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@gdfrey
@untilthcyrot / sookie stackhouse
"please just sit with me."
𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐘 could hardly manage to stand still. italian leather creaks on floorboards, the man pacing over the foyer as if stuck in a loop. soft flesh of roman's cheek is no match for the weight of his canine, enamel crushing into the flesh. it isn't until the satisfying sting floods his senses that he stops to look at her.
"a fucking 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘍𝘌𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘈𝘛𝘌 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘋𝘐𝘌𝘙 waltzes into town, and your first instinct is to play the hero ? they're vampires, sookie. you could've—"
a sigh rips from his nostrils, roman steeling himself as he crouches by the staircase. sookie's hands are taken into his, grip tight and urgent. the effects seep in immediately, euphoria lessening the tight clench of his jaw.
"i don't want you around them. you don't need to protect their kind ... i thought we agreed that you wouldn't get mixed up in all this."
"don't touch that."
attention remains fixated entirely on the book displayed upon the shop's counter, manicured french tips rapidly go through the paragraphs, until she reaches the bottom of the page, shuts the book closed and raises her gaze to glare at the young man lingering closer to the grandfather clock.
"please. it's dangerous, you should never touch it," voice changes from icy to scolding, yet she still tries to adopt a friendlier tone, the kind hilda naturally masters, the charm that makes everybody drawn to her sister, "i know you're looking for something, mr. godfrey, you've been here twice this week. but you won't find it inside that clock," a warning lingers in the air, as if she expects him to know just what the lost-in-time clock can do. perhaps he already does, "whatever it is you need, you come to me for it. my sister won't be happy if you break something in the shop." @gdfrey
𝐌𝐑. 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐘 huffs at the sharp chirping behind him. the 𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘓𝘓𝘔𝘈𝘕 woman had a watchful eye.
“i didn’t touch it.”
furrowed brow raises as he turns. his features are unforgettable. prominent green eyes and chiseled structure make a 𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 appearance that demands to be seen. he shows no sign of relenting in his fixation on this clock. adam’s apple bobs as he regards her; 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 never wavers.
“you don’t know what i want or what i’m looking for. so i’ll ask again, like i did last time."
"are you looking to sell?”
Vulnerable sentence starters
TWs for: suicidal ideation, possible implications of self-harm
“I’m just… so tired of being awake.”
“Would you brush my hair?”
“Can we just [read/watch] something, tonight?”
“Just let me lie here for a while?”
“I like it when you [insert action] for me.”
“Please, I can’t … I don’t want to argue tonight.”
“Can’t we just love each other right now? Just for tonight?”
“It’s just …. it’s hard.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“What happens after something like that?”
“Should we… be going to the police?”
“Fuck, that hurts.”
“I’m used to it.”
“I don’t want you to worry, but… I think I need help.”
“I did something stupid.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks. Can you help?”
“Have you ever thought that? Have you ever thought that it feels like drowning?”
“I’m not crying.”
“I can’t breathe. I just want to breathe.”
“Please just sit with me.”
“Stay?”
“Was it a lie, then? All of this?”
“Can I just not be okay for a minute?”
“I used to be better at coping than this.”
“I should be stronger than this.”
“When I was younger, I… I used to have some problems.”
“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
“Are you okay for me to talk about this right now? It’s pretty heavy.”
“Were you ever… didn’t you ever just… want it to go away?”
“It’s c- cold.”
Bill Skarsgård as Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Grove (2013)
' TO KEEP YOU FEELING SAFE. '
funny, but true. that was the agreement, but how much could a few pieces of stuffed fabric really help? they were fun, entertaining to look at, & the fact that roman disliked them so openly was a plus . . . but they did nothing to make the situation feel any more SAFE ; thankfully, safety wasn't something bear needed, & was in fact a feeling he wasn't all that comfortable with.
bear didn't need, or want, safety - he much preferred the perceived absense of choice, false though it may have been. every time slight figure pressed upwards only to be met by persistent & unyielding weight, it served as the much yearned for relinquishment of choice. nothing that happened could be his fault, because he was just along for the ride, STUCK right where he was until roman decided otherwise.
that was worlds better than something so useless as feeling safe.
still in his own world of blank-stare nothingness, attention wasn't fully given until the sound of overpriced toys softly falling to the floor was heard, and roman's perfectly on brand response was given. "just because YOU can't hear them doesn't mean they aren't in pain, godfrey." bear offered with an adoring glare. "can you at least tell me you'd feel bad if you found out they COULD feel it?"
aggravated groan is hardly muffled against skin and roman's head lifts to meet the adoring glare. their noses brush together and it's seemingly intimate, yet the irritating buzz at his temples and the dry scratch of his throat only yearns for one thing. even if bear’s flesh smelled nothing short of heaven, doses of blood warm and satiating, roman couldn’t bring himself to limit his honesty.
but then, when lips part and the denial is at the forefront of tongue, a different answer slips out. "whatever." body lifts away, weight dropped off beside the boy in defeat. "if they could feel pain and i fucking impaled one, then yes, i'd feel ... bad."
