Ooh, I Like That Angle. He Would Indeed Have Supreme Self Control. I Tried To Write Some More. But He

Kawaii Vamps - Abigail Style

❤️🧛🧛‍♀️❤️ (made these using Procreate - borrowed the epic characters from Abigail 2024 - obvs!)

⬆️ Fan-art-photo-faffery using Procreate - photos of MG and KM edited just for fun to make them Carl and Rachel on a Department Q theme as I read the books

That cheered Carl up at least 🙃

There is a scenario for this somewhere in my addled brain. But, for now, let’s just guess what’s tickled him. I love MG’s cheeky grin in the @asgoodeasgold screenshot. Can’t wait to see what he does with Carl Mørck. I think I’ve said that before… 😂

I’m enjoying messing around on Procreate again. Photoshop would probably be the better platform but I’d need to take some serious lessons. Maybe in the summer holidays.

⬆️ Original photos (not mine; borrowed and played around with just for fun). From @asgoodeasgold, Getty (?) and whynow.co.uk

[90s filter just had to be done for the legendary Kelly]

You became the light on the dark side of me. 🥀

(OK, OK, I know it’s too much but I just couldn’t resist this last little edit. I shall engage in more serious pursuits henceforth.) 🥀🖤🧛

📷 Screenshot of MG as Lazaar in Abigail (2024) and original photo of MB by Luis de la Luz; dead rose photo by yours truly 😂🥀; edited together using Procreate; just for fun, really! 📷

Fan Art - Carl Mørck - Department Q (using Procreate)

Carl Mørck in his beautifully brooding glory. This Procreate sketch/paint tries to capture my love for this character, the amazing Department Q books and the beautiful Matthew Goode, who will be playing him on Netflix. Hurrah.

Based on a photo from the Hackett SS24 Campaign, as seen on @asgoodeasgold feed on Instagram. Sketched first and then faffed around with different brushes and effects. A Mørck Metamorphosis, you might call it 🙃 Can’t wait for the Netflix series.

Vampire and his prey mood board, using stills from ADOW, Abigail and random photo edits I made. It gets me when the stag kneels down and accepts his fate/submits to the predator.

And here’s a random rambling about Joey and Lazaar, which I wrote today because I was unwell and couldn’t go out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59486872 It flows from the photo edit of them lounging on the couch above… and a comment made by the wonderful @pleasereadmeok 🖤❤️🩶 I’m not sure the fic even makes sense. But it’s just for fun… so there you go.

Still imagining that Abigail epilogue? Yes, I am.

In my mind, this is Joeys’s house. She has a visitor, as you can see 🧛🔍🖤

⬆️ (enjoying the luminance brushes on Procreate a little too much 😂)

📷 Fan art photo collaging using Procreate - photo of MG from ADOW - photo of MB by Luis de la Luz - stock/my own photos of garden furniture, foliage, house, etc. 📷

And there’s an imaginary scenario (for @cecipaez-blog1 ). I don’t own the characters, I haven’t properly studied the film, I have no idea what I’m talking about, really: it’s just for fun 🎡.

——————————————

A Visitor - Part 2 - Ready or Not

— imaginary mini epilogue to Abigail (2024) featuring Joey/Ana and Lazaar —

You often feel like you’re being watched. It’s a hazard of your line of work and the questionable company you keep. But tonight, as you clear away the debris of an evening with friends in your backyard, the feeling is palpable.

You pause to listen and gauge the sensation. The fairy lights strung overhead dance slightly in a warm swirl of summer air, making the shadows below you throb in and out of focus. A wind chime twinkles, with slight menace, from the garden next door.

Get a grip, you tell yourself.

Get inside and lock the door, your body tells itself.

Just as you have composed yourself and are about to continue the clean up job, a clear, luxuriant voice cuts through the warm night air behind you.

“Not interrupting anything, I hope?”

Your movement slows as immediately you identify the speaker. You straighten and speak his name:

“Lazaar.”

You are surprised by the evenness of your tone, when your pulse seems to feel the exact opposite.

You turn and, with another rush of the tepid breeze, he emerges from the shadow of a tree. His hands are in his pockets. His posture is soft. But his stare is far from it. He walks slowly towards you, enquiringly.

“I had friends over for dinner,” you gesture towards the empty pizza boxes piled in your arms and the beer bottles which clink together in your clawed fingers.

He nods and his gaze flickers towards the house.

“Everyone left,” you find yourself needlessly reassuring him.

“I see.”

You can’t quite see if he’s smirking but it feels as though he might be. As he observes the clutter in your arms, the movement of his eyes is languid and appraising. “May I?” he reaches towards the empty bottles to relieve you slightly of your load.

You’re taken aback by the offer, but agree, “Sure.”

As the bottles are transferred, you notice his nostrils flare. You realise he’s trying to ascertain what kind of company you have kept. His brow smoothes and you assume he is satisfied by his investigations; it was, after all, a girls’ night in.

Without being asked, he walks over to the bin store and deposits the bottles in the correct one. Returning to take the pizza boxes from your arms, he repeats the process. You observe that you find this bizarrely incongruous show of domesticity wildly attractive.

