♡♡

[itsncthingpersonal]

*nowhere kid (hey, Rudy!)

NAME: IVO RUDY MONROE PREFERS: RUDY, RUDES AGE/BIRTHDAY: AT TIME OF DEATH (25), 10TH FEBRUARY 1961 SPECIES: VAMPIRE GENDER: MALE SEXUALITY: GAY (CLOSETED) OCCUPATION: PREVIOUSLY BARTENDER, NOW GOING WITH THE FLOW NATIONALITY: BRITISH HEIGHT: 5'8" HAIR: BROWN, SHAVED ON BOTH SIDES WITH A CURLY QUIFF ONTOP EYES: LIGHT BROWN (NORMAL), MURKY YELLOW RINGED IN RED (VAMPED OUT) BODY TYPE: LEAN, MUSCULAR USUAL GARB: WHITE TANK TOP, SUSPENDERS/BRACES, BLACK CUFFED JEANS, HIGH WHITE SOCKS, COMBAT BOOTS, ALTERNATES BETWEEN A LEATHER JACKET OR BLACK BOMBER JACKET WITH PUNK PATCHES, GOLD CHAIN, LEFT EAR PIERCED WITH A DIAMOND STUD, RAY-BANS NEVER LEAVING HIS FACE

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// Ｈｅｙ, Ｒｕｄｙ, ｔｅｌｌ ｕｓ ｙｏｕｒ ｓｔｏｒｙ! //

CHAPTER 1: “KILL ME WITH A KISS, OH!”

Summer, 1986. Those bathroom tiles feel cold against your skin as you lay dying, staring up at the ceiling. The single lightbulb sways, burning a bright image against your retinas. It almost lulls you to sleep, but the blood collecting in your throat and causing you to choke maintains your focus. Listen, you hear a voice whisper in your ear, this is nothing personal. Only two hours before, he was rocking your world before your father would come home and turn it upside down, instead. No son of his would ever be caught dead with another man. But you are a rebel - a real piece of shit with an attitude - according to him. So you disobeyed him and brought home a stranger from The Haçienda; a secret dive for people like you. It was your first time and your last. Your heart stutters, trying desperately to keep you alive. Ba-dum. There is a continuous ringing in your ears, gradually getting louder. Ba-dum. An almighty migraine pummels the side of your head. Ba-dum. As the corners of your vision begin filling up with a creeping darkness, you take the time to stare back at him. How could a monster be so handsome? With his striking green eyes, black hair slicked back and slightly curling at the nape, alongside a sharp jawline that was pressed against your collarbone earlier, it was easy to see why you willingly invited him in. Ba-dum…ba-badum… You die in a puddle of your own blood that night, cold and alone. But the first thing you do upon opening your eyelids is fill up a bucket with diluted bleach and grab a sponge, taking over an hour to clean the tiles to avoid being reprimanded. It was tiring work and you wobble down the hallway to climb into bed afterwards, ignoring the way your blue sheets still smell of him. A strong mixture of Joop! and Murdock pomade. A loud banging on the door startles you awake, followed by a series of slurred words that fill you with dread. Ivo…Ivo, come here. You hate your name in his mouth. But your heartbeat remains still behind your fragile ribcage as the handle rattles and your father stumbles into the dark of your bedroom. He reeks of alcohol. You know the drill by now, anticipating the sting of a metal buckle against tender skin as he drags the bedsheets of your body. But it never comes. Something feral takes over you and the carpet and walls are stained with his blood, finally putting an end to your torment. It feels like a breath of fresh air, except it never quite reaches your lungs. It takes you four days to leave, unable to comprehend this new found freedom. All you can do is watch your father starting to decompose in the same position as you left him. It is a long time coming. On the first day, you listen to a mixtape containing the sounds of Depeche Mode and Billy Idol in a bid to calm down. It fills the daunting silence. On the second day, your manager at the pub you work at rings your house and bombards you with questions concerning your whereabouts. You tell her that you quit, before pulling the phone off the kitchen wall with minimal effort. It scares you. On the third day, your hands start to shake as a ravenous hunger causes your stomach to cramp. You reject the cold pizza from yesterday in a mess of black sludge, and a voice encourages you to consume the clotted blood sticking to the carpet. It makes you both nauseous and satiated. On the fourth and final day, determination drives you to make a decision and you eventually stuff your guitar and belongings into a large duffel bag, loading up your second-hand Ford Escort once the sun is down. It causes you to cry as you leave your childhood home behind.

