#except instead of also being friends here i think they'd just straight up hate each others' guts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lsholland · 3 years

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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

#tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland imagines

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anxiouspotatorants · 3 years

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HOLD UP!!! You immediately had me at the "Twilight AU but Rory is the vampire" here 👀👀👀👀. Color me intrigued AND inspired.

Ok so first off, the 'reveal' conversation. The COMEDY potential!! Just Jess being overall nervous but also pretty curious to know about what Rory as a vampire is like, whereas Rory is trying pretty hard to make him be more afraid and to hopefully get him to run away screaming so she can have some reason to tackle him, but this guy just isn't budging!

The shiny skin reveal! Like first off, THIS CAN'T BE THE SAME WITH EDWARD BECAUSE RORY'S NOT PLANNING ON STRIPPING IN FRONT OF JESS HERE (no matter how much she might like him despite her better judgement). Imagine the complete lack of suspense when she just uncovers her arm and shows Jess how it sparkles into the sunlight.

Rory: This is the skin of a killer, Jess!!

Jess: Wow, didn't know murderers had a continuous discount at Claire's for silvery glitter.

Rory: 😒

JESS WITH THE ICONIC GOOGLE SEARCH. THE DREAMS ABOUT RORY COMING IN WITH THE FULL DRACULA GETUP, MENACINGLY LEANING IN TO BITE HIM AS HE TAKES HIS "Paint me like one of your french girls" pose. Jess waking up from it not knowing whether he's scared or has just figured out a new kink for himself.

Jess dodging all of Rory's attempts to get him to stop wanting to see her by just coming in and asking her all of these questions while they're in the middle of the recess crowd in school. Rory giving up after the fourth attempt and answering all of his questions in a hushed tone.

Jess: So you can read people's minds?

Rory: Yes, except for yours. I still haven't figured out why though.

Jess: Huh, maybe Liz's all-round smoking diet during her pregnancy had its benefits after all.

Rory: Jess!!

I'm not sure whether I'd want Rory to be an older vampire like Edward or a more newly-made one, and in this case Lorelai is potentially still human but knows about Rory's condition despite Rory trying to keep her in the dark about it when she first turned. They still haven't found a way to break it to Richard and Emily though, despite their various brainstorming sessions over it.

Lorelai: We could get them drunk and just announce it to them!

Rory: Wonderful, and they'll accept their formerly estranged granddaughter as an undead creature.

Lorelai: Hey, you only asked how we should tell them, you never asked about how they'd handle it.

Jess just straight-up asking if she would eat the bullies in the high-school. Rory vehemently replying that no, she doesn't eat people, she just drinks the blood, but if he must know,......yes she drank from Chuck Presby once because she was angry and hungry and his blood almost tasted like Gatorade, so she's refrained from trying out the other bullies' blood. No, Chuck doesn't know what happened, he just thinks some girl went a bit too far with her hickey.

Jess and Rory talking to each other late at night and organizing a "studying" session where they just end up watching various B-movies, and sometimes Jess ends up falling asleep on the other side of the couch while Rory looks on at him and look, she's not being creepy here, she's just sitting on her side admiring this insane boy who still hasn't woken up one morning and decided that being friends with a vampire girl isn't in fact one of the smartest choices he could make in his life, and she can't help but like him because of that, ok? Also she really needs to hear more of his thoughts on some of the other American classics, it's imperative.

Rory ending up protecting Jess from an ongoing car that almost hits him instead of the whole "other vampire craves his blood" storyline but Jess ends up spraining his arm when he fell to the ground and Rory just feels guilty that she couldn't have saved him in a better way and tries to avoid him after that. Unfortunately she can't because this dumbass is walking along her trail in the nearby woods with his arm in a sling and goddamn it Jess, you're scaring away the deer!!

Yes. A thousand times yes. To all of this. The comedy. The pining. The Google search idea and elder Gilmore announcement. Yes to it all. But may I raise you some alternatives/more ideas:

In the books the sparkling looks more like the vampires are on fire. So when Rory reveals some skin in the sunlight, Jess is like «Shit, stop doing that do you have a death wish?!» and Rory just gives him a shit eating grin and waves her arm in and out of the sunlight. Also what if she doesn’t strip but takes of her sweater to reveal a t-shirt and Jess has a momentary heart attack thinking a vampire was about to flash him? All this being said the Claire’s silvery glitter scene is too good to replace ;-;

There just has to be a point while they’re close friends that Rory tries to impress/scare Jess by pulling him over her shoulders and carrying him while she speed runs. But when she tries to say something badass or seductive she has a brain fart and the only thing that comes out is: «Hold on tight... spidermonkey.» Jess doesn’t get to react before she runs, and when she’s finished the first thing he does is puke (apparently it’s hard to get used to that running according to SMeyer). Rory: «Oh no I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done it, it was stupid and now you’re hurt and-»

Jess: «Spidermonkey???»

