#i am not fit to be a vampire. AT ALL. what do you fucking mean i can't sit on the chhat with my sweet potatoes???

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN VAMPIRES CAN'T EAT DRY COCONUT UNDER THE WINTER AFTERNOON SUN WITH THEIR MEEMAW? NO WONDER ARMAND WENT INSANE!

[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

[mcrslover]

MCR quotes for anyone who needs them:

"Kids would say they were going to kill themselves then they heard our music... it's our mission"

- Mikey Way.

...

"Reasons why mcr is good for you

juradsleigh:

Feeling like a rad vampire? Listen to bullets

Feeling angry? Listen to 3 cheers

Feeling sad? Listen to black parade

Feeling colourful and happy? Listen to danger days

Feeling like breaking up your band? Listen to death never stop you"

...

"This is for every kid out there... That dyed their hair a fucked up colour and can't get a job. They got a tattoo on their neck like Frank, and can't get a job. That does this because they fuckin' love this. This song is for every kid in the audience- even if you don't have fucked up hair or tattoos-every kid on stage, this song's about us, this song's about you, it's called The Kids From Yesterday."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Stop covering your children's eyes.

Everything is fucked up and pretending it's not won't make it any better. I'm tired of people praying for a change when it's up to them to get off their asses and make a change."

- Frank Iero.

...

"I spent most of my time in the back of the class, just drawing. My goal was to not get noticed in school, because spent so long not being noticed anyway or being treated as if I were invisible that I started to like it.

I've learned that it's actually not very lonely... It's like, you have less friends but the friends you have count more. I met a lot of people that weren't outsiders, or they were very popular, and they have a lot of friends but I don't know if they're the kinds of friends you would call up at 3 am to help you out or talk about being depressed."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Promise me, when MCR's gone, you'll do what it takes to survive. You're strong enough to do it without us."

- Gerard Way.

...

"All your quirks and all your problems, even your depressions, and your failures that's.. that's what makes you, you."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you or someone you know is severely depressed you need to fucking talk to someone! Your mom, someone in school, I don't give a fuck! Because suicide is fucking bullshit."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over, nothing is worth taking your life over"

- Gerard Way.

...

"If we never play another show again, just keep yourself alive."

- Gerard Way.

...

"We're outsiders, we're the kids who didn't get dates for the prom, we're the kids who were confused, who didn't fit in with the cliques, who weren't part of the in-crowd.

Growing up can be a very frightening and confusing time, and I think people look at us and see it's okay to be different. They see that there is a way other than what they're being offered. That you can stand out, that you can be creative, that you can be yourself."

- Gerard Way.

...

"gerard-hey:

I love MCR so much it's like they have a song for every situation. Feeling sad? Listen to The Lights Behind Your Eyes. Feeling frustrated? Listen to I'm Not Okay. Feeling Energetic? Listen to Na Na Na. Feeling like you wanna kick some ass? Listen to Destroya.

Feeling rebellious? Listen to Teenagers. Feel like you wanna break up your band? Listen to Fake Your Death."

...

"The difference we want to make is, number one, to let these kids know that they're not alone, that they're actually not that messed up, and that they can do whatever they want they can express themselves in any way they want without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. Really just get people to get over their stuff so they can live."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Whatever happens to you, no matter what, l'm always fucking there for you... Don't forget that. I don't give a shit if your boyfriend dumps you. If your girlfriend dumps you. If you're working a shitty job or can't get through school. If you can't get through a fucking Harry Potter book, there's nothing worth dying over. There's nothing worth taking your life over. I will always fucking be there."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you come to an MCR show, you're probably a little fucked up, and that's okay because we're just as fucked up as you. It's us against the world. And it's great because there's thousands of us in one place."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Someone doesn't like you? Fuck it.

Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn't get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it.

What matters now won't matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, 'Damn, I have it good."

- Gerard Way.

...

"You're going to come across a lot of shitty bands, and a lot of shitty people. And if anyone of those people call your names because of what you look like, or bedause they don't accept you for who you are. I want you to look right at that mother fucker, stick up your middle finger and scream

"FUCK YOU!!"

- Gerard Way.

...

"Real revenge is making something of yourself."

- Gerard Way.

❤️🖤❤️🖤

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #26

Mammon: I love NyQuil. It’s just like. Detroit become liquid. I don’t use the measure cup I just chug what feels right. I’m moving backwards through a brick wall rn

Mammon: You could fit anything in me rn I’m so relaxed

Mammon: For sure gonna shit the bed tonight

Lucifer: You’ve summed up NyQuil in a way that most could not

Mammon: Hello

•

Belphegor: Cheat mode

Close your eyes and you can play any game in your mind, even paper Mario

Leviathan: Paper Mario is trash

Belphegor: Close your eyes and imagine yourself being a more likable person, and then open them and weep

•

Asmodeus: How slutty would you say you are?

Leviathan: In theory? Very. In practice? Not at all. I’m lazy

Simeon: The sprit is willing but the flesh is weak

•

Mammon: The names practice

Mammon: Mal practice

MC: Nice to meet you Dr Practice, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my son :)

Mammon: He needs surgery on all of his bones

•

MC: Me giving my Chihuahua two kisses: Chimuahmua

Luke: Bad post

MC: Sorry it didn’t make you Chihaha

•

Lucifer: Don’t ever call me OP you will adores me by my full name

Satan: Obert Pobert

Leviathan: Obiwan Penobi

•

Leviathan: Haha not to scare anyone but the hell does beyond in bed bath and beyond stand for?

Leviathan:

Me: what’s ‘beyond’

Employee: *snaps my neck* go find out

Solomon: As a former bed bath and beyond employee, I appreciate this

Leviathan: What the hell and fuck are you implying

•

Belphegor: I crawl into bed

Sheets: made

Pillows: fluffed

Lights: out

Belphegor: I am forcibly removed from ikea

•

Mammon: What’s a gender neutral word you could use for your spouse? Wusband? Hife?? Wifesband?!?!?!

Mammon: I may be stupid

Satan: This is the text version of looking for your glasses when they are on your head

•

Satan: Could you please put your crying kid on vibrate

Mammon: I CANT STOP LAUGHING BC I JUST IMAGINE THIS KID SCREAMING AND THE MOM PULLS A REMOTE OUT OF HER MOM-BAG AND PRESSES A BUTTON AND THE CHILD JUST STARTS TO VIOLENTLY SHAKE AND THE LOOK OF TERROR ON THE KIDS FACE AS THEY TRY TO MAKE NOISE BUT THEY JUST VIBRATE DEAR GOD

•

Diavolo: The fact that makeup is considered to be “mature” and “sexualized” implies that being a clown or mime is the sluttiest job out there

•

MC: Remember kids: rats are the Capri sun of the vampire world

Barbatos: Hi what the FUCK does this mean

•

Beelzebub: This is so funny with and without context

Beelzebub: I forgot to add the picture

•

Solomon: Knuckle tattoos that say ESCAPED BIOHAZARD

Asmodeus: That’s way too many letters do you have radiation poisoning or something?

Asmodeus: Oooooh

•

Simeon: Gangman style came on the radio again

Satan: This sounds like a post-apocalyptic diary entry

•

MC: Bed bath and behind you

Solomon: Bed bath and beware

Last • Next

[angel-of-the-moons]

Mr and Mrs Knight

Steven Grant (Marc Spector + Jake Lockley) x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, body dysmorphia, smut, suit kink, glove kink, fingering, PiV sex, creampie, squirting, misuse of The Suit™ (and truncheons), cosplay, established relationship, fluff

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I am unashamed to admit that suits are fucking hot and the shit they do to me is what I imagine straight men feel when they see a VS model in lingerie. And Steven is hot. So is Marc. And Jake and Oscar in general you get the rest. Imagine the Mrs Knight suit looks something like this. (Also featuring the headcanons by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for Jake's craftiness!)

Taglist: @mundivagantsoul @belle-oftheball34 @steven-grants-world @denile-xo @whatevenisagrapefruit @hagridnmegamind @sapphire-and-ruby

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It had been a banger of a night. A fun Halloween bash at the museum, amazing costumes, great food. Donna even seemed to be in a decent mood. But of course that woman could have been faking it.

You and Steven decided to go with matching costumes. In a gross abuse of Steven, Marc, and Jake's status as Moon Knight, you'd convinced him to use his "Mr Knight" suit as his costume.

Jake helped you make yours to match. Finding the majority was easy enough at thrift stores (despite Marc's insistence that you should buy a new one), the mask was what was the pain.

That's where Jake's expertise came in. Sure his main skill was in knitting, but that didn't mean the man wasn't nuanced in other ways to make clothes. You couldn't count how many times Jake would stitch up the seams of your favorite jacket that you just refused to throw away, or how many times he'd hit you with that smug smile when you blubbered about how awesome he was for giving extra life into your jacket so you could wear it juuuust a bit longer.

Your mask turned out to be almost a perfect replica of his, complete with glowing lenses to match Steven.

You were nervous when you got dressed, looking in your floor-length mirror at your reflection.

Your hair was pinned back neatly to allow you to pull the mask on or off (because unlike Steven's, which was magically suited--pun intended--to be comfortable) without much problem, and you would still appear "flawless" as Steven put it.

But right now, you were having second thoughts. You weren't sure you liked how the skirt fit you. Or the blazer.

The waistband of the skirt squeezed your waist and the rolls of your tummy, the creases in the fabric seemingly emphasizing every imperfection you saw in yourself.

Your transparent white stockings were not helpful either, the bands squished the fat of your thighs in a way that made them look like muffins, even moreso than your tummy. They kept rolling down so much you had to buy garters to wear beneath your skirt just so they'd stay up...

You frowned at your reflection as the skirt rode up your legs, showing off the cute lace trim of the stockings and your squishy thighs; honestly if you weren't careful, or you bent over the skirt would bare your ass to the whole party.

You were tempted to go and grab that last minute shitty vampire costume you had stashed away, when Steven walked in, already dressed immaculately in that gorgeous white suit of his.

He adjusted the tie, not looking at you as he does so.

