#poor cornelia

[katerinaaqu]

Cornelia: Jaoral

Jaoral: Hiiiiiiii mom!

Cornelia: ...

Cornelia: How high are you?

Jaoral: No, mom, that's wrong. It's "hi, how are you?"!

Cornelia: ...!

Aliya: *dying of laughter*

[sleepy-bear-tm]

We don't talk about quite how big of an impact Cornelia had in this game I think.

[bodybebangin]

[entiretorridaffair]

she’d rather repeat a song than walk cornelia street again :(

[distortedplatinum]

Mother and daughter.

[mbrainspaz]

from a 15 year old '25 Things About Me' facebook note. Damn. Cornelia Funke don't fail me now. 😰

[lostandbackagain]

obsessed with this part because this scene is so sad and emotional and tense yet farid can't stop yelling so dustfinger keeps uncovering his mouth just to talk

[reddesires]

Please 🙏🏽 please make a Caesar fic, it can be about anything. Like when he first saw reader or when one of them confessed to each other, anything about him and I’ll be satisfied

Troublesome. [Caeser x Human!Reader]

Implied Caeser x Human!Reader

Summary: Ceaser when he first saw the reader (realizing he's developing feelings).

Rating: No warnings

Fandom: Planet of the apes

A/N: I'm swooning istg isn't Caeser just a charming ol' man, I really enjoyed writing this since I do love me some flirtatious gazes and pining. I hope you like this piece, anon! ❤️

When you appeared in all your human glory, blood smeared on your forehead and an almost primal glint in your eye with all the intent in the world to protect yourself, Caeser was unsure on how to proceed as you were clearly in need of help but your very presence unsettled the colony.

Maurice was more than empathetic on your behalf imploring their leader to aid the poor human, it was obvious you were alone and you must have either encountered rogue humans or wild predators in the wooded area, you seemed unwilling of speaking on it.

After relenting, Caeser was surprised at how settled you became in the colony and even going as far to become a contributing member, keeping close to Maurice and giving a helping hand to the younger apes. You've taken a liking to the peaceful orangutan, feeling as he was the only ally in your time of need, his advocating on your behalf turning a tide for you.

You held a more confident air to you now and it intrigued him as he kept a watchful eye on you more than he did before and it seemed you were aware of his gaze as you weren't afraid of looking back at him, your long lashes fluttering softly as you made show of encasing him with your eyes. He wasn't oblivious to your own intrigue of him, you regarding him and following his movements whenever given the chance.

He felt the fur on his shoulders rise in anticipation at the action, his chest puffing out in response to your interest. He refused to be put off by your boldness, but he couldn't help the preening feeling in the back of his mind.

He hadn't thought of seeking out another mate after the passing of Cornelia, the birth of their second son and leading the colony occupying all his time but the thought crossed his mind as he watched the almost tasteful way your body turned away from him, your stare breaking away from him.

He had no difficulty with admitting that your humanly beauty was appealing to him, after all being reared by humans he always sought their companionship in one way or another and your very presence was a reminder of that.

He felt the tension building in his shoulder as he watched you interact with Cornelius, your expression carrying heavy notes of kindness and compassion as you carried his youngest son, the young chimp's pant hoots showing his excitement of playing with your hair.

You had qualities that appealed to him in numerous ways, and he's unsure if he's willing to act upon that observation. You're carried yourself in such a way that it was compelling to him. He was aware of his status in the colony and how revered he was by all the apes in the colony, but you brought forward a feeling he hasn't felt in awhile, an almost inherent need to display not only his qualities as a leader but also as a potential mate.

He huffs as he watches your gaze slowly trail back up the perch he was standing on..How troublesome..

[rykemeadow]

BLAIR CORNELIA WALDORF

GOSSIP GIRL - S02E08 - Pret-A-Poor-J.

[zenphiaaa]

Cornelia Street (Giyu Tomioka)

Shinobu blinked with her smile frozen on her face. "What do you mean you have a wife? When on earth did this happen? That poor girl! Did you coerced her?" The young woman snided to the male sitting across from her

"That sounds like too much effort to get married that way." Giyu responded in a bored tone. "I'm not sure why this is such a surprise. You guys all have significant others." The dark haired male pointed out.

"I think what Shinobu means to say is that you tend to keep to yourself. So it's a bit of surprise for you to talk about yourself." Mitsuri gently explained, trying to calm everyone down.

"When did you get married? What's her name? Marriage is such a beautiful thing, you're extremely lucky Tomioka!" Rengoku spoke out in a thunderous tone. Giyu just sighed and nodded his head in thanks.

Part of the resaon why he told no one of his marriage was because he knew that his coworkers...friends(?) would respond like that. It was a headache once the group found some sort of excitment.

