#cannibalized from another wip that wasn't working out

[kittlesandbugs]

Title: Scrubbing old wounds (AO3 Link here) Pairing: Chargestep Warnings: PSTD, medical trauma, canon-typical angst, end of Retri spoilers Word Count: 1691 Summary: At some point after the wreck and moving into Ortega's apartment to heal, Sidestep has to tackle how to get clean.  It dredges up a lot of old memories and fears.

You drag your hand back through greasy hair that feels almost plastered to your skull. How long ago was your accident, since you were clean? Showered that morning, before everything went to absolute shit. Was it two days earlier that you arrived at Ortega's apartment?  You aren’t sure how long you were in the hospital before you woke up again. Three days maybe? Four? 

Fuck. You haven't had to go longer than a day since you got back to the city. You can't walk. Can't get undressed by yourself. Can't even piss by yourself. How are you supposed to manage a shower? The frustrated groan drags itself from your lips. 

"What's wrong, Ry?" 

You turn to find Ortega peering at you from around the kitchen doorway. You must have been louder than you thought. 

"I… feel disgusting," you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. Your hand sticking in dried sweat makes you grimace. "I need a shower but…" 

His lips quirk in a half-smile. "I was wondering when you'd ask."

"It can wait," you say quickly. Somehow the idea was less daunting in your head, and the reality of the endeavor is sinking its claws in.  You suppress a shudder. "I don't want to interrupt you."

"I'm just cleaning up. That can wait."  He pauses and cocks his head in thought. "Or would you rather Angie helped you with this?  She’ll be over tonight." 

Fuck, that's so much worse. At least with Ortega, you're completely protected from his thoughts. Judgments. Unvoiced questions. Argent is good at keeping hers under wraps, but you can't handle a slip. Not right now. You quickly shake your head. 

"You, please?" You sound pathetic even to your own ears. 

"Of course," he says quietly. Gently. Like you aren't a villain that lies to him constantly, just the woman he loves, and you can't even really be that for him. 

Does he suspect anything? Will he put the pieces together when Reckoning's rampage quiets the entire time you're here healing? As much as you accuse him of being an idiot, he's not about things like this. 

You tug your sleeves nervously as he takes hold of the wheelchair, guides you to the bathroom. They both know that truth now. You still can't bring yourself to wear short sleeves around them since the IV came out. Can't handle the glances you know will come. The curiosity. The pity. 

You're going to have to bear his anyway if you want to get clean. 

There's room enough for both of you and the wheelchair between all the fixtures. Ranger salary perks of living, but it is a little tight. He sidles around you to the tub. 

"I've been thinking about how we're going to do this since we left the HQ. And the only thing I've come up with is something like a sponge bath?" 

You nod. Not like you can submerge your casts, acrylic or not. Can't remove them to get excess water out. Don't want to risk anything that could complicate your healing. You're going to be too vulnerable too long as it is, and your skin itches from more than just grime. 

"Can I help you get undressed?" 

Too soft. Too considerate. You're suddenly not sure what's worse, getting manhandled like a doll or treated like you'll shatter if he touches you wrong, and it burns like sandpaper on raw nerves. 

"Seriously? Gonna be hard to give me a bath otherwise." It comes out far more acidic and sarcastic than you intended, and you flinch at the flash of hurt in his eyes. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's not.  I shouldn't be taking my shit out on you."  You hold your arms up and lean forward, a peace offering and invitation to take your shirt off. 

He takes the offered olive branch. Chuckles a little as he peels the shirt over your head. "I had a feeling you would be a terrible patient."

"I am, aren't I?" 

"You're in a lot of pain." Lips press to the top of your head. "I get it."

"I do appreciate your help."  You blink back tears. "And you bringing me here.  I couldn't…"

"I won't let them take you again. Hurt you again."

You don't believe he can really keep them from you. But the thought is nice. You sit back in the chair and look at the ceiling rather than your own acid orange torso. 

"Oh, Riley…" 

The tone of his voice brings you back to him, and he has a soft, open expression that punches you right in your guts, harder than a fist. 

"Wh-what?" Your arms cross over your chest, hiding one set of patterns and exposing another. Damned either way. "They're as much me as the rest of my skin." 

He shakes his head, tension obvious in the cords of his neck. "Not the tattoos.  The scar."

"I— oh."  Your arms fall away and you look down at the ugly Y-shape going down your breast bone, split across your belly, breaking up the tattoos. Reminiscent of an autopsy scar, but you never actually died. Not all the way, not in a way they couldn't bring you back. "That."