"Hey, luv, I'm fairly ready. I can help you with your makeup now, if..." His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth feels suddenly very dry at the sight of you all dressed up.

His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, moistening it as he clears his throat.

"You look good."

"Oh.... Thanks." You mumble shyly, trying to pull the edges of the blazer down to cover the rolls poking out of your skirt a bit more.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, beautiful?" He said softly, moving up to you.

"I... I look like a marshmallow." You sigh hesitantly, your tone full of self-deprecation.

"Hey, now." Steven smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tucked your face into his lapel.

"You're the most gorgeous marshmallow on the planet if that's the case." He told you, kissing the top of your head.

He felt something press down on him, and he looked up at the mirror, getting a full view of your back, but he saw Marc's face staring back at him with a cringed expression.

(Dude, that was the shittiest compliment ever. What woman wants to hear her being compared to a marshmallow??) He hissed.

Steven was about to retort, before you started bubbling out on laughter at how silly his compliment was.

"That was so corny." You snicker.

Steven gave a smug smirk at Marc before looking down at you with a soft, lovesick smile.

"Yeah, well, you love my sense of humor, eh?" He winked.

"Yeah... I guess I do." You smile back.

"Now, then! Your makeup. Let's sit you down so I can work on it for you!"

Whenever you had your doubts about your appearance, Steven, Marc, or Jake would pipe in and alleviate your worries. Sometimes all three at once, though rapid switching would often cause problems for them (like migraines).

You kept your eyes closed as Steven carefully applied your highlighter to your cheekbones, the brush tickling your skin, his shaky breaths ghosting over your face.

He would mumble some curses when he messed up, but would correct his mistake.

When you had asked him where on earth he learned to contour and highlight he shyly admitted he watched half a dozen tutorials on YouTube to get it perfect for you.

You felt the coldness of the liquid eyeliner as he painted on the wings with the white liner, the silver and gold glitter further adding to your look.

"'Kay luv, open your eyes so I can apply your mascara." He murmured, looking down in your makeup kit for the said cosmetic.

Once he did, he pulled out the black tube and made sure there was no excess before he carefully combed the white creamy substance on your eyelashes, lightening them up to enhance the face he'd helped apply for you.

Once he was finished with both eyes, he leaned back and allowed you to blink, smiling that puppy dog smile of his in satisfaction at his handiwork before placing the mascara tube back in the kit.

He lifted his hand and shook the bottle of setting spray so you wouldn't accidentally sweat it off or wipe it off with something during the night (or god forbid it rub off on the inside of your mask).

"Close em again for me."

You couldn't help but smile at his level of gentleness and politeness.

You restrained from physically recoiling as the cold setting spray hit your skin and quickly dried.

"Now, do you want to put on lipstick now or when we get to the party?" He asked as he watched your sickeningly gorgeous lashes flutter open. All the white, silver, and hints of gold on your face enhanced your eyes and their color, the very depths of them stealing his breath away.

"We can do it now. I have liquid matte and regular lipstick." You reply, smiling once again.

"Which would you prefer?" Steven asked you.

"Whichever you think would look best."

He sucked in a breath that his lungs were suddenly starving for, and grabbed the liquid tube.

His hand gently cupped your chin as he brushed the satiny lipstick onto your lips, carefully lining them so it wasn't too much. He'd even dipped his finger in your cosmetic glitter and applied a very gentle amount.

"Gorgeous." He breathed.

"Aww..." You giggle, thankful for the glitter and makeup that hid your blush at his praise.

"Now then... Let's go, shall we?" He said, taking your hand to help you stand and slip in your white heels.

As the two of you left, Steven could hear Jake in the back of their headspace.

(Que hermosa... Be careful, hermanito. If she bends over, I just might take over for the rest of the night and have that ass for myself.)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Mr and Mrs Knight. That's what you two went as for the party. You two even won the prize for best couples costume!

Sure it was just a gift card to some restaurant, but it was exhilarating to hear how people adored your matching outfits.

And you couldn't help but notice all night that Steven simply couldn't keep his hands off of you.

He would get like that sometimes; working himself up like that, but trying to be subtle. You knew it was only a matter of time before an awkward boner would be the cause for the two of you to leave early, so you excused yourself to the restroom under an excuse to check and see if your makeup needed retouching or if you could go the rest of the night without your mask.

But you got a little nervous when two women went into the lavatory after you, and you felt trapped within your stall. You simply couldn't stand the glances from other women you were getting all night. You were afraid these two women who were clucking at each other like hens were amongst the ones judging you.

And your fears were confirmed.

"I can't believe that such a handsome guy would pick a blimp to be his girlfriend." One of them scoffed as she applied a fresh layer of brick red lipstick. As if she didn't have enough on already.

You felt your heart sink further inside of you as the other joined in.

"I know, right? It's gotta be her tits, only thing I can imagine. Maybe her ass, too." The other laughed as she touched up the false blood on the corners of her mouth.

"Either that or she gives good enough head that he can overlook the fact that if she ever got on top she could crush him." The first one snickered.

Your hands knotted in the mask you held in your hands, threatening to tear the stitches Jake so lovingly sewed in for you to wear tonight. You bit the inside of your cheek harshly as the two gossiped further.

"Ugh, and the sad thing is, he's cute, for a bookworm who won't shut up." The second sighed.

"Ugh, I know... I can look past the blabbering if I can see what he's packing."

"Right? I wonder if he's as good with his mouth as he is with his stupid history facts." The first giggled.

You gritted your teeth. You couldn't take much more, you knew that. Insulting you, you could take and bottle up to deal with later, probably in the heat and privacy of your shower.

But talking about Steven like he's some kind of... sex toy? No. Hell no. If you were anything, you were insanely protective over your boys. Even bordering on possessive at times (of course the same was true for the boys about you).

You were done.

You slammed the stall door open and sort of enjoyed how startled they seemed when they saw you, their jaws dropping when it hit them that you heard everything.

You hurriedly wash your hands and slip your gloves back on, gripping your mask in your hand tight as you spare them a backwards glance before leaving the lavatory to find Steven.

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted to go home...

When you found him, his brows knitted upwards in concern at how tight-lipped and tense you were when you gripped his sleeve tight.

"Ey luv, what's wrong?" He murmured to you, leading you away from the crowd.

"I... I just want to go home." You say, the words those women said about your body weighing down on you, and the things they said about Steven burning hot in your gut. You weren't sure what to feel with this cocktail of emotions.

"Hey hey, okay we can leave." He says, kissing you on the forehead.

"Let's go."

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The walk back to your flat was... Difficult. You could barely hold yourself together, suddenly hyper-aware of every roll and stretch mark on your body, even the slight double chin you had when you moved your head a certain way.

It wasn't until you were in the lift of your building that you finally broke down, your reflection staring back at you in the walls of the tiny space, crushing down on you with every imperfection you saw.

You couldn't keep in the bubbling sobs, or the fat tears that rolled down your cheeks and ruined the makeup Steven worked so hard to put on you.

He cradled you against him and cooed to you, saying sweet nothings and whispering nothing but praise for your looks, rubbing your back and kissing your hair.

In the various angles of the reflections, and the oppressive feeling weighing down on Steven... He could see and feel Marc and Jake.

Both looked pissed. Marc almost looked violent.

(If anybody talks like that about our muñeca again...) Jake trailed off.

(Oh trust me, I'll do the honors.) Marc growled.

The walk back into your flat felt horrid. You didn't just cry, you ugly-cried. You ruined your makeup, your hair fell out of the pins, and your skirt rode up more with every rushed step you took to hurry up and get in to get into some baggy clothes that didn't showcase your body.

You didn't feel cute or sexy anymore, you felt... ugly.

And Steven didn't like that one bit. Marc and Jake retreated, knowing that their anger at your injured self-opinion wouldn't help. This kind of situation was a Steven situation. He knew best how to be the sweetest person on the planet with you.

But right now he wasn't feeling particularly sweet. Sure, you were upset. But he couldn't help but get a good look at you as you walked ahead of him, the skirt riding up so much that he could just barely see the black and blue panties you wore beneath, your cheeks peeking out from the edges of the fabric, the garter straps clinging desperately to your stockings in effort to keep them up your gloriously plush thighs to keep them up.

He felt hot beneath the collar, his trousers getting uncomfortably tight as blood flowed straight to his cock.

The moment the door closed behind you, your hands, trembling and rushed, went to unbutton the blazer to get it off of you quicker, sniffles and tiny sobs sneaking out of you in the process.

However, your actions were halted when Steven placed his hands gently on your shoulders from behind, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your blazer, trying to soothe you.

"Love. You're gorgeous. Beautiful." He breathed, resting his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo.

"Steven, I'm... I'm not." You sniffle. "I'm fat, I can barely squeeze into a pair of jeans, I can't even shop at normal clothing stores for women. I get looks when I wear anything tight, and--and the things I hear people say about me--"

Your voice is broken off when you hiccup, feeling another sobbing fit try to get out of you.

"You don't understand what I'm sayin', luv." Steven smiled into your hair, ever patient.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world to us. You don't need a flat belly, or toned thighs to be pretty. You're funny, you're warm, and you're soft."

You made a shocked squeak when his hands snake around you, his gloved hands gripping at your belly and squeezing the plushness there through your clothes.

Your denial died in your throat when Steven rolled his hips into you, his hard cock throbbing as he rutted into the curve of your ass.

"You wouldn't be able to get to me like this if I didn't find you the most gorgeous woman on the planet. You wouldn't get Jake to say the filthy things he tells you in bed. You wouldn't have Marc snuggling you and resting his head in your lap or on your belly..."

His breathing got heavier as he rocked his hips into you further, a bitten-back whimper dying as he swallowed hard.

"S-Steven--"

"You've been driving me insane all night. This skirt looks so good on you." He says hotly in your ear, his fingers rolling up the hem of your skirt to reveal your panties and garters, making you gasp again.

"Those stockings huggin' you so tight. Been thinking about how badly I want to have my head between your legs, tonight." He growled.

