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itsladykit · 2 years

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I posted 2,143 times in 2022

That's 1,349 more posts than 2021!

119 posts created (6%)

2,024 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@deaderrose

@musicalhell

@bishonenrockmysocks

@thebibliosphere

@chroniclethologica

I tagged 2,112 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#sandman - 86 posts

#my work - 73 posts

#the sandman - 73 posts

#writing - 62 posts

#ofmd - 57 posts

#our flag means death - 56 posts

#not my work - 50 posts

#awesome art - 47 posts

#undertale - 44 posts

#boost - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but also…sometimes it’s nice to find that sweetspot in boomer humor that allows for people to decide to just circumvent the complication of

My Top Posts in 2022:

Sometimes, a mutual will surprise you. Unpleasantly.

And you just gotta unfollow and write a vague vent post about it.

25 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

You know what?

I don’t think Tumblr should give writing advice like they’re offering absolutes. Some things work sometimes, but sometimes they won’t.

It reminds me of all advice I grew up with about creating characters without making them “Mary Sues”. You know what you get when you follow that advice to the letter? Boring ass characters.

Just write. Write your shit. Don’t worry about using “said” too much, or using too many adjectives. Don’t even worry about plot holes or writing something believable. Just. Fucking. Write.

Then, when you’re finished, tuck the thing away and bring it out once you’ve forgotten most of it. Now you can see it through a reader’s eyes and notice that the adjectives are distracting or you forgot to resolve a plotline or the romance is forced. Half the job of writing is editing, but they’re two different hats. Put them on one at a time and stop trying to make your first draft perfect.

(Obviously this format doesn’t work as well when writing fanfic or episodic pieces. I still think getting the bones down first is a good place to start. Fill in the flesh and tendons when you give it another look. Be patient with yourself and stop trying to mold yourself to some rando’s rules.)

28 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

You got any thoughts, headcanons, or whatever about Imp you haven't had a chance to share before? And/or about Hordak and Entrapdak as well.

(Also they changed the ask window, it looks like the text post editor now and it's weird. Which has nothing to do with anything, I was just surprised by it.)

^_^ I’ll have to check it out in browser, now that I have a functional computer again.

Hmmm….

I don’t think my Imp headcanons are outside the common interpretation. Most of it cribbed from a @cruciferousjex fic, which I highly recommend. (Link HERE.)

I think the most significant thing about Imp is that he very much symbolizes Hordak’s commitment to being different from Prime, even before he makes the conscious decision to split from him. He doesn’t discard Imp because of his disabilities; he accommodates them. I very much headcanon that Imp is incapable of speech, but—in addition to sign language because I fucking love sign language—Hordak created the voice modulator that allows Imp to “speak”. He accommodated Imp’s disabilities in a way Prime never would have accommodated him.

I suppose my most unique headcanon about Imp is that he prefers the modulator despite its limitations. He knows sign language, but he just enjoys using others’ voices to speak.

39 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

Alright, I’m resisting the urge to write for What We Do In The Shadows, so….

(Beware spoilers for season 3 finale)

I know everyone is completely upset that we were robbed of the happy Nandermo road trip we all wanted, but please imagine—

A tense reunion after some time has passed. (Let’s call it a year.) Perhaps after a dust-up of some sort. (I’d be lying if I wasn’t visualizing Nandor being given the chance to showcase his own warrior prowess. Him and Guillermo back to back, fighting baddies? Please.)

Anyway—Guillermo expects to settle back into his role as familiar bodyguard, but he quickly realizes that…Nandor doesn’t need his help with all the little (and big) things Guillermo used to do. Nandor’s had a year on his own—perhaps a hard year on his own—and he’s recovered his independence.

At first, Guillermo’s happy about this. Less work, right? But then he really starts to realize…Nandor doesn’t need him. And that is crushing, because no matter what speeches he makes about “found family”, in his heart of hearts, he fears the vampires kept him around because they needed him, not because they’re fond of him.

As he’s starting to spiral, though, Nandor asks to speak to him. And he doesn’t ask him as he would an underling. He doesn’t demand or whine. It’s a request, and not one Guillermo knows how to deny.

They talk. It’s awkward at first. Stilted small talk between people that are re-learning each other. Guillermo loses patience first, and asks what Nandor wants to talk to him about. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s not what he gets—an offer to turn him. Here and now, no trip to the Tigris needed. Because Guillermo has earned it. It’s offered formally, stiffly, and without feeling.

Guillermo breaks. It’s everything he ever wanted but in the worst way possible. He shouts his frustration and his anger and every emotion he’s repressed for more than a decade.

But he’s not the only one. Nandor breaks too. And is finally, finally willing to admit what he feels for Guillermo and how terrified he was that Guillermo would leave him when he was turned. But he’s had a year away, and now he knows that he can bear the pain when Guillermo leaves again, even though it will break his heart. And Guillermo has earned this, and Nandor…Nandor is strong enough now to let him go.

When they settle, they realize that they’re both idiots that they both have strong feelings for each other. And now…they can enter into a relationship as equals, both wanting the other more than they need the other.

57 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

While I very much don’t mind the interpretation that Hob and Morpheus have romantic feelings for each other…there’s a big part of me that really wishes there was more appreciation for the developing friendship. I mean. Listen—

Dream starts this whole thing like a scientist observing a weird little bug. He’s disdainful of humanity—at this stage, he has more in common with Desire than Death—and puts Hob in a position he fully expects Hob to regret. This isn’t a gift. Not from Dream’s perspective.

It’s a classic story, really; deity gives human exactly what he wants, only for the human to realize this is more curse than gift. Dream’s just fulfilling that archetypal role, and he’s waiting to see how the story will conclude. He’s waiting to see Hob come to that realization and how he’ll react when he does.

Of course, this very classic story is turned perfectly on its head. Dream keeps waiting for the turn. He’s waiting for the story to reach its natural conclusion, the only conclusion he can see. And it never does. Further, as time passes, Dream stops seeing Hob as an object of study or an archetype in a story. He begins to see him as a person—in some ways, an extraordinary person—and eventually, as a friend.