"You didn't answer the questioned Tomioka. That's not a very poltie thing to do." Shinobu warned with a pointed look, the smile she wore still frozen on her face.

Giyu let out a long sigh before pulling his phone out of his pocket, he typed on the device for a few seconds before showing the screen to the group. "Her name is Y/N, we've been married for two years now. No we don't have children and we don't want any so please don't ask. She is also only six months younger than me and she works as a nurse." Giyu quickly explained like a crash course video.

The picture on the screen was one of the wedding day. The picture shows Giyu holding Y/N up bridal style, both with grins and a light blush dusted on their faces.

"Congratulations my dear friend. I'm glad you found happiness." Rengoku smiled brightly at the shorter male.

Mitsuri let out a loud gasp as she somehow manged to get the phone out of Giyu's grasp and began to scroll over all of the weddings day photos that Giyu had saved in a folder on his phone. "She's beautiful! You guys look so cute together!" Mitsuri squealed.

"Yes." Was all Giyu had said before plucking his phone out of the women's grip. "Can we get back to the meeting now? This is a business lunch after all." The dark haired male mumbled, pocketing the phone back into his jeans.

"Of course, but you know that Mitsuri won't stop asking for us to meet her. You wouldn't want to break Mitsuri's poor heart and have a certain snake owner threaten you? Right?" Shinobu teased the other, although her eyes didn't follow the cheerfulness that her tone indicated.

"If you guys want to meet her, you'll have to wait until her schedule is free. She's the most busy out of the two of us." Giyu replied.

"Your wife is ordering, I think." Muichiro suddenly spoke as he pointed behind the group. Giyu immediately whipped his head around and his eyes focused on his wife's H/C hair. The man softly smiled at the sight of his significant other.

"Wow, you are so whipped." Shinobu observed.

Y/N then turned around to look for a table after ordering. Her eyes immediately broke out across her face as she started to approach her lover. "Giyu! Your at a lunch meeting today?" She questioned, placing a kiss on his checks within Giyu's arms.

Giyu responded and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss without saying a word.

Mitsuri in return let out a loud squeal which caused the couple to back away from each other, faces flushed with embarrassment. Despite wearing a blush, Giyu still looked midly annoyed that his time with his wife was interrupted. Even if he was supposed to focus on work, his wife was here now. How was he supposed to focus on work when the love of his life was holding him? Quite unfair really.

"Sorry, I'm interrupting aren't I?" Y/N quietly said to the group, not able to meet anyone's eyes.

"Nonsense! We were in fact just talking about you! All good things nothing to worry about!" Rengoku spoke up, saving Y/N from the embarrassment.

"I see. Well I just wanted to say hello to Giyu." Y/N hesitantly spoke with a tight smile, "I'll be out of your hair now. I just came to pick up lunch for me and Insouke."

"What did he do now?" Giyu sighed but kept his arm around his wife's waist. Looking up at her with a soft gaze.

"Ah," Y/N nervously looked the other way as she spoke, "Well he decided to try to fly? Climbed the roof, got attacked by a wasp nest, then kinda fell off the roof."

The group froze and blinked at the woman like she was crazy.

"He's an idiot." Giyu quickly replied, "I'll talk to him when I get home."

"Ah, we're watching some neighborhood kids during the day, while it's parent week at the school. Insouke is just a wild child? He loveschallenging himself, although I wish he didn't do it in extremes." Y/N thought outloud to herself.

"Order for Y/N!" A worker called out.

"I'll leave you guys to it then! Sorry for interrupting! Nice to meet you guys!" Y/N almost bowed a goodbye, before giving her husband one last kiss and left as fast as she came.

The group blinked before turning to look over at Tomioka. Giyu just shrugged as he sipped on his iced tea,"She gets nervous around new people." Was all he said.

"Well, we must have dinner together! She's so nice and so sweet!" Mitsuri blurted out with heart eyes, clasping her hand together in excitement.

"I'll let her know." Giyu said, as he pulled out a folder. "Can we get back on topic now? We only have fifteen minutes left of this meeting."

[bluetoes-andstuff]

Sky's Touch

Summary: Caesar's newly acquired human child has set her sights on befriending the grumpiest ape of all -- Koba. Armed with fruit, grooming attempts, and relentless curiosity, Sky's mission is simple... she wants Koba to be her friend.

Rating: Gen (Platonic)

Relationships: Koba & Human Child; Caesar & Human Child (minor)

Word Count: 1.4k

The communal fire crackled softly as the freshly placed logs became engulfed by the flames, casting a warm staticky light over the gathered apes. Sky sat comfortably in Caesar’s lap leaning back against his furry chest to take full advantage of the added warmth on the crisp autumn night, her small hands clutching a piece of chilled fruit baby Blue Eyes handed to her. She had been with the apes for a couple of months now, and while most had grown accustomed to her presence, Koba remained distant and wary. 