Before you could say anything else, his gloved hand went up to your mouth and he tapped your lips, begging for entrance. Powerless to resist him, you let him press his fingers into your mouth, your tongue wetting them effectively before he pulled them away, and slipped down into your panties

He dragged one of his fingers up your puffy lips, parting your folds before he turned his attention onto your clit.

"S-S-Steven--" You whimper when he starts to circle the little nub.

"Hush, now. Let me show you, eh?" Steven said, biting at your earlobe softly.

You couldn't fight it, you couldn't fight the warm nectar that gushed out from you at his words and affirmations. All your mind could focus on was how wonderfully his fingers toyed with your cunt, deftly rolling, pushing, and pinching your clit in every way he knew that brought you the best pleasure, the fastest.

Your mind practically went blank when he curled two fingers into your weeping hole, the leather around his digits making them thicker than they normally would be, and providing a luxurious texture to your clit as he massaged you with his palm. His mouth trailed down your neck, breath hot on your skin as he bit down and sucked.

It wasn't like when Jake did this to you, no. Every one of them had different methods, different touches...

And Steven was particularly good at balancing out the sweet and the hard, paying more attention to your own pleasure than his. Sometimes, he would get so lost in pleasuring you he'd cum in his pants without even being touched.

This time was no different... in no time at all, he had you cumming so hard you almost fell to the floor, your slick gushing out and soaking the glove.

He smiled sweetly into the skin of your neck as he eased you forward, so you could press your palms on one of his desks, thighs quivering as you recollected yourself.

You barely saw through your haze clearly enough to catch Steven licking his glove clean through the reflection in the mirror on the desktop, his eyes closing in satisfaction at your savory taste.

You half expected him to drop to his knees and eat you out, next, but he doesn't. He just stands there for a moment, staring at you with a lidded and loving gaze, curls falling forward over his forehead as they always do.

That's when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head, and you pinch your legs together, and try to wiggle away from his gaze, to retreat to the safety of the bathroom and escape from his heated staring.

But in a flash, Steven is on you again, his hands gripping at your hips and that's when you feel the hot, heavy weight of his leaking cock slap against the barely clothed flesh of your ass as he rolls your skirt up completely over your hips.

"Steven!" You squeak.

"Hey, now... 'M not done showing you yet." His voice croaks out, heavy and barely coherent as the silk fabric of your panties brushes the head of his dick.

He groans, giving one more roll of his hips against your ass, smearing more precum on the fabric and skin, there; before he gripped the base, lining his cock up to your weeping hole.

"Fuck, luv. So soft. So wet f'me." He said, voice strained from barely contained arousal.

You squirmed, still feeling inadequate despite Steven's words and assurances.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly. But right now you just felt so... so...

Your thoughts cut themselves off when he reached behind him, and from beneath his coat pulled out one of his engraved truncheons.

Placing it in front of you and gripping it with his other hand, pulling you tight against him as he thrust sharply into you, sheathing himself in one whole go, the tip of his cock slamming upwards so suddenly you felt his tip smush your cervix before he eased back.

"B-baby--" You whine, despite yourself.

"Not runnin' away, luv." Steven grunted into your hair as he thrust into you, his hands gripping tightly on the truncheon, using the bar to squeeze against your belly and hold you against him while he fucked you raw.

You couldn't fight the snapping of his hips or his raw need for you, right now. You couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers he wrenched out of you with each punctuation of his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" You hear him wheeze as his thrusts get more and more desperate.

There is a metallic clang as he tosses the truncheon to the floor in favor of gripping your thigh and lifting your leg so your knee was on the desktop.

You let Steven guide you so you're practically laying face down on the desk, his cock still spearing you open, pussy fluttering around him at the change in position.

You were taken by surprise when he grips your wrists next, ripping off his tie before slipping it over your hands, before tying them together at the curve of your back. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough you couldn't squirm free.

He hesitated a moment. As nice as it would be to watch the soft flesh of your ass bounce and ripple while he fucked you... He didn't want to do it like this.

So, without further hesitation on his part, he gripped you, lifting you off your feet and rolling you so you were laying with your upper half on the desktop, pulling your legs up so your calves rested on his shoulders, all without dislodging from the warm tightness of your cunt.

You whimpered as he does this, and try to wriggle from his tie so you could cover your face, your running makeup and smeared lipstick.

Your pitiful, chubby face--

"Hey, hey..." His voice is soft and shaky as he leans in, cupping your cheek with one hand as your thighs squish against the both of you.

He caresses your soft cheek with a thumb and he smiles.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart. You're gorgeous and I want to see you."

"Steven, I..." You whimper as your pussy clenches around his shaft, making it twitch inside of your tight, gummy walls.

His eyes rolled back with a groan.

"I'm not gonna stop until you see what I see." He grunts, dragging his cock out slowly until only the tip remains inside of you, the rest of your cunt squeezing desperately around nothing.

You're barely given a moment of respite before he snaps his hips into yours again, fucking you relentlessly and hitting your sweet spot over and over withe every arch of his hips.

Some of Marc's precision was bleeding into him as he aimed the tip of his cock like a weapon against your g-spot, pounding into you hard and fast, stoking the fire in your belly so hotly that you felt the embers scatter throughout your veins, every nerve in your body aflame in pleasure.

His left hand kneads the soft skin of your thigh, squishing and rolling the plush flesh beneath his gloved fingers before he slips his other hand between you, circling your clit mercilessly, making you shriek with every sharp thrust of his hips.

He loved how your body jiggled and bounced with every thrust; how your tits were bouncing so hard that they were spilling out of the top of your bra cups, your blazer falling completely open around you, now.

Despite still being fully clothed, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. Fresh tears burned in your eyes as he crammed his cock into you over and over again, his fingers working your second orgasm out of you faster and faster with every swipe of his fingers.

"It's okay, luv." Steven moaned, turning his head to plant a kiss on the inside of your knee, the leg he was squishing in his fingers.

"Cum for me, yeah? Show me how pretty you are." He pants, his thumb pressing hard into your clit.

That was all it took, the friction of his fingers, the thrusts of his hips, and each jab of his cock, plus his words? You were on cloud nine, brain fried and all sense gone as drool dribbled down your chin and you cum with a choked cry, babbling out his name over and over as your body clamps down, gushing around his cock, spraying out and soaking his hand and the front of his suit.

Steven, poor, loveable, goofy Steven could never hold out too long after you came, the squeezing and milking of your pussy was simply too much for him to bear.

Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself spasm in an aftershock as you felt the hot ropes of his cum painting your walls a milky white, flooding your hungry cunt with everything he had to give you.

He drops your leg, wrapping them around his waist as he leans in and kisses you roughly, his tongue pushing past your lips to twine with yours and steal your recovered breaths.

"See... You're fucking beautiful. Wouldn't do this to us otherwise." He mumbles against your lips.

"Oh... God." You whimper.

Your mind ticks back into sanity and you realize the two of you are still clothed. Your outfit was of course mussed, but Steven was almost completely immaculate. The only thing he was missing of his suit was his tie, and the only sign of mess was the wet stain on his front, and his cock still sheathed inside of you.

"Hmm." He hummed softly, looking down at you with the softest gaze he could fix on you.

Steven gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead before he moved his mouth to the shell of your ear.

"And if you still don't believe me... Jake and Marc want to have a word with you."

[thebramblewood]

The dawn of the final day.

Previous / Next

Julia: [muttering shakily] Come on, Jules. Just hit the button. You have to tell someone. It’s the right thing to do.

Helena: [whoosh] [thump] Julia? Shit, how’d you even-

Julia: Helena, w-what did you just... I don’t understand what’s going on!

Helena: If you’d let me explain-

Julia: No, no, no, this can’t be happening! Vampires aren’t supposed to be real!

Helena: [narrows eyes] Who are you calling?

Julia: No one! I was just thinking about it, I swear! [flinches away] Stop! Don’t come any closer!

Helena: Julia, please, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.

Julia: [tearfully] But you could have!

Helena: What?

Julia: It was you who hurt my friends, who hurt all those people! I hang out there with them all the time. If you’d seen me, would you have been able to resist?

Helena: Of course!

Julia: Oh, so you were in control? You knew what you were doing and you did it anyway. Who are you, Helena? What are you? Because I don’t think you’re my sister anymore. You’re a-a-a... a monster!

Helena: Please don’t say that. You have no idea how sorry I am. The way I left them... it just loops like an endless nightmare in my head. I didn’t mean to go that far. I just wanted the hunger to stop, but it never does.

Julia: They might still die. Because of you. [scoffs] Migraines. You’ve been lying all along! Helena: What could I have said? You wouldn’t have believed me.

Julia: How did this even happen? Why are you… like this?

Helena: Oh, Julia, I was so stupid! Ulrike and I had just broken up. I was in a bad place, and I trusted the wrong person. I didn’t want it! I barely remember what happened. I just woke up with this fire burning inside of me.

Julia: Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the cops right now.

Helena: Because you love me. Because I’m leaving.

Julia: What? Where will you go?

Helena: I don’t know. But it’s obvious I can’t stay. I’m not fit to be around people now. Maybe I never will be. I’m too dangerous — to myself, to you, to Mom and Dad, to this entire fucking town.

Julia: There must be another way. If you turn yourself in, then maybe-

Helena: What, the police will go easy on me because I’m sorry? I kill the police because they don’t? It wouldn’t end well for anyone, Julia. [sighs wearily] At least I never finished unpacking.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello. I'm, um, not entirely sure how to talk about this. I hope it's okay if I misspeak. I'm a human, right, so I think that needs to be clear more than anything, but I've been very involved in the creature community for years now. I live by a great big lake and I always liked to walk down the shore late at night or early in the morning, you know, just to try and get out of my own head, and one night ages ago I accidentally tripped over someone's jacket and twisted my ankle. It was a gorgeous fur jacket, too, not like any kind of fur I'd seen in a jacket before, but just stunningly soft and thick as Hell.

Now, of course I didn't take it, that'd be awful, but also I had just hurt myself in kind of a nasty way and so it wasn't like I had anything else to do but sit by the shore next to the jacket and waited, and yeah, a few hours later one of the lake seals popped its head out of the water, looked at me for a good long while, and then...well, I mean, you know how the rest of the story goes, I'm sure.