That progression is beautiful. Again, I’m not trying to sink anyone’s ship, I just wish that slow growth from disdain to fascination to respect to real friendship wasn’t brushed over so often.

413 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

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vampireshmampire · 3 years

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The Things We Can't Take Back 4/4

Summary: Guillermo finally, finally gets turned into a vampire, but it doesn't really go the way he expected. Now that he's a vampire everyone is treating him differently, but not in a good way. Everyone seems tense and angry, and Nandor will barely look at him. He's not sure what he did wrong, or if he's the one who did something wrong.

What does everyone else know that he doesn't?

Guillermo opens his eyes to darkness. Lungs that have not needed to breathe for years pull in air and let it out in a sigh.

"Happy anniversary," he murmurs to himself. He never tries to keep track. Honestly, he'd much rather forget, and most of the time he manages not to think about it at all. But when the day comes, Guillermo is always painfully aware of it.

Twenty years. He still marvels at it, sometimes. Absentmindedly he presses a tongue to a fang. It hasn't been a bad twenty years, either. He's built himself a good life, made friends, became a name to respect in the vampire circles of Brooklyn. It's not what he'd had in mind when he was human, but 364 days of the year he's perfectly happy with his life.

But on his anniversary, he can't stop thinking about old dreams, can't stop thinking about how quickly it all seemed to fall apart. Can't stop thinking about what might have been.

If he was still a human, he'd have already been up for hours doing chores but he'd be going to wake up Nandor, setting out his clothes, preparing for the night. If he was a vampire...who knows? Maybe bossing around whoever the new familiar is. God, he'd be such a pain in the ass. It's easy to let go of control in his own house, but after spending over a decade as a familiar, he'd never be able to stop himself from correcting people on the right way to do things. His way.

Guillermo finds Nandor already awake, their familiar fumbling with the clasps on his shirt.

"You've got them backwards," Guillermo says. "You have to tilt them towards you--no, the other way--" He lets out an exasperated sigh and crosses the room. "Oh, just let me do it. Go, I don't know, dust or something. And use the feather duster on the antiques, they're delicate aaand he's gone." He lets out a humph of annoyance and undoes all the clasps the familiar has already managed to bungle.

He glances up at Nandor, whose eyes are shining with amusement.

"Shut up. Shut up!" he says again when Nandor chuckles. "I just want it done right!"

"At least you let him try to do it now."

"He can do the important stuff when he proves he can do it right." He finishes the clasps and adjusts the edges so everything is straight and neat. He helps Nandor slide on the robe and begins to do up the buttons, taking his time, because he can.

"My clothes are the important stuff?" Nandor asks.

"Don't you like it when I help you dress?"

An arm slides around his waist, pulling him close.

"I like it better when you help me take them off."

"I'm sure you do."

Nandor leans down, Guillermo stretches up--

The door to his room opens and the dream falls to embarrassing pieces.

"Good evening, master."

He plasters on a smile as his familiar opens the coffin lid.

"Good evening, Terry."

Guillermo still dresses himself. He's never been able to figure out a not-awkward way to ask his familiars to do it, let alone actually go through the process twice a day. Besides, he takes pride in remaining independent. If his familiar ever took off unexpectedly, he'd be able to do his own laundry and not let the house fall into--

He shakes the thought away and steps behind the screen.

"Alright, let's have it."

He likes Terry. She's his age--or the age he was when he was turned--and sharp as a knife, enough of a wise-ass to be able to trade friendly barbs, but smart enough to know what boundaries not to push.

"Marta called; the marquesa would love to be the keynote speaker at the Hispanic-American Vampire Society dinner, but she has a prior engagement on the day of, so we'd need to move it forward to the next week."

"Shit. Well, the invitations haven't gone out yet so we might be able to make it happen. Check with the venue and see if we can reschedule, and if not, if we can still get our deposit back. Then let Marta know."

He smiled, listening to her scribble down her notes. Terry had been a personal assistant before he ate her boss and offered to make her a vampire, and she had merged the two positions flawlessly. He had made a promise to himself, years ago, that he would never string his familiars along--five years at the most--but she's so competent he can already feel himself tempted to keep her around an extra year or two.

"Lord Montague called to ask if you were very sure you don't want to come to his party tonight."

"He called, or his familiar called to ask for him?"

"His familiar called," Terry admits.

"Never date a man who needs a third party to do the legwork for him. Tell him thanks but no thanks. What do I have today?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" He stepped out from behind the screen, giving her a puzzled look. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Terry said. Guillermo frowned, tugging at his sleeve cuffs. He usually tried to schedule at least one thing for today. It helped keep his mind off of things. The thought of sitting at home, watching TV, haunted by all the thoughts of things he couldn't have, was far from pleasant.

We'd be playing chess. We always play chess on Friday.

"You know what? Maybe I will go to that party."

Lord Montague was everything a vampire was supposed to be--handsome, rich, intelligent, confident to the point of being smug, and an excellent host. He threw parties that were talked about for centuries, he owned property and titles in four different countries, and he never missed a trick. Guillermo had been half-heartedly dodging his advances for the better part of the last decade, enjoying the attention too much to call it off and too bored by Montague’s pride to call it on.

It’s nice to be wanted, even if it wasn't by the right person.

And Montague is enough of an ass that Guillermo doesn’t feel bad about it..

"Guillermo!" Lord Montague spread his arms wide in welcome, his face split in a smile of genuine delight. He'd come to America in the 1920's and had never been able to let go of the outfits; he was dressed in a black suit with a bright red pocket scarf and his slicked back blonde hair was almost as shiny as his shoes. "So glad you could make it after all! I was worried you were serious about not coming."

"Well, I needed to get out of the house," Guillermo said, playfully, accepting the hug. He sidestepped when Montague tried to wrap his arm around his waist, but took the offered arm.