This was quite frustrating, considering Koba was the most interesting ape in the bunch in her opinion. Oh, how she yearned to ask him about the scars, and how he learned to fight and hunt the way he did. He was the strongest one in the colony… besides Caesar himself of course… and maybe Rocket, but she’s already ran him through the wringer with her questions and her curiosity for him has been quenched.

She kept finding her curious eyes drifting towards Koba, sitting beside her and Caesar, his posture tense and his gaze hard, like it always was. She watched as he picked at his food, his movements sharp and deliberate. The other apes chatted and groomed each other as they did every night. 

Sky has grown accustomed to the soft chittering and hoots common among the colony. It was different from humans, but it had that same sense of community that Sky longed to be fully part of.

As she nibbled on her fruit, Sky’s gaze lingered on a patch of dried mud clinging to Koba’s fur. She glances around the circle of apes, watching intently as a few of the gathered chimps and bonobos groom and pick at each other's backs with an absent mind, as if there was no need to even think of doing so. She’s grown to assume it as a sign of trust and affection, seeing as Cornelia and even Caesar himself sometimes would spend time picking twigs and dried leaves out of her own hair. 

So, maybe if Koba saw her trust and care for him, he’d be more open to her presence! Gathering her courage, she slowly reached out, her small fingers trembling, out of fear, or excited anticipation she didn’t know.

Koba stiffened as soon as her fingers brushed against his fur, his eyes narrowing just out of her line of sight. Her fingers gently tugged at the dried mud, mimicking what she had observed, trying to express her intentions of befriending him. 

Koba, as she should have expected, was not open to her innocent attempt. His growl was low and menacing, and she froze, fingers still tangled in his rough fur. He turned his head sharply, glaring at her. He snapped his teeth together in a silent warning, a sharp huff leaving his nostrils.

“Sky,” Caesar’s voice was gentle but firm, coming out in a gruff huff of air, a warning to be careful. His eyes had slid over to observe the interaction, trying to be respectful of his friend's boundaries and clear discomfort. Sky had not yet realized why exactly Koba was so wary of her, and Caesar has not had the heart to explain the terrible things her people had once done to the poor bonobo to cause such hostility. 

Sky withdrew her hand, her eyes wide and apologetic. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her one remaining front tooth chewing anxiously on them. Then she remembered how the apes would hold out their hands to apologize to one another, something Maurice has taught her to do, along with another select few signs. She slowly extended her small hand towards Koba, her palm open and trembling in apology.

Koba’s glare softened slightly, his angry huffs morphing into more begrudging ones with an occasional sniff, but he did not swipe her hand to accept the gesture. Instead, he grabbed a handful of fruit and stood, dismissing himself from the circle and climbing back down to the lower nests and disappearing under the overhang.

Sky pouted, eyes welling with unshed tears at the clear rejection. She angled her head back against Caesar’s chest to look to him for some sort of guidance, on what she must’ve done wrong. But he offers nothing more than a soft smile. He places his large hand atop her head, gently combing through the messy strands of hair, picking at what might be a few pieces of dried leaves. Then she feels the rough pad of his thumb brush against her cheek in a quiet gesture of comfort, doubling as an apology on his friend's behalf. 

She drops her head again to glance at the others around her to see if they had witnessed the exchange, Rocket’s looking at her the same way Caesar was, along with Maurice and Cornelia, and that just makes her feel bad all over again. She drops the fruit in her hands and pulls her knees to her chest, turning her whole body to press her face against Caesar’s front, hiding herself away from the embarrassment and hurt of Kobas rejection.

Days turned into weeks and the nights only grew colder, which meant Koba was much more inclined to join the group for dinners around the warmth of the fire. Which gave Sky prime opportunity to continue her attempts at befriending him. She would always make sure she sat beside him during meals, whether that meant she climbed into Maurice’s lap, or even Luca’s, she was always right there. Her attempts and consistency were didn’t go unnoticed by the other apes, and it quickly became the subject of conversation when Koba was not around. 

Sky would always offer him small pieces of fruit during meals to butter him up, and the next time she attempted to pick at his fur she made sure she was prepared. She spent the last week practicing on others, just to make sure she was doing it right. At night, while in the nest she’d quietly and gently pick at Caesar or Cornelia’s fur. Caesar would always make grumbling noises for disturbing his sleep but Sky knew he didn’t really mind. She’d always make sure to give him a big kiss on the head when she was done, just to make up for the disruption. In the daytime, she’d make her rounds on Maurice and baby Blue and she’d sometimes even try to pick at Rocket’s fur, even though there wasn’t very much to work with.

Whenever she’d try on Koba again though, his reactions were always the same—stiffening, growling, and glaring—but he never pushed her away completely, and he’s yet to run away again like the first time.