* ♡ she was going to cry .
not immediately, & not in a way which would cause irreparable damage between family members ; but eventually, letha would panic, & letha would cry ! it was just a fact, one which was best accepted as quickly as possible so that when the moment hit. & it would, it could be ignored as best as possible.
❝ 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘚𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘈𝘓𝘓, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘋, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪'𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳. 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘋 . . . 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 ? refresh my memory ! ❞
"𝙟𝙚𝙨𝙪𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩!"
words seep through his set jaw, the muscles pulsating near the joint. poised hand smooths back a few of his blond strands before it clamps down over the gear stick.
𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎, teaching his cousin how to drive a stick shift sounded like a peachy fucking idea. now, his patience had worn thin, and the fleeting impulse to commandeer the vehicle seemed much better than reining in his commentary.
"far left. the pedal on the left is the clutch, okay? just steer and work the pedals, leth'."
@92328
𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎: m/f/nb.
"——that's not fair, and you know it. You know I don’t have a choice in the matter." What was an eighteen-year-old supposed to do? Indie still lived under her parents' roof—in the cramped RV she shared with her twin sister and parents. Whatever they decided was final. If they said it was time to leave, she had no choice but to follow suit until she could stand on her own as an independent adult. "Not everyone can just... afford to move out on their own, you know," she muttered. "Besides, my parents would absolutely kill me. But it's not like I want to leave you."
her excuses are met with a scowl. that's all it was to the godfrey prince, who had already met her with a proposition : get your own place, wave your goodbyes, and we can continue this.
the crushing weight of abandonment had consumed him before. roman resented the weakness, the helpless feeling 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 just beneath the skin like an infection. he can't bring himself to look her way, focusing on swallowing the last of the vodka in his flask.
metal 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊 - 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊 - 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 on enamel. warmth blooms in his empty stomach. words seem to come out softer now that he’s sedated.
"𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. you know you don't have to live like a fucking–" a sigh rips out of him. he stops himself from insulting her family more than he already has.
a predicament, if ever there was one.
there was quite literally no way to win. it was either admit defeat & give up on the dream of ever playing along in a way that would be worthwhile, or open his pretty little mouth & prepare to suffer as he so often did.
𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭, one which was neither a win nor a loss - it would have been simple to forget the task at hand, finding solace in distraction instead. a bandaid removed, tongue pressing against the fountain from which drizzle had come ; 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, a sudden STING as tongue was met with a far fresher version of the copper he was trying to avoid.
it was 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 when it was from the source. better. like a less satisfying version of licking away droplets after removing a needle. option three, bear thought, would have shifted focus completley, stirring something in roman which would have pastry removed from the equation altogether . . . but he was trying to prove something, & option three wouldn't have helped with THAT.
as plate inched closer, bear did his part to close what was left of the gap, giving porcelain a little SPIN before offering roman a silent cheers, offending object placed in his mouth yet again ; judging by how happy roman seemed with his previous reaction, bear knew to 𝙙𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙, chewing with no expression, finishing with a small smile.
"𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐇𝐊𝐈? that's what it reminds me of, but MUCH sweeter. i think you'd like those more, actually."
subject is changed before he can approve or deny the expression, bear moving on quick enough to avoid godfrey's scrutiny. roman sinks into the width of the kitchen island, a playful air surrounding both of them in lieu of the normally sterile environment.
"and are you willing to give up YOUR LIVER to satiate me?" hint of a smile is broadened by laughter – the client shedding his defensive skin once the initial challenge was introduced.
"don't know if you've noticed but nothing tastes as good as you. probably the worst fucking idea for you to incorporate ... yourself into these snacks."
finger swipes the leftover syrup, and he savors it. bear's efforts turned out to be a surprising method to help him decompress after a day at the office. somehow, this 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝘿𝙄𝙀𝙏 seemed to be working.
the regret was instantaneous.
as it so often was with his job,
a kind gesture taken a step too far by the man it was meant to placate. autonomy stolen in the blink of an eye. gaze remained affectionate, aura oozing love ( when was it not? ) with every pull of blood from semi-offered finger. long past the point of being embarrassed by the things he got up to in public, the most bear thought about his current predicament was that it was have been quite the scene to pass by ;
𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐋, 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑, & 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓-𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐑. the thought alone was almost enough to make him giggle - though it was the feeling of fingertips on palm that pushed him over the edge, laughter concealed as face was momentarily hidden in the crook of his arm.
