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gilbirda · 4 years

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Of bats, dreams and human connections. Chapter 1

SebastianxF!Player

Maybe, in retrospective, moving to the middle of nowhere and become a farmer wasn't Liz's smartest idea. The worst part wasn't getting up early or doing housework or meeting new people, no - the worst part was having to bathe in sun cream every morning and pray no one noticed she didn't age or got tired or hurt no matter what.

Did I mention that Liz vas a vampire? Well, she was. And even if for some she was the stupidest vampire alive, in her defense she just wanted to make new friends. Fortunately for her, the local goth boy of the town may be available.

Based on @beansthatscream ‘s answer

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Moving to Stardew Valley wasn’t exactly at first in Liz’s plans. Who in their right mind came to a sunny village in the middle of nowhere? I mean, if I were to tell you that she inherited her grandfather's farm and she felt like not going anywhere and blah blah blah…

Well, the thing is, Liz wasn’t exactly your city-girl-goes-farming story. Because she is, in fact, a vampire.

The grandfather’s farm part is true, though.

He was human, a man her coven adopted when he was a lonely kid orphaned in a war. She remembered thinking how absurd it was that vampire like them would adopt such weak creatures, but it wasn’t like she cared much about it. With time, she stopped finding her new immortal life so fascinating and started following the strange and humble old man that chose to call her family despite knowing what he did about her world.

When he died, he left her everything he owned. Including a run down farm in the middle of nowhere, sunny-ville.

Liz breathed deeply, enjoying the cold spring night’s air, one hand scratching her new cat’s chin (maybe she was being cheesy by calling him Lestat, but sue her), looking at the few sprouts growing in the cleared patch she made early in the season.

A farmer vampire. Who would have thought.

At least she didn’t have to eat, so that’s money she saved. Everything she earned would go to the next crop.

It has been around a week since she settled there and getting used to the slow pace everything seemed to go by there was… difficult. She had wanted to leave coven drama behind and try her hand at going solo for a while. Who knows? Maybe she could start a coven of her own-

A family. What she wanted was a family. A real connection, like what she had with grandpa. After so many decades she had forgotten what it felt, how human connections struck deeper than convenient alliances of vampire covens.

That’s why she wanted this to work. She wanted to feel what grandpa felt for so long, she wanted to make memories like those he shared with her before passing.

An uncomfortable sensation in her mouth reminded her that she needed to feed soon. Her fangs were getting out of control the longer she let herself starve, and the last few days she got away with not appearing around town, but people were going to notice if she let it go too far.

She looked up at the moon and sighed. Lestat jumped out of her lap and meowed softly before going inside to sleep. She should too, but the idea of turning and tossing around, hungry, wasn’t exactly in her top list of things to do all night. This “daytime” vampire thing was hard to get used to, but it was a needed evil.

She got up and decided to go for a walk to see if she could get a bit tired and sleep another night with an empty stomach. Tomorrow she would go to the city and feed, there were many people there and no one would notice a little wound here and there. In a small place like this? Someone would definitely would.

And when they did, every hope of forming a real human connection would go out of the window.

***

Sebastian didn’t know what to think about the new farmer. Sure, he had seen her walking around all dressed in black and with an enormous black parasol, saying something about sensitive skin, and he immediately respected the aesthetic.

The woman herself? Not so much. She was a mystery, she didn’t seem like she wanted to settle there at all.

Not that I blame her, he thought as he took another drag of his cigarette. I would leave this place as soon as I could. If I could.

He looked back at his house from his position by the lake, the moon shining down on his mother’s fine work on the exterior of the building. Sometimes, when he felt weak and vulnerable, he didn’t want to leave his mother there with Demetrius. He feared what would happen in his absence, what kind of arguments he would use to drag Robin to his side. Would he make her forget about him? About his father?

Would he matter at all?

Sebastian shook his head, knowing it was silly. If he stayed or left shouldn’t depend on his mother, but his own sanity.

Finishing his cig, he threw it down and smashed it with his foot, ready to head back in and finish his last project. Another sleepless night it seems, he sighed.

He turned and was about to take a step forward when a sharp pain bloomed in his hand.

“Shit.”

He looked down at his hand, and there it was, a fresh new cut in the otherwise clean skin. Damn these trees and their unexpected sharp barks. Whatever, he could find some band-aids before going back to the computer.

He looked up and she was there. The farmer.

He frowned. He hadn’t heard her approach, and it was a rather quiet night.

“Hello?” He tentatively called. She just stood there in silence, eyes fixed on his bleeding hand. “Are you alright?”

The farmer blinked slowly as if waking from a deep sleep, looking up to his eyes. Somehow he expected hers to be a weird color, like red or purple, but they were just plain old dark brown, almost black under the moonlight.

She licked her chapped lips. “Uh, sorry, I heard someone here and thought it was… Uh… I mean, it’s pretty late.”

Sebastian watched silently as she took a step back. “You are not making any sense.”

“I don’t, right?” she chuckled. “This is awkward. Um, I’m Liz, the new farmer, but I guess you already know that.” She offered her hand to shake, but he looked down at his still very much bleeding hand. “Oh, fuck, yes, sorry. You need any help with that?”

“It’s a small cut. I’ll live.” He took a paper tissue from his hoodie pocket and cleaned some of the blood with it, revealing an already closing wound. “See? Everything’s fine.”

The face she made was as if someone had kicked a puppy, her eyes following each one of his movements.

Sebastian shuffled for a second, visibly uncomfortable with the situation. “Are you ok?” he asked again, noticing how her face had morphed into a painful grimace.

“Yeah. It’s just I… I- I just remembered that I haven’t had dinner yet. And, um, yeah. I should go. Nice meeting you!”

Liz ran away without waiting for a response, leaving a very confused man by the lake.

“But it’s like three in the morning,” Sebastian thought out loud.

***

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Liz ran and ran, hoping that leaving the lake, the town and the valley behind could erase the last fifteen minutes of her life.

She almost slipped. The one thing she swore not to, she almost did. And by stopping herself from doing so, she acted like a total freak in front of an innocent villager. Oh, damn, he was going to tell his friends and they will tell their families and then…

Well, the thing with pitchforks and torches may be outdated, but she would be ostracised. Vampires were a myth nowadays, but still, they will treat her like a freak and won’t try to be nice anymore.

Aw man, I don’t want to leave so soon!

She hoped a least a few decades before people started noticing her not aging.

“More like a few weeks, now,” she grumbled, stopping to calm her breathing. She was fast, some of the faster of her coven, but in her starving state she was weaker than a baby vampire.

Great, she was in the middle of more nowhere now. Trees, trees, and more trees. Somewhere, a car was passing through a road by the mountain; but apart from that, not a sound. And she was hungry. Very, very hungry.

Liz glanced up at the darkness trying to find a lonely creature that could satiate her at least until she could reach the city. Then, wash away the awful taste of animal blood with some random drunk human enjoying the city at night.

A tree branch creaked at her side. She looked up, finding a mountain lion crouching, watching her with distrust.

“Sorry, buddy.” She smiled at the animal and jumped.

***

Sebastian was going to kill Sam. It was official. I mean, how could he not when he was dragged from bed after barely getting a few hours of sleep, forced to look alive under the sunlight and be conscious enough to listen to his friends rambling about the incoming egg festival like it was a big deal. Who the hell cares??

“Right, Seb?” Abigail prompted, expecting his answer as if he was listening.

“Huh?”

“We were saying,” Sam tried to help, “that we could ask the mayor if we could play a few songs at the festival.”

He blinked slowly, letting it know his overall opinion of the matter. It’s just a stupid festival about eggs. He couldn't care less.

What he wanted was to get out of the sun and go back to sleep. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t get any sleep even after finishing his work, really; the dull pain of the small cut in his hand reminded him of the weirdest night of his life.

I wasn’t like he had any real opinion of the farmer (Liz, she said her name was Liz) before; but now he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the road that led towards her farm from Sam’s house, as if expecting her to emerge any moment now. What would he even say to her? Last night he uttered barely a word before she bolted away. Did he expect this time to be different?

Suddenly, as if summoned, she appeared. All dressed in black and with her big parasol, looking down at her feet as she approached them. Was she ignoring him? Them?

“Oh, hey, Liz!” Sam, always bright and cheery, motioned her to join them. It wasn’t the first time he did, but it was the first time the mysterious woman obeyed.

“Hey.” Her smile was tiny, but welcoming. Even some pink gathered in her cheeks, clearly embarrassed with the situation. “What’s up.”

Sebastian wouldn’t say it out loud, but was glad of her parasol as it blocked some light for his tired eyes.

"Duuuude, you look half dead!" The blond commented, real concern in his face.

"Uh, I couldn't sleep last night," Liz smiled, shifting her parasol to cover her better. If she noticed Sebastian moving accordingly to receive some shade, she didn't say anything.

“Woah, it seems like we have a contender for the role of Pelican Town’s resident vampire, Seb!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I wear black hoodies and don’t like people doesn’t make me a vampire, Sam. And I already told you that last night I was finishing a commision.”

“Whatever you say, emo boy,” Abigail arched an eyebrow and turned to the newcomer. “What’s your excuse, not-vampire?” She made a gesture to her whole gothic get-up.

“Um, I’m allergic to sunlight. For real!” she laughed at the disbelieving faces. “It’s a real thing, look it up!”

“Then why become a farmer?”

This time Liz rolled her eyes. “I should have expected the question. It isn’t like Robin and Lewis asked that already.” She sighed. “It seemed like the right thing to do, you know? I was tired of being a nobody, of being lonely around so many people, and wanted a real human connection.”

“That’s deep, tho.”

“But if you are allergic to the sun, how do you do farmer stuff? At night?” the blond asked, one eye fixed on his best friend getting closer and closer to Liz, drinking up the shade from the parasol like a starving man.

“There’s this new invention called “sunblock”. Don’t know if you heard of it?” Liz smirked. “And my problem is direct sunlight. I burn if it touches me, but for the rest…” she shrugged.

Sebastian yawned, feeling his eyes close. Why was he even awake? Ah, yeah, Sam wanted to practise in case the Mayor let them play at the festival.

“If we aren’t going to get any practising today then I’m going home. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Oh, sorry. I must get going too. I had some business to attend,” Liz smiled. “Nice talking with you guys.” She walked away, waving with one hand.

Sebastian didn’t whine when the sun hit his face. Uh-huh. He didn’t miss her calming and fresh presence and very wide and very convenient parasol.

Okay, maybe a little. The hoodie was starting to feel a bit too hot for the sunny spring day.

“She’s perfect,” the blond said watching the farmer go.

“Huh?”

“For you dude! You guys make a super cute goth couple! Ask her out already!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Liz! The farmer! You were making heart eyes at her all this time! Don’t deny it, I saw everything.”

“I saw it too,” Abigail nodded, “and the goth gods are smiling at you today, dude.”

He narrowed his eyes. It was way too early for this bullshit.

“I didn’t make heart eyes. And she is weird, that’s all.”

“Yeah right,” both friends snorted. “Whatever you say.” Sam shook his head.