CHAPTER 2: “OUT OF THE DEEP AND INTO THE HURT.”

You make it to the nearest petrol station upon a wing and prayer, cursing yourself for not filling it up yesterday. But that night shift at the pub was a killer on your mood. To make matters worse, all you have is moths in your wallet and not a single note stuffed between the seats. You slowly make your way out of the car and begin filling the tank, trying not to appear suspicious as you know that your next move is high-tailing it. As you replace the nozzle and slink back to the driver’s side, the cashier makes direct eye contact with you and begins making his way towards you. If you had a heartbeat, it would be manic. Images of ripping the phone off the kitchen wall flash through your mind and you grip your car keys, hoping to avoid conflict. But a woman nearby gives the cashier money, sending him away with a laugh that tells you she is your salvation. Are you stupid? Sally gives you a lesson on staying under the radar that night, before becoming your confidante and teacher over many decades. Her ragtag group of misfits - The Renegades - welcomes you as one of their own, guiding you through this confusing and peculiar period in time. They show you how to feed and fight, arming yourself with the point of your fangs and a baseball bat with the words ’Nothing Personal’ etched into it, offering care and patience as your body goes through its terrifying changes. You all live inside a condemned warehouse where you park your Ford Escort near the dumpsters every night, making your way inside to be with your found family. It has become a routine and you have never felt more loved and seen. But the routine is broken as you return home sometime in Spring and find the place on fire. The red and yellow flames light up the endless black sky, thick smoke billows out from the many windows, and The Renegades are no more. You have been discovered by those who wish to harm your kind. A sad sense of Déjà vu hits you like a sucker punch as you drive away from the scene, gripping the steering wheel with The Clash crackling through your car speakers as you enter yet another chapter in your undead life.

CHAPTER 3: “WE ALL RUN FROM THE MANIC MEMORIES.”

Although Hell seems to be chasing you, your Ford Escort thunders down the road at breakneck speed in a desperate attempt to run. Everything becomes a blur. But you slow down and tell yourself not to be so stupid, as Sally once told you. You can do this. The Renegades taught you everything you need to know to make it on your own, right? Right? As you pull into a 24/7 motel in the middle of nowhere, you bag a room by mesmerising the clerk; a very handy skill to have learned. The bed is a solid slab as you lay down to stare up at the ceiling, formulating a half-baked plan. By the next evening, you head straight for the city where you drift and pick up odd jobs that never question why you only work night shifts. Perhaps you think it will heal your heart, but you take up residence in a disused factory where a corner becomes your bedroom. You try to make it pretty with fairy lights, posters of your favourite bands, and a few things belonging to The Renegades. It gives you a false sense of belonging somewhere.

