, I shall do so whenever my judgment induces me."

(The first speaker in the following passage is Marchdale; the second is Admiral Bell.)

"As to fighting you, I should refuse to do so." "Refuse?" "Yes; most certainly." "Upon what ground?" "Upon the ground that you were a madman." "Come," now interposed Henry, "let me hope that, for my sake as well as for Flora's, this dispute will proceed no further." "I have not courted it," said Marchdale. "I have much temper, but I am not a stick or a stone." "D——e, if I don't think," said the admiral, "you are a bit of both." "Mr. Henry Bannerworth," said Marchdale, "I am your guest, and but for the duty I feel in assisting in the search for Mr. Charles Holland, I should at once leave your house."

"I have not courted it" is the 18th century equivalent of "I'm just asking questions". Also, again with the threatening to leave! Fortunately, Henry has had enough of this bullshit, and leaves to go look for Charles. Good on you, Henry.

Now, finally, we reach the meat of the chapter. There's been a violent struggle; the earth is torn up and heavily trodden. Clearly, Charles has met with foul play. Imagine if these dumbasses had had their act together the previous night, when they all opted to go to bed instead of looking for him.

The footprints are all only in one place, possibly implying that the perpetrator can fly. Hey, I have a suspect: that creepy whistling guy with the giant thumbs from the admiral's story a few chapters back.

These gentlemen are about as bad at investigating as it is possible to get. To help illustrate how bad, I will reproduce the text on the paper they found in full:

"—it be so well. At the next full moon seek a convenient spot, and it can be done. The signature is, to my apprehension, perfect. The money which I hold, in my opinion, is much more in amount than you imagine, must be ours; and as for—"

The last sentence there is confusingly constructed; the "I hold" is referring to the writer's opinion, not that they hold the money.

Anyway, can anyone guess what happened to Charles? Not our heroes, apparently.

In fact, no one could give an opinion upon these matters at all; and after a further series of conjectures, it could only be decided, that unimportant as the scrap of paper appeared now to be, it should be preserved,

This is a huge pet peeve of mine throughout this story; it's as if the author believes that having the characters speculate or form theories will ruin the suspense.

But the incompetency doesn't end there! Now that we're long past needing to verify the authorship of the letters, Marchdale finally remembers that handwriting exists. The characters then completely fail to apply this fact to any other part of the case. You're not going to check that highly suspicious letter fragment against Varney's handwriting to see if, just maybe, they exactly match?

No, their best plan of action for figuring out Varney's involvement is just to ask him about it point-blank. Well, his servants all say he was at home all night, and we all know it's impossible to instruct your servants to lie for you! Oh well, there is simply no other way to investigate Varney, we're simply going to have to take their word for it! They sounded so truthful, how could they be lying?

And, to tie an idiot bow on the whole stupid package, the admiral offers up a whopping 200 POUND REWARD (in 18th century money, mind you!) for information on Charles's whereabouts, reasoning that such a large reward will outbid anyone who may have tried to pay off an accomplice to keep quiet. You idiot, every grifter within 20 miles of your location will be coming to you with a fake story hoping to make an easy 200 pounds. In fact, if I were Varney I would use this as an opportunity to send my enemies on a wild goose chase, and have them pay me for the privilege.

Oh my god this chapter still isn't over. Next, Flora threatens to become involved with the plot, until Rymer remembers he used up his quota of female agency writing The String Of Pearls and has Henry assure her that They Definitely Have It Handled, Really.

Poor Flora, distraught at the disappearance of Charles and the general state of her life, is rapidly developing a martyr complex, and entreats everyone else to leave her so that she alone might bear the brunt of divine vengeance, and let no one else suffer. Henry has a bad habit of scolding her when he's trying to cheer her up, which he does now - telling her that there is no divine vengeance, only divine mercy, and that she needs to calm down. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Henry, but in the Varney the Vampire universe Flora is literally factually correct. There IS divine vengeance and Varney himself is a sufferer. That will come much, much later though, when the Bannerworths are long gone from the story.

Henry's attempts to make his sister stop having emotions at him are very Victorian in their nature. He appeals to Flora's intellect and sense of reason, urging her to be calm and casting her feelings as unfortunate byproducts of human nature. Flora's response is, oddly, a fore-echo of the "I too can love" scene from Dracula.

"Oh, brother, brother!" she exclaimed, as she dropped into a seat, "you have never loved." "Indeed!"

Much later in the story Flora will tease Henry about a crush he supposedly has (which is never elaborated on), because Rymer is allergic to consistency.

Flora now refuses to leave Bannerworth Hall until Charles is found, so if (wink wink) a certain someone was hoping to get him out of the way to make attaining a certain household a little easier, that would appear to have spectacularly backfired.

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