"Thomas!" Montague snapped his fingers and his familiar--a spindly middle-aged man who envied Guillermo more than just his status as familiar-turned-vampire--materialized beside him. "Take Mr de la Cruz's familiar to the familiar room. You're going to love this place," he told Guillermo, leading him up the stairs. "It used to be a gentlemen's club that was so exclusive, I had to kill three people before they'd start accepting applications to join."

Guillermo is only half listening, letting his eyes wander over the architecture. The art deco is quite beautiful, for all it's clearly been plastered on top of a fairly run-of-the-mill building.

The main room is set up around a large, polished dance floor. Tables and chairs cluster around the edges; at the back of the room is a set of stairs that leads up to a mezzanine. There are a few people he knows; Guillermo waves but allows himself to be led without pause to the upper level. That is, of course, the whole point: for Montague to be seen arm-in-arm with the Guillermo de la Cruz.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Montague says again, "it would have been such a dull night without you. Look who's here!" Montague calls to his esteemed guests, before Guillermo can so much as open his mouth to answer.

Guillermo settles in, allows Montague to stand a little closer than is strictly necessary, and forcibly pushes all thoughts of anniversaries firmly out of his mind. He is determined to have a nice night.

He gets forty minutes.

It really isn't fair, he is having a good time when Thomas appears and leans in--between Guillermo and Montague, of course, in such a way that Guillermo has to back away a step--to whisper in his master's ear that his special guests have arrived. Guillermo glances down the stairs to the door and feels his blood run cold.

It's entirely in his mind, of course. His blood hasn't run in twenty years, but he can feel the ice dripping through his veins all the same. Of course Montague would want them to come, of course he would invite them to the upper level, nothing could be better than to have the heads of the vampiric council arrive at his party.

He debates running. Maybe if he grabs Montague and drags him into a closet; he's willing to fuck the man if it means avoiding this interaction.

Too late.

Montague, ever the gregarious host, is moving towards the stairs to greet them. Guillermo has only seconds to decide how to play this.

Cold and contemptuous? You want aloof, I'll show you aloof; you are something I've stepped in and I'm just looking for a stick to scrape you off with.

Warm and friendly? I'm not hurt at all, look how well I've done for myself, I'm happy and successful and I hope you are too because I'm taking the high road.

Disinterested? Oh, right, you, I remember, it's been so long, I've hardly thought about you.

He’s relieved that he feels no urge to fling himself at Nandor's feet and beg to be taken back. At least he has some dignity.

Civil. He'll be civil at the start, polite and friendly, and adjust according to however Nandor decides to react.

The eyes of Nandor, Nadja, and Laszlo are all fixed on him within seconds. Laszlo looks contemptuous, Nadja enraged, Nandor...

Confused. Confused, and lost.

Guillermo grits his teeth against the urge to comfort, to explain, to forgive, to bend over backward trying to smooth the wrinkle from his brow.

Shit, Nandor hasn't changed a bit. Of course he hasn't; vampires don't change, they don't age, but still. It's like something out of a nightmare, how Nandor has stepped straight out of old and painful memories.

His cape pin is slightly off-center, and it makes his collar crooked. Guillermo wonders if he did it himself, or if he's found a new familiar to dress him--if he has, they aren't as good as Guillermo was. His fingers twitch with the urge to fix it.

"I'm sure everyone is familiar with our esteemed leaders--and consort," Montague adds, with a polite bow to Laszlo. "But let me make introductions! This is Lilith of the Veil, Morgoth the Unseen, Guillermo--"

"We've met," Laszlo interrupts, icily. To Guillermo he nods and says "Gizmo."

Guillermo's eyes narrow slightly at the old nickname, but he puts on a smile.

"I was actually Nandor's familiar," he tells Montague, in a lighthearted tone he doesn't feel in the slightest.

"Bodyguard."

The correction must be automatic, because Nandor looks about as surprised as Guillermo feels.

"A little of both," Guillermo acedes.

"That's right," Lilith says with a gasp. "I always forget you were a familiar! Oh, what a fun little reunion!"

"Yes," Guillermo says, not quite managing to meet Nandor’s eyes. "Nice to see you guys again. We'll have to catch up."

If I can't find a way to escape, first.

Guillermo is not avoiding anyone. He's not going out of his way to interact with them, but he's not avoiding them. Especially not Nandor.

Unfortunately, they seem to be doing the same thing, so for the last hour the four of them have been trading glances of varying levels of disquiet from opposite sides of the room and not coming within ten feet.

Occasionally Guillermo sees Nandor in hissed arguments with the others. He'd give anything to know what they're saying.

Montague's hand slides around Guillermo's waist, and Guillermo just manages not to sigh. Instead, he moves slightly so Montague can't quite get the right grip...but Montague just shifts positions with him. The two of them are now hip-to-hip, and it's not a problem, but Guillermo is not in the mood to play hard-to-get.

As subtly as he can, he jams his thumbnail into the web between Montague's thumb and forefinger, digging in hard. Montague jerks his hand away, and Guillermo gives him a placid smile.

"Excuse me," he says to everyone. "I've got to uh...visit the little bat's room."

This is met with much amusement. It always is, no matter how many times he makes that joke. Maybe they're just being nice.

He ducks into the first room he finds and shuts the door behind him. The window is cracked open; he rests his forehead against it and lets the cold air clear his head.

It doesn't really work. It works even less when he sees the reflection of the door open by itself. He almost hopes it's Montague, but the half-hope is dashed almost immediately.

"You don't seem very happy with him," Nandor says.

"I'm not with him. I'm just here. But I am happy," he hurries to add. "I'm very happy."

"But not with him," Nandor persists. Guillermo turns and frowns at him.

"What's it to you if I am?"

"I do not understand the question."

"Why do you care if I'm with him or not?"

"I don't. I was just surprised that you would be spending time with anyone who does not make you happy."

"I spent twelve years with you, didn't I?" The words fly out before he can stop them. Nandor doesn't flinch or puff up. He just looks away, eyes roving over the wall.

"I made you unhappy."

Guillermo can't tell if it's a question or not. Nandor doesn't say anything else, and Guillermo can't stand the silence.