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// Ｈｅｙ, Ｒｕｄｙ, ｔｅｌｌ ｕｓ ａ ｂｉｔ ｍｏｒｅ! // ➥ POWERS/ABILITIES: IMMORTALITY. DISGUISEMENT (TO APPEAR HUMAN). ENHANCED STRENGTH, HEARING, SIGHT, AND SMELL. STEALTHY. NIGHT VISION. SHARP FINGERNAILS. FLIGHT/LEVITATION. MILD TELEPATHY. MIND CONTROL/HYPNOSIS/PERSUASION. ABLE TO CLIMB WALLS OR HIGH PLACES. FAST HEALING (TO HIMSELF. SALIVA ALSO HEALS AND ACTS AS AN ANAESTHETIC). COMMUNICATION WITH SPIRITS. CAN BE SEEN IN MIRRORS/CAMERAS (BUT REVEALS HIS TRUE SELF). ➥ RESTRICTIONS/WEAKNESSES: ENERGY DRAINING. EMOTIONALLY CONSUMING. FIRE/SUNLIGHT. SILVER. STAKE THROUGH THE HEART. DECAPITATION. HOLY WATER/HOLY GROUND. HAS TO BE INVITED IN. NO SHADOW. WEAKENED AFTER THREE DAYS WITHOUT BLOOD. UNABLE TO CROSS RUNNING WATER. NORMAL FOOD AND DRINK IS INSTANTLY REJECTED IN A MESS OF BLACK SLUDGE. ➥ DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: SCAR ACROSS HIS LEFT EYEBROW WHERE A BEER BOTTLE WAS THROWN AT HIM. SCAR OF PUNCTURE MARKS ABOVE HIS RIGHT COLLARBONE. LARGE BURN SCARRING ON HIS LEFT BICEP AND QUATRE OF FOREARM FROM BOILING WATER BEING POURED ON IT. MULTIPLE STRIATIONS UPON BACK AND LEGS FROM BEING HIT WITH A BELT. VAMPED OUT, HIS VEINS APPEAR BLACK UNDERNEATH SEMI-TRANSLUCENT SKIN AND HIS EYES BECOME MURKY YELLOW WITH RINGS OF RED, ALONGSIDE MANY ROWS OF FANGS. ➥ INNER WORKINGS: DYSLEXIC. ADHD. AMBIVERTED. TALKATIVE. PROTECTIVE. PUNKISH. RECKLESS. GENTLE SOUL. ➥ INVENTORY: FORD ESCORT MK3. LARGE DUFFEL BAG CONTAINING GUITAR AND CLOTHES. SMALL CLOTH BACKPACK CONTAINING MOBILE PHONE, WALLET, CHAPSTICK, PICTURE OF HIS MOTHER HOLDING HIM AS A BABY. RAY-BANS (USUALLY ON HIS FACE). GOLD CHAIN (NEVER TAKEN OFF). DIAMOND STUD IN LEFT EAR. ➥ ARSENAL: OWN FANGS/SHARP FINGERNAILS. WOODEN BASEBALL BAT WITH THE WORDS ‘NOTHING PERSONAL’ ETCHED INTO IT. KNUCKLEDUSTERS. SWITCHBLADE. 

[ ADDITIONAL LORE ] [ VISAGE ]

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GENERAL GUIDELINES

Hey, babes! My name is Benny (he/him, 30s) and I live in England. I’ve been writing for goodness knows how long. Thanks for reading my rules :)

♡ This blog is NSFT (21+) due to containing dark themes and potential smut. Given the vampirism, I will occasionally reblog pictures of blood and other gruesome images untagged. 

♡ Super big on detail, so I very rarely write one-liners. Depends on how tired I am, really. Multi-para or novella replies will make me fall in love with you, though!

♡ Never be afraid to send Rudy random asks or prompts, even if you followed ten mins ago. I should have plenty of memes for you to choose from, but if nothing fits, go ahead and make something up! Go wild, get creative! 

♡ Open to shipping, but I prefer chemistry before that happens! Since Rudy is mentally stuck in the decade (80s) he died in, and because of how his father treated him, his foot is barely out of the closet. So it will take some convincing for him to fully admit his sexuality. He is very open to pre-relationships, however, such as friends and enemies…etc! I absolutely love talking OOC about our muses dynamic, so I might bombard you with stuff that relates to them. I’d be overjoyed if you showed the same enthusiasm!

♡ Not restrictive in terms of fandoms (crossover friendly), but I might be a bit clueless when it comes to some of them. I’ll try my best, though. Open to canon, multis, and OCs. Males, females, NB. Throw them all my way! This house is safe, darlings!

♡ I prefer some plotting so I know where to go, but definitely happy to discuss anything part-way through a thread, especially if we get stuck on the direction.

♡ I work full-time, so I might not be writing every single day. But I usually lurk on mobile to keep up activity, so feel free to say hello through IMs! Please be patient with replies, because I’m pretty chill when it comes to waiting times. 