Anyway, it's been a few years now and I've become really close to this family. I didn't really know anyone in my town before meeting them and I'm not on speaking terms with my own folks, so in a lot of ways these people have become my family, and it's an honor that they trust me to keep guard of their cloaks and such when they go out. But I've got this problem, right, and it's just...over the years it's felt less and less like I fit in with other humans. All my friends are nightfolk now, my family hates me even more because they're bigots--in this night and age, can you fucking believe it--and it's just like every night I get further and further away from the shore.

I'm just scared because...I don't *want* to stop drifting away. I've had dreams of joining them down there in the lake, practically every night for months on end. I've tried doing research into methods of joining the community but I don't want to become a vampire, I don't fancy any lunar-aligned nonsense, nothing has felt right except selkies, but I can't decide if I'm just self aware enough that I need a push from an outside viewer to try and accept something I already know full well...or if no, actually, that little voice in my stupid head that won't go away that keeps calling me a fraud, an invader, an appropriator--what if the reason it's not going away is because it's right and I really don't belong?

Just...please be honest with me. Am I a complete asshole for spending hours every day trying not to just outright beg my family--sorry, chosen family--to help me sew myself a cloak, or is there something to this?

First of all, reader, please rest assured. As long as you are speaking from a place of kindness and a willingness to learn, you don't need to worry about using all the correct terminology. I always try to listen generously when people come to me in need, and I encourage our followers to do the same.

Unfortunately I can well believe that bigots like your biological relatives still exist. I'm glad you've been able to extract yourself from their hateful society, and have found comfort, support and kinship among the nightfolk.

You say there is a little voice in your head calling you a fraud, casting doubt on the validity of your feelings. As much as you might want to push it away and stop your ears, I want you to listen to that voice, just for a little while. Pay attention to the language it uses and what ideas it seems to have about the world.

And then ask yourself: is this my voice? Does that sound like me? Or does this sound like a last, desperate, wriggling remnant of the people I've worked so hard to distance myself from?

Every one of us is raised with a narrative, a story about the world and our place in it, and how we should treat the people around us. We're told that story by our parents, by our teachers and schoolmates, by television and books and a million other sources. The story is so vast and so all-encompassing, it takes an enormous effort to be able to see any single part of it clearly.

Imagine, then, how hard we have to work to realise some of that story is untrue, or harmful, fed by hatred and fear. To start untangling ourselves from the rotting, strangling roots of the story we've known all our lives, and start planting something new and fresh and honest.

It sounds to me like this little voice is one of those lingering strands of the story you were raised with – one where liminality is nothing to admire or strive for, and where you cannot be trusted to know your own mind, and your own needs. It's time to tell yourself a better story.

You've found people who honour you with their trust and who make you feel supported and loved, as you deserve. You admire them, and want to be like them. None of this sounds “stupid” to me.

This is not a decision to be taken lightly. By all means, take your time, and talk your feelings through with your family. But I think you already know what story you want for yourself, reader – and for what it's worth, I think the world will be better for its telling.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[fic--writer]

Rolan x Fem!Reader. Friday's Smut.

Attention ⚠️🔞: Smut, NSFW!

It was damn hard, but you did it. But now all you needed was a relax.

The Last Light was not so crowded that night. Many were still licking their wounds or just resting in their rooms.

Rolan caught your eye. He stood at the bar, cleaning up the remains of the mess he had made the day before.

As you approached him, he looked over his shoulder and said:

"Oh, it's you. Have you changed your mind about the reward, or have you decided to apologize for this?"

He lifted his sleeve and showed you the huge dark bruise on his arm that he'd gotten after you'd thrown the heavy bag of coins he'd offered you for saving your brother and sister.

"No, I have no regrets," you said, jumping onto the counter he had so carefully polished. "How are Lia and Cal?"

"Well, first I fed them, then they washed for half a day, and then they fell into a fitful sleep. They need some time to recover, prison of absolutes is not the best place on earth, thank you."

"What about you?" you picked up the bottle of wine and twirled it in your hands,

"first you drank out of sorrow, and now you drink out of joy? Can't you relax any other way?"

"I hardly drank today, I just decided to clean up a bit, but what do you mean?"

You looked slyly into his golden eyes and raised the neck of the bottle to your lips, drumming playfully with your tongue. The remains of the sour wine tickled your receptors.

The gesture left no room for misinterpretation, and the tiefling reacted immediately:

"Zurgan!" he said, not in disgust, but in surprise.

"Just because you refused my money doesn't mean I'm your whore, Tav!"

The tiefling grumbled and fidgeted, pretending to go through rags.

You put the bottle down and decided to change your strategy:

"I didn't mean it like that. I just thought, oh, hell..." The revelation was not easy for you.

"You thought what? That since you're all heroic now, you can just take whatever you want? I appreciate it, Tav, but I'm not your stupid toy. You know, maybe you should go see Astarion, he seems to have a similar... mindset."

Rolan's nostrils flared, especially when he mentioned the vampire, and the rags he'd been carefully folding crumpled in his hands.

"No, hell it, just hear me out. To be honest, I thought I could have died any damn second and I'll probably leave this world soon because of that fucking worm in my head. So I thought, what's wrong with spending the night with someone you like and are attracted to?"

Rolan had listened with interest, he had stopped cleaning and now turned his whole body towards you.

"I mean, sure, if you're grossed out by me and I'm not your type, say so. But if you like me even a little bit, then..."

There was a noise, Jaheira had come back from the street and slammed the doors, and you dropped to a whisper:

"Then let's spend the night together. Just one night. And who knows what will happen to us next. Maybe we'll never see each other again."

Rolan stared at you predatorily, and you could not read his thoughts. The tiefling's tail whipped audibly through the air.

"I sleep in a room with my brother and sister," he finally squeezed out.

"Got it. Well, I'll drown myself in shame in Chionthar as soon as I get to the city. Sorry." - You hurried to jump off the counter and get away, but a clawed hand stopped you.

"I sleep in a room with my brother and sister. So give me your room number."

"Number two hundred and three," you replied practically with your lips.

Jaheira came closer and you broke free of the tiefling's grip and hurried to your room to avoid witnesses.

Rolan knocked softly twenty minutes later, good, you had time to tidy up. When you opened the door, you met his worried look, as if he hadn't expected anyone to open the door.

Rolan came in and said, not knowing how to begin:

"So you like me and are attracted to me?" - He asked incredulously.

"I am. Your devotion to your family and your loyalty to your goals strikes me to the core. I've never met anyone who cares so selflessly and sincerely for their loved ones and pursues their dreams with such perseverance."

No matter how eloquently you wanted to describe your feelings, your tongue was barely listening and your mind was elsewhere.

You put your hands on the desk behind you, and Rolan took a step toward you.

"I don't remember hearing so many kind words from someone," he grinned smugly.

"I'm sorry you have to hear them from a dying girl. But I don't want this to be a night of regrets" - you opened your nightgown and Rolan wrapped his arms around your neck.

"That's not going to happen," he pressed his lips greedily against yours, as if he'd been waiting for this for so long.

But just because he had agreed to share your bed, it did not mean that he intended to be affectionate or gentle with you.

The Tiefling turned your back to him as he hurried to remove his pants. It was as if he was ashamed of his own body and didn't want you to look at it.

You, as a human with no experience with tieflings, had little understanding of how this should happen and just decided to trust him and give yourself to the moment.

He threw off your robe and pulled back the fabric of your panties, positioning his cock at your entrance. You stretched out on the table. Everything happened without foreplay, fast and furious. He gripped your neck tightly with his hands during his powerful thrusts.

A low moan escaped his throat when he was finished. And then he just got dressed and left silently, leaving you alone like his used whore.

You spent the next day thinking about it, trying not to leave the damn room to avoid awkward encounters. The bruises on your neck still hadn't healed.

There was a hurried knock at the door and you opened it carefully, hiding behind the door. It was him.

"Tav, I wanted to, I... Zurgan," Rolan chewed his lip and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose when he saw your bruises.

You gestured for him to come in.

"Gods, Tav. I'm sorry about yesterday. It's been so long since I've done anything like that. And you know I haven't done it with humans. I thought I was just being a fun animal for you, but I couldn't resist the temptation.. Hells, I can't do anything right. Not a damn thing! I'm just a dirty pig. I'm so sorry." - The tiefling held out a healing ointment to you.

You nodded understandingly and accepted the ointment, grateful for the revelation but still not satisfied.

"Rolan, I would never treat you like a circus animal. After all, I have no idea how you could think that. But I understand..." - Your heart clenched at the memory of how the Tieflings were treated in the grove and the other places you knew.

"Really? I thought, I thought maybe you'd give me, us... a second chance? And I wouldn't be such a pig to you, I promise," he raised his eyebrows and waited for an answer.

You looked at him in amazement; you didn't think he would talk to you, let alone apologize. And the thought of having to earn your forgiveness was so tantalizing...

A gentle nod made him exhale in relief, smile, and embrace you.

He kissed each of your cheeks, your temples, your lips. He held you in his arms like your most precious treasure.

Rolan caressed your collarbone with his hot tongue, never missing a millimeter.

He moved lower and lower, massaging your breasts, and you watched with pleasure. Well, if he really wanted your apology, he would have to work for it! You asked for more and more and he didn't dare to refuse you.

You pulled him down on the bed and laid on your back.

Rolan undressed you both and drew circles and zigzags with his tongue over your belly, your thighs, and then your vulva and clit.You moaned shamelessly, enjoying what was happening. The Tiefling satisfied you mercilessly with his searing tongue until you shivered. Well, the apology was accepted, almost.

"Rolan, please..." - You sobbed pitifully.

"Please what?" - He looked away, just to hear you out.

"I want you inside," - you begged.

Rolan's smug rumble could be heard and he immediately climbed on top of you.

Now he took his time penetrating you, savoring every cell of your wet vagina. You finally felt him properly and enjoyed his aroused face right above you, holding his hair. You exchanged lustful, trusting glances and it pleased you.