"How have you been?" he asks.

"Good," Nandor says, quickly. "I am good. Things are...normal."

"Good. That's good."

"You are good also?"

"Yeah, I'm–I'm great. I'm doing fantastic."

"Good. Great."

Another uneasy silence falls. Nandor fiddles with his cape. Guillermo stares at the crooked pin. If you tilted the collar towards yourself and twisted your head to see past your own chin, it might look straight.

If he has a new familiar, he doesn’t let them dress him.

…doesn’t make them dress him.

"I noticed Colin Robinson isn't with you," he says at last.

"Oh, you did not hear. He died."

"What?”

"No it was fine," Nandor says, waving a hand. "He came back. Sort of. But he came back as a little baby and is growing up at the regular human speed, so he is too young for a party. Apparently it is an energy vampire thing."

"Oh. Wow, that's--Holy shit."

"You should come to the house and remeet him," Nandor says, and Guillermo can tell he regrets saying it the second the words are out of his mouth. "Or whatever."

Guillermo doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know what he'd do if he went back to that house.

He is saved from having to answer when the door opens again. This time it is Montague, and he looks far from happy to have found Guillermo sequestered away with someone else.

"There you are," he says, with a brittle smile. "I thought you were taking an awfully long time."

"Barely five minutes," Nandor says, annoyed.

"We were just catching up," Guillermo explains. "It's been twenty years since we've seen each other."

"In four days it will be twenty exactly."

"No, twenty years exactly today." Guillermo corrects. He should be flattered Nandor is even that close to correct. He even remembered the right number of years.

What is he saying, of course he shouldn't be flattered. Why does it matter is Nandor remembers?

"Is not," Nandor corrects right back. "You left twenty years ago in four days."

Guillermo blinked at him. Was that really how many days he'd stayed? It had felt like so much less than that.

...Nandor could remember when he left, but not when he was turned.

"Right. You turned me into a vampire twenty years ago today."

"What!" Montague interjects, scandalized, almost forgetting his annoyance. "Guillermo, how could you? You should have told me it was your anniversary, I would have thrown the party for you!"

"I never celebrate," Guillermo says, firmly, in a tone that he hopes gets across the fact that if he goes back out there in ten minutes to a chorus of 'for he's a jolly good vampire' he will never speak to Montague again, and quite possibly remove a limb before he goes. "Ever. I'll be back," he says, cutting off Montague's protests. "Your guests are waiting."

It comes out a lot colder than he wanted it to but he can't handle the balancing act of Montague and Nandor at the same time. He tells himself he'll make it up to Montague later.

Or maybe he won't, he thinks, when the door shuts very sharply. The man's a brat, and he's not nearly as endearing about it as--

"You don't celebrate ever?" Nandor echoes.

"No."

"But you were so excited to be a vampire." He sounds strange. "You wanted it more than anything."

"Because it's not a happy memory," Guillermo snaps. "I'd rather forget it, but I can't, so I don't celebrate and I try not to think about it, and I was doing a great job of it until you got here!"

"I made you a vampire!" Nandor puffs up, indignantly. "I gave you what you wanted! You were the one who left!"

"What? What does that--do you not remember how you did it? You acted like it was a chore."

"Oh, so you left because I did not give you roses and moonlight, that is it?" Nandor says, bitterly. "If I did poetry, you would have stayed?"

Guillermo would be blushing if he still could. Embarrassment crawls up his chest all the same, leaving him feeling exposed and ashamed. He'd thought he'd done a very good job hiding how he felt about Nandor, but clearly not, if Nandor knew how to use it to needle him.

"I don't want to fight about this in here," Guillermo says, rubbing his temples.

"So we go somewhere else and fight about it there," Nandor says, drawing himself up and glaring at Guillermo. "I am not afraid of you, Guillermo de la Cruz."

He remembered my name. Guillermo tries to kick the thought to death. Standards, Guillermo, you have standards now, for fuck's sake.

"You want to fight?" he asks.

"Yes I do."

"Okay." He rips the screen out of the window in one vicious tug.

A few moments later two large brown bats are fluttering through the streets of Manhattan looking for a place to duke it out without witnesses. They pick a nearby office building that's high enough that their shouting won't been overheard on the street, but not so high that it strains their wings to reach.

They land and regard each other in silence.

Where to even start? With the shitty turning, done without kindness or ceremony? With the emotional neglect? With Colin Robinson being the nicest person in the house to him for a whole week? With everyone driving it home at every available opportunity that they couldn't care less if he lived or died?

Nandor's back hits the wall hard, but he surges forward to meet Guillermo's mouth in the middle. His lips are cold, but the kiss is burning hot and every place they touch feels electric. Nandor manages to get his hands under Guillermo's shirt; Guillermo moans against his lips.

He's not thinking, neither of them is thinking--not with their heads, anyway. There is nothing but the need. They grapple with buttons and zippers and belts.

'Quick and dirty' doesn't even begin to come close. Guillermo has had some rough and frantic asignations in his time, even before he was a vampire, but they are nothing to the feverish desperation of himself and Nandor jerking each other off on the roof of an office building in midtown Manhattan. It feels like seconds--and it probably isn't much longer in actuality--before Nandor buries his face in Guillermo's neck, shuddering under his touch, free hand digging into Guillermo's shoulder.

It's the smell of Nandor's hair, so achingly familiar, dredging up memories of countless nights spent brushing and oiling the long, dark locks, that drags Guillermo over the edge.

For a few glorious moments, the world is perfect. Nandor is in his arms; the release has left them boneless; there is no pain to speak of. All is as it should be.

The afterglow sours quickly. All those thoughts come back, sharp as knives. What the fuck did he just do? What was he thinking? Had he forgotten how Nandor treated him?

He needs to go home. He needs to go home, now, and clean up, and never think about this ever again.

When he starts to pull away, though, Nandor's grip tightens.

"Please." The word is barely a whisper.