“Look, we can practise or I can go home. Last chance.”

“Ok! Ok! Calm down Romeo, we’ll practise. And then you can go back to your coffin and sleep some more.”

***

Had he told them something? Didn’t he? He did, he totally did. That question didn’t come from nowhere. It couldn’t.

She was prepared to tell some bullshit about an allergy to sunlight, she had looked up the name for it (something very latin-sounding and technical that for the life of her she couldn’t remember); but it wasn’t a coincidence to be asked that barely hours after slipping like that. Or was it?

Sebastian didn’t look half alive either, and his interactions were rather minimal. She heard something about him not getting any sleep. Liz assumed it had to do with how awkward she had been. Oh my.

Calm down! She told herself. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything, no.

She had to go buy new seeds, for sure. That’s why she had went through all the trouble of covering her skin with sunblock, after all.

Pierre’s was small and it barely had any variety of products, but she preferred the homey sensation and the small town friendliness over the cold treatment at Joja’s. Since learning about the store in town she avoided it like the plague.

She fetched her seeds and approached the counter, adding a last-minute sandwich to help the illusion of being a normal human being. One was never too cautious about that.

***

Sebastian was ready to drop dead in his bed and sleep until tomorrow, for real. After a heated argument with Lewis they were allowed “only a few songs, but nothing inappropriate!” for the egg festival, and then Sam insisted on sitting down and choose which songs to play and then start practising on them.

The sun was starting to set by the time he got home, his mind focused on his cold basement and his bed, heaven on Earth.

What he didn’t expect was finding her sleeping in his house. Well, she was more like dozing on the sofa at the entrance, by his mother’s desk, but here she was - looking as dead as he felt. Bags under her eyes, the purple so dark it looked like it was tattooed on her skin.

Not knowing what to do, he postponed his escape to sacred grounds and looked for his mother at the kitchen, who was calmly drinking her tea as she prepared dinner.

“Why is the farmer sleeping in our house?”

“Huh?” Robin turned slightly, a small smile in her face. “We were talking about expanding the cottage and she fell asleep waiting while I checked something. I thought she looked cute so I let her.”

Cute? More like a walking corpse.

He must said so out loud, because his mother chuckled as she kept stirring something in the pot. “She reminds me of you, actually. You both work so hard at the cost of your health.”

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” He huffed, crossing his arms. First his friends and now his mother? They barely knew her, how could they know what was she like?

“Whatever,” he could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Could you wake her up? I’m almost done here.”

“She’s staying for dinner?”

“She will, when you invite her to.”

Sebastian rose his arms to the sky, wondering why he got the short stick in life. “Sure.”

Liz was sleeping in the same position he left her in, and he wondered how to wake her. He didn’t want to be rude, for real, but he didn’t know her enough to be comfortable touching her without her knowing. He sighed, not really wanting to be caught looking at the sleeping woman and seem like a creep.

“Hey,” he shook her shoulder. She didn’t move. “Hey, you.” He shook harder. Nothing.

Why? he asked the heavens, getting closer to her, deciding how to make his next move, when the farmer inhaled deeply.

“Hmm,” he heard her murmur before her unexpectedly strong arms seized his shoulders. Her face got closer, and he could barely see her eyes still shut as her head positioned somewhere between his neck and his shoulder. “Smells nice.”

He shivered, feeling her warm breath caress his uncovered skin, wondering what the hell was going on. Then, something hot and wet touched him. A tongue. He knew what it was.

Oh hell, no!

“Hey!” he tried to get free, but her grasp was like iron. “Let me go!” he hissed.

“Yummy, yummy…”

He closed his eyes, dreading whatever was going to happen. His heart raced with adrenaline, but his body was frozen in place, knowing it was useless to try escaping her hands. Her breath hit his wet skin, and then something sharp and solid touched it -

“Sebby, what’s going on in there?” Robin’s voice cut through the haze like a knife, stopping his racing mind as well as the woman assaulting him in her sleep.

Fingers that one second ago felt like claws gripping his shoulders let him go. He heard a gasp and opened his eyes, finding her dark eyes of the farmer looking back at him. For a split second they were like -

“Sebby?”

Both turned to look at Robin, Sebastian taking a step back, his heart beating louder than Abby’s drums.

“Everything alright?” His mom asked, a small smirk in her lips indicating that she thought something of the situation way different than what really happened. “Did you ask her?”

“Ask me what?” Liz’s voice was rough, but sounded calmer than she looked.

“If you want to stay for dinner!”

The farmer stood up abruptly. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have… I have some fish at home I don’t want to go bad. You know?” She took her closed parasol and went for the door. “Thanks for letting me rest here, Robin. Have a nice evening!”

The sound of the door closing was loud on Sebastian’s ears. He blinked, looking back at his mother.

“I’m not hungry. Save my plate and I’ll eat later, please.” And he run away to his basement, more confused than ever.

***

Stupid, stupid, and a thousand times stupid!

She had slipped again! In less than a day? Definitely not paying attention to her body had most certainly cost her only chance at happiness.

How could she? That poor boy! She almost bit him in broad daylight! In his own house! Oh yeah, she was utterly fucked.

Liz wanted to cry by the time she got home.

She looked at her few belongings, wondering if she should start packing up now or wait until people accused her of whatever and asked her “nicely” to leave the town. She had just started to gain some profits and she had to let it go so soon… Who would take care of her grandpa’s lands? The people were really nice, someone would-

Lestat meowed at her feet, unleashing a whole new wave of waterworks. Who would take care of her cat? Was his even “her” cat if she only had him less than a week? She hoped that whoever adopted him kept the name. Or not.

“Ugh,” she let her body collapse at the door, pulling up her legs to rest her head on her knees. “I should have slept in today.” It was a bad idea to go out today, the seeds could have waited one day more or she could have talked with Robin another day. She knew that she only pushed herself so far because she didn’t want to go through practically bathing in sunblock again so soon.

How silly it seemed now. Her own stubbornness and overconfidence put her in this position. Crying in fetal position against her door, waiting for the pitchforks and torches, real or figurative.

A knock at her door brought her back to reality. Showtime.

She got up and cleaned her face as best as she could. One wasn’t chased out of a town looking like a mess.

Once she felt like she could face an angry mob, she opened her door and… Sebastian was there? Liz looked around waiting for the rest of the group to appear, but it was dark and silent. A normal Stardew Valley night.

“Um, hello?” the boy in front of her said. She looked back at him, frowning.

“Where’s the rest?”

“The rest of what?”

Liz blinked slowly. “The rest of the people who knows I almost attacked an innocent man? And is here to ask me to leave?” her voice went higher with each word.

Sebastian snorted. “I haven’t told anyone that you are not human, don’t worry. Can I come in now?”

“Oh, I see, that’s nice- Wait what?”

He got tired of waiting and walked around her to get inside. Once in the small cottage, he approached the tiny table and put a container on it.

“Mom made you dinner anyway. She asked me to deliver it to you. But I guess you won’t eat it because you are a vampire.”

Liz turned, her mouth wide open. “How do you know that?”

“You just confirmed it,” his smile was tired, but brilliant.

“Oh, fuck.”

Sebastian flopped down on the only chair by the table, and rested his head on his hand, watching the farmer with a knowing smile.

“So, what is a vampire doing in Stardew Valley?”

“Farmer stuff, I guess.”

“And was that old man really your grandfather?”

“Not by blood, but we were close friends.”

“I see. Do you really burn in the sun?”

“As I told your friend, I can’t be under direct sunlight. And I use sun cream.” She blinked at the quasi-normal interview. “Excuse me, when is the moment you start to freak out?”

“I already did some of that. An hour ago. When you almost bit me. Because that’s what happened, right?” he gulped. “You almost bit me.”

She took a deep breath.

“Yeah. I, uh… I couldn’t sleep last night, you know?” she looked down, a bit ashamed. “And I guess you were really close and um, human blood is really tasty, not like animal, that’s just, ugh, and then I was dreaming about something nice and-”

“Do vampires sleep?”

“This isn’t Twilight. Please. And I don’t sparkle either.” She narrowed her eyes.

They both looked at each other for a few awkward seconds before starting to laugh. It was silly, Liz thought, to be talking normally like that after having a mental breakdown because of this same boy.

Oh, well.

“So… not freaking out? We good?” maybe she showed a bit of her fangs in her smile. Maybe.

“Yeah, we good. Surprisingly enough, it helps knowing that you aren’t just some weirdo.” He blushed and looked down, his face partially blocked by his hair. “And I guess it is pretty hot.”

Of course you would, you emo fuck

***

That night, once Sebastian got home, ate dinner and collapsed on his bed, he felt like waking up from a dream.

The farmer. She was… nicer than he thought. Once they cleared the stupid but necessary questions out of the way (no coffin, no aversion to garlic, yes to needing blood, no to killing people, a “you don’t ask a lady her age” and a “rude” to asking about religion) they simply chilled at her home, talking about everything and anything. It turned out that she liked the same branch of fantasy than him, even if she sometimes succumbed to cheesy romance novels full of porn; she had played some D&D before, but had heard about Solarion Chronicles (he invited her to the next session nonetheless); and she had tried her hand at piano for a while until she got bored a few decades ago.

He inhaled, remembering her dark eyes and her shiny black hair, how the light got caught in weird angles making it look like it had silver highlights sometimes. How she smiled when he confessed about his obsession with vampirism in his teenage years, how her laugh was contagious when she told the tale of how to get an annoying neighbour to move out by making her believe her house was haunted.

Oh, my. He had caught feelings.

Sebastian put a hand over his eyes, unable to stop the thoughts coming to his brain. How soft and huggable she looked. How she could fit perfectly in his arms, if he dared. How her soft hair would feel between his fingers. How her breasts bounced when she plopped down by the bed, complaining about not having enough chairs.

Yes, he had looked. Respectfully, though.

Who was he kidding? He was totally looking at her chest.

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#sebastian sdv #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew valley #writeblr #gil writes #fanfic #look this is filled with memes and useless things #don't judge me #fanfiction #sdv sebastian

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partiallycorrectxmen · 5 years

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Day 31: Halloween

@theydeservebettercherikchallenge

Charles had always loved Halloween, even when it was still a Holy Day and not any fun.

Especially now that he had Erik with him.

“Do you think we look obvious?” Erik said, fidgeting uncomfortably with the cape he was wearing. Sharp eye teeth glinted in the street light, and he looked somehow like a caricature of the thing that he was.

“We look fine. At worst we look like over enthusiastic adults.”

“Remind me why, after nearly half a millennium of existing in this form, we decide to do this?”

“Because. There’s something nice about walking around like everything is normal.”

“You just hide a body in a dumpster,” Erik pointed out, “If you continue, no one will leave their house because they’ll think there is a murderer on the loose.”

Charles smiled and sidled up to Erik, wrapped an arm around him and grinned. “After all these years, you worry?”

“No Charles,” Erik said, rolling his eyes.