One evening, weeks later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Sky…once again reached out to Koba. This time, her touch was more confident, her fingers deftly removing a small twig from his fur that she’d spotted early on in the meal. Koba’s growl was softer, almost resigned and he didn’t even flinch, like he was expecting her to reach out and touch him. He glanced at her, his eyes reflecting a hint of curiosity, but it was quickly whisked away with his usual glare and harsh snort. And then he looked away.

Sky smiled, beaming with pride and hope. She continued her gentle grooming, her small hands working with care. Koba’s posture relaxed slightly, his resistance slowly melting away. He still watched her with caution, but there was a new softness in his gaze.

Over time, Koba grew accustomed to Sky’s presence. Her persistence and innocence chipped away at his hardened exterior. He began to tolerate her touch, even finding a strange comfort in her attempts to groom him. The other apes noticed the change, especially Caesar and his close companions. It brought them a semblance of peace to know Koba is that much closer to healing from his past traumas.

One night not to log after, as the fire crackled and the apes settled in for the evening, Sky sat beside Koba, her small hands busy with the fur on his arm. Koba no longer growled or stiffened; instead, he closed his eyes, a rare moment of peace washing over him. She ever so slowly inched her way into his lap, and his eyes sprung back open in shock. She stared at him with wide eyes, like she wasn’t quite sure how he’d react to the development, but Koba didn’t snap or glare, just quietly began to eat his supper while keeping a watchful eye on her. Sky grinned to herself, ducking her chin so he couldn’t see, and she migrated her gentle grooming from his shoulder to his chest. 

Caesar sat beside them, watching them both with a warm smile on his face. He never would’ve guessed Sky would be capable of warming Koba’s heart unlike any of them have ever been able to do before.

**Thanks for entertaining my writing! I appreciate each and everyone of you. I can't wait to dive deep into this fandom. It's been several years since I've written anything, so I'm so glad to be back. If you have anything you want to see, hit me up and we'll see what I can do. I always love a good challenge

[jess-the-vampire]

We've seen Terra, Darius, Raine and Eberwolf pop up in your AU, but if you don't mind me asking, what are the other "heads" up too? Is Adrian still around somewhere causing problems, does Hunter see Tina throw Mason during the Covention, etc.

i feel like i'm hosting a "Where are they now" segment XD

so, without there being coven heads or a draining spell, they all now have other jobs

Adrien fulfilled his dreams of becoming a director on the isles, trying to get his foot in the door. He is frequently disliked as a director and all of his projects have gotten poor reviews.

Osran got a professor job at St Epiderms, he's in the running to becoming the next principle

Mason has a construction company that benefits off of trying to keep people like philip out, rebuilding everything he has ended up destroying

he still hasn't been able to keep him out

Vitimir is an apprentice at Cornelia's small potion business modern day, so caleb comes by on the regular and sees him at work

there are some suspicions he has involvement with terra but nothing has been confirmed

Hettie is the Hexside school nurse, i'm sure this isn't a problem

[sleepy-bear-tm]

This twenty minute sketch goes hard

[effloradox]

cornelia street; robert m. renfield.

track nine of LOVER

pairing: robert renfield x f!reader

synopsis: your soulmate’s first words to you are written on your wrist

word count: 3.2k

The modern world was confusing. Renfield had watched the world change rapidly around him during his century as Dracula’s familiar and the way humans had changed never failed to surprise him. It had made life more difficult for him, Dracula’s need for good quality blood was harder to fulfil in a world where the influence of the church was increasingly slipping and sour blood was more common than ever before. His master didn’t understand that, of course, and just berated his familiar for doing such a poor job in attending to his needs.

Finding DRAAG had been a good twist of fate. New Orleans wasn’t quite what he’d expected, slightly more lawless than he’d initially assumed, but it had plenty of derelict buildings that he could move Dracula between if they were to be discovered and people went missing frequently enough that taking victims to his master wasn't going to alert too much suspicion. The group had become something of a lifeline for him after a few weeks in the city. He’d followed Bob inside after thinking he would make a good victim, and five weeks later he was still coming to the group. Everyone was so desperately sad, and a part of Renfield had identified with their stories and that kept him coming back.

It was especially hard listening to the people who had realised they were codependent with their soulmate. To watch them lament that this was meant to be the perfect person for them and they had fallen into destructive patterns with them had hit a sore spot somewhere deep inside Renfield. He’d never met his soulmate, his marriage to his late wife had been one of convenience rather than based on a soul bond, and it didn’t mean he loved her any less but his heart had always ached that he’d probably never meet his soulmate. Him and his master had moved so frequently that he was sure his soulmate had passed him by like ships in the night, or day really since he and his master did all their travelling by night.