Nandor lifts his head and presses his mouth against Guillermo's cheek, leaning against him like he might collapse without the contact. His other hand slides out of Guillermo's pants and tangles in his shirt. Guillermo can feel the cold wetness of his own cum seeping through the fabric, and wonders which would be less mortifying--letting Terry see it or having to hand it over to the dry cleaners himself.

"Please," Nandor says again.

Even so, Guillermo's not going to stand here with his dick hanging out in the cold, even if he can't freeze anymore. Guillermo adjusts his position so his chest is still pressed against Nandor's, but frees up his hands to make them both something approaching decent. Then he wraps his arms around Nandor and hugs him tightly.

To Guillermo's surprise, although it probably shouldn't be so surprising, tears well up in his eyes. It's his turning all over again. On the rare occasions he allowed himself to daydream about this, he always imagined something special. Oh, he'd fantasized more than once about fucking or being fucked up against a wall, but not for their first time. If he ever got so lucky, he'd planned on it being something worth remembering. Something tender and precious, with loving words and a lingering touch, drawn out desire and exploration.

Not a mutual handjob on a dirty rooftop, with barely a word spoken and all this tangled up mess between them.

How could he do this to me? Treat me like shit, drive me out, and then fuck me and say please. What am I supposed to do now?

"What do you want from me?" Guillermo asks, hoarsely.

"This," Nandor murmurs, nuzzling Guillermo's temple, turning the press of his mouth against Guillermo's skin into a kiss. "This."

"This?" Guillermo jerks back, or tries to. Nandor's still holding on too tightly, Guillermo can barely get a step away. "What do you mean this? Back alley fucking? And don't you say we're on a rooftop, I know we're on a rooftop, that's not the point."

"You," Nandor says, desperately. "I want you. This. Us."

"Us."

Nandor leans in for a kiss, eyes sliding shut.

"Us," he says again. Guillermo grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him back.

"Why now? Why now, after all this time? After everything--everything I went through, why--why now?" He pulls free, knocking Nandor's hands away. But Nandor surges up and wraps his arms tightly around Guillermo, clinging to him.

"Come home to me," he says, and Guillermo's legs nearly give out with how badly he wants it. Nandor's voice is hoarse and low and it tears through every wall Guillermo tries to put up. "Come home, Guillermo. Every day I have missed you, I have wanted you. I will do anything you say, everything you say, but do not leave me again." His voice trembles as he pleads. "Show me mercy, Guillermo."

Guillermo wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants--more than anything--to say yes.

"Why now?" he asks again. "Why not twenty years ago? What am I doing now that I wasn't doing then?"

"I was stronger then," Nandor says. "All this time, the thought of you has haunted me, and now that I have held you in my arms--do not send me back alone, Guillermo. Do you want me to beg? I will beg. Just tell me what I must do to make you want to stay, and I will do it."

It is everything Guillermo has ever wanted to hear, and it's twenty years too late.

"What do you mean 'all this time'?" He pulls away from Nandor, though the man's hands cling to him, fingers grasping desperately as Guillermo steps away. "You didn't care! You said you didn't care! You told me--"

"I told you if you wanted to stay, you could stay, and you left! You didn't want to stay!"

"Did you want me to stay?" A terrible, horrible thought is beginning to occur, and Guillermo wants--needs--to be wrong. "Nandor, twenty years ago when I asked you if you wanted me to stay, you said you didn't care. Did you?"

"I wanted you to do what you wanted to do!" Nandor says, not quite looking him in the eye.

"But what did you want me to do? If it had been up to you--"

"It was your decision--"

"Did you want me to stay?"

"Yes!"

It's not quiet enough for the word to echo; even up here the sounds of traffic are too loud. But the word bangs around in Guillermo's skull, drowning out any other thoughts.

"I wanted you to stay," Nandor says bitterly, almost spitting the words out. "But you didn't want to stay."

Guillermo laughs. It's a soft, awful, poisonous laugh.

"See," he says, "the thing is...you didn't act like you didn't care. You acted like you couldn't stand the sight of me. You acted like I was this massive inconvenience you couldn't wait to get rid of. The second you bit me, you all started treating me differently. You guys were nicer to me when I was a familiar. Every chance you got one of you would put me down or shut me out. You didn't even want to teach me how to be a vampire! You would barely even look at me!"

Nandor is starting to put the pieces together; Guillermo can see it in his eyes.

"No," Nandor says, and Guillermo nods. "No, no, no--"

Guillermo smiles. The motion makes the tears in his eyes spill out and over. Isn't it funny? A fucking comedy of errors. All he'd had to do was stay. All Nandor had had to do was ask. He can't even feel angry about it. He feels nothing but grief. He could have stayed. None of this had to happen. He and Nandor could have been--

Nandor steps back, then again. He hit the wall and slumps as if stabbed. Guillermo starts to laugh again.

"All this time--I thought--And you thought--" He throws his hands up in despair. "And now we find out, when it's too late." Guillermo finally loses that terrible smile. "It's too late."

"Why?" Nandor says, abruptly. "Why is it too late?"

"It's been twenty years--"

"So what if it is twenty years? So what if it is a hundred years?" Some inner fire lights itself in Nandor's eyes. He straightens up and fixes Guillermo with a fierce stare. "I want you to come home. If you want to come home, you can! There is nothing stopping any of us!"

"I have my own life now! I have a house and a familiar and work--"

"Then I can come to you! I will leave Staten Island and move to wherever you are."

"Seriously? You'd just pack up everything and move into my house in Brooklyn."

"I don't even need my things! Forget my stupid things!"

"But what about the others?"

"What about them? They are my friends, they will always be my friends, but if you do not want to come back to Staten Island, I will go to wherever you are. It is not too late!" Nandor strides across the roof and grabs Guillermo's hands in his; the fire in his eyes leaves Guillermo light-headed. "I will not let it be too late!"

"Why didn't you just ask me to stay?" Guillermo asks. "None of this would have happened--"

"The same reason you did not ask me why I was acting as I was; the same reason you left when you wanted to stay. I was afraid that if I told you what I wanted, you would not care."