You came again when he sped up the rhythm and decided to thank him. You jumped up on your knees and took his quivering end in your mouth and sucked on it vigorously.

Rolan moaned for the whole building to hear and came all over your face and hair. You wiped your face and relaxed as you fell into bed with him.

Lia's screams could be heard:

"Rolan? Where did he go, I heard him scream, I think he's here!" She and someone else could be heard approaching quickly.

You said in confused:

"Rolan, you closed the door behind you, didn't you?"

He just looked at you sharply with widened eyes and jumped up, trying to find his pants.

You wrapped yourself in the blanket and headed for the door to lock it, but Lia was faster.

She burst into the room ready for battle, ready to defend her brother. Cal ran in after her.

"Brother! Did you scream? Where the hell did you go, we couldn't find you half the night."

Rolan appeared before them, pulling his pants up his ass in vain. Looks like it's time for a bigger pair of pants. And Tav, wrapped in a blanket, trying in vain to brush her hair back with the palm of her hand. And shamefully hiding her face at the same time.

The scent of sex hit Lia's nose and she moaned infernally.

"What the hell..."

Cal, who had realized before she did, grabbed her elbow:

"Let's leave them sis, our help is not needed here."

Next chapter

[ncsdlr]

Bite Me

- Kinktober Day 5 -

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

------------

The last thing you remembered was having fun on your walk. And then so suddenly, you were squealing for your life as arms wrapped around your body, one hand over your mouth to muffle the panicked sounds you made.

Then a certain scent filled your nose and then boom- bitch was knocked the fuck out. Next thing you knew you lying on a bed- not your bed but a bed. The sheets were soft and velvety, and you were tucked into it rather nicely. Like your captor cared enough keep you warm and comfortable.

As your eyes fleet around the room, you gazed upon old-timey trinkets and paintings. This captor sure liked old things. perhaps this person is a collector of some sort? Well, we definitely know he likes to collect humans.

But that's not why you were here. You're soon to find out that your captor is a woman. The most beautiful one you'd ever seen in your whole life. She had beautiful long red hair, curled to perfection. Her outfit was nothing short of sexy.

Well, as sexy as a one-piece thing could be, but you know...

Either way, it fit her so well. It hugged her curves just right as she sauntered her way to the bed, sitting close to you with a poker face. You didn't say anything- merely staring at the woman nor did you move because somehow a part of you didn't really feel any fear towards the woman.

Seeing this, the woman tilted her head, her eyes narrowing just the slightest bit at you. She analyzed you, trying to read the thoughts behind your adorably sleepy eyes. As she soon realized that there seemed to be nothing she could do to make you fear her, she questioned, "Why do you seem to be devoid of fear of me, little doe?"

You blinked and rubbed at your eyes, twisting in the sheets, and, without even realizing it, wrapped your arm around the woman's waist. "You don't look scary," was your simple response before burying your face into the pillow.

The woman said nothing and did nothing, looking into space in thought. "I am a vampire," she paused, using her senses to find the reaction you'd give. "Are you scared of me now?"

You mumbled a no, burying your face close to the vampire's stomach before peeking one eye out, "Are you gonna bite me now?"

The woman looked down at you. looking into the one eye you peered up with to look up at her, "No," she answered.

You sighed and buried your face in the woman's tummy again, "See? Not scary."

****

The two of you were having a nice lunch. The food was good. Thoroughly cooked steak with string beans and mashed potatoes on the side; delicious.

You were so engrossed in the food that you hadn't noticed the Vampire wasn't really eating anything. She merely drank the wine her servants had served her.

She was always watching you. Even now. Her eyes were always on you, watching all that you did. If you were sleeping, she would be on a chair nearby, still very blatantly watching you. If you were running around outside, chasing some cat or being chased by a dog, she was watching.

She also watched you in the shower.

Nothing sexual or anything.

She just watched.

Stood in a corner.

And watched.

That was also when she told you her name=D

The first time that happened; you thought was weird, but honestly, you got used to it the more it happened. That statement applies to many of the things she would watch you do.

Currently, she was watching you eat. She had placed her wine down just a second ago- not that you really noticed -and started just blatantly watching you. Then she stood and rounded the length of her dining table, coming around to the seat to your left.

As you went to take a bite, the vampire took your forearm in her grasp. You groaned slightly and turned your head to face her as you asked in a whiny voice, "What?"

"I must feed."

You blinked at the woman, not really sure how to respond. "You...you must feed..me- is that what you mean?"

Natasha shook her head at you before she spoke again, "You must feed me."

"Ah, yes, of course." you took your forearm from her hold and started scooping up your food, making sure to take a generous slice for her. But you were interrupted again by Natasha's hand gently wrapping around your forearm.

"Vampires do not ingest food."

Realization befell your features before confusion did, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water to emphasize that. "Wh...How- What do I...You want to feed- uhmm, from me- m..my blood?"

You were adorable. Your stutter was bringing Natasha amusement, and at that point in time, she smiled a tiny smile, but still a smile. "Yes, I want your blood. It shall suffice the hunger I feel."

You took your time as you thought about it. It was tempting, sure, but would it hurt? Definitely. I mean, you're getting two holes poked in your neck- or somewhere else -what are you thinking, Y/N?

"I- will it hurt?" Natasha nodded, "What do I...How do I feed you?"

Natasha pulled your forearm closer to her, pressing light kisses from the tips of your fingers to your palm, and to your wrist, pressing a final kiss there.

You watched this all pan out, keeping your eyes on the path Natasha's lips made with bated breath. The air in your lungs seemed to have been knocked out as Natasha looked up at you through hooded eyes. Natasha's lips were so soft and gentle on your skin- honestly making you want more.

"May I?" She asked, and even though you were nervous and doubtful, you wanted to try it. They really meant it when they said that curiosity kills that cat.

So, you nodded, signaling for Natasha to feast on her meal. You breathed through your nose, savoring the breeze that you breathed in.

Natasha smirked just the slightest bit before parting her lips and baring her sharp fangs at the skin of your wrist. When her teeth finally pierced your skin, you gasped, your arm flinching away slightly as a stabbing pain shot through your nerves. Your brows knit together as you feel the suction of Natasha's lips around the wound she cut on you.

The experience for Natasha was exhilarating. The taste of your blood was so sweet with just the right hint of copper, and it was incredible. If only you knew that after this moment, you will be wholly Natasha's.

****

The coming days after that went by like normal. The only difference now, is that ever meal-breakfast, lunch, and dinner -Natasha would feed from you. It would leave you weak and trembling sometimes, but honestly, you were kinda living for it.

Her bites would always sting at first, and then you'd feel a strange tingling between your legs. You always ignored those feelings thinking that it was probably a side effect of vampire bites.

Little did you know, ever time you'd feel that tingling at the apex of your thighs, Natasha would smell the evidence of it. That's why sometimes she'd take a little too long when feeding from you.

The smell would sometimes take over her mind, and it would make her crave for you more. She'd feel a more intense type of hunger- a hunger she feared would be too much to ask for from her personal blood bag.

If she asked, you'd definitely say yes to it. I mean, it's been a while since you've been properly fuck. And when would a vampire even be able to find someone to hook up with? Certainly not when they're Natasha Romanoff- head of the eldest vampire clan in all of New York.

You didn't mind the tingling feeling at all. One time you even thought of exploring that feeling. Right now, it's feeding time. But strangely, neither of you was in the dining area. You and Natasha found yourselves in her master chamber, sitting on your knees in front of each other, your forearm in her cold hand.

"I have never told you, but I can smell you, Y/N."

You blinked- you blink a lot in kinktober -looking her in the eyes as confusion clouds you, "You can smell me- How can you smell me?"

"Your arousal," your breath hitched. "I can smell your arousal, Y/N."

You sighed, "I don't...What do I do?" You honestly felt so stupid. You didn't understand what to do with that information. Your heart was beating in your chest wildly, and you could hear every single beat in your ears.

But Natasha simply responded with, "What do you want to do? Because I can help you with your arousal...I could fuck you until you ask me to stop, or we could just sit here and you'll suffer through your arousal alone."

Your breathing increased in pace as you continued to maintain eye contact with the Vampire. the thought was tempting, and you really wanted to do it. It was like every time Natasha bit you to feed, your hormones would explode, and really, right now, you needed her to fuck you.

You whimpered as your thoughts ran wild. Your brain conjured up the most sinful of images. You thought what you could do if you were to accept her offer of fucking you.

In the end, you responded with, "I want your help."

Natasha hummed, now looking at her bite marks on your arm thoughtfully, "What kind of help do you want?"

You internally groaned because this woman definitely knew what kind of help you needed. She was certainly jut playing coy to further tease you, so inevitably your response came as, "I want you to fuck me."

****

And fuck you she did.

She felt good, too.

Her fingers curled perfectly against the spongy spot in your sodden pussy, eliciting the most delicious moans from you. Natasha kept pressing kisses to the entirety of your body- from your face, down to your neck, and down to the swells of your breasts.

The sudden tightening of your pussy around her fingers caught her attention, bringing the slightest smirk to her supple lips. "Am I gonna make you cum, sweetheart? Does this feel good for you, too?"

As you went to answer, the beginning of your words broke into a long moan. The vampire had curled her fingers with more force at that moment, causing you to struggle with your words. "A-ah...it feels- ah, good... gonna make me cum- fuck...so hard."

Natasha hummed and kissed her way down your body, her fingers maintaining their pace. As she reached your chest, she sucked your nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them. The sensations cause the little hairs on your skin to stand, shivers running through your nerves as her cold touch reached you.

"I'm gonna cum, Natasha!" You shakily warned as the coil in your tummy tightened, feeling the pull between your legs getting stronger and stronger by the second. It was like a burning pleasure in you as Natasha fucked you with her fingers and sucked on your nipples.

"Cum," she commanded, her lips never parting from your nipples.

Your hands found the tresses of Natasha's hair, gripping her there as you prepared yourself for the pleasure you were about to surrender to. Your throat stratched as a strangled moan emits out of you, your back arching as you orgasm all over Natasha's fingers.

