#Vampire Nonsense

[valcubust]

chisa!!!!! CHISA!!!!

[bluegiragi]

smokebreak.

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[bloodasmetaphor]

Edge of the World ( Pt. I)

Trigger warnings: idk blood and stuff

Jensen Levesque stumbled back into town after nine days of being gone, and the news spread like wildfire. The deputies that came to assist him were astonished, not quite sure how to approach the situation. He was obviously in pain, lurching along as he was, but they knew what his cure for pain was and it made them hesitate. Despite their instincts screaming at them to run, they knew their duty. They came to his aid, biting back questions, setting their jaws, and offering their wrists.

Jensen grabbed onto one, and the deputy flinched. But no bite came, only a low, scraping voice, like coffin nails on wood. “Toren?”

His green eyes flashed sharply, and the deputy turned white. He did not want to be the one to tell the vampire that his lover was dead. Him and four other people. He didn’t have to, in the end. Jensen plucked the thought out of his mind before he had the chance to say anything, and he abruptly dropped the deputies wrist.

By this time a small crowd had formed. No one had expected him back. Last they had seen of him was Adam dragging his unconscious body out the front gates. Someone had beaten their monster. But now here he was, back from certain death, and looking like at least that much should be true. He swore quietly. Then loudly.

“What happened?” He demanded.

The deputy blinked. “You don’t remember? We let in an old friend of yours. At least you said he was.”

“Who?”

“Adam. You said you knew him.”

Jensen grit his teeth. Oh. Of course. He had fucked up, big time. Talia appeared amongst the crowd, shouldering her way to the front. She was a middle aged woman with an air of dignity about her, the head of council, and one of Jensen’s oldest friends. She paused when she saw him, eyes wide, and hurried to greet him. “We thought you were dead.” She spoke what everyone was thinking.

Jensen didn’t reply, looking a thousand years away. She chose her next words like surgical instruments. “Go and see the nurse. Then we should talk.”

—

Jensen did as Talia asked. He could very well have taken the deputy up on his offered wrist — it would have at least made walking less painful. But instead he ambled slowly through town, taking his time, hoping the crowd would disperse.

The nurse was one of the few residents to get a house all to herself. It doubled as an office and operating room; work downstairs, home upstairs. When he fell against the door, pushing it open, a brass bell above it rang.

The nurse — Wendy — looked up from her work, eyebrows raised. “Well, well. I almost didn’t believe them.”

Jensen stood in the doorway, feeling every ache, every cut, scrape, broken bone, converge on his brain as one sensation: hunger.

Wendy stood up. “You don’t look so good, Levesque.”

Jensen’s voice came out tattered. “Don’t feel it either, doc.”

Sympathy crept into her eyes and she waved him further inside. “Jesus, are those bullet holes? Sit on the table.”

He did as he was asked, clenching his fists tightly. Wendy immediately got to work examining him for slugs, or any other souvenirs that had been left behind. Jensen knew they had to be removed before healing, but he found himself impatient with the process. He reminded himself how much worse it would be to have to dig them out later, and grimaced through the removal of a third bullet.

“He really filled you with lead, huh?” She examined the bullet between her prongs. “Or, silver?”

“Wendy—“ Jensen began, and she gestured to shush him.

“I know, I know. Sit tight.” She dropped the bullet into a pan and disappeared into another part of the house. When she returned she was carrying three makeshift bags of blood. Makeshift, because they were really gallon bags tightly-sealed with duct tape. She carried them to her patient, setting them on the bed beside him. “Wait ‘till I’m out of the room, if you please.” She said, not without a little bite.

Jensen preferred the privacy anyway. He didn’t care for anyone seeing him drink the blood of the living, but it was even worse with these bags. There was just no way to get into it gracefully. You had to go in with no fear, no hesitation; you couldn’t be afraid of making a mess, because you most certainly would.

He went through the three bags in quick succession, coming back to life a little with each. Wounds closed, strength flowed back into his limbs, and color dipped back into the world. He felt almost normal by the time the last bag crumpled. He wiped his mouth on his tattered shirt and left the house.

[jennablackmorebooks]

happy halloween :)

[theninjazebra]

[protagonist-reviews]

no no i don't think you grasp basic common sense. "Ooh of you come interview for me maybe you'll get 10k. if I feel like it. I can take it away at any time." you have contacts for the fucking INTERVIEW you sound like a high maintenance bitch

I think you've been up in your mandarin too long, bud. You sound like a pyramid scheme but worse.

I think you've failed to grasp the sphere of wealth I exist in. That'd said, the access to that 10k was highly conditional and revocable. There's a whole contract that I'm not going to get into here.

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

My wife wants to rewatch Buffy the Vampire Slayer so I'm watching it for the first time and every time that Angel guy shows up I can only think of this:

[electroempathy]

Me when I'm a big bad creature of the night but also a baby fledgling all alone...

...unless?

[its-ya-boy-jonnayy]

im starving but i cant tell if i want to eat a small woodland animal, a human, or pancakes

[moondustinfj]

Me: Sorry I have plans for the weekend...