Nandor's grip on Guillermo's hands shifts so he is cradling instead of clinging.

"I have sired many vampires and none of them ever stayed. Whatever they said before I turned them, in the end none of them ever wanted me. The harder I tried to make them stay, the worse it was when they left. When you said you would leave it broke my heart. But to hear you say no if I asked you to stay...it would have broken me."

Guillermo swallows hard. He wishes his heart could still beat, he wishes his lungs would gasp for air. His body is so horribly, terribly still, even though his mind is a screaming swirl of emotions. There is no outlet, unless he starts screaming uncontrollably, which he hasn't entirely taken off the table.

"None of this had to happen!" Guillermo says. "We could have been happy, we could have--"

"We can still be happy now! You are mad at me, so be mad! But be mad at me in Staten Island, or in Brooklyn! I do not care if you are mad about this for the rest of my life, as long as you are there for the rest of my life."

Guillermo stares, speechless, into the blazing brown eyes. This is Nandor the Relentless, and that ferocity that had once levelled cities is now turned towards Guillermo. Nandor saw love within his reach and that stare said he was willing to tear the world apart to get to it.

I will not let it be too late.

Fuck if that isn't the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to Guillermo in his life.

"I love you," Guillermo says.

How could he say anything else?

Guillermo decides he'll count this time as their first time, under the excuse that even if it's their second time having sex, it's their first time making love. And it's infinitely better. They're in a bed, for one, and significantly more comfortable. But even if it the sex was terrible, it would be perfect, because he is so, so in love.

The sex isn't terrible. Nandor is very good.

(Guillermo is better, but he doesn't say anything, because it's not a competition even if he's winning. He keeps his mouth shut and takes private satisfaction in the way Nandor's eyes roll so far back in his head he might be looking at his own brain.)

He makes himself stay in the moment, refuses to think about how this could have been happening twenty years ago, it should have happened. It's happening now, and right now, that's the most important thing.

Well, the most important thing is that if Guillermo holds Nandor's hips like this and thrusts in at this angle, Nandor makes sounds like a dying animal which are--paradoxically--extremely sexy.

But not letting lost time ruin a perfect moment is a close second.

They don't call it quits until Nandor's arms give out while he's on top and he nearly headbutts Guillermo as he collapses.

"Okay," Nandor says, face pressed against Guillermo's shoulder. "I think I need a break."

"Let's call it a night," Guillermo suggests.

"Until tomorrow night," Nandor says, hopefully. Guillermo hums in agreement and kisses Nandor's forehead. He's more tired than he would have thought, even discounting the extremely vigorous sex, but he suspects something about the resolution of twenty years of grief might have something to do with it.

"It's late. I don't want you to go," Guillermo says, because when he learns a lesson he learns it, "but you don't have a lot of time to get back to Staten Island from here."

"I also do not want me to go," Nandor says. "So I will not go."

"You won't be able to sleep," Guillermo says.

"I will watch you do it," Nandor says softly, tracing a fingertip across Guillermo's cheekbone. "There are worse ways to spend a day."

Guillermo wants to argue, but he's losing the fight to keep his eyes open. Nandor smiles at him.

"Goodnight, Guillermo."

"Mi amor," Guillermo murmurs, and is asleep in seconds.

The soft knock on the door doesn't wake him, but Nandor sitting up does. He raises his head as the door creaks open. Terry sticks her head in.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Terry? Terry!" He sits bolt upright, nearly banging into Nandor. "Oh my god, I left you at the party--"

"Lord Montague is not a happy vampire," she tells him. "Like, declare the two of you his mortal enemies not happy."

Guillermo rolls his eyes.

"Fucking drama queen. Whatever. He didn't threaten you or anything, did he?"

"No, I wasn't there for that; I left right after you did."

"How did you know I left?"

"You put that 'find my phone' app thing on your phone; I use it to track your movements."

"Excuse me?"

"Anyway, long story short," Terry holds up a large leather satchel, "I have some of Nandor's ancestral soil so he can actually sleep while he sleeps over. Laszlo and Nadja say congratulations, by the way, but they sounded pretty sarcastic."

"She's an even better familiar than you were," Nandor says, impressed.

"I flew to Iran to get you--fine, whatever. She's great."

Terry crosses the room, her eyes carefully averted, and hands Nandor the bag.

"Thank you," he says, with a small bow. Terry gives him a bright smile and Guillermo a big thumbs up, and slips out again.

"We're talking about this tracking my movements thing," Guillermo calls after her.

"No we aren't," she says, and shuts the door.

Nandor tosses the bag of dirt under the bed and flops back with a relieved sigh. Guillermo settles down next to him, but Nandor insistently pulls him into his arms, so Guillermo's head is resting on his shoulder and his arm is across his chest.

Guillermo's eyes begin to sting again. Twenty years. Twenty years of this they could have had, and hadn't. All that time, lost, wasted, because they were too afraid--

"You know the good thing about living forever is that lost time is not so much. If we were going to die at ninety, twenty years is so much of our lifetimes. But for us, we have many twenties ahead of us. In a few hundred years it will seem like nothing."

Guillermo pushes himself up onto his elbow. Nandor's expression is very serious.

"It feels like a long time to me."

"Yes. But the long time is over. Everything is downhill from here."

"Uphill," Guillermo corrects. Nandor frowns.

"No, downhill. Uphill is harder. Downhill is easy. No more struggles."

"Aha," Guillermo says. "My mistake."

"I am tired of hurting," Nandor says. "I want to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too." He leans down and presses his lips to Nandor's. By the time the kiss is over, Nandor is asleep. Guillermo smiles and tugs the blanket up over the two of them.

Guillermo opens his eyes to darkness.

"Happy anniversary," he whispers to himself.

There is a playful knocking on his coffin lid. Before Guillermo can answer, the lid swings open, and Nandor grins down at him.

"Happy anniversary. Twenty-one years a vampire, very exciting!"