Rory: «oh, you’re fine.»

Jess: «SPIDERMONKEY????»

Rory: «I’ll just leave you here for the bears,» and walks away.

I’m not sure what her vampire origin story should be. It could be all the Gilmores are vampires and they bite each other at a certain age after procreating (and the eldest Lorelai decided to be an asshole and bite Rory early) or it could just be Rory like you said. In that case maybe Christopher became one and bit Rory because he wants her and Lorelai and him to be one big happy family of the night? But Lorelai refused and Rory protected her? Or maybe it was a stranger who passed by Stars Hollow?

Jess questions Rory’s humanity not after being saved by a car crash (pre friendship that is, I still think your idea should come in afterwards) but because he consistently skips school and on a sunny day («How can I lock myself in a stuffy dusty dark room on a day like this, uncle Luke?») he comes upon Rory hunting and eating a dear. That and/or she saves him from the swan. And because it’s Rory and she’s a clumsy new-born she saves him by speeding over and suckerpunching the swan so hard it does an action movie sweep miles into the forest.

Rory’s cover for sunny days in Stars Hollow is that she’s staying at Chilton longer for an assignment, or in the case of her still going to ST High it’s visiting their library for resources. Because she hates missing school, that cover is usually true, and she just refuses to go into any spot with sunlight:

Rory: «I have this skin condition, I have sun allergy»

Madeleine or Louise: «That’s not a thing is it»

Paris: «It is [starts infodumping]»

She usually locks herself in the darkest corner of the library and speeding away in a flash at closing time before anyone can spot her.

Rory has lost count of the amount of times Jess has dared her to drink from him. She refuses because she’s scared if hurting a friend:«What if I taste your blood and it’s so good I can’t stop? Like it tastes like heroin or ecstasy or coffee?» Jess usually counters with either «If you could resist Chuck Presby you can resist me» or «What makes you think I’d taste so good, huh?» Rory always ends up thinking she would have a blush right now if she was still human.

Jess wants to be a vampire too because hey what else does he have a chance at doing in life? But Rory refuses because she sees the potential in him and what he can be, and doesn’t want to take his chance at a good and normal life away from him. But at some point they get into a dangerous situation where Jess’ only options are death or vampyrism and Rory finally gives in. Also this is our AU and we get to decide which Twilight vampire-rules apply and in this AU vampires age mentally (it’s a bullshit excuse SMeyer and you know it).

This one depends on the origin but hey it’s an idea: While Rory was still a new new-born, her and Lorelai locked themselves up in the crap shack for a full week watching all the vampire movies they could in search of information that could help them. Rory decided to do empirical experiments too, and had garlic food, got a cross close to her, wore silver and stabbed her arm a wooden stake. The garlic food (like all food now sadly) tasted crap but didn’t kill her, nor did any of the rest. The wooden stake hurt but it healed fast.

Rory gets both Lorelai and Jess to order insane amounts of food just to watch them eat it because she misses the taste and needs to live vicariously through their tastebuds. In the AU where both Gilmore girls are vampires, they order so much food because they have no idea what the normal amount is (chaotic vampire Gilmores for the win).

Also I did not realize how well Bella and Edward’s powers fit Rory and Jess? Like of course Rory would be a mind reader and of course Jess’ thing would be an all-encompassing shield. Sometime when he’s still human and «bugging» Rory she poses the theory that maybe his head is just empty and doesn’t have any interesting ideas. Jess pretends to be hurt (okay he’s a little hurt but he’d never tell her that) and Rory immediately falls into apologetic mode.

Rory wants to go to prom because it’s a human teenage activity she refuses to miss before starts figuring out what to make out of her vampire life. Jess isn’t hyped for it but promises to get tickets. They end up both going as vampires because that altercation happens a week or so before. Jess struggles with not eating everyone in sight but he sticks close to Rory and they leave without a single drop of blood on their hands.

Also Luke as Charlie! Paying attention to the beat attacks and being the only one who noticed that Rory doesn’t actually eat the food on her plate anymore (her mom eats her own plate then switches it with Rory’s) and when Rory and Jess reveal the secret he momentarily closes down and has to take a fishing trip to process everything. But he comes back a ride or die wanting to protect the poor kids.

I also feel like there should be multiple moments where one is insanely attracted to the other and questions this attraction strongly. Like Rory crushing on Jess and wondering if it’s bloodthirst or just the last remains of her human teenage hormones. And Jess being full on into Rory while still acknowledging the fact that it could be some vampire seduction powers, but what the hell does he care? There’s a cute undead bookworm right there and if he has to go he doesn’t mind dying to be a pretty girl’s lunch meal.

#why does this AU work so well what the hell #also I loved your ideas so much!!!#The Google search the Claire’s line Jess consistently bugging Rory into sharing everything #this feels like a crack fic with a heart and I’m here for it #gilmore girls au #twilight au #literati #rory x jess #vampire au #midnight brunch

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