They wandered the streets. Costume filled people mingled in the streets, like it was all some big street sized party. Maybe it was. Erik had no idea how people really celebrated this anymore. Sure, he knew about the terrible movies (Twilight = Bad. Interview with a brooding Brad Pitt while he talks about his dramatic husband= too close to home but Charles seemed to love it). But he felt like he had fallen out of fashion in the modern world of raincoat wearing kids and dancing clowns.

Except, Charles seemed to have fallen in love with the myth of Halloween, and Erik endured this mostly for his sake.

They met with Hank and Raven on a side street where different booths sold orange and black cocktails that the very smell of gave Erik a headache.

“This was a great idea,” Raven said, her own bright teeth glinting in the moonlight. She had painted her face to match the bed sheet Hank was wearing over his head, and her hair had shifted to black. “But who are you?”

“Lestat and Louis. Charles’s idea.”

“Lovely. I’m Morticia, and under the bed sheet is my Gomez, except he’s embarrassed that he was tricked into a couples costume so now he’s a sheet ghosts.”

“Or all the bees.”

“Not all the bees are dead, Hank.”

“A lot of them are. There used to be more bees, back when I was young.”

Charles laughed. Erik stood there, wondering why on Earth he agreed to be out in a place where everyone’s heart seemed to beat in a synched up rhythm.

“Charles… I’m thirsty. There are too many people,” Erik muttered, “This was a mistake, can’t we go back home?”

Charles rolled his eyes, “I know you just feel uncomfortable and want to leave.”

“Damn mind reader.” Erik sighed and crossed his arms, staring at the dead throat of the man who had to be just as thirsty and waiting for blood as he.

“Sorry Hank, sorry Raven. We should go… we are going to go…..”

Raven pouted but hugged both of them. “I’ll you all soon.”

And they did go home, into the dark, and Erik sighed.

“Sorry about it.”

“Oh, it's fine. It wasn’t as great as I was expecting.”

Erik leaned down and kissed Charles for a moment, purposely dragging his fangs along the other man’s lips.

Charles rolled his eyes. “You… You still confuse me, even after centuries.”

“You love me anyway.”

“I do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #cherik #they deserve better #theydeservebettercherikchallenge #its over #i'm a little sad #halloween #literally done with an hour left in october #BUT I DID IT #vampire bois

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thedailyimagines · 6 years

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Imagine Lestat finding you near death and turning you to save your life. Over time, the two of you become very close to one another.

Requested by @coolworld95.

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

~~~~~~~~

Lestat was planning on simply heading out for a bite and going home to relax the rest of the night, maybe mope about his loneliness. Lestat wouldn’t admit it, but being immortal was rather depressing when you were alone.

‘At least the leaves have changed color. Much nicer than the drab browns they had been turning as of late.’

He didn’t expect to find the young woman on the side of the road, bloody and very close to death.

He knelt down beside her, wiping the dirt and strands of y/h/c hair aside. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was ragged and heavy, as if it caused her pain to even draw breath. If left behind, she would surely die. Lestat didn’t know if he could find a doctor in time to save her, but he could try.

Upon moving the girl, she let out a small whimper and opened her eyes. They were a beautiful shade of y/e/c. But the life was fading from them. She only uttered one word:

“Please.”

Lestat took action immediately. He bit down on the girl’s neck, drinking her blood. After pulling himself away he bit his wrist and held the bleeding wound to her mouth, making her drink the blood that flowed.

Her breathing slowed and eventually stopped, but Lestat saw the color slowly returning to her face. She would wake as a vampire, new to a world almost wholly unknown to the human race. And he would be there to help her adjust.

He wasn’t so cruel as to leave the woman alone and confused with the hunger. The company would also be a welcome change.

<—>

It was y/n’s throat that woke her. Her throat was aching and felt so very dry, as if she had been in a desert with no water for days.

She stood from where she lay. Or at least, she attempted to. When y/n put her weight on her feet she crumpled to the floor.

“You know, it would be wise if you were to stay in bed.” Y/n’s head snapped up to see a (rather handsome) blond man standing in the doorway of the bedroom she had been sleeping in. He stepped towards her and helped her to stand up, guiding her back to the bed.

“Who are you?” The man smiled.

“My name is Lestat de Lioncourt. You may call me Lestat. My I ask your name?” Y/n settled back into the bed but did not lay down.

“My name is y/n. How did I get here?”

“I found you on the side of a road while on a walk. You were covered in blood and looked as though someone had given you quite the beating. How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty.” Lestat gave a small chuckle.

“That’s to be expected. I should tell you something before we go any further.” Y/n gave him a confused look. What could he possibly have to tell her?

“You are no longer human. You’re a vampire. There was no time to go to a doctor, and I assumed that you didn’t wish to die.” Y/n’s face held a blank look. When she spoke her tone was one of disbelief.

“I’m...a vampire? I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. Vampires don’t exist.” Lestat stood and exited the room, returning with a black bottle and two cups. Y/n didn’t know what was in the bottle, but the moment it was opened the room was filled with an intoxicating metallic scent. Lestat poured the contents of the bottle into a cup and handed it to her.

“Drink.” And she did. Whatever it was, it soothed the burning of her throat immediately.

“That was blood.” A slight recoiling from y/n, but she continued drinking. It was delicious and she didn’t want to stop.

“You should also be noticing that you can hear the sounds of cars in the street, no?” Y/n nodded.

“Those are at least a mile away. My home is far from the road. Your senses are improving now that you’ve had a little ‘pick-me-up’. Does that prove enough or should I keep going?” Y/n put down her cup, her thirst sated for the moment. She considered the vampire in front of her, debating to believe him or listen to the voice in her head saying that this was insane.

“Tell me more.”

<—>

Y/n woke and lifted the lid of the coffin she slept in. It had been nearly a year since y/n became a vampire. She had taken some time to adjust her new nighttime schedule and had been learning everything she could about vampires from Lestat.

It had been strange at first, but eventually y/n took to vampirism like a duck takes to water. Lestat had praised her the first time she had taken a victim all by herself, but he had almost seemed unhappy about the methods she had used to lure the man into an alley.

It made her wonder if he had felt disgusted by the seduction method she had chosen, or if he had been jealous. It couldn’t have been the first, because he usually went the same way with his victims. If Lestat really was jealous, y/n wondered if it meant he felt the same as she did or if he feared she would leave him alone. He never spoke it, but y/n knew that Lestat hated being alone. He was a social creature.

Y/n had at first been wary of the vampire, but he had helped her to learn everything she could possibly need to and then some. It had been slow, but by the time she realized she loved him it was too late. She had fallen for him and she had fallen hard.

“And how did you sleep, my dear?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Lestat walked out from the entrance of the house to the kitchen. Y/n took down a bottle and two cups, filling each with blood. She handed one to Lestat and kept the other for herself.

“I slept well. Where did you go tonight? It isn’t so late that you’re already looking for entertainment.” Lestat just gave her a grin and sipped from his cup.

“Oh, it was just a walk. I wanted a bit of fresh air, that’s all.” He didn’t tell y/n the reason he needed air was because of her. Ever since he had turned y/n into a vampire, Lestat had felt attracted to her. At first it was purely platonic, but as time went on he felt deeper feelings than those of friendship towards the newborn vampire.

While Lestat stewed in his thoughts, y/n started speaking.

“So I was thinking that since there’s a fall carnival going on in town until two in the morning, maybe we could go?” Y/n spoke, not noticing the older vampire lost in his own thoughts.

“Lestat!” Lestat jumped and looked at the woman. She seemed a bit annoyed and- she had been talking, hadn’t she?

“I’m sorry my dear, I was just thinking. What were you saying?” Y/n huffed.

“I was saying we should go to the carnival in town.” Lestat raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure..” He began, but y/n cut him off.

“Oh come on Lestat! It’ll be a nice change of pace!”

“Oh all right. As long as we’re back before sunrise.”

<—>

The carnival wasn’t as bad as Lestat was expecting. There weren’t too many people around at this time, and the colors from the lights all around made quite an alluring display.

‘Not as beautiful as y/n.’ The y/h/c haired female had worn a simple outfit of jeans and an off the shoulder y/f/c sweater. In his opinion, her outfit highlighted her features while still being practical for the occasion.

“Oh, let’s go on the Ferris wheel! It’s been forever since I’ve gone on one!” Y/n dragged the blond man over to the line, and soon they were both headed up to the top. Lestat noticed there were quite a few young couples that had also been in line.

“Is there some sort of ritual for couples I don’t know about with the Ferris wheel?” Y/n gave a small choking noise.

“What makes you think that?”

“There are a lot of couples who are also interested in this ride.” Y/n spluttered a bit before answering.

“Um-it’s- It’s considered romantic if your seat stops at the top. It’s kinda a big thing for couples to go on the ride.”

“I see.” He debated asking her if she wanted the ride to stop at the top. He certainly wouldn’t have minded.

‘Now would be the perfect time to tell her how you feel.’ Lestat was opening his mouth to speak when-

The ride lurched suddenly, and stopped moving. Coincidentally, it was y/n and Lestat’s seat that stopped at the apex of the wheel.

“We’re sorry folks, it seems the Ferris wheel is temporarily stuck at the moment. Please sit tight as we figure out the issue. Thank you!”

Y/n and Lestat sat in silence for a few minutes. It was Lestat who spoke first.

“Y/n, may I tell you something? And if so, please let me finish before you say anything.” Turning to face him, Y/n gave Lestat a nod. Lestat took a moment and began.

“I want you to know that when I turned you, I expected at most to gain a temporary companion, and at the very least to save your life and see you on your way. Never did I expect for you to stay. Y/n, what I’m trying to say is that I-“ Lestat was cut off by the lips pressed against his. His eyes widened, and then closed as he deepened the kiss. The two broke away after a minute, and y/n grinned.

“I was hoping you felt the same.” Lestat looked at her in surprise, and then started laughing. He pulled her close for another kiss.

“I had hoped to kiss you first, but it seems you beat me to the punch. Let me say this properly though. Y/n L/n, I love you. Will you be mine?” Y/n smiled at him.

“I already was.”

~~~~~~~~

I hope you guys enjoyed! If you wanna have an imagine or a short story written, hit up that ask box!

#thedailyimagines #imagine #female reader #request #interview with the vampire imagine #interview with the vampire #lestat imagine #lestat x reader #lestat #lestat de lioncourt #vampire!reader #romantic #ferris wheel

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maevefiction · 6 years

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 8

I managed to wake up on time, despite the fact that I’d forgotten, yet again, to set my alarm. After putting on my glasses, I padded over to the dresser to grab my phone. I checked my notifications as I crawled back under the covers and saw there were four texts waiting for me, three of them from Tom sent late last night.

Meeting’s finito. They dragged us out for drinks. It’s 3:00 AM. I want to see you. – T

Mean Nanny Luke says it’s too late and he hid your room key from me. Asshole. – T

We meeting again with Skull people again at 11 morning tomorrow. 3:17. Bed. Night. – T

I figured he’d still be out cold and I was overwhelmed by the urge to ring his phone and rouse him unpleasantly, solely for my own amusement. I resisted, telling myself that he surely would have turned it off prior to retiring for the night. So tempting, but I decided to take the high road instead.