Guillermo grabs Nandor by the shirt and hauls him down into the coffin. Nandor disappears inside with a yelp, the lid banging shut behind him. Guillermo only got the larger coffin because he likes a little more room (he's still not quite used to it, even after twenty years). That Nandor is able to fit quite snugly inside with him is just a bonus.

"One year of you and me," Guillermo says. "Even more exciting."

Nandor's grin gets wider.

"That is an extra happy anniversary."

"I can tell you're extra happy," Guillermo says.

"You make me extra happy. Have you ever had happy anniversary sex? It is very good."

"Can't say I have," Guillermo says, his hands sliding from Nandor's chest to his back, and then his lower back. "I--"

There is a sharp rap on the coffin.

"I hate to interrupt, Master, but you did instruct me to remind you that you always regret having sex in the coffin."

"Do you just hide out there and listen in?" Guillermo demands.

"No, but I saw Nandor go in, and the door isn't shut, and I know you."

"Terry, you are being the buzzkill."

"Sorry, Nandor. I have my orders."

"No, she's right," Guillermo sighs. He pats Nandor on the ass, earning himself a playful little squirm. "Come on. We can do all kinds of weird anniversary sex on the bed."

"Ah-ah," Nandor stops him and boops him on the nose. "On the ceiling."

"On the--No. We are not having sex on the ceiling."

"It is our anniversary!"

"That's not--Ceiling. Okay, cariño, whatever you want."

Nandor leans down and presses their lips together in a slow kiss. When he pulls away his expression is one of such adoration Guillermo forgets that he doesn't need to breathe, and feels breathless.

"You are whatever I want," he murmurs. Guillermo melts.

"Mi amor--"

Knock knock.

"Master--"

"Terry, go dust something and let me make my regrettable decisions in peace."

"Okay," she says in a tone that says 'I'm not going to verbally tell you I told you so but I am going to say it very loudly with my eyes when you have to ask me to clean the vampire semen out of your coffin and you will have to ask me even though I know you're going to want me to do it'.

But Nandor is nibbling on his neck and it's their anniversary and Guillermo couldn't care less.

'Happy anniversary,' Guillermo thinks. 'And many happy returns.'

#nandermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #i'm tired of waffling over whether this is any good so here you go

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julioclaudian · 3 years

Text

I posted 7,118 times in 2021

1902 posts created (27%)

5216 posts reblogged (73%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.7 posts.

I added 2,445 tags in 2021

#lime.txt - 1476 posts

#jjk - 210 posts

#fe - 136 posts

#tg - 121 posts

#f1 - 94 posts

#leafsposting - 91 posts

#nge - 87 posts

#tma - 80 posts

#hades - 80 posts

#hockeyposting - 70 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#im going to try to introduce myself as a he this year. and now im realizing that if i say ‘he/him’ i might instinctively call myself ‘lime’

My Top Posts in 2021

i love that nandor has canonically fucked lazlo but we pretty collectively don’t care about it because we love guillermo so much. like ‘these two men canonically fucked’ ok and ? it doesnt involve guillermo so who cares

41 notes • Posted 2021-11-30 02:39:52 GMT

that one post where its like “me getting sentenced for war crimes” and then a gif of an anime character going ^_^ :P is like literally what golden kamuy is like, its just these huge violent men dismembering people and then going ehehe ^_^ *blushes* in a way that’s genuinely cute enough for me to forgive them for the dismemberment

44 notes • Posted 2021-08-14 01:19:36 GMT

wait wait i had an epiphany about utena while i was in the bathroom. utena has both a surface structure and a deep structure in the way it approaches gender and most people who talk about the show from a casual standpoint only take away the surface meaning. the show starts with a feminist take that is appealing but ultimately shallow: utena breaks gender norms to save anthy from the abusive saionji, its a #girlboss moment and everything is happily ever after. but the show keeps going after that, because its ultimate goal is the deeper structure. saionji is surface level abuse, he hits anthy in public, he's a piece of shit and he's loud about it, but beating him up doesnt solve anything. the long, slow reveal of what akio has been doing to anthy the whole time is the deep structure abuse. and utena's gender-nonconformity is double structured too. she wears the boys uniform and her taking of saionji's role defies the shallowest definitions of gender, but she is still filling one of two set roles. she is still a cog in the gender industrial complex. and even if she does it with good intentions the fact that the role of the patriarch exists is inextricable from its abuse. thats why the prince is akio and akio is the prince: these two cannot be separate. the deep structure is why even thought she's been calling herself a prince this whole time, even though she's a duelist, at the end of the show akio still has her in the dress and the tiara. she was still inside the power structure, she only looked different. it is only by leaving the school, abandoning the entire framework of ohtori with its dichotomous roles and their places in the power structure, that utena and anthy truly transcend gender.

49 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 23:47:24 GMT

we have got to stop normalizing shit. real people fanfiction isnt normal, "underage" fanfiction categories are not normal, all of this is weird and uncomfortable and fucked up. go outside and talk to normal people more so we can stop having fucking thinkpieces about how its okay to dehumanize goddamn minecraft youtube kids of all things

79 notes • Posted 2021-03-04 00:46:08 GMT

conspiring to murder was fine but walter white was just mean to his wife so death penalty i think

433 notes • Posted 2021-08-26 20:15:19 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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vampireshmampire · 2 years

Text

The Things We Can't Take Back ch 4 (VERSION 2!)

There were some things I was never really happy about with chapter 4, and I finally decided to sit down and do something about it! So, here are! (Note, it's all the same right up until the roof scene but I felt I should post the full chapter.)

AO3 link here!

Guillermo opens his eyes to darkness. Lungs that have not needed to breathe for years pull in air and let it out in a sigh.

Twenty years . He still marvels at it, sometimes. Absentmindedly he presses a tongue to a fang. It hasn't been a bad twenty years, either. He's built himself a good life, made friends, became a name to respect in the vampire circles of Brooklyn. It's not what he'd had in mind when he was human, but 364 days of the year he's perfectly happy with his life.