[rosavelle]

we will figure it out together” is a love language.

[ily-a]

SKINS | 3.10

[tooth--ache]

// i was looking for a different meme when i found rudy @itsncthingpersonal

[fairycosmos]

it is what it is *throws up blood*

[vampyric-blood666]

[meowguraaaaa-deactivated2026030]

if i take a deep liking to you u r not allowed to leave ever

[ikarakie]

if a character means enough to me i will truly never stop thinking about them. i just retire them into a little back room in my brain and periodically bring them out to stare at them under a little light

[charl0ttan]

u gotta keep bothering people until you find the ones that love it

[tooth--ache]

. . . a 24 - hour laundromat, fluorescent lights humming above rows of idle machines.

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝗦𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗹𝗲 & 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗻 𝗟𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝘆

✦✦✦ ─────── STRANDS OF TOBACCO fell apart between Howard's thumbs, falling loosely onto the surface of the tobacco pouch. A filter was placed gently between rolling paper, then came a carefully weighed loose leaves, deftly rolled into a dart of cigarette.

There were two machines rumbling that night, one filled to the brim with both vampires' clothes, the other tumbling with blankets and sleeping bags. This liminal space of tiled walls and flickering lights had been the background of their travels in Howard's mind. Gas stations, laundromats, greasy diners, motels. Unfamiliar familiarity -- it had been decades now for him in this country, and yet none of it felt as if it would ever feel like home.

"Rudy," he called out. "Fancy one?"

He'd already made two by now. Mind crawling around like termites, everywhere, nowhere, chewing into the brittle fundaments of his soul. The only thing that stood untouched was @itsncthingpersonal, perhaps the only tether home he had left.

"I never asked if you indulge in these things. I only smoke now and then. People don't roll their own cigarettes here, I don't think. Takes the fun out of it, if I'm honest."

Their only mode of transport, Erika the cool blue party car, had miraculously managed to be repaired and paid for in full, after their short jaunt of high-stakes not-robbery. In the background of the Louvre's heist they had managed their own, hilarity and danger dancing together to the synth beats of Rudy's favourite songs. He smiled slightly at the recollection. They worked well, if carelessness and failing tasks successfully was what they were going for.

In the centre console and the glove compartment of the car sat several bands of clean, non-sequential, thoroughly circulated one-dollar bills: two hundred of them, as they'd used the rest of the payout from the heist for Erika's fix, and other bits and pieces to make their road trip easier, like the window tint. Howard insisted they blacked out the (new) side windows (they roll up and down now! Somehow! Thank god for an actual, honest to god mechanic huh!) for when Rudy had to bundle up in the back during the day, while Howard continued with the drive.

Where were they going next? This was a topic for tonight, as money was drying up again, at every petrol station, on every refill.

"Can I ask you something?" There it is, the courage he was looking for. "I know I said I'd stick around until after I got your car sorted out. Now that it has, do you uh…" he didn't dare meet Rudy's eyes here, "…want me out of your hair or…is there any reason you'd want me to stick about…? I'm-- just worried I'm outstaying my welcome. I could always just grab a bus back to Seattle, if you’d prefer the solo act again. I don’t mind, honest. It’s been... it's been really fun."

He does mind it, quite a lot, actually. "I just don’t want to… I don't know. Be in your way. Or under your feet."

[itsncthingpersonal]

The benefit of having no regular body temperature was managing to avoid feeling how cold these plastic chairs were. Whoever designed them had discomfort in mind as their hard curves dug into Rudy's back and arse from where he lay across them, staring up at off-white ceiling tiles. He always wondered what it would be like to push aside one of those tiles and climb into the dark space above, crawling around until he found another place to explore. Maybe that fantasy came from constantly wanting to escape. But the thought was pushed aside in favour of listening to the quiet shuffling of his companion, movements only somewhat muffled by the continuous clunking of overworked laundromat machine drums. It turned into a pattern inside his musically-inclined mind, counting the beat as they repeated themselves. Half-way through its third repetition, Rudy remembered the set of chap sticks left in one of his jacket pockets, which were now loose and rattling around, creating another clanking sound. Oops.