Good morning, Thomas. Hope you and Luke managed to get some rest and that the meeting goes well. Looking forward to seeing you both later. – M

The fourth was from Anne, sent fifteen minutes ago.

Hey kiddo, I’d love it if you’d give me a call. It’s been entirely too long since we last talked. – A

While it wasn’t a complete surprise to hear from her, given Luke had spoken with her yesterday, I honestly hadn’t expected it to happen so damn soon. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I closed my eyes for a few moments, exhaled and decided to postpone dealing with it and order breakfast instead.

My stomach grumbled as I reviewed the room service menu, my index finger tapping my lips. I grabbed the in-room phone and dialed, and my call was answered on the first ring by an obnoxiously pleasant-sounding woman.

“Good morning, Ms. Gallagher. What can we get for you today?”

Funny, they hadn’t a clue who I was when I’d ordered in over the weekend. I guess Tom Hiddleston answering your door when a meal for two was delivered elevated one’s social status.

“Good morning to you as well. May I please have an order of Belgian waffles with bacon, a large orange juice and a cup of tea? Earl Grey if you have it, sugar and cream on the side. Thanks!”

There was dead air for a few seconds. “Will that be all?” I rolled my eyes. Subtle, lady, really subtle. Sorry to disappoint, but he’s not here at the moment.

“Yep, that’s if for now, thank you.”

“Your meal should arrive in approximately twenty minutes. Aloha!”

I re-read Anne’s text and sighed, running a hand through my hair. If I called her now I could use the arrival of my meal as an excuse to get off the phone, though twenty minutes could seem like an eternity if the conversation turned to a topic I didn’t care to discuss, which it always seemed to do.

“Come on, Maude. Like a Band-Aid, right off. Pee first, then call. That should waste at least two minutes, more if you walk really slow.”

After the bathroom, I sank down into the oversized wing-back chair, phone in hand. My heart began to pound as I located her in my contacts, under ‘L’ for Lestat because it amused me to no end when ‘Lestat calling…’ came up on my screen. Anne had been a part of my life since I was ten years old. In 1988, only a few months after my parents had moved into the neighborhood, she’d returned to the Garden District of New Orleans. After rejoining the Catholic Church she met my father, a devout Irish Catholic himself, and they became fast friends.

She’d been a friend to me as well, offering unwavering support and becoming my lifeline during some incredibly difficult times. One of the hardest decisions I’d ever had to make was distancing myself from her emotionally in order to force myself to move on as I tried to heal. Though it had been a necessity, I still felt terrible about it, and I deeply missed having her to turn to for comfort.

My hands clenched and grew clammy as the pounding of my heart morphed into a dull, throbbing pain. I silently vowed to cut her off immediately if our chat veered into the past and hit the ‘call’ button.

“Maudie, honey! You took the job!” I wondered how the fuck she knew that already, then remembered she followed my twitter account and must have read the letter I linked to last night.

“Yes, Anne. I took the job. Though I wasn’t looking for one. And thanks for your glowing recommendation. Which established preconceived expectations that I will never be able to fulfill, by the way.”

“You will not only fulfill them, you will exceed them. Never underestimate your abilities, Maudie. You know better. So who is this Luke fellow? Is he as handsome as he sounds?”

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to prepare myself for the onslaught of Matchmaking for Maude that was about to ensue. “He is indeed.”

I could picture the sly grin that had surely spread across her face. “So? Is he single?”

“No, Anne. He’s actually engaged.”

“Well, you’re very attractive and, you know, anything can happen…”

“And he’s gay.” I thought that would do the trick. It didn’t.

“You have to introduce him to Christopher.” At least I wasn’t the only victim of her matchmaking…she’d been trying to find Mr. Right for her son as well as me forever.

“I haven’t met his fiancé but I hear they’re deliriously happy. So what’s new with you? How’s my next Lestat installment coming along?”

“I’m still researching some things, but the initial draft is essentially complete. You know, I Googled up Prosper PR and went to the facebook page and that amazingly talented actor, what’s his name…right, Tom Hiddleston, is one of his clients. I would love for him to take on the role of Lestat when the reboot of the Vampire Chronicles gets underway. Will you be working with him? Plant that seed for me, will you? Hmm, maybe he’s single?”

The thought of Tom as Lestat de Lioncourt rendered me mute for a solid thirty seconds, followed by lord knows how many more as I attempted to figure out how to weasel my way around her last question.

“Maudie, are you still on the line?”

“I…erm…yeah. Still here. Sorry, I was…multitasking. I have no idea if he’s single or not.” I was grateful that she couldn’t see my face because she’d know I was full of shit if she got one look at me. “But yes, I am working with him. I’m starting as his social media manager, which he desperately needs because he has issues with keeping his existing accounts updated and his overall presence is lacking, to say the least. Once I’ve gotten him back on track I transition into the role of social media director for Prosper. But please keep that between us. We haven’t announced anything yet, though we’re meeting tonight to discuss timelines and such.”

She chuckled, and I cringed, realizing that she still knew me entirely too well. “No idea if he’s single or not my ass. Don’t lie to Auntie Anne. You’ve already met him, haven’t you? And he’s a component of the ‘we’ and ‘we’re’, isn’t he?” I said nothing. “That incredibly long pause, in conjunction with your use of ‘am’ as opposed to ‘will be’ working with him gave you away. So, is he as beautiful in person as he is on film? And is his personality as lovely as it appears to be in interviews?”

There was a knock at the door, and my gratitude for the delivery person’s impeccable timing was boundless. “Sorry, my breakfast is here and I have to dash becau…”

She cut me off. “Maude, I did want you to call so I could congratulate you, but I also wanted to speak with you about something else. Your mother…”

I could feel every muscle in my body tensing. “Anne, how many times have I told you that I will NOT disc…”

“Please, hear me out. Her health is failing, Maude.”

“All those years of sucking down bottle after bottle of booze finally catching up with her?” The venom in my voice caught me completely off guard. As much as I insisted to myself that it was all behind me, the reality was that it was always with me, here, in the now… lurking just below the surface, ugly and dark and awful.

“I know, Maude, I know. And I hate to bring it up, but she’s in hospice and, well, I felt compelled to tell you in case you wanted to see her. Before it’s too late.” I counted to ten before I responded, focusing on all the positive things she’d done for me, hoping I could end the call courteously.

“Anne, I have to go. Be well.” I hung up before she could reply…and, thankfully, before I said something I’d wind up regretting.

************************************************** Breakfast was eaten in silence, but I’d showered and gotten ready with my iPod cranking out tunes from my ‘Fuck Off’ playlist. I’d even done a passable job on covering up the hickey. I frowned when I glanced at the clock. It was only 8:15, and I knew I had to keep moving or I’d start thinking again. As I stood on the balcony, gazing out at the azure water rolling in and out, I determined that a walk on the beach might be an ideal distraction.

Shoes in hand, messenger bag slung across my chest, I wandered down as far as I could go without getting soaked by the lapping waves. I breathed in, then out, in, and out, ever so slowly, trying to match the rhythm of the ocean. The sun warmed my face, my hands, my feet, my body…but it couldn’t quite reach into my heart. I closed my eyes and lowered my chin to my chest, using nothing but the sheer force of my will to shove the anger and pain back in the box I’d crafted for it so long ago.

I remained stock-still until the tide of somber memories began to ebb, carrying them further and further away from me, back into the turbulent sea of my past…where they fucking belonged. Always a part of me, but no longer controlling me.

My eyes opened slowly as I raised my head, and I bent down to pick up a handful of sand, letting it sift through my fingers, just as I had less than forty-eight hours before. Everything I’d overcome, the life I’d made for myself, and the promise of what was to be hit me all at once and I could feel the corners of my mouth curl up in a tiny smile. I stood, took one last look at the ocean, then turned around and headed for the conference room.

I checked my phone as I slowly worked my way down the hall, deleting five new texts from Anne without reading them. Nothing from Tom, which I fully expected. He was probably still sound asleep, all cozy and warm. Bastard. I put the phone away and pulled out my tablet to check my email, cursing myself for not doing so since Monday afternoon. One hundred and fifty-eight messages in my inbox. Fuck. I scrolled down as I walked, starring items that were urgent, until I collided with another body. My tablet went flying, landing on the floor behind me. I bent to grab it without looking up, apologizing.

“I am SO sorry…totally my fault. Reading and walking is not my forte, apparently.” I turned as I rose, and the device fell from my hands and back onto the floor as I realized just whose body I’d run into.

He was wearing black shorts, a white T-shirt and a black sweatshirt that he’d left unzipped, the hood up over his head. Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, but he quickly removed them as he spoke softly. “Good morning.”

He leaned down and picked up my tablet, slipping it into my messenger bag before encircling me with his arms. I slid mine under his sweatshirt, ran my hands up his back ever so slowly, finally coming to rest on his shoulder blades.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to see you, but what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing up and about? It’s only 8:30. You’ve got another hour and a half to sleep, at least.” He bent to kiss me instead of replying, parting my lips gently with his tongue, then delving in to explore as his hands fell to my hips and pulled me against him. He was commando again, and rock hard. I groaned and broke the kiss, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Christ, do you even own a pair of underwear?” He laughed, then flinched. I slipped my right arm out from under his sweatshirt and gently grabbed his chin as I inspected his face. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes that made him look bruised. “You appear to be significantly worse for wear since we last met, sir. Do I need to have a word with the gentlemen from Legendary?”

He began rubbing small circles on my lower back with one hand. “Honestly, I’d seriously consider having you stand in for me at today’s meeting if you didn’t have prior obligations.” He took the hand that held his chin and brought it to his lips, then sighed. “They just kept buying round after round…Luke and I could barely keep up. We got mortifyingly clobbered at pool and darts. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

I fished a bottle of water from my bag and offered it to him. “Here. Drink.” He stared at me, pouting.

“But I’ll have to let go of you in order to open it. And I don’t want to.” I shoved it back in my bag. He brought me in closer, bending to nuzzle my neck. “I hope my late night texts didn’t disturb your rest.”

“I didn’t hear a thing. Wish I had, though. I would have told you to get your ass up the stairs and into my bed.” He snickered, and I felt his teeth tug at my earlobe. I wiggled my hips against him. “Thank you for the note, by the way.”

He pulled back to look at me and smiled timidly. “Did you like it?”

“No.” His eyes widened, and I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I loved it. So much so that I held it in my hand while I slept.” He grasped the back of my neck, fingers easing into my hair as he pressed his lips to mine, both of our mouths falling open, tongues colliding. I sucked on his lower lip, sliding my leg up to wrap around him as he bucked against me. We froze at the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly. I leaned sideways to peek around Tom and found Serena staring back at me.

I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand, then wiped my hand on my tunic as I stepped away from Tom. He took it in his and turned around to face her with me. My brow furrowed as I wondered what the fuck one was supposed to say in this sort of situation. Should I apologize? Should I pretend it hadn’t happened? It appeared that Tom had no clue, either. Serena burst out laughing and patted me on the shoulder.