If his master had ever noticed him absentmindedly tracing his words, he had never commented on it. His master didn’t have any words, Renfield had checked one time when he’d been tending to his needs, and he was sure if he ever brought up being lonely his master would begin another speech about how he didn’t need a soulmate, that they had each other and that humans were beneath them. The lectures had been focused solely on bringing his master back to full power recently but they had been happening more frequently, like tonight for instance. He’d been ready to go to the DRAAG meeting when Dracula had started another lecture about having to consume sour blood again and wanting Renfield to find him some nuns to eat.

He’d arrived late to this meeting, nervously babbling out an apology to Mark and the others as he took a seat in the back circle. It had taken him a few minutes to realise that there was a new face sitting with the group. She was sitting next to Carol, and the two seemed to know each other based on how they’d moved their chairs to be closer together. They were whispering quietly to each other, not quite loud enough to be audible but enough that he knew they were doing so. He tried not to stare, but there was something about Carol’s friend that had entranced him. He began to trace his words again, a nervous habit he’d developed over the years, only stopping when he saw Mark take notice. He waited for Lawrence to finish his share before looking to Renfield.

“Renfield, do you want to share today?”

“No, I’m good I think.” Mark sighed lightly at the denial, clearly having expected it.

“You’ve been coming here for a few weeks now, and you don’t have to say anything, but you’re always welcome to share. This is a safe space for you to speak your truth.”

“I suppose so.” Mark and the rest of the group were quiet for a moment, clearly waiting for another round of pushback from Renfield but when he gave none, Mark proceeded in a gentle tone.

“Is it your soulmate?”

“No, I haven't actually met them yet.” There were a few sympathetic noises from various people sitting in the circle. If they felt bad that a man who looked to be in his thirties hadn’t met his soulmate, he didn’t want to think about how they’d react if they knew he was almost one hundred years old and hadn’t met them. They’d probably refer him for a psychological evaluation if he said that part out loud though; whilst he didn’t exactly take pride in his appearance, Dracula’s ability to stop his body ageing meant he hadn’t physically aged for almost as long as he’d known the Count.

“And do you think the person you’re in a codependent relationship with is taking advantage of that?”

“Honestly? No. My boss he, uh, he’s blank. I don’t think he particularly minds but that also means that he doesn’t care about me and finding my soulmate.” Being blank wasn’t particularly common, and it always invoked a specific sympathy from everyone who found out. The idea that you were a person without another half in a society where that was the norm always tended to put people on edge. Renfield had always been somewhat relieved that Dracula didn’t have a soulmate, the idea of having another vampire to tend to the needs of and transport around seemed like much more hassle than he cared to entertain. One Lord of Darkness was more than enough, thank you very much.

“That must be hard for him, but that doesn't mean that you have to put off your chances of happiness just because he’s blank. Has he ever taken any interest or even acknowledged that you haven’t met your soulmate yet?”

“I don’t think it’s even occurred to him to be honest. I think if anything he’s probably glad, I think it would be fair to say that meeting my soulmate may influence my ability to do my job the way he expects me to.”

“So what would happen, hypothetically speaking, if you were to seek out your soulmate?” The question drew only a blank in Renfield’s mind, and he noticed the flicker of pity that passed over Mark’s face when he struggled to imagine a world where he prioritised himself rather than his boss.

“What do you mean?”

“If you went off and tried to find your soulmate, what would happen?”

“I couldn’t leave my boss for that long.”

“Well, why not?”

“He has this medical condition you see, it means he can’t go out in the daytime, or much at all. If I’m not there to help him, well it doesn’t bear thinking about really.”

“Oh so you’re like a carer then?” Renfield wasn’t sure who spoke up, but it occurred to him that his relationship with his master would sound very strange if he disagreed with the interjection.

“I suppose you could put it like that.”

“I understand that it’s more complex when there are medical needs involved but listen to me Renfield, you cannot put your entire life on hold for someone else. You are important, you have value, and you are more than what your boss seems to see you as.” Renfield shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wringing his hands together. It was much easier attending the meetings when the spotlight wasn’t on him. He stayed quiet in the hopes that someone would interrupt his share but no one came to his rescue and he was left scrambling for something to say next.

“I guess it’s just hard because if he doesn’t have me then there’s no one else who could take care of him. After working for him for so long it wouldn’t feel right to just leave him.” Mark seemed to notice that he was getting more uncomfortable and mercifully decided to open the discussion back to the rest of the group by talking about the sense of duty that came with being codependent before announcing that the meeting was over. Renfield stayed in his seat as most of the group migrated towards the exit. A few people were still inside when he finally stood and went over to the refreshment table, his throat aching for a glass of water. He made quick work of the glass and stood for a moment, cursing himself for speaking ill of his master. He was so in his head that he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him until the person spoke.

