just finished season 2 of being human uk and i cant stop thinking about mitchell and george because like. this man saves you. you're being beaten in an alley and you know they're going to kill you and he saves you. and he's the same as them except he's not anymore because he saved you. he's the same as them but he's not anymore because he's trying to be better he has been for years but he was just like them once. and he saves you because he stops them from killing you but he also saves you because when you ask him the question that's been rattling around your chest for two years, when you scream it out at that empty alleyway and the darkness and the man still standing there, what next, what next now that you've become this other thing, this other version of a person you never wanted, what next when your life has been stripped down to the barest traces, when you ask what next he answers. he saves you and he's a monster but he saves you and he's your best friend, the best friend you've maybe ever had. and he's a monster but you're a monster too and he doesn't treat you like you are. and when you cut your hand peeling carrots there's a moment where his eyes zero in on the blood trickling from your finger onto the cutting board and it's like he's someone else. and sometimes he comes home smelling like blood and you don't ask if it's really just from mopping up in emergency. and sometimes he comes home late with a dark look in his eye and tells you it's just been a bad day and you don't look too closely at his face when he says it. and sometimes people go missing and you see it on the news and you look at his face to see if it'll change when they show the picture. and sometimes people are found dead and bloody in dark corners of the city and the deaths are ruled another unsolved mystery and you know he knows something but you don't know how much. and sometimes you can feel it in you, you can feel the monster rearing it's ugly head as the moon's waxing face rises above you but when you get home he cracks a joke and orders pizza and turns on your show. and he's a monster but he saved you, he's a monster but he's your best friend, he's a monster but you need him so it's best you don't ask. if you don't know about it it didn't really happen. if you keep it tucked in the far edges of your peripheral vision you'll never have to look at it too closely. he's a monster but not if you don't know. and you love him. you love him. he gave you a life when you thought you'd never have one again and you love him. but he's a monster. and every time you remember that it's a reminder that you are too.
I've published my first devlog regarding Night Shift: 1999 and my inspirations behind the setting & the themes! Give it a listen or read the uncut version on my Substack here.
If you're a IWTV, Being Human, or WWDITS fan, then you won't wanna miss out on this visual novel where you're a (gay gay homosexual gay) vampire trying to pay your rent in Kings Cross, Sydney during 1999. And maybe even find love along the way, who knows.
Him and Hal...There's a bit where Annie makes them pretend to be boyfriends so Eve can get medical treatment (long story) and Tom gets so into the role. The doctor says something Tom perceives as homophobia and he gets so upset about it, yelling about how "i'm gay and stray! wait that's not it. i'm here and i'm queer!"
So while he might not be canonically bisexual (that I remember), all vampires are technically bisexual because vampirism is traditionally (at least since Stoker's Dracula) a metaphor for sex/sexual predation, so any vampire that drinks from men and women is, in a way, bisexual.
Another snippet because I am determined to get back into writing and this Being Human rewrite is helping
Nina and Mitchell have âbitchy bestiesâ potential. They could have spent their lunch breaks openly judging everyone and stressing George out
So: in which Nina is still trying to figure out George, being off blood has a lot of physical consequences for Mitchell, and Nina is first and foremost a healer
Nina was making her relieved way to lunch when, halfway down the hall, a porter suddenly collapsed. He lost his grip on his mop and tried to steady himself against the wall, then crashed to his hands and knees.
Nina ran to him. Sally, coming from the opposite direction, ran too with a shout of, âMitchell!â
Mitchell. Nina knew him. Sort of. She knew his face and name but had never spoken to him. Half her team was starry eyed over him, including some that were way too old for him and married with children no less. It usually made Nina scoff.
She knew he was ill. Everyone knew that, but no one knew for sure what was wrong. He got dizzy and was sensitive to bright light. No one had mentioned seizures, so Nina ruled out epilepsy. He was fine some days, bouncing about and joking, and then other days he was pale, drained and quiet, plainly exhausted. She suspected anemia, but knew it would be crossing all sorts of lines to ask him.
âIâm fine,â Mitchell mumbled, eyes shut. He leaned heavily against the wall and weakly tried to bat Sallyâs hands away.