“Good morning, Maude. I should probably give you a lecture and tell you to get a room, but I won’t because my god, the two of you are just so adorable. Dante’s loading the rest of our equipment onto the dolly. He should be here in a sec.” She opened the doors of the conference room, engaging the stoppers so they’d remain that way, then entered and began rearranging a few pieces of furniture.

I turned to Tom, shaking my head. “Public indecency. Told you so. I’m a ticking time bomb.” He smirked.

“I’m afraid I must leave you to your work, Maude. It would appear that something’s come up and needs my immediate attention.” He pulled at his shorts, adjusting himself as he whispered in my ear. “Though it would most certainly prefer your attention.” I pinched his nipple, delighting at his gasp.

“No one likes a tease, Thomas.” Dante was quickly approaching. I sighed. “On with the show, I guess.”

Tom pulled me to his chest and kissed my forehead. “Last one. And then you’re all mine.”

I poked his chest. “You need to go right now or I’m going to disappoint two hundred people when I run off with you.” He grinned. “Good luck with your meeting. I’ll see you at 4:15. Be ready to hula.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready. And I’ll bet you dinner that you can’t get Luke to join in.”

“Well, in that case, you’d better make sure there’s lots of room on your credit card, sunshine.”

“Not necessary. Won’t ever happen.” He waved as he turned and walked down the hall. I called after him.

“You are so very, very wrong.” I watched him go, biting down on my thumb. Sex on legs. Absolute truth. Serena spoke from behind me.

“Maude, Dante needs you to stand on a few marks.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.”

“If he happens to come back before we leave, would you mind terribly if I asked him for a pic with me?” A light blush colored her cheeks. I laughed, shaking my head.

“Nope. Not one single bit.”

************************************************** It seemed as if it was over as soon as it began, and I even managed to keep my shit together when the attendees gave me a send-off standing ovation at the end of the last lecture hour. Though my emotions were mixed about being done with something that had kept me going for so long, I couldn’t help but feel…free.

Tom had stopped in during our first break, transformed from hung over frat boy to runway model after a hot shower, a huge breakfast and a gorgeous charcoal bespoke suit. He hadn’t worn a tie, and his white dress shirt was open at the neck. It took five tries on my part to get a decent shot of him and Serena, mainly because she kept looking at him instead of the camera, but my shaking hands factored in as well. I’d need to get over that shit pronto if I was going to be on photography duty for the foreseeable future. She asked if she could post it online, and I told her it was fine as long as she didn’t include location details.

It was 4:08 when I got back to my room, leaving me just enough time to change into my hiking shorts and vintage X-Files T-shirt. I did a little happy dance at the prospect of being able to spend more time in casual clothes…I’d amassed quite a collection of graphic tees over the years that I hardly ever got to wear, and now that a good portion of my work would be behind the scenes, I could.

“Well, that’s a fucking plus I hadn’t even considered. Comfy clothes, baby. Bring it on!” I ended the dance with a fist in the air as I entered the bathroom. I put my hair up in a ponytail, not even bothering to brush it first. My black Rio Birkenstocks were nowhere to be found, and, thinking about it, I hadn’t seen them since Monday. After tearing the rest of room apart, I spotted them in the little open cubby under one of the nightstands where Tom must have tucked them when he did my laundry. I strapped them on, grabbed my wallet, keys, phone, and iPod from my bag and stuffed them in my pockets, making up a little song as I danced some more.

“I love pants with pockets and I can wear them all the time and that is fucking cool because…shit. Because I’m a mime? Because I like to rhyme? Damn, I used to be GOOD at this. Ah, fuck it. POCKETS!”

One of the things I abhorred most about dress clothing was the lack of pockets. Carrying any type of bag made me feel weighed down, plus they always either fell off my shoulder or smacked me in the ass as I walked, yet I had stuff that needed to be stored somewhere. Men’s pants had the best pockets, and I often opted for those over the women’s version.

I took a last look at my reflection in the mirror. “Off you go, Maude. New chapter and all that.” I opened the room door and meandered down the steps, hand trailing along the rail. Tom and Luke were waiting for me outside their suites.

I flung my arms out to the side. “Who’s ready to HULA?!”

Luke groaned, rolling his eyes as Tom raised his hand and shouted, “I AM, I AM!”

I put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Come on, Luke, let your hair down a little.” He snorted.

“I tried that last night and found it to be rather disadvantageous.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Tom smirked at me and mouthed ‘this is a bet you cannot win’. I threw him double birds. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his rental car dangling them in front of me.

“Shall we?” I shook my head.

“Let’s take my Jeep. Feel the breeze. Be rugged.” Luke held up his hand.

“Please, no. The jouncing around might kill me.” I huffed.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way. But if the car has an auxiliary jack you might be sorry I acquiesced.”

He was indeed sorry, as Tom and I sang the entire 11 minutes it took to get to the Kaua’i Museum. Towards the end of Pharell’s ‘Happy’ he appeared to be contemplating opening the door and leaping into traffic.

“I’m not sure what’s making me more nauseated…the hangover or the two of you caterwauling up there.” I reached back to pat his knee.

“I promise I’m not always this obnoxiously elated, Luke. I’m just on a quit-my-old-job-today-and-have-a-super-cool-new-one high. It won’t last.”

He nodded his head. “Mmm hmm. And I’m sure it has nothing to do with our chauffer.”

I glanced over at Tom, put my hand to the side of my mouth and looked back at Luke, whispering. “He is awfully pretty, isn’t he?” He rested his head in his hands as the car made an abrupt right turn into the museum parking lot.

It was a lovely place, located on Rice Street in the Albert Spencer Wilcox and William Hyde Rice buildings. Hula classes were conducted by members of the Daughters or Hawai’i in the courtyard, as the museum itself closed at five. There were a total of eleven of us, and just as Tom predicted, Luke immediately sat on the sidelines while the rest of us gathered around the instructor. Her name was Iolana and she appeared to be in her late fifties. As she explained that hula is a dance accompanied by a chant (oli) or song (mele), the dance portraying the words in a visual format I stared at Luke and tapped my foot.

Iolana asked us all to move behind her, at least three feet apart, and I flung my hand out at Luke and then pointed to the open space next to me. He shook his head. I pouted. Then I put my hands together, silently begging, mouthing ‘please?’ while batting my eyelashes. No way in hell was I losing this bet. He sighed, put his chin on his chest and hefted himself out of the chair to join us. I turned to Tom and stuck my tongue out. He shook his head and stepped closer so he could whisper in my ear.

“He hasn’t actually danced yet, Maude.” I slapped his arm.

We were instructed to stand with feet apart, left knee bent and our hands on our hips, then step with our left foot and slide our right foot next to the left, bending that knee. The process was repeated in the opposite direction. After we mastered the steps, it was time for some hip action…raising it in time with and in the opposite direction of the step, keeping both knees bent. Iolana turned to check our progress and immediately went to Luke, putting her hands on his hips and pushing them in the correct direction. I turned to Tom and grinned. He shook his finger at me.

“He’s not using his hands.” I rolled my eyes. Iolana had moved back to the front to continue the lesson. One arm bent at the elbow in front of the body, the other extended out from it in the direction of the step, head facing that way as well, fingers together and hands moving at the wrists like a wave. Again, the process was repeated in the opposite direction when moving that way.

Iolana taught us a few more arm motions and explained what they meant, advising that they were only the chorus of a mele called Eleile, which we’d be ‘telling’ over and over for the duration of the class, then turned on the music. I glanced at Luke, then turned to Tom and started doing alternating wave motions rapidly with my hands in front of me. He tilted his head.

“That doesn’t look like a legitimate hula hand motion, Maude.” I grinned.

“It’s not. Do you want to know what it means?”

“No.”

“Sure you do. It’s my visual interpretation of ‘you lose, sucker’.” I thumbed in Luke’s direction. He was dancing, and it looked like he might even be enjoying it a little. Tom hung his head in defeat, and I tried to refrain from drooling as I watched him roll his hips. I kept missing steps and had to close my eyes in order to focus. The tempo of the music increased, and without the distraction of keeping an eye on Luke or ogling Tom I completely lost myself in the dance. It was an incredible feeling, moving faster, back and forth, the rhythm and motions of my body conveying this brief chapter of a story via a method that had been used for generations, dating back to ancient times when indigenous peoples worshiped volcano goddesses.

I heard clapping, faint at first but louder as more people joined in. I opened my eyes, discovering that I was the only one still dancing other than Iolana. And that everyone was staring at me. I stopped. A huge grin spread across her face.

“Miss, where did you study hula, if you don’t mind my asking?”

I swallowed. “I’m Maude. And, just here. I’ve never done it before.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, Miss Maude, it’s very unusual for someone to catch on so quickly, especially a first-timer. I guess you’re just a natural.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You dance beautifully, my dear. I’m sure your boyfriend would agree.” She smirked knowingly at Tom, then began to circulate amongst the other participants, stopping to speak to Luke first.

Boyfriend. Is that what he is? I turned to face Tom, and what I saw in his eyes was overwhelming. Desire, passion, admiration, awe, joy, and something else that I didn’t think I was ready or willing to hang a name on quite yet. I waved self-consciously.

“Hi there.” I watched him take several deep breaths, and I noticed he had his phone in his hand.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, did you film that?!” He nodded. I groaned and covered my face with my hands. He pulled them away gently, and now that he was right in front of me I could see his eyes shone with tears.

“Sorry. My original intent was to video Luke so I could email it to Simon, which I did, but then you…and I had to. It was one of the most breathtaking things I’ve ever seen. Here, watch it.” I shook my head.

“Nope. Maybe later.” He reached out to touch my face, fingers feathering over my cheekbone and down to my jaw.

“Alright. Later. But I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. The rest of us, we were just moving. But you, you told a story. An ancient, timeless story.” He waved to get Iolana’s attention. She excused herself from her chat with two older ladies and came over to us.

“Hello, Iolana. I’m Tom.” She shook his proffered hand. “Do you happen to have an English translation of the chorus you taught us today?”

“Yes, I do. Right up here.” We followed her to the table that held her portable stereo and paperwork. She pulled a sheet out of a purple folder. “I’m so pleased you’re interested in learning more. An hour is such a short period of time and I have to focus intently on the dancing, so I rarely get to talk about the song itself. This is the chorus of the mele. Eleile is a dark swirling pool on Maui, also known as the water that returns the ti. It is customary to break a ti leaf stalk and throw it into the pool. As the water swirls, the leaves are unfurled, then pushed back into a long, tight bud.” She handed it to him. He read it, then passed it to me without saying a word. I read it. Then I re-read the chorus again. And again.

Dark is the water of Eleile The cold dwelling place of the mist It is made warm by love That stood close at my side

I felt his hand on my forearm. I refused to look away from the words on the paper. He spoke, voice fraught with emotion he struggled to contain.