"What… what did they do to you?" 

You laugh. Maybe it's a little frayed at the edges, jagged like your skin. "Fixed me after Heartbreak, like I said before. Used the good spare parts inside.  Didn't care how it looked outside. Didn't matter.  No one else was ever supposed to see it."

He isn't sparking, probably turned himself off for the bath. But his hands clench tight and pale on the rims of your wheels. He's speechless for once, and it emboldens you to keep going. Keep giving him more ugly truths so he'll finally repudiate you like he should have done when he first saw the tattoos. 

"New spleen, it ruptured. Replaced some bowel that perforated. Fixed a punctured lung. Broken ribs."  You lean forward so he can see the long scars running the length of your spine and he sucks in a breath.  You knew they'd worked on it, but hadn't seen the extent until the first time you examined yourself with your puppet. "Repaired herniated discs and cracked vertebrae. I… a lot breaks in a 40-foot fall."

He winces and you half regret saying the last part. "I know," he says softly. 

"I don't know that I would have survived if they hadn't taken me immediately." A shudder runs through you. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if they hadn't. But they did, and the ball can't stop rolling now. "I don't know that I entirely survived the ride. I don't really remember much between the fall and the scalpels."

Those you remember with crystal clarity, the pain stripping your mind cleaner than their scans. Straps biting into flesh, pinned down and cut open like a frog for dissection. The jab when they cut somatic nerve control to still your writhing. Couldn't even relieve the pain with a scream, machines breathing for you through tubes unceremoniously shoved down your throat. Pain-gate broken or deactivated, and you felt everything in spades. Just like now, painkillers no longer taking the edge off. You shiver and swallow the bile threatening to rise up. 

Warm hands cup your cheeks and you almost flinch out of them. He's gone to one knee beside you, unable to slot in from the front. "Hey. Hey. Look at me. Breathe with me." 

Heart racing, breath coming in shallow pants, you didn't even notice. You swallow again, hands squeeze the arm rest, focus on warm brown eyes, warm hands, long slow breaths, letting the past lie dead where you should have. But neither one of you will stay down. 

"There." Lips press to your forehead. "It's okay. You're back, you're here, and I won't let them take you again," he says again but with more force. 

If he keeps saying that, can he will it into reality? 

"Sorry," you mutter. "I don't… This is… It's too…" You trail off, words not coming. Everything hurts, everything's wrong, everything's twisted up, how did it get… 

"Too similar to last time?"

You flinch. "Yeah."

He hums in thought and turns on the spigot, bucket already waiting underneath. Did he already have it there in anticipation of your need or did it sneak in while you were losing it? You don't know. You scrub your face with a groan and your hands come back wet with tears. Fuck. 

"How did they take care of you?" 

You freeze like a deer, not sure if you misheard over the faucet. "What?" 

"When you were hurt before. They had to keep you clean, right? For your wounds?" 

"I don't…" Hands, there were hands. You sort of remember them. Moving the shift. Lifting your limbs. Rough callous scrubbing. And sometimes they would... You shake your head to derail that train of thought. "I don't really remember everything. I was half catatonic from shock. Pain. They just did."

"Okay. Here."  He hands you a warm wet soapy cloth and retreats, as much as he can wedged in the bathroom with you.

There's a loaded look in his eyes that's throwing you. You look at the washcloth, back to him, trying to figure out what he's plotting, and you only batter against static in his brain that makes you shrink back in your chair as another tremor runs through you. 

"Riley, look at me." Your eyes flick to his. "I'm not them. I'm not going to hurt you." A loaded pause, a crooked grin. "Except when I pick you up so we can scrub your ass."

That startles a choked laugh out of you and his eyes crinkle with delight. "I think that one's unavoidable," you admit with a sniffle. Fuck, you're a mess. 

"Yeah. And we don't have to if you don't want to. You're in control here. I'll only touch where and when you ask. Help get what you can't reach. We're done when you say so. Okay?"

"Yeah…" You swallow, nod, come back stronger. A wet smile to answer his, and it's not dread drowning you this time. "Okay."