"Fuck," you sighed as you caught your breath, looking down at Natasha as she finally released your nipple from between her lips. "You really helped me there, miss vampire woman."

Natasha chuckled and kissed her way up to your lips, looking into pecking your lips multiple times before finally speaking, "Y/N, I'm not done yet. My help proceeds that of just one orgasm."

The vampire sat up on her knees, lowering herself just enough as she ran her eyes over your bare form. "tell you what," she began. "I will make yu cum one more time before I allow you to rest up."

Immediately, you nodded, biting your lip waiting for the next wave of pleasure to take over you. Natasha pecked your lips one last time before she eagerly sucked marks down your skin as she reached the pool of shameless wetness between your legs.

All so suddenly, Natasha bit into your thigh at the same time she plunged her fingers back into you. Your back arched as a long moan emits out of your parted lips. Unknowingly, drool drips from the corners of your lips as you feel the blood rushing out of your thigh and into Natasha's mouth.

Natasha released your thigh from her mouth and curl her finger in you. Then the vampire pressed a kiss to your hip before she bit into you.

"God, yes, Natasha- ahh, bite me...everywhere plesse."

Natasha hummed as shefed from your hip, herfingers never losing their pace. It was the perfect blend of a sharp sting and a burning pleasure, and it was taking you over the edge of your high.

"You're gonna make me cum...Natasha-"

You were so close. Just one more little curl of her fingers in you would bother trick and push you into an orgasm. But the final curl of Natasha's finger in you was greatly generous, the vampire had even stopped her feeding just to suck your pulsing clit into her mouth.

You didn't have an orgasm. The orgasm had you. And my god, did it make you so beautiful. That's what Natasha thought as she kept on sucking on your clit to help you ride your high.

When Natasha pulled out of you, a spurt of your cum squirted out of you, further drenching her hand and pooling her palm. She sucked the whole thing up like it was soup, and it was so hot- no pun intended.

You watched the whole thing pan out, groaning under your breath as you thought, this is definitely not the last time this happens.

To your surprise, Natasha smirked, having heard your thoughts. So with- now -red eyes, she responded, "Definitely not the last time."

You both chuckled at that. Slowly, you sat up on your knees in front of her and reached to caress her cheek, "Natasha," You called out softly.

Natasha hummed as a response, urging you to proceed, "I wan' you to bite me."

Natasha's eyes flicked upto meet yours as she asked, "You know what that will do to you, yes?"

You nodded and said again, "I want you to bite me."

Natasha came closer to you, one of her legs between yours now as she held your neck with a delicate hand. The vampire ran her red eyes along the length of your throat, seeing how the puls in your neck was strong and quick.

She hummed and leaned forward, noting the way your breathing picked up the pace as she kissed and licked at your neck. You took a deep breath in to calm yourself, but that was in vain because just as air began to filter into your lungs, Natasha plunged her sharp fangs into the vein in your neck.

The woman stole your breath. Literally. And that final bite sealed your fate that night. You were hers, wholly. You're not just her blood bag anymore. You were hers.

Her property.

[anonymous-dentist]

Day Four- Vampires

-

Cellbit breaks into the graveyard just after midnight, but it takes until three in the morning for his shovel to hit the coffin he’s looking for.

This particular subject was buried so recently that their headstone hasn’t even been put in place yet, so Cellbit doesn’t know who he’s about to be dealing with. Hopefully, they’re physically fit. (Though, really, he’d just be happy if they have all their body parts after the past few weeks’ failures.)

Cellbit lets out a breath, looks up at the cloudless sky, chucks his shovel out of the grave, and gets to work pulling the coffin above ground. It’s heavier than expected, but that’s a good thing; it just means the body’s intact enough to take apart properly.

Once the coffin’s flat on the pressed, dead grass above, Cellbit takes a seat on it and wipes the sweat off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. It spreads dirt everywhere, but it’s not like anybody’s around to judge him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, standing and grabbing a surgical mask out of his backpack. He pulls the mask on, pinching it at the nose to keep it from sliding down. He doesn’t bother with gloves this time because he’s got a feeling he’ll be taking the whole body home this time.

“Okay,” he repeats. He looks down at the coffin, lets out an excited breath, shakes the jitters out of his body.

And then he opens the coffin, expecting a corpse but instead finding an abnormally-preserved man with one eye open and a slight bloodstain around his mouth.

Strange.

The man looks alive, is the thing, so Cellbit naturally reaches for his camera to document this absolute freak of a corpse.

The second his back is turned, there’s a wooden creak, and then there’s an audible yawn.

“Buenas noches,” he hears from behind- a deep, theatric voice so unnatural that it makes Cellbit’s bones shake. “Soy Dracula.”

Cellbit spins around and instinctively clicks the button on his camera, taking a photo and activating the flash and sending the man in the coffin screeching out of the coffin and onto the ground in a blinded heap.

The man writhes in pain with his hands clutched over his eyes.

Cellbit carefully puts his camera down. He replaces it with the hunting knife he brings with him for occasions just like this one, and he approaches the man slowly. No witnesses…

But then the man suddenly flips onto his back and pulls out his own knife out of his sleeve, and Cellbit freezes.

In his panic, Cellbit defaults to English: “What are you doing?”

The man answers in kind: “What the fuck are you doing, eh?”

“Biology,” Cellbit simply replies, because it’s true. That’s what he is doing despite what everybody around him thinks.

He levels his knife at the man’s throat. “Why were you buried?”

“Because I needed a nap. Why are you digging up graves? That’s weird, man.”

“And getting buried alive isn’t?”

The man shrugs. “Who says I’m alive.”

He drops his knife, then, and sits up, not flinching whatsoever as Cellbit leans in and digs the point of his knife into his throat. He just smiles and looks Cellbit over appraisingly.

“What?” Cellbit breathes. There’s no way…

“I said, ‘Who says I’m alive’. I’m a vampire. You know..”

The man hooks his pointer fingers in front of his mouth like fangs.

At that, Cellbit drops both his knife and his self onto the ground in disbelief. There’s no fucking way.

The man- the vampire- drops his hands and leans back on them. He yawns.

“Sooo, what are you supposed to be?” he asks. “Graverobber? I haven’t run into one of you guys for forever. I thought the government got rid of you all.”

Cellbit sniffs annoyedly. “I am not a graverobber.”

He’s absolutely sick of being called one, both by his advisor and by his own sister- his literal partners in crime.

“I,” he explains, not for the first time this year, “am a scientist.”

The vampire nods. “Right. A scientist robbing graves, yes.”

“It’s for science!”

“Suuuure.”

“It is!”

Cellbit reaches back and around the side of the coffin. He pulls his backpack closer, and then he pulls his notebook out of it, flipping it open to the first page, which has his proposed thesis neatly printed on it in expensive red ink.

He shows this to the vampire, who reads it aloud: “‘The potential to renew life where death has devoted the body to corruption’.”

He looks up at Cellbit with a frown. “So you’re a mad scientist.”

Cellbit scowls and pulls his notebook away, holding it close to his chest. “I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you are.” The vampire blinks, and then his eyes widen in faint panic. “Wait, were you going to experiment on me?”

“Well, yes, but I can’t anymore. You’re not dead.”

“I mean. I am.”

“Not in the way I would need you to be.”

“Huh.”

Silence, awkward.

Cellbit starts going through his notes looking for the next possible grave, sighing when he sees it’s at a cemetery an hour’s drive away.

“Do you, like… need help?” the vampire asks.

“Hm?”

“Getting another body. There’s gotta be another one around here, right?”

Cellbit looks up from his notes with a confused frown. “What?”

The vampire shrugs, alarmingly casual for someone suggesting stealing a corpse. (Then again, he is a vampire. They aren’t exactly known for their morals.)

“I mean, it’s fair, right?” he asks. “I screwed up your thing. I can get you another body, easy.”

Cellbit blinks a few times, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that there’s a goddamn vampire in front of him, let alone a vampire offering to help him dig up and steal a body.

What the fuck.

Sensing his confusion, the vampire says, “Hey, don’t worry, man. I don’t bite.”

He grins, open-mouthed, and it’s now that Cellbit can see his fangs- long, pointed little things easily capable of ripping a man’s throat out and eating it like it’s licorice.

What the fuck.

But, also? What else to research in the (self-invented) field of scientific necromancy than a literal vampire? This guy had to be turned somehow, and now he’s presumably-immortal and perpetually undead. In other words: alive.

So Cellbit nods, and he stands, offering the vampire a hand up.

“I can’t get the next body until tomorrow,” he warns. “I hope you won’t mind the wait.”

The vampire pulls himself up with Cellbit’s help; he’s wearing a ring, Cellbit notices, on his left hand. Ring finger. Huh.

“Nah, don’t worry,” the vampire says. He winks, squeezes Cellbit’s hand once, and then he lets go. “I’m great at waiting.”

[adorationmajestic]

Cypress' TLT Fic Recs (October '24)

Aight. I've never made a rec list before but imma give it a try. No ratings, just praise. No, it's not just halloween/fall themed stuff, that just happens to be what month it is right now lol. Visit the whole list on Ao3: here (link to the bookmarker tag).

I have a few categories for you! Something Hot, Something Long, and Something Still Going.

These are from a variety of years and sizes. Most of them are Griddlehark, but I sprinkled some other pairings in like salt bae.

Next time I'll give something a little more organized and varied. Probably.

First category: Something Hot

Hungry Like the Wolf by Slaycinder - GriddleHark (2 chapters, approx. 13k words) There's two tags that stuck out to me, upon first glance. These were: Local Woman Nearly Dies for the Vussy: Says it Was Quote "Worth It", and Unrelated: have you ever seen needlessly badass artwork of wolves and naked women? I think these two tags do, indeed, sum up what happens quite well. Very hot. Gave me those very special spine tinglies that once upon a time told me that I do in fact like women, vampires, and werewolves. You are never gonna guess what three things this fic has.