“I like what you said about your boss.” The world seemed to shift on his axis as he heard the soft voice behind him speak. He turned around and saw the shy smile you were sporting, completely unaware that you had just turned his world upside down in a single sentence. You'd spoken his words.

His words had always confused him slightly, and that had only grown when he's become Dracula's familiar. He'd never been able to imagine a scenario when he'd be freely talking to people about his master, but this made perfect sense in a weird way. He realised that he hadn't spoken yet, and he probably looked like a deer in the headlights and it took him a few beats to come up with a response.

“It’s you.” He watched as it dawned on you what had just occurred between the two of you. The smile that grew on your face made you look truly radiant, like an angel sent directly from above. It felt like he was being saved and being damned all at once and any and all trepidation he’s had about this moment vanished from his mind as he took you in.

“Hey.” The word is soft, you’re clearly still trying to process what’s just happened after all, but it feels like it echoes in his mind, a pleasant change from the way his master’s voice booms through his skull when he deems it fit to communicate like that.

“Hello.”

“I’m, uh, I’m (Y/N).” You gesture to the name sticker on your jacket, and he smiles when he sees a small smiley face drawn next to your name.

“Robert. Robert Montague Renfield.” He holds out a hand to you, trying to hide the slight tremor, and when you take his hand it feels like a shock running through his body. It’s electrifying and relaxing all at once and it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s funny really, of all the places in the world I never expected it to be at a codependency anonymous group.” It occurred to Renfield that you hadn’t spoken at all during the meeting and he truly hopes you’re not here because of some awful person you can’t escape from. All his anxieties are put to rest when you reply though.

“I’m not codependent actually, I’m just here to support Carol. But, if you’d like help with your situation, I’d be more than happy to listen. Or if not, we can just grab a coffee, get to know each other?”

“I’d like that very much.” You beam at him before turning to the refreshment table and picking up one of the small business cards that had been scattered amongst the snacks. You grab the pen that lay next to the name tags and write something on the back of the card, handing it to him.

“I need to take Carol home but you should call me. We can go grab that coffee.”

“I will. Yes, definitely.” He watched as you turned to face Carol and the two of you made your way to the exit. You turned back to face him, giving him a small wave as you walked out into the cool night, and Renfield was left alone in the gymnasium. It was only then that it occurred to him that he had no plans for people to bring to Dracula to satisfy him tonight. He cursed himself lightly under his breath as he walked outside and began the walk back to the hospital. The closer he got the more anxious he became, and it was only when he passed the church that his luck seemed to change. He spotted a woman, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, leaning against the wall and looking to be in rather bad shape. He’d been cautious upon approaching her in case she was with someone but when she drunkenly slurred out that her friends had ditched her, her fate was sealed. It hadn’t been difficult to overpower her, the chloroform in his pocket had done its job as quickly as ever and, with the aid of a bug, it had been easy to pull her into a bridal hold and walk the rest of the way back to the hospital.

Luck seems to remain on his side as he makes it the entire walk without spotting a single patrolling police car, and once he got to the hospital it was easy for him to drop the body onto one of the gurneys he always left near the entrance and then push that the rest of the way. He made it through the hospital without hearing his master until finally reaching the room his master spent most of his time residing in.

“Renfield! Where have you been? Where’s my dinner?”

“Right here, master!” He pushes the unconscious body off the gurney to the ground just shy of the makeshift throne his master was currently sitting in. Dracula didn’t look at all pleased by the offering, slowly rising to his feet. His recovery from their run-in with the vampire hunters had been a slow one, but his skin had finally started to grow back and, whilst he was revolting to look at, it meant he was nearly fully healed again.

“Is it a nun?”

“Um, well, no, but she was hanging around outside a church when I found her?” The answer seemed to satisfy his master enough for the vampire to start feeding from the body. It had been fairly easy for Renfield to become accustomed to the blood and gore that came with being a familiar but the sound of Dracula ravenously feeding on some soon-to-be corpse never failed to make him queasy.

“Not as sour as most of the other trash you’ve brought me. Bring me more like this one Renfield.”

“Yes master.” Renfield went about his usual tasks whilst his master fed; moving the depleted corpses to the pile he’d made a few rooms down from the main chamber of the hospital and trying to keep himself occupied until he could move the fresh body. It didn’t take long for Dracula to drain her fully, but his master’s mood seemed to shift when Renfield approached.

“You smell different, Renfield.”

“I’m sorry?” He watched as Dracula rose to his feet, shifting rapidly around him and coming to a stop just in front of him after a moment. Renfield’s eyes dropped to the floor automatically as he waited for his master to speak to him.

“You met your soulmate.” It wasn’t a question, Renfield realised, but an observation. It was all he could do to nod, questioning how on Earth his master could possibly know he’d met his soulmate from his smell.