[stars-for-circe]

Bones and All - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2 - wip

Tags / cw: Cannibal!reader x Vampire!Ellie, reader is a psychopath, Ellie is over 100 but physically 23, reader is around 27-30, reader is sophisticated/classy, gore, blood, suggestive, dark themes - read at your discretion, murders, drugging, cannibalism, reader is rich

On Monday, you were reckless. Starved. It had been three days since you had last feasted. And even now, after catching a meal, it was only a leg. The poor victim crawling away in agony as you dined on his limbs. And when he dared to pause his escape, to look back at the sight of you tearing through flesh with your teeth - your white cocktail dress now wine red, drenched with his life - he screamed.

"Y-you fucking monster!" He was dry heaving at this point, saliva and snot and tears dripping out as his body tried to keep itself alive.

You merely turned to look at him, and grinned - bearing your red teeth.

"And what did your wife call you? When you hit her? When you killed her?"

He whimpered in realisation. This, this wasn't some random attack. This was planned, methodical. This was karma. Whatever god that ruled above had breathed a purpose into you, as a vessel of retribution. You simply took back what your victims stole. A life for a life.

"Darling, don't act so righteous. You and I? We are no different." You were almost patronising, void of any empathy, any remorse.

He promptly passed out. Either from the blood loss or the shock - or both, you considered - it made cleaning up easier when the mess wasn't screaming for help. Unfortunately, the pill you slipped into his glass didn't work for long. You realised as such when you noticed his brows scrunch as you dragged him out of your car and into the forest. God, there was so much blood. Painting the forest floor, the fallen Winter leaves now reflecting the colour of Autumn. It was nauseating.

And usually, you were meticulous. In choosing your victims (who were always as evil as you, in their crimes, their abuses), in luring them out of hiding, in drugging them until you killed. You made sure to be inviting, enticing, making them eager to have dinner at your manor, or drinks at a quiet bar.

Of course, dining at home was easier for you to slip something in their food, but most bars were dark enough for a dissolving pill to go unnoticed. And sometimes you enjoyed going out - the thrill of possibly getting caught, the clouded eyes of your victims thinking you were taking them to bed. Well, you did, but it was to their deathbed, rather.

You would undress them, bathe them, even talk to them. Because who knows? Maybe they could still hear you in their dreams, amidst all the drugs in their system. Then, in a bathtub filled halfway with warm water, you would slit their throat. And you would let them drain until there wasn't any blood left. Because unlike your other, more famous peers, you hated blood. Its metallic taste on your tongue oh-so unpleasant, when you'd rather savour the other delicacies in humans.

But this time, you had no choice. The son of a bitch woke up halfway home. You had to take a detour into the forestry surrounding the manor. You had to eat. You couldn't wait any longer. That sense of panicked urgency now overtaking your ravenous hunger. And as the drugs wore off, he was thankfully still weak enough to drag outside, and leave laying against a tree. But as the drugs wore off, he screamed and begged for his life when the glint of your knife shone under the moonlight.

You just begged for some peace and quiet while having dinner. But, some dreams would only remain dreams. And he would remain screaming as the knife sunk in.

So that night, you ate. A disgusting, bloody meal. But a meal nonetheless. It tasted horrible, but it would last you another few days - it was enough for now. The creatures of the forest would eat the rest.

On Monday, Ellie smelled the blood. It was fresh.

On Tuesday, Ellie found the source. 7 miles away, in some forest in the middle of nowhere. Wolves, surrounding a carcass of what was once a man, now just fertiliser. The leaves, damp from early morning fog, squelched under her feet as she got closer. And vampires, being at the top of the food chain, bowed to no-one. The wolves ran away at the sight of her.

"Holy shit..."

It was missing a fucking leg. A clean cut - the wolves weren't this clean in hunting. And it couldn't be because of the wolves - they never attacked people. This was a body, left in the forest, missing a fucking leg - and Ellie didn't know why.

For a moment, she suspected another vampire in her territory. This was in the outskirts after all, maybe they didn't recognise her markings. But vampires didn't do this. They were discrete - which was part of the reason why it was so difficult to hunt in this era, with the amount of fucking CCTV everywhere. Ellie herself hadn't eaten in weeks. This? This was a fucking mess. There were clothes thrown everywhere, the body was still identifiable, and the smell reached miles on every side.

But most importantly, there was blood. So much blood. And Ellie was a vampire, for fucks sake. Another vampire wouldn't kill for no reason - and this looked like the blood was avoided on purpose. Her mouth watered. Fuck, it was unintentional - this was so gruesome she could have thrown up at the sight. But the coat of fresh blood spread everywhere made her wish the body was still alive - still warm.