"Yeah, mate?"

His voice came from behind the large tables used for placing any bags of laundry on or to fold clothing. It was only when his head popped up from the very end that Rudy could be seen, facing towards Howard with an expectant stare. They were the only two in here, which was hardly surprising given the super late hour; only those with insomnia decided to wash their clothes in the middle of the night when there was nothing else to do. Their excuse was constantly being on the road whilst making sure to avoid those pesky killer rays for Rudy. In the days since Erika was repaired and fitted with blacked-out windows, however, that significant issue had become less of a problem recently, but old habits died hard, and they continued to visit laundromats during quieter periods. Something about being left alone to their own devices made for better moods, and nobody could disturb the personal space they created together.

"Ah - I'm good, thanks. Not somethin' I'm into, really." Two forearms came up to rest against the table-top as Rudy rested the side of his face against them, watching the nearest machine full of their clothes. Tumbling round and round, they were covered by a screen of cheap suds that claimed to be floral-scented, but the smell reminded him of chlorine in a swimming pool. It was better than blood, he supposed. "Dad was a chain smoker, so it was enough to put me off for life, yanno?" The multiple cigarette burns on the inside of his right wrist was an incentive to never light one up, also. "And I was raised during a time before cigarettes were banned in pubs and hospitals. I think my lungs are already black enough, don't you think?" He laughed, finally settling his gaze back on Howard. There was a soft grin on his face.

"If you're goin' to smoke, crack on. I'm not stoppin' you, mate. Just...not inside my car, please. Alright?" The many tins of air freshener in Erika's boot would barely mask the smell of cigarettes, and he loathed to use their steadily-depleting stash of money to get her professionally cleaned. There was no knowing where their next source of income would come from, although if Rudy was told to repeat the heist they carried out before, he would agree without hesitation. It was a complete shambles half-way through, but they managed to retrieve what was asked for and escape by some miracle, and in the midst of parking up many miles afterwards, one of them started laughing until it was all the vampires could do. Nothing said bonding like shared hysteria from a job that never should have been successful, especially after the way they handled it like a fucking Two Ronnies sketch.

A faint beeping disrupted the conversation. Leaving Howard to continue rolling up his cigarettes, Rudy rose from the plastic chairs to address it, grabbing an empty laundry basket on his way towards one of the machines. Their first load was done. It was silent whilst he opened the door and began unloading the wet clothes, making the move to transfer them over to the dryer. But then his companion piped up once again, giving him reason to turn around and pay attention with an acknowledging, 'yeah, mate?'. Something in the way Howard struggled to meet his eyes (even more so than normal) gave him cause to frown, wondering where this conversation was heading. A hundred different scenarios rattled around his skull, but not one of them included what the other hesitantly asked. It was never considered.

"Howie," he began once the other was finished. "I'm standin' in front of you in nothin' but my vest and keks, havin' just pulled yours out of this machine, and you're worried about outstayin' your welcome?" Part of him wanted to laugh, and he was forced to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent it. It was true that Howard had promised to leave once the job was done and Erika was fixed, but that was a while ago; how long had this question been festering on his mind? Rudy immediately felt guilty for nearly laughing, gripping onto the laundry basket like a lifeline. In all honesty, he'd completely forgotten that Howard was supposed to part ways with him. That was part of the plan, but it appeared as though his mind had decided to dismiss it altogether. They already proved through the heist that plans were prone to falling apart.

"I'll be honest, mate...I just assumed you were stayin', like." He didn't even question it. Half of the belongings in his car was placed there by Howard, stored as though they were always going to be there. Bits and bobs that would be a nightmare to transport on a bus back to Seattle. It might as well stay. "I'm gettin' used to somebody changin' the tapes for me and keepin' me entertained in the car, so don't skedaddle on me now, yeah?" Now he could laugh, even though it sounded uncertain. The part of him that feared losing people sneakily crept into what should have been a happy sound, but he doubled down and focused on reassuring the other, instead.