Between the Lines by Rohad - Griddlehark (8 chapters, approx. 30k) A modern AU: a stunning look into the life of editor Harrowhark Nonagesimus. She's been assigned to work with one of her publisher's favorite little meow meows, Gideon Nav (an erotic fiction author) (who Harrow hates) (even though they've only ever spoken via email). Harrow accompanies the awful horrible Nav to a few conventions for book signings. This one, in as much as I've tagged it as belonging to the "Something Hot" category, is honestly packed full of feels as well. Harrow and Gideon have to learn how to communicate effectively, and how to interact respectfully, and they learn a lot about each other as well. Rohad's reworking of their respective backstories to fit into the modern day has me FLOORED.

I am a conversation by sluggg - PaulDve (1 chapter, approx. 5k) This work caught my eye with the tag Paul stop quoting Steven Universe it is making everyone uncomfortable and honestly I probably wouldn't have noticed the quotes if I hadn't then actively been looking. Sluggg fits them in just perfectly. There are a precious few Paul/Pyrrha works (and they are ALL bangers actually) and this is for sure one of my favorites.

put some goddamn moves on you (god knows you need it) by hoteyedwraith - CamPal (2 chapters, approx. 23k) This one has a very simple premise, but it really hits home for me. I can relate to Camilla in this modern AU in a very real way, and it felt very very good to reach the end of this work and see the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel. Cam has a bit of an issue, but she doesn't know what the problem is. But it is fixable, and Palamedes lends a hand.

If you've noticed a theme so far, yes. I like my horny with a pinch of sad. What are you gonna do about it.

Second category: Something Long (For those of us who like em big)

The Process of Elimination by zoicite - GriddleHark (8 chapters, approx. 122k) That Regency AU from HtN! The two tags I would like to highlight are; Season 1 of The Bachelorette: Canaan House and Fake/Pretend Relationship. It is probably a general fanfic staple that every pairing MUST have at least one fic where they pretend to be in love and then slowly fall in love for real. It's a classic, and it never fucking gets old. I stayed up til about 4am reading this for three nights in a row. I'm not a slow reader, by any means, but this one hits different after 10pm honestly (when my emotions are at their easiest to sway) and if you can handle that sort of sleep gymnastics (and you brain works similarly) I would recommend giving that a try.

Cataclysmic Variable Star by Elldritch - GriddleHark (101 chapters, 190k exactly) I stayed up reading this one until I passed out about an hour before my alarm went off. I DO NOT RECOMMEND DOING THAT. This one, you want to have full command of your faculties because this one will make you think. It is a Harrow Nova AU rewriting of GtN and HtN (written before NtN released!) and is a beautiful piece of literature. You want a full night of sleep before grabbing this one by the reins! It is fabulously put together, drawing everything that needs to happen from each of its sources, but with a twist at each turn that you certainly won't see coming.

orbits, eccentric, on course for collision by Stacicity - DiosApate (9 chapters, approx. 76k) The timeline of HtN as told by Augustine Quinque. I might have gone slightly insane and left 800+ word comments on each chapter, which goes to show just how invested I have been in this. Looking at that word count, you might go "Huh. That's not that much, Cy. That's less than half the size of the last one." You would technically be right. But the way with which Augustine perceives time might change how you feel about that. Even if you aren't writing whole essays in the comment section, this one goes by slower somehow. I recommend pulling it up and then having an extra tab open to look up a few of these words in a dictionary. Stacicity has (correctly) decided that Augustine would use a lot of high-level words. This is, frankly, above my reading level (/joke).

Third category: Something Still Going

God Is Dog Spelled Backwards by labyrinthineRetribution - GriddleHark (more than 8k) As of writing this list, this work has 2 chapters. The plot has just gotten started, and I'm intrigued. This title stands out from the crowd in terms of the way it handles the setting (modern AU, somewhere in Aotearoa). Gideon really is the saddest girl in the world, I think, in a very complicated sort of way. I will wait patiently for as long as it takes to see this story develop.

Dividers by enchanthings

[azsazz]

More vamp azzy as we all desperately need.

This one is a request from an anon: “Okay so for vamp Az. I’m not sure if vampires eat anything other than blood but if not, then imagine him trying to cook anything for reader because she got sick or something. I don’t want to get into too many details since you only asked for ideas so totally no pressure! I fell hopelessly in love with vamp Az and am so excited for more!! ❤️‍🔥And spooky season is coming and it just fits perfectly 😌🧛🏼”

**Not edited!**

A clatter from the kitchen shocks you from your sleep. Your eyes are heavy and sore, nose stuffed and mouth dry. You cough a little as you swallow, trying to wet your throat and gather your bearings.

Your blanket sits heavy on your body, and you notice not only one, but three thick comforters piled up and tucked under your chin. You’re a cocoon of warmth, and despite the chill wracking your bones, sweat dampens your forehead.

The couch is as good as any bed, but the room is missing the body of the vampire you’ve become accustomed to seeing. Azriel doesn’t need sleep, not that you have noticed anyway, but he often never lets you leave his sight, even if he knows you’re in your rooms or his excellent hearing picks up on you prowling around his home during the daylight hours.

You’ve grown into his schedule, sleeping away the days and staying up during the nights. You hadn’t even realized you’d been doing it until as of late. It had been purely survival instinct at first, to stay up for as long as possible. You pulled open the thick, black, heavy curtains to let the sun stream through the windows, hoping it would keep Azriel away from you, but he’d only reached into the blazing sun to pull them shut again. It how his hands got like this, you realized, when they had started sizzling and one had caught fire from the sun. He hadn’t hissed, but the hazel of his eyes gleamed in a way that had scared you and made your stomach twist. It was paired with a hint of fang, the curve of his lips telling you all you needed to know about him.

You weren’t going anywhere.

The other night, you had attempted escape, to no avail.

Azriel had been away at one of his meetings, with whom or about what you didn’t know, but you’d managed to shimmy open one of the ancient windows. There was a storm raging, and it seemed like the perfect escape. The rain would cover your scent and would wash away your footprints in the mud.

You hadn’t anticipated being hunted through the woods.

Being out in the rain that long hadn’t been good for you, but the fucking you received when Azriel had found you had almost made it worth it. He’d taken you right there in the middle of the forest, and then again when he wrangled you home and lit a fire in the hearth so big it rivaled those of Hel. He’d been silent the entire time, even as he lied you down to dry and fucked you deep. You thought your shivering body was due to his cold hands and wicked tongue, not the oncoming cold.

The noise is followed by a low string of curses that you’re sure he means to keep soft. Your eyes slide shut again, exhausted and too achy to move.

It’s better to keep silent, not draw his attention to you no matter how badly you want a glass of water.

It doesn’t take long for him to enter the room. He holds a bowl in one hand and helps you sit up with the other. You can’t help but notice the bulge of his biceps from underneath his tight shirt as he does so, and you didn’t think that your mouth could possibly get any drier, but here you are.

You stare at the bowl wearily, then back up at him, heart stumbling at the nervous look on his face.

“You can cook?” You ask, watching as he paces to the hearth to stoke the fire. He avoids your eyes, not wanting to see the sympathy swimming in them.

“I used to be able to, once upon a time,” Azriel’s voice is soft, longing. He can no longer consume food that sustains you, you realize. You find yourself aching for him, a little.

“And now you can’t eat,” you trail off, glancing to your bowl again. It smells delicious, the scents of vegetables and spices filling the room with warmth. Your freezing fingers are beginning to thaw already.

Azriel shakes his head in response, gesturing to the bowl. You pick up the spoon, dipping it into the bowl. You see the carrots and shallots swimming in it, along with barley and herbs that make it taste like heaven.

You can’t help but to groan pleasurably, the flavors exploding on your tongue. “For someone who can’t eat, this is delicious.”

“I can eat, but there’s no use,” Azriel says, eyes intent on you as he watches you take another bite. He’s filled with pleasure at the sight of you enjoying something he’d made for you, and he can admit that he did have fun being in the kitchen again. “Everything tastes boring and it’s not the kind of thing that can sustain me.”

Right. Your stomach swirls, thinking about the blood he needs to consume in order to survive. You feel a little sick at the thought that this is what he’s taken you for, to use you for pleasure to ultimately drain you one day.

You shiver but shove the thought away. Azriel’s eyes grow warmer with each spoonful you take, and there’s something itching at you to be nice to him, despite everything that’s happened between the both of you. He had taken you in from the rain, most likely saving your life in the process, and now he’s feeding you.

You find a part of yourself wanting to return the favor.

“Eat with me,” you say, patting the spot you’d just sat up from. It’s piled with pillows but you can surely shove them aside to make room for Azriel.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowing deeply. He looks like he’s about to protest but you’re cutting him off before he can.

“Come on, come eat with me.”

Azriel stares at you like you’ve grown a second head and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I just told you that it doesn’t matter if I eat.”

“Then come eat.”

It’s clear you’re not giving up on this. Azriel sighs, pushing to his feet and striding towards the kitchen to get his own bowl.

But you’re a stubborn one. He doesn’t expect you to grab for him, and you’re as quick as an asp. He’s not expecting the feel of your hands on his exposed forearms, sleeves of his thick, black shirt rolled up to keep away from the food as he was cooking.

“You can share with me.”

“No,” he says, voice harsh and demanding. “You ned to eat.”

You quirk a brow. “Afraid of catching a little cold?”

Azriel can’t contain the rolling of his eyes and you want to laugh at how human it makes him look.

“I can’t catch a cold.”

“Of course you can’t,” you agree, shoving the pillows onto the floor and biting back a grin at Azriel’s grimace. “Now sit down and eat.”