So Ellie was confused. And honestly? She was really fucking spooked, too. This forest was quiet - eerie even. There were no birds singing, no crickets chirping, even though they should have been wide awake. It screamed of danger, even to her. Vampires were predators, but for some reason, Ellie felt like prey. Her leg started twitching, begging her to run out of this place, lest it be next.

So she got out of there as fast as she could, in whatever direction was in front of her. The fog, still cold and damp, blanketed both the forest floor and herself, and Ellie couldn’t tell if it was the temperature or nervous that send the chill down her spine - but she ran. And after an hour, spent narrowly missing hidden branches and rocks (No, she didn't trip), she found a break in the clearing. Thank god.

Wait, was that a manor?

…

She ran the wrong way.

"Son of a-"

"Fuck these fucking forests and their fucking trees and their fucking rocks and houses-" She kicked a nearby tree, breaking the trunk in half. Then a rock, then the dirt. The volume of her yelling caused the birds to fly out of the trees. She glared at them, and then ran back to the proper way out. Fuck the blood for smelling so enticing.

On Tuesday, You heard commotion in the clearing near your house. But no human dared to come near, so you blamed it on the wild animals.

On Wednesday, You built an appetite. But so did Ellie. And this time, you were prepared.

On your bedside table sat a sugar bowl, a vintage style of ornate - only the sweets worthy enough deserved to be held within. It was rather beautiful, as the early morning sun gently reflected off the edge of it. It garnered your attention, as you slowly woke up. And slowly, as you leaned against the headboard of your bed, and reached over to sit it on your lap, your mouth watered at the promise of the treats inside. Today was the day.

You took the little gold lid off, eyeing the candy inside. Each piece wrapped in a different type of paper than the last. You licked your lips tentatively - what would you fancy today? Gooseberry? No, you had that one two days ago. How about Grapefruit instead? A tough choice to make, given the amount of flavours to choose from. Gently, your fingers circled the rim of the bowl, tracing the intricacies drawn onto the china, before you dipped your hand into the bowl and pulled a piece out at random.

The pastel green wrapper crinkled as you unwrapped it, before popping the candy in your mouth and closing your eyes as you savoured its taste. Green apple - an old favourite of yours. Though, it had definitely been a while since you last had that one in particular, because they were always the hardest to catch. Hidden in the ridges and bumps of the bowl, seen rarely, and chosen even lesser. Hm, you had your work set out for you tomorrow.

You clenched your fist in contemplation, and felt a poke from the crinkled wrapper still in your hands. You almost forgot. And at your favourite part nonetheless! You sat your self up, now cross legged on the bed as you unfolded the wrapper in anticipation. It was silent for a moment, as you raised a brow, absorbing the information in front of you.

Oh?

Written, in small font, was her information. Her age, her name, her crime. A lovely choice. And it was ironic, that out of all the ways she would be punished for it, you were her executioner. How cyclical, you thought. But never mind that, for she was just another victim to get rid of - nothing more, nothing less. You bit down on the candy, breaking it inside your mouth. It’s sour taste clouding your senses as you contemplated your methods. And yet, it would be a shame not to have fun with this one, after all, it wasn't often you feasted on one of her kind.

'Ellie Williams, 23, vampire.'

A dinner party at your manor would suffice, to lure her into your clutches, and to celebrate your forthcoming victory.

On Wednesday, Ellie was reckless. Starved. 3 weeks since she had last fed - and she was ready to do anything for another taste.

Taglist: @bready101 @elliewilliamsblunt @aouiaa @strangehuman101 @lov3lylotus @wishbones999 @seraphicsentences @les4elliewilliams @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

[sidesteppostinghours]

WIP its-not-Wednesday-but-close-enough

tagged by @autistic-sidestep! thank you for the tag :D i have,,, so many wips rn. pulp stop starting a million projects challenge. all of these are very rough, and a lot of them feature other steps, but i wanted to share a few :]

for writing, ive got these:

“What the hell, man!” Mitchel hisses. He’s let go, but he hasn’t bothered lowering his voice. Too loud, but real. Caine groans, pulling themselves up from the mattress. At least it wasn’t the floor– this could’ve hurt a lot worse. They wince at the throb in their shoulder as they reach for the wall, probing for a light switch. When he flicks it on reality re-establishes itself once more.  It’s Caine’s room, familiarly bare-bones. There’s only a singular twin sized bed in one corner of the room and a desk just across, with a heap of laundry they haven’t bothered to do taking up the chair. Mitchel stands on the mattress in the middle, both parts pissed and bleary eyed. His cheek is a lightish colour that’s a telltale sign it’s going to bruise, and a portion of his blanket stubbornly clings onto his shoulder. There’s no threat in here, or at least nothing more threatening than Mitchel annoyed. The knowledge doesn’t stop the blood pounding in their ears.