But on his anniversary, he can't stop thinking about old dreams, can't stop thinking about how quickly it all seemed to fall apart. Can't stop thinking about what might have been.

Guillermo finds Nandor already awake, their familiar fumbling with the clasps on his shirt.

He glances up at Nandor, whose eyes are shining with amusement.

"Shut up. Shut up!" he says again when Nandor chuckles. "I just want it done right!"

"At least you let him try to do it now."

"My clothes are the important stuff?" Nandor asks.

"Don't you like it when I help you dress?"

An arm slides around his waist, pulling him close.

"I like it better when you help me take them off."

"I'm sure you do."

Nandor leans down, Guillermo stretches up--

The door to his room opens and the dream falls to embarrassing pieces.

"Good evening, master."

He plasters on a smile as his familiar opens the coffin lid.

"Good evening, Terry."

He shakes the thought away and steps behind the screen.

"Alright, let's have it."

"Lord Montague called to ask if you were very sure you don't want to come to his party tonight."

"He called, or his familiar called to ask for him?"

"His familiar called," Terry admits.

"Never date a man who needs a third party to do the legwork for him. Tell him thanks but no thanks. What do I have today?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" He stepped out from behind the screen, giving her a puzzled look. "Are you sure?"

We'd be playing chess. We always play chess on Friday .

"You know what? Maybe I will go to that party."

It’s nice to be wanted, even if it wasn't by the right person.

And Montague is enough of an ass that Guillermo doesn’t feel bad about it..

"Well, I needed to get out of the house," Guillermo said, playfully, accepting the hug. He sidestepped when Montague tried to wrap his arm around his waist, but took the offered arm.

Guillermo is only half listening, letting his eyes wander over the architecture. The art deco is quite beautiful, for all it's clearly been plastered on top of a fairly run-of-the-mill building.

He gets forty minutes.

He debates running. Maybe if he grabs Montague and drags him into a closet; he's willing to fuck the man if it means avoiding this interaction.

Too late.

Montague, ever the gregarious host, is moving towards the stairs to greet them. Guillermo has only seconds to decide how to play this.

Cold and contemptuous? You want aloof, I'll show you aloof; you are something I've stepped in and I'm just looking for a stick to scrape you off with.

Warm and friendly? I'm not hurt at all, look how well I've done for myself, I'm happy and successful and I hope you are too because I'm taking the high road.

Disinterested? Oh, right, you, I remember, it's been so long, I've hardly thought about you.

He’s relieved that he feels no urge to fling himself at Nandor's feet and beg to be taken back. At least he has some dignity.

Civil. He'll be civil at the start, polite and friendly, and adjust according to however Nandor decides to react.

The eyes of Nandor, Nadja, and Laszlo are all fixed on him within seconds. Laszlo looks contemptuous, Nadja enraged, Nandor...

Confused. Confused, and lost.

Guillermo grits his teeth against the urge to comfort, to explain, to forgive, to bend over backward trying to smooth the wrinkle from his brow.

Shit , Nandor hasn't changed a bit. Of course he hasn't; vampires don't change, they don't age, but still. It's like something out of a nightmare, how Nandor has stepped straight out of old and painful memories.

"We've met," Laszlo interrupts, icily. To Guillermo he nods and says "Gizmo."

Guillermo's eyes narrow slightly at the old nickname, but he puts on a smile.

"I was actually Nandor's familiar," he tells Montague, in a lighthearted tone he doesn't feel in the slightest.

"Bodyguard."

The correction must be automatic, because Nandor looks about as surprised as Guillermo feels.

"A little of both," Guillermo accedes.

"That's right ," Lilith says with a gasp. "I always forget you were a familiar! Oh, what a fun little reunion!"

"Yes," Guillermo says, not quite managing to meet Nandor’s eyes. "Nice to see you guys again. We'll have to catch up."

If I can't find a way to escape, first.

Guillermo is not avoiding anyone. He's not going out of his way to interact with them, but he's not avoiding them. Especially not Nandor.

Occasionally Guillermo sees Nandor in hissed arguments with the others. He'd give anything to know what they're saying.

Montague's hand slides around Guillermo's waist, and Guillermo just manages not to sigh. Instead, he moves slightly so Montague can't quite get the right grip...but Montague just shifts positions with him. The two of them are now hip-to-hip, and it's not a problem , but Guillermo is not in the mood to play hard-to-get.

As subtly as he can, he jams his thumbnail into the web between Montague's thumb and forefinger, digging in hard. Montague jerks his hand away, and Guillermo gives him a placid smile.

"Excuse me," he says to everyone. "I've got to uh...visit the little bat's room."

This is met with much amusement. It always is, no matter how many times he makes that joke. Maybe they're just being nice.

He ducks into the first room he finds and shuts the door behind him. The window is cracked open; he rests his forehead against it and lets the cold air clear his head.

It doesn't really work. It works even less when he sees the reflection of the door open by itself. He almost hopes it's Montague, but the half-hope is dashed almost immediately.

"You don't seem very happy with him," Nandor says.

"I'm not with him. I'm just here. But I am happy," he hurries to add. "I'm very happy."

"But not with him," Nandor persists. Guillermo turns and frowns at him.

"What's it to you if I am?"

"I do not understand the question."

"Why do you care if I'm with him or not?"

"I don't. I was just surprised that you would be spending time with anyone who does not make you happy."

"I spent twelve years with you, didn't I?" The words fly out before he can stop them. Nandor doesn't flinch or puff up. He just looks away, eyes roving over the wall.

"I made you unhappy."

Guillermo can't tell if it's a question or not. Nandor doesn't say anything else, and Guillermo can't stand the silence.

"How have you been?" he asks.

"Good," Nandor says, quickly. "I am good. Things are...normal."

"Good. That's good."

"You are good also?"

"Yeah, I'm–I'm great. I'm doing fantastic."

"Good. Great."

If he has a new familiar, he doesn’t let them dress him.

…doesn’t make them dress him.

"I noticed Colin Robinson isn't with you," he says at last.

"Oh, you did not hear. He died."

" What? ”