"it just wasn't worth eating," came his answer, uncharacteristic though it may have been. "your LACK of time management was disgusting though, so don't think you're off the hook." bear may actually have been disappointed by the late arrival, had roman's company been something that he ( or anyone else ) enjoyed.
"did anything good happen today? it couldn't have been ALL bad . . . "
the whisper of laughter is enough for palm to be dropped, godfrey recoiling to his side of the table. captivation fizzled almost instantly and while the boy gave a genuine reaction, roman only took it as a dig. bear could not have known the extent of his fixation – never would understand how different it would all be if he were human normal.
he had no means to defend himself, and bear happened to be itching to move on to what he did best : assaulting his employer with questions.
head lolls backward, vintage sunglasses gleaming under sunlight. attention is withdrawn as quickly as it came, no longer interested in awarding the boy with anything. as if that wasn't enough, a damning declaration flew past his lips without warning.
"we got approved for the london site. i guess that means you'll be able to cut down on your travel time to see me." fingers smudge the bloodied heart, straw finally brought to godfrey's maw. he sips slowly, hand shifting over plastic until the rest of the blood is wiped away.
"since we're so fucking chummy, do you want to enlighten me on the excitement of YOUR DAY?"
"i'm not going to let you KILL US BOTH."
grin plastered over handsome features, the godfrey prince unfazed by the severity of the situation. inexperienced driver sat across the console, his cousin's eyes big as saucers while she sat at the mercy of the purring 𝙹𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙰𝚁. this was roman's idea of family bonding.
"come on." he urged, impatience getting the best of him. "put it in neutral and push down on the clutch."
@godfre
GETTING FIRED IN 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
ʰᵉ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵏˢ ᶦᵗ'ˢ ᵃˡˡ ᶦⁿ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ.
@laidbear / ...
elbows leaned across the kitchen island, leftover pastry dough speared and rolled between molars. the remnants of 𝙰𝙱 𝙽𝙴𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 coated his tongue; a taste so adored that roman godfrey considered himself to be lucky at this point in his life.
bear had started out as a solution, a way for him to curb insatiable appetite week after week. the boy had no knowledge of upirism and most importantly, did not ask questions when it came to a blood kink. their relationship was ultimately transactional – a lack of common interests keeping them strangers under the same roof. blood-based treats, snacks crafted specifically for when roman's temper got the best of him, came to be their middle ground.
even then, the addition of the human’s essence couldn’t deter curiousity. the boy often begged with passive questions and elongated stares, wanting to know what it tasted like.
long awaited answer fell on deaf ears; roman had seen the sugar craze in full effect, bear gulping down extra-sweet milkshakes until nothing remained. the same enthusiasm was absent now, the boy did not touch his food again, single pastry left out on the plate.
green eyes lit up with mirth, holding bear’s unmoving expression. “good,” he says, “then you’ll take another bite.” fingers span out to usher the plate closer to him. the longer the pastry sat out, the more liquid drizzle seeped into flaky layers.
@gdfrey
❛ ⸻ 𝙈𝙍. 𝙂𝙊𝘿𝙁𝙍𝙀𝙔, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙊𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙎𝘼𝙔 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐱 . . . ❜ 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 - 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 ; 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 〔 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎? 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚝. 〕
glasses lens reflect off the phone screen – a prop to diffuse how blatant his leer is. email inbox remains untouched and there is no further move to hide his scrutiny. roman had spent years acquiring the antique, romanian furniture either kept well within families or housed in budapest’s most secure museum. the wilted trunk laid in his sterile refined interior, the rich hues of the wood a stark contrast to his otherwise minimalist style.
the carpenter had been fully enamored in his work. knowledgeable & curt, both traits deeming the man as 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚢 in godfrey’s eyes. the brawny physique and calculated stare hunched over wood had proved to be more fascinating than the collection of alerts stacking up in his inbox. the soft ticks as the blade etched into bark lured his attention in he couldn't help but observe the progression. it didn’t matter that roman saw the trunk as complete shit — bonnet’s handiwork seemed to mend it to satisfaction.
" ... what do i say if i didn't fucking like that thing to begin with?"