Me on the weekend:

[literally-irreverent]

Unhinged iwtv ao3 tags PART FOUR (part 1, part 2, part 3)

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[badass-at-fandoming]

Beckett's Loresheet from Vampire: the Masquerade - Gehenna War sourcebook, page 157

EDIT: Transcription below the cut

Beckett

According to Kindred cultures that acknowledge the generation model, the fourth generation of vampires was a kind of Cambrian explosion, increasing and solidifying emerging vampiric strains in the previous generation. Sometimes nicknamed methuselah due to their age, most of the known Kindred of such low Generation have been Beckoned or choose to serve in the Gehenna War, but some lie dormant in domains outside its battlefields.

One of the greatest seekers of Kindred lore, most knowledgeable about the resting places and graves of the ancient dead, is the Gangrel Cuthbert Beckett. Where some Kindred scholars are content to theorize from the comfort of their libraries, Beckett has always gone out to look for himself.

As the Gehenna War intensifies, there’s a sudden demand for those with the specialized knowledge to know what the Kindred of various domains are really facing. Beckett is not the only Kindred archaeologist who has suddenly started to receive invitations to the courts of mighty vampire Princes.

One Dot – Bloody Ancestry: You trail a methuselah by tracking their descendants. You own and maintain notes on vampiric ancestry concerning vampires in your region in a physical or digital form. You receive +2 dice bonus to all Occult tests when investigating the ancestry of any vampire.

Two Dots – Dream Interpreter: Sometimes, methuselashs and even older vampires communicate to their progeny through the daysleep. Once per story, when a character or Storyteller tells you a dream, you may make an Intelligence + Occult test at Difficulty 2. On a win, you receive a number of actionable facts from your Storyteller equivalent to one plus the margin of win.

Three Dots – Perks of Youth: From you contact with Beckett, you’ve learned that those with knowledge are targets for manipulation by older Kindred. You’ve developed hardiness to such supernatural manipulations. Once per session, when a vampire of a higher Blood Potency uses a supernatural coercive power on you, you have receive [sic] a two-dice bonus to resist it.

Four Dots – Ancestor Cult’s Favor: You’ve entered the good graces of a cult worshipping a methuselah. Assign six dots in any way you like to the following Backgrounds to represent what they provide you: Influence, Haven, Herd, Resources, Retainers, or Status. You keep these benefits as long as you obey at least one of their requests per story.

Five Dots – Face to Face: If you seek out the Ancients, you risk finding them. Once per story, if facing a methuselah or an elder, you can make an Intelligence + Occult test at a Difficulty of 4. If you succeed, you manage to recollect a detail or an angle that prompts the vampire to answer a single question about their own past or the Kindred of bygone eras truthfully, at least from their own perspective, as long as it doesn’t significantly jeopardize them or their plans.

[bloodasmetaphor]

You must tell me what it’s like. I can’t imagine. The notion of being a creature of blood. Subsisting on the very lives of those around you. The process of becoming that. Of first feeling monstrous, then drawn to it, then normal. The blood, thick and rich as chocolate, lust and hunger combining in your belly, the awe of draining away an existence, all of it fading into a daily occurrence. Becoming the dreaded norm.

What was it like when you felt that pull in your belly for the first time? You probably mistook it for longing, probably for your wife, only to realize your mouth was watering — practically drooling. I cannot imagine that; the visceral desire to devour someone you know, someone you love. What is it like to want someone that way? To want them once and forever? 

And then when you grew used to the pull, when you learned how to follow it, how to use it to work for you. You chased it, searched its highs, found its lows, and relished every drop of blood along the way. 

And then it slips outside the sacred. The norm. You are pumping gas and you see an attendant: you want to eat him. You think of a myriad of ways to drink him and dispose of the body before you realize this isn’t what people do. You watch him work and you feel the way your belly wants him, even just in passing. You want him like a college kid wants drive thru. 

You drive away feeling your fangs on your tongue. You consider turning around, grip tight on the steering wheel. Christ, what have you become?

The normality of it, that gets me. Wanting to eat the grocery clerk, your next door neighbor, the mailman. The depth of desire in even just the passing by. 

And in passion, Christ, all the worse. Passion and hunger mix and confuse with each other, writhing together in your belly. Love and hunger feel surprisingly similar to your predator brain, especially given your tendency to fall in love with food. Can you ever really separate your love for someone from your desire to consume them? Perhaps not.

What about other love? What about hate? Your father, you killed him, you drank him, I assume? I cannot imagine the satisfaction, the revulsion, the unbelievable mixture of relief and guilt entwined within you. Your own father, whatever that means to you. After what he did to you, your sister, your mother. This is a son’s duty, is it not? Protect the family, no matter the cost?

[xdarkeningkrystals]

"I'M gLaD bOnNiE aNd DaMoN sTaYeD FrI-"

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie leans down, dipping Steve just so. Steve goes limp in his arms, as a new-found steel strength holds him effortlessly.

His other hand moves to Steve's neck and his boyfriend lolls his head to the side, eyes fluttering shut. Steve parts his plush, kiss-stained lips and lets out a faint sigh.

Eddie squeezes ever so gently and runs his index finger over the two moles on the left side of Steve's neck. He presses his fingertip to each of them, digging in just enough that when he moves away, a pale ring forms around each one.

He leans down further, baring his teeth as he draws closer.

Steve's heart skips with excitement. His breath quickens.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb," Eddie whispers against the warmth radiating from Steve's skin.

Steve's eyes snap open and his lip curls up in disgust.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry," Eddie recoils, leaning back just as Steve pushes himself up to a standing position.

He tsks, detaching from him completely. Steve folds his arms with a huff.

"You promised you wouldn't keep saying stupid vampire shit."