As he saunters back towards you, he looks at the open door to the house. You stand there wondering if you are actually going to invite a vampire into your home.

“Why are you here, Lazaar?” The question emerges low and slow into the sultry air. You didn’t mean it to sound so provocative but you’re coming to realise you have little control around this man. Creature. Fantasy figure.

The piercing gaze is on you now. The vampire looks slightly agitated by your question. You watch as he steels himself and sits down upon the garden wall. He shrugs:

“I find that you…” his gaze drops to his hands, “you… are on my mind.”

You take a deep breath to quell the lilting, fizzing sensation rising within you. You note the unassuming nature of his posture as he sits on the wall, deliberately metres away from you. Yet this calculatedly unthreatening stance does nothing to mask his agitation.

Numbed and blurred slightly by the moderate amount of beer you’ve consumed, you probe your instincts more carefully. You find there is no fight or flight here. No threat. You feel the same submissive calm of a few nights ago when you saw him in his garden. The same curiosity. The same heady lurch of your insides when he so much as looks at you.

“Ditto,” you hear yourself say, with a slight smile.

The look that now passes his features is positively devilish and you witness his first genuine smile at you in return.

But the warmth of the moment curdles instantly. You gasp as you notice the uniformity and whiteness of his teeth. They look normal and far from razor-sharp. A wave of nausea resonates with the shock pulsing through your body.

“Your mouth…” you breathe, your fingers finding your own lips by way of explanation.

His smile fades and he moves towards you but stops abruptly when you recoil.

“You’re not…” you breathe and your heart begins to thump as confusion and panic flood your senses, “you’re not in your true form. This - this isn’t you. It’s just an illusion… what are you doing? What game are you playing? Why are you here? I think you should…”

“Ana…” he interrupts, his voice gentle but stricken, “Ana, it’s all right…”

“I must be crazy. What the f*ck was I thinking…,” your mouth is dry and your legs are shaking as you try to back further towards the house.

“Ana, please,” his palms are raised in surrender as he takes two more cautious steps towards you. As the moonlit shadows slide over his features, you watch his face transform into something more familiar. His pupils darken until void of all light, his irises take on an ethereal glow and his fangs become clearly visible beneath a snarling lip.

Your heart stills as you realise that this sight, which should terrify you, has in fact achieved the opposite effect.

“There now…” he soothes, the old-worldly timbre chiming again in his voice. He tilts his face up to catch the moonlight further.

Otherwise he remains very still. Waiting. Watching.

His breath is patchy and you can see the anguish in his eyes.

“Why did you change?” your voice is unsteady, as though you might cry.

“My form… I can... I wanted to be something less alarming… more palatable… more safe.” His brow furrows and his lips close firmly. In the moonlight, you notice a muscle ticking in his jawline.

His vulnerability in this moment is exquisite.

“I did it for you,” he murmurs and this dissolves your doubt as swiftly as it had appeared.

“Well don’t,” you fold your arms but take two steps towards him, “don’t do that again.” your voice softens.

“I shan’t,” he bows his head reverently and relief floods through his tone.

When he lifts his head again, his gaze is searching, “But I want to take the form that you desire.”

The last word rips through you, quite literally, and he speaks again:

“How do you want me to be, Ana?”

Yep, I’m still daydreaming about Lazaar. And having fun drawing him on Procreate. Tried the brilliant tutorial by Laura Rubin, in her book, and some of her fab skin brushes. I ended up overworking it (as usual 🙄) and doesn’t massively look like him BUT I was trying to capture the mood and that look.

Talking of that look,

…here’s a little photo edit of who he’s looking at (in my mind anyway 😜):

And here’s one of the beautiful original edits by @asgoodeasgold that I used as a reference 😍:

And here’s a rambling chapter which features that look:

Overcooked and nonsensical, as usual, but it’s just for fun so who cares?! 🧛❤️

Morckin’ about is the only thing to do on Sundays. 📷 References from Netflix and @pleasereadmeok on Insta 📷

Saw this (during the current re-run) and cannot stop thinking about it. So very, very, very funny.

And, also, Andrew Scott’s arms…

📷 screenshots of opening scenes from NT film extract on YouTube 📷

As an ADOW newbie, this is one of the most important and enlightening debates I have ever read. I salute you all. 🫡❤️

Underwear spoilery

So this happened ….

and we all cry - ‘Matchy- matchy’ underwear?  No way.  [this post made me cry with laughter - http://emily-elizabeth-rose.tumblr.com/post/179878860048/semi-spoilery-for-the-7th-or-8th-episode-of-a]

But @natascha-ronin reminded us that Diana didn’t pack her own things - someone else did….

Hilarious that he was opening the right drawers like he’d been married to her for years - obviously his reconnaissance of the underwear situation (in Episode 1) was a total success for him [coz we know that pervy vamp had already been in Diana’s knicker drawer!]   Mmm.  Nice. ‘Pulling’ underwear.  Must pack those.  

Diana probably opened her suitcase at Sept Tours and thought WTF?

[pics - screenshots S1. 03]