“Looks like you were telling our story.” My hands were shaking, eyes still fixed on the mele chorus. He put his on top of them, steadying me. “When you danced…I swear I could see your soul. And oh, how it called to me, Maude.”

Silence surrounded us, and as I raised my gaze I noted that everyone was staring at me. Again. I inhaled, then let it out with a whoosh as my eyes found his. I still couldn’t quite manage to form words. He took a step closer to me, moving his hands to my shoulders.

“I know it’s only been two days since we met, and that you’ll very well likely think me certifiably insane for saying this, and perhaps I am, but every fiber of my being is screaming at me to do so and sometimes you just have to fight your fears and say fuck it, come on, so…Maude, I am totally, completely, utterly, madly in love with you.”

My mouth dropped open, then closed as I bit my lower lip. Right. Fight my fears. Sure. Fuck it, why not? I shrugged. “Well, Thomas, in that case we’d best pick out some matching straitjackets because I, too, have clambered aboard the crazy train. Wildly, wholly, entirely, absofuckingloutely in love. With you.”

He kissed me, briefly, sweetly. The tiny crowd oohed and ahhed, then began to disperse. As we said our goodbyes and thanks to Iolana Luke came over, phone raised, smiling. I rolled my eyes.

“Let me guess. You filmed all of that. What is with you people?” He laughed, and I shook my head. “Well, now we have even more details to discuss. And I want pizza. Can we get pizza? Let’s get pizza. LOTS of pizza. Tom’s even buying. Right, Tom? Or was all this a distraction so you could welsh out on our bet?”

He put his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head as we exited the courtyard. “You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “What bet?”

I looked at Tom. “You tell him.”

He shook his head. “I’m not telling him.”

Luke ran in front of us, stopped, arms crossed. “Someone had better tell me.”

We remained silent and walked around him to the car. Luke groaned as he got in. “Already conspiring against me. Fine. Don’t tell me. But I’m going to order ten fucking pizzas, just for spite.”

He took out his phone, clicked something, and the sounds of hula music filled the vehicle.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, did you send Simon a video of me doing the hula?” Tom started to chuckle.

“Me? Why on earth would you think I’d do such a thing?”

Luke snorted. “Because you fucking did, that’s why. Hmm, I think I’m starting to see how this went down. Your bet involved whether or not I’d dance. Maude suckered me into it and won. Tom, I’m going to kick your ass when we get out of this car. Maude, I’m impressed. Mildly disappointed in your behavior, but impressed just the same. And Simon says to tell you you’re a wonderful dancer.”

I turned to see Luke’s phone, hoping to catch a glimpse of Simon’s face. I got lucky…it was his lock screen background, or so I assumed. “Is that Simon?” He nodded and passed me the phone. “Damn, Luke, he’s gorgeous.” Luke grinned.

“Even more so in person. You’ll get to meet him tomorrow. He’s flying out to stay for a bit. In the beach house we’ll all be sharing.”

I turned to Tom, tilting my head quizzically. “Um, beach house? What beach house?”

He smirked, then shrugged. “What can I say? The meetings with the Legendary people went well. Really, really well.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 8

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i-want-my-iwtv · 6 years

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Speaking to the connotations of race, it's interesting that people in the fandom want to make Daniel the black character when for so many years, a goodly bulk of this fandom has only attributive Daniel as having any value to the story when he's attached to Armand, or made him the butt of crazy jokes. It seems awfully suspicious to me that the "best' character" to be cast as a POC is the one so many have considered the throw-away one. If that doesn't speak volumes, I don't know what does.

Race. *sigh* I keep revisiting this ask, and each time I do I feel more and more like I don’t want to engage as there are so many landmines.

I didn’t get into fandom for landmines, and so I maneuver around them, and the reason I’m answering this at all is for those who are thinking about topics like these but are too afraid to respond for fear of the landmines.

I’m responding bc I feel like if sharing my perspective could make just one person feel better about this, then it’s worth the risk and worth my time and effort.

THAT SAID, I’m not sure which post you’re referring to, Anon, but there was one a few weeks ago in which another Anon asked/said:

I’m up for Daniel being Black in the adaptation. His race isn’t mentioned specifically in the books, and we need diversity in an ocean of white Eurotrash fops! I don’t see any reason why not and Bryan cast the lead in American Gods as black so I’m hopeful to see some good changes in Anne’s work. What do you think?

^Here’s one person who wants to cast Daniel as POC/Black, and they seemed to be accentuating the positive. They want diversity. They compared him to the lead from American Gods being cast as black. I don’t watch that show so I don’t know if that character is the “butt of crazy jokes” or only has value being attached to another character, but it seems to me, at face value, that this Anon thinks that Daniel being cast as POC/Black is parallel with the lead of another series being cast as POC/Black, this Anon states that as being a good change.

I answered that Anon more in depth with some historical context, so you can look at that response, but basically, Anne is open to casting POC for VC characters. I’m open to it! I trust in whoever is running the adaptation to produce it in a tasteful and respectful way, and updating it to be inspiring and satisfying to a wider audience would be great, however that happens.

TL:DR; I think people do care about Daniel, and would love to see a character that they care about, like Daniel, be cast as a POC as a good thing. Daniel is not perfect (none of them are! Except Mojo) but he has many positive traits: he’s clever, resourceful, sassy, charismatic, capable of loving and being loved in return. I think people would love for the adaptation to show that those traits can absolutely be found in POC, too. We do need more positive representation like that.

Reminder that this is a fandom blog for entertainment and I am not here to make/agree/disagree with political statements that are potentially inflammatory. Not my focus. But I will address your points to some extent.

Speaking to the connotations of race, it’s interesting that people in the fandom want to make Daniel the black character

I haven’t seen an enormous amount of people in the fandom wanting this change, I think one blog is dedicated to it? I’ve mostly seen interest and support for casting a POC as Akasha, since that casting in movie!QOTD was pretty widely praised. I see people talking about considering casting other characters as POC, but I don’t see anyone other than Akasha as being the main character of interest for that.

One could criticize that choice as being bad, as it could imply that POC/Black women are villains, bc she was a villain in that movie. That’s not the message I took from that casting choice, but one could easily argue that that was a message being sent (and therefore, Bad representation, even though she was cast as a character in a position of power).

when for so many years, a goodly bulk of this fandom has only attributive Daniel as having any value to the story when he’s attached to Armand, or made him the butt of crazy jokes.

“for so many years” covers decades of time, these books have been around since 1976. Reflecting back to when I started in this in 1993 (which was already almost 20 yrs late), I can’t say that any character has escaped being the butt of crazy jokes in all this time, and with the nature of shipping, many of the characters seem to only have value when attached to other characters.

Re: shipping: it seems like ships are more prevalent in fanworks than fanworks portraying the characters on their own, and so it may give the impression that fandom “prefers the characters as part of a ship,” but personally, I think of shipping as the collision of 2 (or more) characters, to see how they’ll interact: in happiness, sadness, anger, all the different ways! Writing about a ship can allow a fanartist/writer/etc. to explore how each member of the ship will react in actions/words/etc.to the other’s actions/words/etc. So I can see how you might get the impression that “Daniel only has value as being attached to Armand,” but I think it’s more about how Daniel presents himself when he is with Armand, that’s what the fanworks are exploring.

Along those lines, however you interpret that ship, the bulk of Daniel’s post-IWTV “screentime” was in QOTD, with Armand, and after that, Daniel doesn’t get much action in canon until the more recent books (but even then, not as much as in QOTD). As the fandom does tend to ship Daniel with Armand, and plenty of it that I’ve seen (especially in fanart) is somewhat fluffy, again, I can see why you might get the impression that “he’s only valued when attached to Armand,” but really, I think Daniel/Armand shippers are fascinated with the dynamic of that ship. It’s rarely fluffy in canon. So some of them make fanworks for wish fulfillment, and that’s valid.

Personally, I don’t think Daniel’s only value to the story is when he’s attached to Armand, but again, he spends most of his time in canon with Armand, maybe that’s why the fandom doesn’t tend to write him on his own time separately.

Re: being the “butt of crazy jokes”: As a side note, when we joke about characters, that’s not to say that that’s always a negative act. Look, we’re currently dragging Lestat bc he said IN CANON that he loved being called a “slut,” which is really more of a layered commentary on shaming people for enjoying sex/intimacy, and he refuses to be shamed for it, he’ll turn around and take it as a compliment instead ;)

I’ve been in this fandom for over 20 years and I don’t think Daniel has gotten the worst treatment in those terms, it seems to me that there have been waves of love/interest/disdain/mockery of most of the main (and side) characters at different points in time, and from different groups of fans. So that may be your experience, and that’s absolutely valid, but I haven’t seen it that way. Of all the characters, I think Lestat probably gets the worst of being the butt of crazy jokes and he likes it bc bad attention is better than no attention.

It seems awfully suspicious to me that the “best’ character” to be cast as a POC is the one so many have considered the throw-away one. If that doesn’t speak volumes, I don’t know what does.

I’m sorry, but I have to disagree here, too. I wouldn’t say he’s a throw-away character for the whole fandom. There are Daniel RPers. As I’ve mentioned, it happens that he doesn’t have a lot of action in canon other than in books 1 (as just the interviewer, but it counts!) and 3, so the fandom does not have as much canon to work with as they do for other characters.

And again, re: the fandom choosing him as “the best character” to be cast as a POC, that seems to be Akasha, from what I’ve seen.

Relevant to this discussion: there was a wave of love for Nicolas a few years back, for the same reasons, I think, that @mendedpixie7 felt about Adam in Only Lovers Left Alive:

The reason I love Only Lovers Left Alive is it shows that a character (Adam) can be severely mentally ill, in this case depressed and suicidal, and still be seen as lovable and capable of being loved and loving in return without being “cured” of their mental illness, and that a mentally ill character can have other attributes aside from being mentally ill while still showing the impact being mentally ill has on his personality.

Adam from OLLA is an extremely important character to me you guys.

Similarly, I think people would love to see a character that they care about, like Daniel, be cast as a POC as being POC is often portrayed negatively in media. Fans of a POC being cast as Daniel would want (I’m paraphrasing from above):

to see Danielshowing that a character can be POC, in this case black, and still be seen as lovable and capable of being loved and loving in return, and that a POC character can have other attributes aside from being POC while still showing the impact being POC has on his personality.

Daniel Molloy from VC is an extremely important character to me you guys.

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aion-rsa · 5 years

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Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell Review & Discussion

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In which two Rainbow Rowell fans discuss Wayward Son, the much-anticipated sequel to queer wizard romance Carry On ...

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This Wayward Son discussion includes major spoilers for both Carry On and Wayward Son.

Wayward Son, the sequel to Rainbow Rowell's queer wizard romance Carry On, hit shelves earlier this month. The book picks up roughly a year following the ending of Carry On, which saw Chosen One Simon Snow defeat the Insidious Humdrum and The Mage alongside best friend Penelope and vampire boyfriend Baz. It asks the worthy question: What happens after The Chosen One fulfills his prophecy?