âSure you are,â Nina said briskly. She linked her arm with his and got him unsteadily to his feet. âCome on, letâs find you a chair.â
Luckily the nearest kitchenette was just at the end of the hall. Nina escorted him there, Sally following at her heels. She kept trying to touch Mitchellâs back and arm, and even Nina felt the urge to slap her hands away. So not the time, she wanted to snap.
She knew she needed to stop snapping at people. She knew her reputation.
Old habits die hard.
Dana was in the kitchenette, pouring ketchup on her egg sandwich. She nearly dropped the bottle when she saw them.
âIâll get George,â she said and ran from the room.
George? Nina wondered as she helped Mitchell into a chair.
As if he heard her thoughts, Mitchell mumbled, âHousemate.â
WaitâŠGeorge. That George? Shit. Nina still couldnât make sense of that guy. Their first disastrous meeting was her own fault and sheâd admit that; she never should have snapped at him like that, never should have shit-talked his job and him for following orders from a doctor. Sheâd been having a shit day but it had nothing to do with him. George had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nina would have lost it at Jesus Christ himself that day.
The second time was Georgeâs fault. She wondered if heâd been trying to get even with her. All that macho bravado, the sleazy pick-up lines. And yet heâd been so awkward with it, like a schoolboy being pushed into a dare he didnât want. It had infuriated her; sheâd felt like a fool for extending an olive branch when that was his reaction. She was sure he was making fun of her.
The third time they met, he was visiting one of her patients. He had no connection to her, but the poor old woman had told him sheâd have no visitors, that she had no family left. So George promised to visit and actually followed through on it, much to Ninaâs surprise.
He confused her. She didnât like being unable to figure someone out like this.
But never mind that. Sheâd completely forgotten that Mitchell and George were friends. Why would she remember? They had nothing to do with her.
And it hardly mattered. What mattered was making sure her new impromptu patient was okay.
She wished she could dim the lights in here or even turn them off.
Nina got Mitchell into a recovery position, bent over, head between his knees. He was already taking deep, controlled breaths, plainly used to these dizzy spells.
Well, he would be, wouldnât he? As far as sheâd heard, heâd had these spells since before he started working here three years ago.
Sally was still hovering, still giving Mitchell that besotted look, more interested in staring than helping. Nina felt a stab of irritation.
âIâve got him,â she said firmly. Sally gave her That Look, a look worn by women all over the world, no doubt. Somewhere between a pout and a scowl, not exactly sulky, but close to it. A look that screamed, But you know I like him.
Nina gave her a look in return. The look she gave lazy subordinates and argumentative patients. The Donât Mess With Me stare. Sheâd perfected it when she was ten, she was quite proud of it.
Sally huffed and left. Nina poured Mitchell a glass of water, scowled at the fluorescent overhead lights (they were hardly helping!) and made him a cup of tea with three sugars. Anything she could think of to help the light-headedness.
She wished there was somewhere for him to lie down, but there were only plastic orange chairs in here, and sheâd hardly make him lie on the floor unless she had to. Letâs just say it was obvious he hadnât gotten to mop in here yet.
âAlright?â Nina asked, careful to keep her voice quiet. Mitchell gave her a thumbs up.
âThis is so fuckinâ embarrassing,â he muttered. He took the glass of water first and Nina watched how his hands trembled, bracing herself to catch him if he fell again, or to catch the glass if he dropped it.
âNah, whatâs embarrassing is the guy in A&E with Lego up his arse,â Nina said with a grin.
Mitchell laughed, winced at the noise, and drank more of the water. Once the glass was empty, she pressed the tea into his hands. His eyes were open now and they looked dazed. He looked like heâd been hit on the head.
He almost looked too young to be working here. Which was a daft thought since they had students working here as cleaners. But there it was. Maybe it was the nurse in her, but she almost wanted to send him home.
If this dizzy spell didnât pass soon, she might have to.
When Nina first saw Mitchell, sheâd written him off. One look at that pretty face and grin, and sheâd thought Troublemaker, and made a point of avoiding him, though she doubted he knew who she was at all. Only it turned out he generally kept to himself. He was popular and known to be friendly, but didnât hang around any groups or go out, just stuck with George. He was flirted with constantly and she slowly found herself impressed by his patience, that he never told anyone to get out of his space. He didnât snap and snarl like Nina would have.