-caine wakes up and gets jumpscared by @hyper-pixels mitchel. they react to this calmly.

Marshal Steel has hair stuck in his finger joints. That's the first thing Daniel noticed when he came in to work this morning. Steel has his civilian hands on, which is normal when he has admin work. Those civilian hands will usually have hair in it too, mostly from Spoon. That's also normal. What's not normal is the colour; because instead of the odd tufts of grey fur Daniel's used to seeing scattering Steel's joints, this is a single, longer strand that he's sure wasn't left on purpose. Because the hair strand is brown. Suspiciously similar to Ortega's own brown hair.

-herald is suspicious that his boss is having another secret relationship with a pretty old man, but its none of his business! not at all. thats why hes eavesdropping on them from the breakroom pantry.

“What are you two talking about?” Ortega jerks, nearly spilling coffee all over Wei, tearing a curse out of him as he yanks his head to the direction of the voice.  Speak of the devil. Caine glances between the two, head cocked. When did he get here? Ortega doesn't remember inviting him, and nobody told him he was coming either. Not that Ortega isn't happy to see him, but the timing… “Dios mio, Spot, how long have you been standing there?” he mutters. He gives his coffee a once over, but nothing's spilled.  He turns back to Caine and double takes. The poor guy looks like he's just run a marathon– he's drenched in his own sweat. He's not wearing his raggedy sweater, for once. Instead, he's got a skintight suit with a simple white tee over it.

-a multi-pov fic featuring the same conversation, but told from the perspective of ortega, chen, and caine. trying to practice voices with it, and so far its been fun digging into each of them!

as for art wips:

-arde and vera based on the song "the villain i appear to be"! i actually made this today after playing the new revelations demo lmfao. i do not remember what arde looks like 😔 im so sorry ive done you a disservice

the next two have blood+mild gore in them, so im throwing them under the cut!

-cyrus gets Fucked Up by a dream version of fawn from @villainsidestep, based on this absolutely vile(/pos) soul read of him:

because why not fuck him up even more??

-mitchel painting i have yet to put down colours for that i am lovingly dubbing "cannibalism (NOT ROMANTIC)". chew it out with your teeth mitchel!!!!

ill be tagging everybody mentioned in the post, plus @idlenight, @disastersteps, and maybe @euelios if you all wanna give this a shot?

[still-a-morosexual-help]

not ob related but in March my phone just ?? stopped working?? well it didn't stop, like everything still worked, alarms went off, the screen could still be used but the screen was just black. I tried everything online to try to fix it and nothing worked. I didn't really have money to fix it at the time and I had an old phone that was slow but worked okay so I just used that and every now and then tried to get my main phone working again. I had given up on it so three days ago I tried to do a factory restart without being able to see anything just so my info wasn't still on it (did not work) but bc I charged it again the alarms kept going off. I turned them off every day and everything was the same but then this morning the screen?? was just working again??? after like 7/8 months it just randomly came back on?? and everything is working fine??? like idk how it happened and I'm using it now bc it's so much better but I'm so worried it's just gonna stop working again lmao

sorry for ranting I'm just so confused on why it suddenly started working fine again, I can finally catch up on everything without it taking forever to load (including your writing so if yoy recommend anything of yours to start with I would really appreciate it hehe)

Oh! Oh! This exact same thing happened to my last two phones & my brother's. The screen went black even though I still kept getting notifications. And yeah after I left it alone for a few months it worked for another couple weeks before going out.

Took it to fix multiple times but honestly there's nothing you can do to permanently fix it - it'll work for like 3 days max before going out again.

The best thing you can do rn is backup everything you need to and move anything you need for work/studies/leasure on to a laptop or computer, which is what I did.

Apparently the most common cause is if you don't have a case and hit the corner of the phone on something - even if it's a relatively light knock - which is what happened with my brother's and one of mine

It's honestly really frustrating when it happens and good luck! Hopefully yours manages better than mine did. And you're always welcome to come rant even if it's not om! related!