Answer: Simon Snow is depressed, having not developed the coping skills to thrive in a post-Watford, post-Prophecy world. This prompts Penny into strong-arming Simon and Baz into a cross-country road trip adventure across America. What begins as Cheesecake Factory visits and Ren Faire detours escalates into another fight for Simon and his friends, as the gang is inadvertently pulled into a vampire conspiracy that already has Simon's ex Agatha in its clutches.

With a third book in the series, Any Way the Wind Blows, set to conclude the trilogy, Den of Geek Books Editor Kayti Burt and Den of Geek Contributor Natalie Zutter take the time to check in with the beloved series. How does Wayward Son expand on the cultural conversation begun in Carry On, and what do we hope for from the trilogy's final installment?

The First Question

Hot take! Generally, how did you feel about Wayward Son?

Kayti: I feel the need to preface this answer with some context: I was very hyped for this book. Carry On is one of my favorite books, and Rainbow Rowell is one of my favorite authors. To say this was one of the pop culture artifacts I was most looking forward to in 2019 would not be an understatement. Perhaps this kind of hype is untenable, but I am not in the habit of trying to talk myself out of positive emotions (anymore.. I hope), even for the worthy cause of not later being disappointed in part because of them.

That being said, I was disappointed. If Carry On was a nutritious and oh-so-delicious meal, then Wayward Son was a snack. There were elements of the narrative that I really loved and I think it had an amazing, ambitious premise—to explore what it can feel like after you’ve finished The Thing You’ve Always Been Working Towards (this is a particularly good allegory for graduating into the “real world,” a subject I don’t think is explored enough, honestly in our pop culture) but the book never quite fulfilled on its promise. I ended it with a feeling of Not Enoughness. Even though so much happened, plot-wise, it didn’t feel like the characters developed, either individually or collectively, in many noticeable ways.

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Natalie: The Renaissance Faire was the shit… though I was surprised that it seemed so alien to these Brits, as I would have assumed they would have a much higher likelihood of running into reenactments of medieval life on that side of the pond. A quick google later, and it turns out that Ren Faires are a very post-World War II American pastime—who knew! So that was a keen choice of Rowell’s, to present a subculture that would feel incredibly foreign to these magicians even though it’s mundane for the Normals.

For all that I felt like the Penny/Micah scenes wasted valuable time, forcing our trio to road trip across the heartland (instead of starting out on the coast, which would have been much more convenient) felt very American. Earlier this year, I spent a month in Nebraska City, NE on a writing residency (with brief visits to Omaha and Lincoln), so those portions felt much more familiar than they would have if I hadn’t temporarily lived there.

Kayti, I share your love for the quirks and rules of American magic, from the dead zones to—my favorite aspect of this series’ magic system—the efficacy of using American language and phrases in spells.

Kayti: Thank you for bringing up the Ren Faire, Natalie, and for giving that American context for it. I did not know about its history and now need to read more about it.

Natalie: Always here for Ren Faire discourse.

Kayti: Sadly, I have not yet been to a Ren Faire in real life (it’s on my loose bucket list!), but that did not keep me from loving this part of the book, or from understanding (having been to other delightfully performative spaces like this one, including Harry Potter World and, you know, Comic Con) what it looks, feels, and even smells like. There’s something incredibly powerful about going to a space in which everyone, including adults, has agreed to pretend, to play to some degree. In general, the Ren Faire scene felt like the point in the book in which the plot jumpstarted. The narrative sped up and felt kinetic and full of potential in a way it hadn’t before.

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As for the other parts of the American road trip narrative, it struck me in reading your comments that I have not been to almost all of the places that they visit in Wayward Son, which is interesting given my earlier rant about the brand of escapism I enjoyed as a child Harry Potter fan who had never been to England. (Reading Rowell’s books have taught me a lot about Nebraska, which I would love to visit. I recently read her graphic novel Pumpkinheads, which is set at a Nebraskan pumpkin patch, and it made me realize how, as a native New Englander, I erroneously ascribed certain Traditional Fall Practices solely to New England.)

Natalie: To be fair, I think most Americans (or at least coastal ones, like you and California-bred me) are raised to regard fall as very much belonging to the East Coast what with the leaves and the apple picking and such. So I’ll have to check out Pumpkinheads to disabuse myself of that notion as well!

You’re so right about the plot jumpstarting at the faire, because it was a site of so much concentrated pretend and delight in play. Maybe our quartet will find that they need to locate a similar space in England in the next book?!

Supporting characters: How did Penelope and Agatha grow (or not) as characters?

Natalie: I’m not sure if either grew on her own within her own arc; with Penny, I was especially waiting for her to be shown the error of her ways in looking down on Normals, as it seemed like the book was building to that. Then again, that kind of deep-seated self-reliance (which occasionally manifests as know-it-all arrogance) wouldn’t necessarily go away from just one adventure; so I guess it’s more realistic for her to need to experience more of the world beyond Watford before she fully grasps that while magicians are special, they’re not the be-all, end-all. To that end, one of my favorite moments in the book was when Penny and Agatha realized they could command magic without speaking and by drawing on one another. I’m excited to see how this brings them closer together—and likely on a different magickal level than Baz or Simon can grasp—in the third book.

Kayti: Same. I loved the big fight scene that saw Penny and Agatha holding hands, walking out of the fire like some kind of dude witchhunter’s worst fear. I didn’t think it was particularly earned, character-wise, as we didn’t really get to see these two talk things out. The book began with Penny trying to insert herself into Agatha’s California life, against Agatha’s express wishes. Penny disrespects so many of the boundaries Agatha has communicated to her, and, even though Agatha obviously ends up needing Penny and co., it’s not really addressed.

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I liked Penny’s storyline in Wayward Son, even if I wish we had gotten more of it. I liked that we got to see more of her relationship with Baz, and that her “deep-seated self-reliance” (which is a great way of putting it) is challenged. I think she’s the character who gets the most development here; Micah’s words seem to get through to her and, by the end of the book, she is relying on people a bit more. On the Agatha front, I was disappointed to see Agatha fall back into a world of magic/rigid external structure after she chose a different life for herself at the end of Carry On.

Natalie: I’d say that aside from Simon, Agatha is surprisingly the character with the darkest and most nuanced outlook on the Chosen One narrative—especially since she spent her formative years believing she was the reward for Simon saving the world. Yet I wanted to see more of that anger/frustration from Agatha, who instead seemed rather apathetic (though she got in a few good snarky comebacks) about her limited prospects in California. I wanted her to lay into Penny for ignoring her boundaries!

Looking Forward to Book Three

Do you think Simon will get his magic back in the third book? Do you want him to?

Natalie: Simon seemed to do fine without being able to command magic in this book, thanks to the wings and tail and his general MO of acting like a bat out of hell in battle. I would be curious to see him develop his relationship to magic in what I assume will be the conclusion of this trilogy: having gone from being the manifestation of magic to having to rely on his friends for every little thing, hopefully there’s a way he can learn to exist parallel to it.

Kayti: Yeah, I like that. In some ways, the NowNext crew’s efforts to transplant magic into a non-magickal creature seem to foreshadow a potential choice for Simon: would he choose to get his magic back if he had the option? I’d like to see him develop an identity and broader skillset outside of magic. His inability to properly take care of himself in Wayward Son is not a result of his lack of magic, but rather his mental illness, which I think is a reality Rowell does a good job emphasizing, even if Simon himself can’t see it.

Natalie: Good point. I think that at times I failed to recognize that as a mental illness issue and instead regarded Simon entirely through the lens of magic—i.e., much the way his friends do.

What do you think has happened at Watford???

Kayti: I don’t know! Why didn’t I let you answer this question first?!

Natalie: I might have chosen to answer these questions in a certain order for this very reason…

Kayti: Very Slytherin of you.

Natalie: I keep wanting to be Ravenclaw, and then the Slytherin just takes over in moments like these...

Kayti: I am the opposite! I am a Ravenclaw who wants to be a Slytherin.

Anyway, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to expect that Penny, Simon, and Baz will face some consequences for their careless actions in Wayward Son, though that doesn’t seem to be what the emergency at Watford is alluding to. I wonder if it might have something to do with the vampire community, as they played such an important role in Wayward Son and are obviously tied to Baz, which would force him and Simon to face some realities they have thus far been able to avoid. Whatever it is, I am happy to be heading back to England.

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Natalie: I definitely think it’s some crisis that’s mostly been running parallel to the events of Wayward Son, though I wouldn’t be surprised if their actions in middle America (and the aforementioned outing via Ren Faire battle) had some impact.

Considering that the trio were all at least a year out of their time at Watford at the start of the book, it would be really interesting if the crisis at Watford is something about which they’re completely out of the loop—if going back to a place where they lived for years is nearly as foreign as stepping on American soil.

How did you feel about that ending?

Natalie: I read this entire book expecting it to be concluding a duology, so even when we got to the ostensible cliffhanger of an ending I initially thought maybe it was meant to be open-ended—that Simon and Baz would or wouldn’t resolve their individual issues, that there would always be an emergency to draw their attention away from fixing their relationship. That would have felt a bit too unsatisfying for me. Now that we know there’s a third book in the works, I’m more onboard with ending on a “to be continued…”

Kayti: As I got closer to the ending, I think I began to realize that this would not be the end of the series, but I still expected more from this ending: more of an emotional confrontation, of some kind, even if it ended in Simon and Baz breaking up. Simon’s intention to break up with Baz stated in the very beginning of the book felt a bit like a Chekhov’s gun that never went off.

Natalie: You’re right! The fact that they didn’t address anything about their relationship nagged at me—like, even if they’re as bad at being together as they each seem to think, it seemed truly surprising that after nearly dying a half-dozen times over they decided to stay in this weird cautious detente.

What do you want to see explored in the next book?

Kayti: I was expecting the question of Simon’s parentage to play more of a role in Wayward Son—if not in Agatha inadvertently giving Team Snow the information about Lucy that would probably allow Penny or Baz to put the pieces together, then in Simon wondering more about it himself. I’m still not clear how much he knows about The Mage’s machinations. Does he realize that the Mage was his biological father?

I’d also like to learn more about Baz’s family. We get hints of him in Carry On, most especially his Aunt Fiona, who is a force to be reckoned with in the fandom world. How has Baz’s relationship with Simon affecting his relationship with his family, if it has? Is he close with his siblings?

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Natalie: I… completely forgot that Simon doesn’t know everything about the Mage’s plan, so yes I would like to see this resolution as well.

I’d like to see each of the characters struggle with fitting into a post-Watford world in adulthood: Agatha with some righteous anger, Penny examining her magickal privileges, and Simon and Baz comparing their relative support systems in the form of family.

I’d also like to see the magickal world change. Wayward Son proved that there are some cracks in how the magicians harnessed magic and built their identity around it; but it seems like in some ways they need to get with the times. Like, now that Simon is no longer the Chosen One, how does that affect an entire magickal world that was half-expecting to get wiped out at any time?

Kayti: Yes to Agatha’s righteous anger and Penny’s examination of her magickal privilege!

The Final Question

How do you think Wayward Son compares to Carry On?

