Announcement: This blog is being taken offline.

I know it’s been a long time, and I’ve found that between my new job and my personal life, I no longer have the time or the energy to keep these blogs running like I used to.  If anybody wants to keep on writing with me and my characters, please feel free to DM me for a Discord handle–I’d be more than happy to keep in touch!  I’ve honestly found I’m more happy RPing on Discord with friends than I am with strangers on Tumblr, and I feel I’ve grown a lot both as a writer and as a person since my days being active in this community.  But for right now, I’ll leave this message up for another week, and then the blog itself is being deleted.

Thank you guys for understanding.

“…There’s another werewolf picture this weekend,” he admitted, drying his hands a bit too vigorously.  It wasn’t that he dreaded this movie in particular–An American Werewolf in London was a damn fine film.  But he wasn’t ready for it… he didn’t think he would ever be.

“And… Hannah Somming… passed away last night.  I hadn’t seen her in years…”  It felt so wrong–he’d played her mentor and friend in so many films, and she’d been such a dear friend behind the camera, too… and he was several states away when she died.  How had he fallen so out of touch with her, he wondered…

❛ It - it’s not what you think it is. Don’t give me that look. ❜ --Peter Vincent

“It looks a lot like you were drinking again.” She picked up the glass from the table and sniffed it. “Peter you promised…” 

Was it that time already?  “Right, yes, thank you…”  On his last trip into the clinic, Noa had prescribed him two new bottles of things that rattled–a light antidepressant and some sort of vitamin.  Neither of which he was convinced he needed at first, but the last couple of weeks had made an undeniable difference.  Briefly rerouting himself to the sink where they sat waiting for him, Peter downed them with a glass of water before sitting down at the table in front of the mixing bowl Dahlia had sat in front of him.  It didn’t look so terrible, and he wouldn’t have to really use his hands, but just seeing the partially melted quarter stick of butter laying there made him want to reach for his dishwashing gloves.

“Mind the temperature, too,” he told her, momentarily distracting himself as he started in on his task.  “I’ve tried to clean it, but you know I’m still paranoid about grease fires…”  With their diet, it was an ever-present danger.

“For the love of God, we already had one person in this house who broke their arm, we don’t need another!”--@thegreatvampirekiller

Dahlia carefully climbed off the counter. “Then why, for crap’s sake, do we keep the flour in the cupboard above the fridge? Can we please move it?”

He’d meant it as no more than a momentary vent for his annoyance–if he’d just been able to pluck up his bloody nerve for once in his life, they wouldn’t be living out of the cracks in the damn curtains because that was no way to live at all.  But the guilt still bubbled up all the same… yes, he wasn’t alone… because he’d dragged Dahlia along with him rather than let her be at peace with whatever God was out there… because he was lonely?  It always circled back to that… Peter didn’t say any of this out loud, but he felt himself sigh as his hand came up to squeeze hers.

“Give it a few hours more, and I’ll come with you.”  He needed to get over his squeamishness about hunting–they needed to in order to live, Dahlia knew that.  She was capable of bringing home fresh blood without wanting to vomit at the sight of it, and he still felt the need to set an example.  Besides… “If I spend another minute in this house, it’s going to drive me mad.”

“And to think I hesitated.”--Peter Vincent

Dahlia looked up from her book, head tilted slightly. “…Hesitated about what?” 

“Oh… no, you mustn’t waste that over such a silly little thing.”  A power like that was best reserved for recovering museum artifacts or finding lost children or bringing bank robbers and jewel thieves to justice.  Not for retrieving a tarnished old antique.  “I’ll put a notice in the paper, it’s bound to turn up… my guess is that whoever it was has already pawned it.  Some shop or other probably has it…”  At least Peter hoped so.  The case was almost thirty years old and missing a shard of glass, too–it couldn’t be of much use to anybody else.

"We assume the intruder took it."--@thegreatvampirekiller

“Well then I assume…we’re going to go and get it back…” 

“No, no, don’t apologize, dear boy–it’s not your fault at all.”  There was a flickering yellow light and a distinct rumbling coming down the road toward them–at least the tow truck was making decent time.  On a sudden whim, Peter opened the boot of the car, pointedly not looking down at the very bald tires, and extracted a heavy scarf from a pile of clothes he’d been meaning to take inside from his last trip to the dry cleaners’.  Normally, the scarf would be worn with a suitably fancy sport coat, but Jonathan needed it much more right now.

“No, you’re right,” he conceded, handing over the scarf.  “I’m so sorry… I don’t know how these things keep finding me…”  Of course, it was probably nothing compared to being shanghaied into repairing a murderous computer–not for the first time, Peter mused that he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in Jonathan’s position.  For all his current panic, the man had a backbone of steel, and Peter envied him that.

“Can we calm down for thirty seconds?”--@thegreatvampirekiller

He looked at Peter and took a deep breath and nodded. “Thirty seconds….then I go back to panicking.”