I actually just posted a fic yesterday😂 though it's a bit different from my normal om! fics because it has violence, gore and cannibalism........but it's still lowkey a fluff piece so? And I'm actually really proud of it cause I haven't been able to write a "darker" fic since I left the batman fandom - I was practically giddy with it, giggling and kicking my feet

Under the Gentle Rains - For the first time, his human sees what he truly is. A creature of the night, of bared fangs dripping with the blood of the slain, of endless death and cosmic evil. A creature finally brought to the light to face their judgment. A creature that wishes to wail and weep at the realistic thought of finally losing them.

Or a fic that fills in the blanks of what happened between Lesson 16 and 18, from Belphie's point of view, with character & relationship development between Belphie & Mammon + Belphie & MC? Angst with a happy ending.

Changing Seasons - After all the dust has settled Belphie is determined to spend more time with Lilith's descendent, unfortunately for him Mammon has taken to acting like a particularly lovestruck leech. 5 times Mammon gets in Belphie's way & the one time he doesn't.

Or crack fic focused mainly on Mammon & Lucifer

Tap on Wood (for fuck's sake) - Lucifer (the absolutely perfect, always a hundred percent in the right oldest) has three different conversations while (definitely not) stone cold sober with the bane of his existence (the light of his life (the bane of his existence (the light of his - Mammon's just trying his best.

Chapter 2 of my reversed au wip in a slightly more demonic au with demon-mc & struggling human-mammon

Friends in High Places - In a world where demons are marginally more demonic, a human ignores all the various red flags and makes a strange new (lifelong) Friend

As expected, all of them are unnamed gn! mc × mammon because I gotta have some sorta theme🤷 hopefully one of them is to your liking! Lemme know what you think?🥺

[cookinguptales]

soooooo.... you've mentioned a while ago there are some unpublished fics on your hard drive, namely the one with nandor(k) getting jealous of someone else trying to turn his familiar/bodyguard... so i guess my question is, what's the damage and whom exactly do we make out the bill to? *whips the credit card out* we ought to see that footage🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌 pretty please 🙏🙏 [signed: huge fan and humble admirer of your written word]

Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say finished fics, lmao. I have probably... god, I'd say at least 50k words of unfinished nandermo WIPs on my hard drive. It's a problem.

(long post incoming, warning: I am still kind of woozy)

I wrote the one you're talking about like. God, maybe in... March...? Early on in when I started writing for this pairing. The idea was basically that Derek asked Guillermo out (something about a guy saving your life is kinda hot, as Nandor can attest) and Nandor was like ??? when Guillermo actually said yes but he was largely supportive. He felt intangibly weird about it, though. And it wasn't until he realized that Guillermo being with someone else meant he wasn't with him that he started getting weird and pissy about it. And then Derek was like idk the etiquette for a vampire turning another vampire's familiar but dude, Guillermo deserves to be a vampire and I wanna do it.

anyway, that finally pushes Nandor over the edge and there's a lot of yelling between a lot of people but it did end in lot of angry possessive sex?? so you know all's well that ends well??

but the reason I'm telling you the plot in detail was because I never ended up finishing it (wrote an initial scene, some arguments, and the sex and then got distracted with a different fic I think) and more than that, I ended up cannibalizing some lines from it and using them in different fics. So idk that there'd be much point in finishing and posting it now...

I just liked this idea that Nandor wouldn't be opposed to Guillermo dating someone in theory, but once it started actually eating into his time with him he'd start getting upset for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. And then someone who is dating him also starts horning in on the vampire part?? the Nandor part?? that's a nope from him!

anyway, I also had it that by the time Nandor got all possessive and fucked Guillermo, Guillermo had already broken up with Derek and they were just friends and Derek had wanted him to be his vampire buddy. (I can see Derek being interested in him and wanting to turn him in return for saving his life, but I couldn't see it working out.) So Nandor was actually getting all shitty over nothing, but he didn't realize that. lmao

It sort of also ended up being about Nandor's issues and how he struggled with taking Guillermo but wouldn't let anyone else have him either because it was strongly rooted in his fear that Guillermo would leave once he got what he came for. because I can't even write hot possessive angry sex without Deeper Feelings coming into it, I'm a fucking disaster human.

But I guess in the end I decided to incorporate some of those ideas into other fics (esp an... equally unfinished truth serum fic) and leave that one unfinished. So it might just feel repetitive if I posted it now. lmao. idk that people would feel satisfied.