Come to think of itâŠHadnât it been George to report Trevor Moss for grabbing Mitchellâs arse around Christmas? That was what the rumours said. The other nurses said Mitchell had mostly seemed taken aback and irritated, uncomfortable, but willing to ignore it. Laughed in Mossâs face in fact. And George, who Dana insisted was âa sweetie pie,â (as if!) flipped out and reported Moss for harassment. Moss had been behaving well ever since.
Nina hadnât paid attention at the time. She wished she had now. Maybe then George wouldnât confuse her so much.
âDid I spill the bucket?â Mitchell asked her, still sounding exhausted. He was still shivering.
âNo,â Nina said. Mitchell nodded and immediately seemed to regret it, gagging slightly. He did the smart thing and bent over again, doing those controlled breaths.
âHave you hadâŠâ she gestured uncertainly. âThis for long?â
âAges,â Mitchell said, breathing in and out, in and out, deep and slow. âYears.â
She wanted to ask what he had. She didnât dare. Even Nina knew when she was being too nosy. This was the first time theyâd ever spoken, for Godâs sake, it wouldnât be like asking Melissa about her endo treatment. Heâd have every right to tell her to fuck off.
It still took a lot of restraint to not blurt out her questions.
âDid you black out at all?â she asked instead. âOut in the hallway?â
She supposed he was used to being grilled about his symptoms. And she had to admit, her tone did sound bossy when she got like this. Nina Pickering, Nurse, Ward Sister. The Boss. Five feet one, and she could still make grown men cower. It was another skill she was proud of.
She was about to ask if there was anything else she could do to help (did he have anything he needed to take for this? Anything she should fetch from his locker? Did he need more water, more sugar in his tea? A damp, cold cloth? She needed to help) when she heard frantic footsteps approaching at a run. Squeak-squeak-squeak across the linoleum floor.
George Sands burst into the room, his glasses steamed up and askew; he looked like heâd sprinted all the way here. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
âMitch!â He immediately rushed to Mitchell, stumbled, knelt in front of him and grabbed his friendâs shaking hands.
âIâm fine, Georgie-boy,â Mitchell said, managing a tired grin, eyes still dazed. âYou know me, drama wherever I go.â
George stared at him like he was trying to see into Mitchellâs head. It was like theyâd both forgotten she was there. Perhaps another time and with other people, Nina might have felt insulted; she would have bristled, said something sarcastic and felt snubbed. Like she was being told she wasnât good at her job, or sheâd done something wrong. But even she could see it wasnât that. They justâŠfit together, those two.
She knew Kaz was convinced they were dating. Looking at them now, Nina didnât think so. There was nothing romantic about this. Then again, it somehow struck her as more than best friends too. Not siblings, not that, butâŠwhat? She didnât know.
They orbited each other. North Star and all that rubbish.
Sheâd never had a best friend like that.
Seeing Mitchell would continue to play it off, Nina told George what happened. He nodded along as she spoke, his expression solemn. When Mitchell tried to pull back, George grabbed his hands again and held on tight.
âYou said you felt okay this morning,â he said accusingly.
âI did! It just hit out of nowhere. Itâs grand, honestly.â
âAnnieâs not going to let you hear the end of this,â George said. Nina had no idea who that was. Mitchellâs girlfriend? Another roommate? One of their family members?
Itâs none of your business, thatâs what it is, Nina reminded herself sternly.
âGet him home,â Nina said to George. âIâll explain for you.â
George helped Mitchell stand, slowly and carefully.
âThanks,â Mitchell said to her. âSorry for the mayhem.â
âIf you think that was mayhem you should see my ward,â Nina said. Now that he was back on his feet, safely in his friendâs arms, she didnât quite know what to do with herself.
âThank you,â George said quietly. There was something intense about his voice. Something about the way he kept glancing down at Mitchell like George was afraid heâd disappear.
She felt a new rush of concern. Was Mitchell more ill than anyone suspected? Whatever he had, was it getting worse?
Itâs none of your business, Pickering! Nina scolded herself again. Everyone always said she was nosy. They were right and she knew it. It was a hard habit to break.
She pushed aside her concerns and questions, and nodded to George.
Trying to get back into writing, and all my favourites get a rewrite at some point, even if they just stay in my docs
So: Being Human. In which Annie may or may not have forgotten what boundaries are, and Mitchell may or may not have never been told people shouldnât pop in on him in the shower. George despairs of them both
Having housemates that could see her was amazing. Annie couldnât get enough of it. A year of invisibility and silence, of unceasing loneliness, and these two could see her, they could hear her. It was downright addictive.