Natalie: Carry On was so clearly in conversation with Harry Potter and Chosen One narratives—and subverted those story beats so brilliantly, from how spells are constructed to the Mage’s self-fulfilling prophecy—that it feels like a complete book.

Wayward Son felt like it didn’t know what kind of story it was: part culture-clash tour of magickal creatures of the U.S., part interrogation of its own established magic systems. And maybe that was by design! The characters are figuring out who they are now that they’ve broken the standard Chosen One narrative, so it stands to reason that the sequel would similarly be looking for itself. But it felt very much like a middle book; I will probably enjoy it more on a reread someday once I have the hindsight of knowing how the story ends.

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Kayti: Yeah, I am interested to see how I feel about this book after I read the third one in the trilogy, but I am also a big believer in all respective works of a larger series (whether it is in book, TV, or movie form) having to stand on their own, which I am not sure that Wayward Son does. It’s possible that Wayward Son was never going to be as revelatory a reading experience as Carry On, and the ways in which it used some of the best qualities of fanfiction culture to challenge, expand, and contextualize some of the problematic and/or unexplored aspects of the Harry Potter series, in particular when it comes to trauma.

That being said, I think Rowell’s ambitions with this one—to explore depression and what comes after The Chosen One wins—is just as brilliant an idea as what she was working with in Carry On, but one that wasn’t given the time or space to be adequately explored.

Natalie: Really well put. I think we were all expecting more drawing upon fanfiction culture (something that I will note that Tamsyn Muir’s Harrow the Ninth succeeds in doing as a follow-up to Gideon the Ninth) when instead this is an entirely different animal. If anything, I would love to see Any Way the Wind Blows build on Wayward Son’s conversation about mental health and moving on, so that the third book is closer to the second than the first.

Wayward Son is now available for purchase via Amazon, Macmillan, or your local independent bookstore.

Natalie Zutter is a playwright and pop culture critic who will talk about fanfiction until you spell her silent, and is very much due for a Fangirl reread. Read more of her work here.

Kayti Burt is a staff editor covering books, TV, movies, and fan culture at Den of Geek. Read more of her work here or follow her on Twitter @kaytiburt.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature Natalie Zutter Kayti Burt

Oct 17, 2019

Young Adult Fiction

Fantasy Books

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#aion-rsa #Books

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synfulwitchcraft · 7 years

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Tagged by: @a-sprinkle-of-magick

Name: Syn Nickname: Ummm… Syn? I have a lot of personal ones used by special people… but I don’t really give them out? Hah. I’ve gotten super possessive of my names in the last year. Weird realization I just had… Zodiac: overly proud aquarian Height: I have scoliosis so depending on how long it’s been since the chiro straightened me out, anywhere between 5'8" and 6 ft lol Orientation kinda flopped upside down with my leg crammed between the couch cu- oh… thaaaat orientation… I’m a cute little pan baby ♡ Single/taken? happily taken (9 years now) with a few wonderful soul mates in tow… and seeking an additional mate because I lost my last one #polylife Nationality: I’m an American muttbaby… and currently very embarrassed by it… fuck our government, honestly Hobbies: tarot, witchy things, binge watching Netflix, drinking more than I should, trying new food with hubbz, being a goofy child with my kiddos, listening to music louder than I should, talking psych and philosophy… the list goes on… Religion: I’m not religious… I am pagan, but it’s a spiritual path not a religious regime I’m bound to… lost my taste for that a while ago Favorite fruit: pineapple Favorite season: PUMPKIN!!! …lololol, which is to say ‘fall’ Favorite book: so far nothing has beaten my love for Stranger in a Strange Land… though American Gods came painfully close. Favorite flower: you know those purple thistles that grow in ditches alongside the road with the black-eyed susans in late summer and fall? Those. Both of them. Favorite scent: wood smoke on crisp air or fresh cut grass in early spring Favorite color: aqua blue Favorite animal: Octopus!!! Favorite TV show: RuPaul’s Drag Race Coffee/tea/cocoa? Coffee always, ice tea on hot summer days, cocoa with my kids when we’re snowed in and watching movies on the couch Cat/dog? Cat person, always… though lately I have been really wanting a puppy Favorite fictional character: god… There’s so many? Cosima? Helena? Dean Winchester? Tina Belcher? Louise? Lestat? Ursula? Rumple? ….sooo many Number of blankets I sleep with at night: 1 or 2… sometimes I steal hubbz’ for between my legs lol Dream trip: it’s a tie between a road trip across the U.S. to visit haunted attractions with all of my best friends, or a trip to someplace remote and beautiful where I can get lost in nature… like Ireland or Greece… really I just want to see everything Blog created: ummm.. where do you find that info? It was like 3 years ago sometime but idk Number of followers: 1,145 last I checked… and I love you all!

tagging: @how-about-i-want-to-die @littlelostgreenwitch @daughteroflancre @behind-my-smile ….my brain is blanking all the people I talk to right now, I’m sorry people… do this if you want to and tag me so I can see all your answers ♡

#syn speaks #fun

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vampiresman · 7 years

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The Club and Beyond. (TLA Ch. 2)

Up above, blending within the crowded walkways of the second floor, a man stands amongst the shadows. His sharp eyes watch the dancing one, a hint of bemused curiosity in his stance. Something grows in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that causes hands to clench into fists and eyebrows to knit together. The cause of this strange feeling is an unfamiliar man. One who walks up behind Lestat, joining him in the none-too-appropriate dance. Their bodies move together, the man’s hands grasping lightly at Lestat’s hips as pale hands reach behind, curling in the blue dyed hair. From his place on the dance floor, Lestat glances up, eyes landing directly on Louis. For a split second his eyebrows furrow and his mouth opens slightly, but before he is able to properly look, Louis has disappeared.

Through the dazzling lights and a hazy mind, Lestat is unsure if what he saw was real, or just another misconception. Old ghosts roaming the dark places of a tattered mind, painful wants becoming woven into reality. His movements are distracted, disconnected from the world around him. The man behind him takes notice of this and tightens his grip on Lestat’s hips, moving to speak in his ear.

“Are you alright?” He semi-yells, voice not quite carrying over the music.

“I-i’m fine.” Lestat responds, voice impossible to hear. He shakes his head slightly, turning in the man’s arms, “we should head somewhere calmer!”

“Alright. If you want to.” Grabbing ahold of Lestat’s arm, as not to lose him in the swarm, he moves towards the exit.

Ringing. Loud and piercing, infiltrating ear drums in the sudden lack of deafening noise. An assault of quiet and freezing air. Goosebumps raise on flesh, and arms cross to keep warmth.

“Is everything alright?” Draven asks once again, joining Lestat on the slick, icy sidewalk.

“Yes. I apologize, just something about that place.” He shakes his head, looking down at the dirty, concrete path.

“I know exactly what you need.”

“What?”

“Just follow me.”

Casting a glance back at the club they have just abandoned, Lestat follows Draven down the deserted street. ~•~ “I do not think this idea is very wise,” Lestat comments, staring down at the body of a passed out person.

“Come on, it’ll help I promise. Don’t you want to enjoy yourself?” Lestat hesitates for a moment, squinting at Draven. Giving a small sigh, he gives in, leaning down. A fuzzy warmth spreads throughout his body. It buzzes in his fingertips, courses throughout his veins. Before he is done it has clouded his brain, muddling his thoughts and skewing his decisions. As time passes the effects really begin to take hold, growing stronger.

“Shall we be off?” Lestat suggests, a drunken smirk gracing his face.

“We shall,” responds Draven.

The night becomes a swirl of twisting memories. Scenes careening through an intoxicated mind. A blazing trail of burning regrets cloaked in false happiness. The spastic strobes replace flickering street lamps, cool outside air forgotten for the stuffy, smelly momentary escape. A momentary moment that lasts days. Repeating cycles to forget, to feel free, to feel alive, but most of all to feel not so alone. Bursting sparks amidst a shallow darkness- going off bright and loud, all at once, only to fizzle out and lose the light, replaced again the next night. The repetitive cycle, the dangerous cycle, lasting the course of four nights. Four nights that shift into days, days that come too quickly, arrive too soon. Days that nearly touch alabaster skin- planting their fiery kiss with feather light touches. Days that almost succeed in the downfall of a broken angel.

Days that bring concern to a silent onlooker, experiencing each night with various tones of worry- experience from a distance that alters perception. A perception that brings the need to intervene- to stop the downfall midair, to catch the broken angel before they can crumble.

It is early in the morning. Despite the nights chill, the air is gradually warming. Soon the sun will rise. Sloppily seated in a slump in a booth is Lestat. He wears nothing but a pair of low cropped skinny jeans, an unbuttoned white blouse, and black socks. His discarded shoes sit beside him. For the first time in four days he is alone, his blue haired companion nowhere to be found. If he does not leave within minutes than there is no way he will make it home. Lestat does not move. Perhaps he does not realize. With eyes glazed over he stares at an empty glass, finger tracing circles around the rim. His mouth is parted slightly in thought, an almost confused expression on his face. Perhaps he does not care. Louis casts a weary glance outside, standing from his perched position across the room. Lestat is so out of it that he doesn’t even notice him. Gently he places a light hand on Lestat’s shoulder, drawing the man out of his own mind.

“We need to get you home.” He says, just loud enough to hear. An array of emotions flash across Lestat’s face, mouth opening to speak. He is unable to get any words out. Before he can process the situation, Louis has pulled him from Club, outside into the morning air. He doesn’t allow Lestat to talk, hushing him every time he tries. By the time they manage to reach Lestat’s apartment, the sun is already beginning to peer out from behind the distant trees.

The apartment is easy to navigate, Lestat not so much. It is a struggle to drag him into his bedroom, as he seems to want to be anywhere except there.

“Lestat!” Louis exclaims, exasperation reaching its peak, “you need to get into your coffin.”

“But I don’t want to!” He sounds like a stubborn child, arms crossed, backed into the rooms corner. Louis lets out an annoyed hiss, moving toward Lestat. His hands grasp Lestat’s shoulders tightly.

“Lestat. Get. In. Your. Coffin.”

“No.” He says the word, eyes staring deep into Louis’.

“Why?” Louis is quickly becoming frustrated, “Just get in the goddamn coffin!”

“I won’t!”

“Lestat! Why?” By now they’re both yelling.

“Because you’ll leave!” There is nothing but anger in Lestat’s voice, but his eyes- his eyes are a different story. They close and Louis is left speechless.

“Lestat?” His voice is quiet.

“I’ve said too much.” He removes Louis’ hands from his shoulders, stepping aside and walking over to his coffin, “down in the basement there’s a door, you’re smart I’m sure you’ll find it, it leads out of here. You’ll end up in a cemetery.” Without another word the coffin is closed and Louis is left in a room of silence. ~~~~~

~This chapter was longer than expected and very late. Sorry bout that. I dunno when the next chapter will be up, but it’ll be sometimes in February.

#TLA #to love again fanfic #chapter two #to Love Again chapter two #loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #gay vampires #gay #fanfic #interview with the vampire #iwtv

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