At least Bo was cracking jokes again.  Peter decided to take that as a good sign.  “I’m afraid not,” he replied with a somewhat less tentative smile, brushing his thumb over the back of the girl’s hand as he squeezed it.  “We want to make sure you’re strong enough that you won’t need to come back here for a while.  But I had better relieve you, Cadence, dear,” he added, turning back toward the other woman.  “It’s getting late, I don’t want to keep you... but thank you so much for staying.”

“Hey, it was no problem,” she smiled back, lifting her purse onto her shoulder.  “But I don’t want Trevor to worry about me too much.”  Trevor was her little nephew she’d recently adopted--Peter had only met him once, and apparently being a complete darling ran in the family.  As she stood up, Cadence brushed a hand over Bo’s forehead.  “Get better for us, okay, sweetie?  We’re gonna miss you for a while, but your dad’s right... you’re gonna be okay.”

“No... no, you dear girl, of course not.”  Bo, don’t you dare even think that–and don’t you make me think of it either.  “No, people don’t–people don’t die of that anymore.  You’re going to have lots of medicine and lots of rest… and the doctors and Cadence and I are going to be right here.  Everything’s going to be all right…”  God, he couldn’t even contemplate losing her–not over something like his idiot producer keeping the set cold.  She was going to be just fine…

“…That might be an idea…”  It actually hadn’t occurred to Peter… and he wondered for a moment why that had never come up in any of his movies.  Maybe it would have looked silly… but any vampire with enough panache could pull off a pair of opera gloves or those little silk Victorian affairs, couldn’t they?  Or maybe those would be too thin–maybe he needed to look at proper leather riding gloves for Dahlia to use, just in case what she had wasn’t enough…

“Well, it is worth a try,” he said with a sigh.  “And we still have the crossbow and the revolver if we need them.  But you’d better let me take things down–I don’t want anything to get snagged on the wall.”  God, that meant taking down that beautiful jewelled cross from Scream For Your Supper… impractical as it was, Peter loved that old thing, and now looking at it made his eyes water like he’d had whole onions rubbed into them…

“You haven’t slept for days, have you?” (Even vampires need sleep and I need more of that AU)

“Just barely,my dear,” Peter admitted, scrubbing a hand over his face as he surveyed whatremained of the apartment.  Alex had doneher due diligence in making it tenable for a pair of vampires, and the filmposters and weapons still hung in their places on the walls… but without thecrosses and silver, it felt so bare.  Sowrong somehow.  “I’m… adjusting still,you could say.”  Being unemployed hadnothing on being undead, he’d discovered to his dismay.  His teeth and jaws ached regularly, the actof scavenging for small animals’ blood still felt abhorrent (though much lessabhorrent than the idea of feeding on humans was), he missed the sunlight withevery cell in his body, he would feel himself panic upon realizing he wasn’tbreathing and didn’t need to… it was a nightmare.  Of course, however, he’d done everything inhis power to lessen any pain Dahlia might be going through.  If Peter was going to be responsible for hercurrent state, he was at least going to be responsible for her comfort as well;in his mind, it was the least any sire could do.

“Not going to be–no!”  He tried to twist himself to face her and only succeeded in sending another bolt of pain shooting through his leg.  “No, no, I can’t–I can’t wait, someone has to go after her!  She had blood on her mouth, Noa, she’s already killed someone!  I can’t sit here and let her kill someone else, I have to go back!”  In the back of his mind, Peter knew he sounded ridiculous, knew he’d be no help on a possibly broken foot, but the rest of him couldn’t get that blood out of his mind.  Who had been been another vampire’s victim while he was looking the other way… and who would be next...?

“Take my left shoe off! I can’t do that one!”--@thegreatvampirekiller (Noa)

She nodded and carefully removed the shoe. “That’s because it’s broken…what happened?” She shook her head. “This time you’re gonna have to stick around so we can get X-Rays…”

(I’m not back to this blog yet--or any of my RP blogs, for that matter--because I’m not mentally prepared to tackle the community traffic again.  This year has been a difficult one for me, and I’m trying to take things slow.

However, you will notice that a set of headcanons that used to be here are gone.  They are staying gone, and they will not be referenced again in any way.  It was pointed out to me that they were poorly researched and traded in stereotypes, and the last thing I want is to scare people away from interacting with me because I was ignorant.  I’m continuing to educate myself on experiences I don’t share, and I need to be held accountable for when I mess up.  Thank you to that person for teaching me, and thank you all for understanding.)

@dxntcallmepatches

I don’t know if I would show this movie to small humans… 

Domino (2018) #6

💧 Reblog if you have ever actually cried while writing/reading a thread

Austin, back me up here.

lo.reads

“I was like that: visible invisible visible invisible.”

— Alice Oswald, from “Full Moon” published in Poetry  (via weltenwellen)

Joseph Abboud F/W 2019 Menswear New York Fashion Week

Van Helsing comforts Tania in Dracula (Hammer 1958).