“How did you-?”

“It changes the blood of a man, meeting his soulmate. Sweetens the blood, makes it sing.” Dracula’s voice lilted slightly at the mere idea and Renfield felt his heart drop. His chance of having a normal relationship with his soulmate seemed to be going out the window with every word his master spoke.

“Oh.”

“I do hope that this won’t change your fealty, Renfield. I would hate to have to…remove any distractions that come your way.” The hand on the back of his neck makes Renfield flinch, and he listens as Dracula chuckles deeply whilst tracing his carotid artery with one of his nails. He never presses deep enough to draw blood, but the warning is heavy in the air. He hates the way he quivers under his master's touch but after almost a century of knowing just how lethal Dracula’s clawed nails are, the reaction is uncontrollable.

“I, uh, of course not, master.”

“Good.” As Dracula slowly shuffled away from him, Renfield was left with the impression that this wasn’t the end of the discussion. He doesn’t move until Dracula tells him to leave, and it’s with a sigh of relief that he realises that the conversation is indeed over for now. He walks out of the main chamber, leaning against one of the walls after a brisk walk, and slides down until he’s resting on the floor. He’s not sure how long he spends sitting on the floor trying to quiet his mind and failing. The only thing that pulls him back to reality is when he slides his hand into one of his suit pockets and feels the business card with your number on it. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, tracing his fingers over your number on the business card in his other hand. He types your number in, toying with the idea of what he should send to you. He types multiple messages before trying something simpler and more to the point.

Hello, (Y/N). It’s Robert Renfield. Would you still be up for grabbing that coffee?

He presses send before he has time to debate whether it’s a good first message to his soulmate, and he locks his phone, letting it flop down onto his chest. He lets out a sigh, and closes his eyes. He only opens them when he feels his phone vibrate, and he looks down to see if you’ve responded.

Hi Robert! I’d love to, how does 9am sound?

The fact you responded so quickly makes him smile slightly, and it almost makes him forget about his master’s threat. Almost.

That sounds perfect.

Awesome, see you outside the gym? I know a great coffee shop nearby :)

I look forward to seeing you.

He shuts his phone off after sending the final message, letting his eyes close once again. He doesn’t have a bed here, hasn’t for a long time now, and he feels the edges of sleep start to close in on him. His last thought before falling asleep is that he needs to come up with a cover story for when you inevitably ask him about everything he shared at the codependency group because there’s no way you’ll believe that he’s a vampire’s familiar.

[artsofmetamoor]

Apocalypse AU time, with a pinch of body horror.

top: Dilla before and after infection.

A virus changes people into rabid flesh eating monsters. Poor Dilla tragically gets infected when she gets separated from her group, however during the process of her transformation she is pregnant and gives birth to her and Caleb's son Kai, and that plus her great resilience to protect her child somehow prevents her from loosing most of her sanity and awareness. Kai is born uninfected, and Caleb and the group find Dilla transformed but consciously protecting the baby (if this reminds you of a plot of a manga which is floating around, that's because me and @katerinaaqu  took inspiration from it 😆)

Infected Dilla maintains her full humanity and awareness as long as she is not starved, but if by some chance she runs out of food her new found instincts will eventually overwhelm her, and she will lose complete control of herself and enter a dangerous frenzy, attacking anyone around her indiscriminately, unable to recognize friend from foe(or prey), because of this (and after a tragic accident that will be revealed later) she becomes extremely careful with proper feeding, for she is terrified of hurting others, especially her loved ones.  

Dilla needs flesh to eat because of the infection, therefore she mostly resorts to hunting other dangerous infected people who attack uninfected survivors.

Dilla's body changed because of the infection, and her face became disfigured, her mouth especially ripped apart from her cheeks almost up to her ears with rows of sharp teeth. Unfortunately this made most people react in a fearful, discriminatory and sometimes even violent manner with her, so to avoid scaring other people, or provoke tension when walking out in the open, Dilla uses fabrics, scarfs and a cloak to hide her mouth and face.

The only ones to whom she openly shows herself and her face to are her beloved Caleb, their son Kai, and later her brother Ballard and his companion Cornelia.

This is a rough one for the poor sweet girl and her loved ones, a lot of trauma, hurt and comfort ❤️‍🩹

[jomiddlemarch]

The Philosophy Inherent in Buttered Toast

Within a week of Shirley’s departure, Susan found that she could not fall asleep, no matter how much she exhausted herself; the windowpanes had never sparkled brilliantly so in the morning sunlight. She’d dare Miss Cornelia Bryant herself to find the smallest speck on the kitchen floor. She concocted impossible delicacies to try and tempt Mrs. Doctor, muttering under her breath about the various culinary restrictions and how she’d like to see anyone make a decent pie with the miserly amount of lard she was allotted, and she starched the Doctor’s collars so thoroughly he’d begged her to stop as he couldn’t turn his head when he drove out to see his patients, especially not that sharp curve onto the road over to the Lower Glen. Work, hard work that left her with a sore back and aching knees and hands too rough to get a pair of gloves onto for Sunday service, had always been a panacea, just as Mrs. Doctor had her garden and Mrs. Reverend had her needlework. 