Mitchell liked her loads, which pleased Annie to no end. She finally had a friend again! God, sheâd so badly missed having a friend.
George was the harder sell, but as the weeks passed he was slowly coming around. The first time they really talked, without George getting snippy, was about cleaning. They both liked things to be just so. It was progress. Baby steps.
Annie followed them both all over the house, especially at first, chatting a mile a minute. She had housemates that could see her and they were supernatural themselves; how perfect was that? George was reluctant to answer her werewolf questions, but Mitchell was usually obliging about her vampire questions.
She knew she accidentally crossed a line when he suddenly fell silent, eyes dim, staring at nothing. It took three calls of his name to bring him back.
âSorry, Annie,â he said, his smile sweet, his eyes dull. âYou were saying?â
Annie changed the subject. She hovered outside his door that night, trying to work up the courage to knock. He must have sensed her, because the door suddenly swung open and there he was, looking down at her with surprise.
Annie held up her favourite tray as an offering; one Batman mug, one Snow White mug, a plate of biscuits. âI brought hot chocolate,â she offered anxiously, and Mitchell let her in. They spent half the night talking and giggling like kids at a sleepover.
The first time she popped in on George in the shower, he shrieked at the top of his lungs and threw his bottle of shampoo at her. It went right through her, which felt strange, an odd swooping sensation in her stomach; it smashed into the wall and cracked open, spraying coconut shampoo all over the wall and floor.
âDo you MIND!?â George shrieked as Mitchell came running to see what the hullabaloo was about, and immediately started laughing at them.
âSorry!â Annie said cheerfully. âJust wanted to check if you want any tea? Iâm making some more.â
âI am in the shower. Out! Both of you out!â
Cackling, Mitchell left, gesturing for Annie to follow.
The first time she popped in on Mitchell in the shower, he just sort of blinked at her, laughed, and happily chatted with her. Annie enjoyed the conversation and the view. George stared in horror when he got home as Mitchell cheerfully recounted his day with Annie, including their shower conversation.
The next day, George came home with a shower curtain and a grim look of determination on his face. The curtain was blue, patterned with clown fish and starfish, and George nodded in satisfaction when he got it hanging around the shower-bath combo. It looked a little lopsided, no matter what he did, even when it was hanging correctly.
âYou act like Iâm some pervert,â Annie said indignantly.
George glowered at her. âYou are.â
Mitchell only shrugged. âWe can still have our chats,â he said. He stood behind George, draped over him like some sort of cloak or blanket, as clingy as a koala, all long limbs and surprising elegance. George sighed and patted one of Mitchellâs hands, which was on Georgeâs chest, apparently used to his friend getting clingy. Annie wondered if heâd ever let her get clingy with him like that.
All the same, she allowed herself a little sulk. She wasnât some kind of pervert! It was more like being dead made boundaries hazy. She got swept up in the excitement of it all. Hardly worth making a fuss over.
âMitchell doesnât mind,â she grumbled.
âMitchell,â George said sternly, âis a messy bag of trauma who doesnât know what healthy boundaries are.â
âI do!â Mitchell protested.
âOh yes? Then let go of me.â
âFuck off, no.â If anything, Mitchell held on tighter.
âCase in point,â George sighed. He didnât try to get Mitchell off him, though. Just reached back and ruffled Mitchellâs hair. She thought they were adorable.
Annie was quickly coming to love these two wonderful weirdos. They were her weird housemates. Housemates who could see her, who bought her the books and magazines she asked for, who (mostly) drank her tea. Housemates who spoke to her, who laughed with her and liked her. They bought CDs and movies she liked and indulged her ceaseless need for stimulation. They wanted her around. Even George.
Just not in the shower. Okay, Annie would work on it. George added her to the take-out and movies rota, even though she couldnât eat and adored the cheesy rom-coms he hated, she would leave him alone in the shower.
But as Mitchell seemed to find the whole thing amusing, Annie would still pop in on him until he told her otherwise.
I think it's very telling you so-called-Monster-Fuckers haven't ever properly locked the fuck in when it comes to Being Human UK.
A Jewish werewolf, and Irish Vampire and a Black ghost, all sharing a pink fucking house and having jobs and chores they hate amidst the murder and mayhem - AND YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT?
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