"I'd love for you to stay, yeah. 'Course." Making his way over to the dryer, Rudy opened up the door and began throwing in their wet clothes. "Pretty sure that passenger seat is molded to the shape of your arse, mate, so nobody else could fill it." He grinned, slamming the door and setting off the cycle. A change in topic was good, but he provided a solid indication that Howard was staying. "We should really start thinkin' of where to go next, but I definitely need to feed first. I haven't had anythin' since the night before, so I'm gettin' a bit peckish. How are you gettin' on?"

[world-enough-and-timerogue]

my fav relationship ship dynamic is where it doesn't matter if you call it platonic or romantic or queerplatonic because they always act the same in every type of relationship. and the way they act? fucking weird.

[itsncthingpersonal]

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. It’s time to spread positivity ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Chewing on you lovingly. Cheers, me dears! Many stars returned for bringing chaos into Rudy's life ✨️ 🌟

[itsncthingpersonal]

Continued // @historically-accurate

"...I haven't tasted fresh blood since yesterday," the words were spoken wistfully, slipping past his lips before they could be stopped. Some information was supposed to be inner thoughts only, but the vampire had switched off and daydreamed whilst Percy perused a particularly thick volume. It was probably older than he was, judging by the fancy binding and minute lettering inside. But the fact that his friend had to specially request it before they arrived at the old library was another tell-tale indication; nobody did that for a simple Danielle Steel novel. Whatever knowledge contained within its dusty pages had managed to engross the historian until Rudy broke their comfortable silence, staring over at him with raised eyebrows in a show of interest. He had no idea the man was even listening to anything around him.

"Nah...well," he responded with a contemplative expression, rocking forward so that the chair he was leaning back on was no longer balancing haphazardly on two legs. Placing an elbow on the large reading table in front of them, Rudy rested his chin against his hand whilst looking over at Percy. "Firstly - every vampire is different, yeah? Some prefer fresh blood, others are less picky." He belonged to the latter, but he would certainly never turn down an opportunity for blood two seconds after it was drawn, especially with being warm. The containers full of blood kept in his mini-fridge were useful for an emergency, but their coldness was undesirable and not particularly pleasant to drink. "As long as I'm fed, I ain't bothered, yanno?" He shrugged with one shoulder.

"I know some vampires can go months without feedin', but for me, I start gettin' proper sick after three days. Jittery, nausea, hallucinations..." He listed off the repercussions from blood starvation, thinking back to the times when he forgot to feed or was unable to find sources. It was why he had that mini-fridge stocked up. Knowing how bad (almost feral) he became, Rudy tried to regularly feed instead of every now and again. The risk was far too high. "...so I try to have a big feed after wakin' up, but failin' that, I'll just have a few sips of my emergency supply until I can find a direct source. Keeps me sane and all that, yeah?" Slumping back against his chair once more, he partially slid down it before folding his arms across his chest. "Not that I was to begin with, like, but hey-ho." He snorted out a laugh.

"Is there anythin' else you might be curious about, mate? I'm your numero uno for vampire-related answers, so ask whatever you want. But," he paused for a moment to grin over at Percy, playfully adding: "No, I do not sleep in a coffin. Confined spaces? Nu-uh, not for me. I'm happy with my campin' bed."

[itsncthingpersonal]

*nowhere kid!

[seaphine]

parked car conversations are lowkey unofficial therapy sessions.

[deeplifequotes]

“Do you ever just smell an old perfume, or hear an old song, or pass an old hangout spot and kinda break inside for a couple minutes?”

— Unknown

[itsncthingpersonal]

Oh, hello! 😎

I thought that I might do an update.

I'm still here (lurking & chatting via IMs), but my time is being taken up by a lot. I might also be getting surgery soon for a condition I have, which'll be a good three-month recovery. So my activity will obviously be spotty.

Not much else to say, other than Rudy is still very much around. I say that, because I've noticed some of his connections have fizzled out, so I'm not too sure who wants to continue a dynamic with him? Let me know if you're still on board with developing our muses...etc!

Ta, lovelies x