Once Shirley left, after a brief kiss on her cheek and a little squeeze of her hand as she gave him a neatly tied up box lunch for the train, the week’s sugar ration used up in his favorite sweets, she turned her hand to the plow as it were and expected to find some respite. Instead she found herself lying in her narrow bed, a stripe of moonlight across the foot, her eyes burning, wide open. Her body longed for rest but her mind, her heart, her very soul itself would not allow it, as un-Christian a thought as that might be. She’d drift off in snatches in the early morning, wake with the fog of dreams, a confusion dispelled by the splash of water in the basin and the cold cloth scrubbed across her face. She felt every one of her years like a millstone and if she hadn’t already been plain Susan Baker since she’d outgrown the very little prettiness she’d had a child, someone, likely that outspoken Mary Vance, would have remarked that old Susan Baker looked quite poorly.

She began by reciting psalms to herself and then all her favorite hymns but it made no difference. Unlike Mrs. Doctor, she took no delight in watching the moon wax and wane and thought only a man could have come up with the constellations, the greatest waste of time she could think of and nothing but a lot of foolish nonsense. She took to drinking her tea as strong as she could steep it, nearly black. Coffee was too dear to waste and had to be saved for the Doctor. If he nodded off over his surgery, Susan Baker would be the one responsible for the poor soul under his knife’s untimely passing. She was comforted when Shirley enclosed a brief note addressed to Mother Susan in the letter he’d sent to his parents and sisters, but the relief of knowing him safe didn’t see her dozing in her rocking chair, let alone tucked up snug in her bed.

She remembered something Walter had once said, that there was poetry in the most ordinary things, how he’d gone on and on about a perfectly buttered piece of her toast, sliced just the right thickness, the butter spread smooth and even to the brown crust. She was known for her bread, that was common knowledge in Glen St. Mary, whether it was a white loaf or wholemeal, but she’d thought if she hadn’t loved Walter since he was a tot, she would have given a mighty sniff at his folderol. Now, though, she thought perhaps making a list of all the ordinary things that could be what Walter had called the marvelous quotidian before explaining his fancy words, perhaps making a list might take the place of counting the sheep that would never be sheared nor help her nod off.

To begin with, there was Walter’s buttered toast.

The hiss the iron made as she flicked a drop of water on it to test its heat.

The first even row of knots she threw on her needles beginning another sock in the ugly drab worsted that was military standard.

The last swipe of the cloth when she was polishing the good silver.

The greedy sound the Doctor made as he ate his slice of pie, one she would have scolded the children for making.

Winding the clocks.

Rilla’s little frown as she tried to feed her war-baby and got mashed peas all over the front of her clean white shirtwaist, a dab on her cheek.

Slipping on galoshes when it was a rainy morning.

The crinkle of the pages as she read her Bible chapter before bed.

Beans, bobbing about in the pot.

Una Meredith asking for help with her darning, her blue eyes round as buttons as she said Please, Miss Baker, the only one of the Meredith children to use a title for her.

Throwing out slops when the bucket was full.

Spools of thread lined up in her sewing basket.

Spoons, nestled tight against each other in their drawer.

The milk folding around itself in her chipped teacup like the sheets on the line in the wind.

Shirley’s way of writing the letter S, the same in her name as his own.

Fat blueberries in a bowl, waiting to be made into jam.

She began each night with Walter’s toast. Most nights, she fell asleep between the bean pottage and the slops arcing out onto the dirt. When it had been several days since they’d heard from Shirley or the papers were black with battles and casualty lists, the milk in the tea took the shape of Shirley’s cursive S. When there were letters from all three Blythe boys and the Meredith ones as well, the knitting needles fell from her hands, stitches most certainly dropped.

The night they’d learned about Courcelette, she’d counted each one of the blueberries in the bowl and wept.

And slept.

With many thanks to @batrachised who posted this summary of fake fic with this same title: Susan and Walter have a conversation about the poetry of everyday things. Susan still can't quite understand that poetry nonsense, but after Walter waxes eloquent about her perfectly ensembled toast that has just the right amount of butter scraped on top, she decides that surely a little of it is harmless enough - walter is Mrs. Doctor Dear's son, after all.

I hope my "borrowing" did the initial post justice! @gogandmagog I would have shared this today anyway, but I did love your encouragement post.