[highlordofkrypton]

Thank you so much for the tag @zenkindoflove, I freaking love being tagged in writing games!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 32 (To think I started??? This year??? Or end of last year???)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 271,982

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR & DC Comics.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Regrets (Superbats, DC Comics)

Little Secrets for my Soul (Batjokes, DC Comics)

The Lighthouse (The Aquaman Family, DC Comics)

Wildflowers (Tamsand, A Court of Thorns and Roses)

The Justice League's Mom's Book Club's Guide to Vampire Slaying (Martha Kent, Alfred Pennyworth, Hippolyta & Atlanna, DC Comics)

5. Do you respond to comments? Always! My readers made the effort to comment on my fic, so I will absolutely respond with the utmost enthusiasm. It means the world to me when I get comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh, it's absolutely Wildflowers. I mean, it's canon ending so does it really count?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think most of them have happy endings, especially the oneshots. If they're not happy, they're some kind of tender, or sweet. I do think Regrets has the most upbeat ending.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. More and more lately. I would say I write the kind of smut that makes you question yourself (and I haven't even dived into the kinkiest kinks). Are you confused? Yes. Do you know what happened? No. Do I know what happened? No. Were we all entertained? HELL YES.

9. Do you write crossovers? I didn't name my blog home of the crackships for nothing. I LOVE crossovers. I have a few on my AO3, but so many on my to-write list.

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope! Not formally. I do roleplay with a partner. I tried to re-write one of ours as a fic, but it's soooo tricky.

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? SUPERBATS SUPERBATS SUPERBATS. At least, if we're talking something that has a fandom. If we're talking my fav ships forreal, it's Lambert x Gojo Satoru x Clark Kent, Orm Marius x Clark Kent x Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen x Hal Jordan x Komand'r, Lilith x Eskel, etc.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? None that I know of. I usually circle back and/or can be swayed to finish one.

14. What are your writing strengths?

Details. I think I have a few. I get weird fixated on details that I think make the writing feel more 'lived in' and immersive.

Side characters. I think I'm very good at creating intriguing side characters that you'll get attached to. My trick is that the character is fully developed with their own story before they appear on my page. How else will I get their interactions down, even if it's for a chapter and they're never seen again?

Humour. I literally cannot be serious. I have to shitpost halfway through my story.

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  

Pacing. I am impatient, I wanna get to the juicy parts, but some stories need to cook a little before getting to the fun stuff. I tend to use the excuse that since it's fanfiction, I can #yolo and post.

I cannot write something short for the life of me. Everything needs to end up being multi-chapter, I'm TIRED.

Smut. It's not raw enough. It's not filthy enough. I need to let go and be less formal about it. Just dig right in and have a meatier writing. I just don't think my current style fits pure smut. It does fit trying to fuck an eldritch horror and soul-shattering orgasms tho 😂 But sometimes, I just wanna go to pound town, not achieve self-actualization through butt stuff, you know???

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I have some foreign words in my Illyrian fic, and I am fluent in french. I do hate seeing other people write dialogue in different languages SPECIFICALLY FRENCH, so I won't be doing that.

17. First fandom you wrote for? A Court of Thorns and Roses.

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? I have different favourite ones for different reasons.

I like cosmic bloom because it's unhinged smut.

I like Regrets because it's my first ever Superbats fic and got so many kudos!

I like Wildflowers because it's my first story I ever wrote from start to finish.

I like Needle & King because it's healing a lot of trauma to write it, and I get to discover my identity and explore lore/worldbuilding that I've been putting off for ages.

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @praetorqueenreyna @achaotichuman @arson-09 @unanswered-stars @matrixsss @watcherintheweyr @witch-and-her-witcher @chunkypossum @foxcort @positivelyruined @angelosearch @goforth-ladymidnight @themildestofwriters

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 12/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

CW for this chapter: animal death

“Missing? What do you mean he’s missing?”

“I mean he’s missing—Howie and someone else in their coven tried a locator spell?” Tommy shot a questioning look at Evan, who just nodded in understanding. “And it apparently couldn’t focus on him, whatever that means.” Evan didn’t look away from the road, but Tommy saw his eyes widen. “What?”

“It’s, ah, it might be nothing. There’s ways to block locator spells.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Tommy said, wariness already creeping up the back of his neck.

“It’s hard,” Evan admitted. “Especially if you don’t know someone’s performing one. I mean…if Jon—Greenway was paranoid about his coven finding out what he was doing, he could’ve taken precautions.”

Tommy raised a silent eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe he could just sense hovering in the air. Evan’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“But, those kinds of spells take a lot of energy, and I can’t imagine his coven wouldn’t have noticed.”

“So, if he didn’t block the locator spell, then why wouldn’t it be finding him?” Tommy asked, and was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Either he’s already outside the radius of the spell—not likely, unless this Howie guy is, like, thirteen. Or, um, or there’s nothing to find.”

“Fuck,” Tommy muttered. “All right. Howie and Sergeant Grant are going to his house to see what they can find. He asked me to try and see if he’s at the temp agency offices he’s been volunteering with.”

Evan’s hands flexed on the steering wheel, and Tommy heard his heartrate kick up a little. Tommy rubbed his jaw, silently considering. As much as he hated how wary and mistrustful Evan still was—and he did, against all sense and reason, he really did hate that Evan didn’t trust him…it felt so wrong, somehow—he did understand it. Unfortunately, he knew the only thing that might actually prove he was being sincere was to let Evan go. And somehow, he hated the thought of the witch actually leaving hi—leaving just as much as the thought that he didn’t trust him. It was rapidly becoming obvious, though, that this situation was becoming more dangerous by the second. Reluctantly, he came to a decision.

“I can’t make you come with me,” he said, his voice quiet in the cab.

“Yes, you can,” Evan countered immediately, and Tommy dipped his head in acknowledgement, even if he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. He was still unsure if he’d have been able to put Evan under his thrall if the witch hadn’t been panicking and unable to concentrate properly.

“All right, I could,” he said. “But I’m not going to. Get me to the office, or at least close—” He trailed off a moment, trying to understand why it felt so difficult to say what he wanted to say, the sense of wrongness just increasing at the notion of letting Evan leave his sight. “Do that, and you can leave. It’s still going to be safer for you if you leave the city entirely. But I won’t stop you.

Evan frowned, that same puzzled look from before taking over his handsome face. “Just like that?” he asked cautiously.

“Just like that,” Tommy confirmed.

“Won’t you, uh, won’t you get in, in trouble or something?”

“Yes,” Tommy said bluntly. Then he chuckled, his smile shifting into something a little sharp. “But I am almost a thousand years old. There’s not actually much Alonzo can do to me.” He leaned back against the headrest, staring out onto the streets of LA. “I won’t lie, it would be helpful if you came with me. If I’m going in there, I wouldn’t mind having a witch at my back…and I know you’re a damn powerful one.”

Evan was silent for a long time, guiding the Jeep past the exit for the highway and turning onto a new route. Tommy didn’t question it, content to give Evan as much time as he needed to think about it. As they continued driving, he turned the situation over and over in his mind, trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together. If what Evan said about locator spells was true, he wasn’t holding out much hope that they would find Greenway alive. Still…

“A witch selling out other witches to vampire covens would have to be stupid not to have an escape plan,” Tommy mused out loud, tapping the screen of his phone with his thumb. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Greenway had realized that whatever he intended to happen to Evan hadn’t happened and he immediately booked it. Especially if he’d known how Gerrard tended to…retaliate when things didn’t go his way. Except.

“Okay, now I’m sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence,” Evan said tiredly.

“But,” Tommy acknowledged, “the more I think about it, the more I don’t think Gerrard realized you were there. That you’re a witch, I mean.”

“Huh?”

Tommy sighed and rolled his neck back and forth, the familiar tension flooding him at the mere thought of Gerrard. God, how he hated that asshole. “If Gerrard knew what you were, he would’ve had you chained up on display, not serving cocktails. He would’ve made a spectacle of it, would’ve made everyone watch while he drank from you. Even if he didn’t know which one of the workers was a witch for some reason, he wouldn’t have just let you wander around the party where anyone could claim you as soon as the—uh—the main event started.” They had pulled to a stop at a red light, and Evan turned horrified eyes on him. Tommy gave him a grim, humorless smile. “Evan, I get why you don’t trust me—I really do. But I wasn’t kidding when I said anything I offered was better than what would happen to you at that house.”

Evan’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, before he snapped his attention back to the road in front of them. “How…how do you even know this guy? If, if, if you’re so different, why do you know so much about him?”

Tommy chose to ignore the sarcasm dripping from the phrase so different.

“Vincent Gerrard—the coven master of that party—he’s one of the major players in LA. Has been for decades. His coven’s one of the most powerful in the state. He’s a fucking monster. Even for one of us, he’s…he’s awful. Always been awful. He and I were turned around the same time. By the same vampire. I had to share a coven with him for centuries.” His voice dropped, and knew that his face had gone stone cold blank.

“I didn’t think vampire coven bonds were like ours,” Evan said, an almost reluctant curiosity coloring his words. “I thought they were more like political alliances? Couldn’t you just leave?”

“They are for the most part. I mean, we’re bound to our covens, but it’s a bond we choose to make between us and our coven master, something that can be broken on either side at any time. And yeah—now I could just leave my coven whenever I wanted to. Alonzo isn’t my maker. There’s a certain—connection between you and the vampire that made you. Depending on how strong your maker is, sometimes they can use that connection to keep their turns bound to them. Almost like our thrall. But the more turns you try it on, the harder it gets and the easier it is for them to break that connection. That’s why our covens are mostly alliances, especially these days. My maker kept his coven relatively small for a very long time, so I was…stuck.”

His memories of his days in the bastard’s coven had never faded the way his other memories had. They were still as sharp and clear as the day he’d experienced them, and he didn’t think he’d ever get over quite how unfair that was. Evan seemed to sense the darkness in the turn his thoughts had taken.

“There are kids in Jonah…er…Greenway’s coven, right?” he said suddenly. Tommy blinked at the non sequitur, and Evan clarified, “I saw them in that picture of Greenway your friend sent.”

“Ah. Yeah, at least a few, I think. Howie’s partner Henrietta Wilson has a son. Grant’s got a couple kids. And there’s a relatively new guy—Diego or Diaz or something. Howie’s mentioned he has a kid. Why?”

Evan just shook his head, a small furrow between his brows deepening. He pulled the Jeep onto the street in the address Howie had texted him right after they ended their call, a boulevard lined with office buildings. None of them were the towering skyscrapers of downtown LA, but they were tall enough that Tommy was pretty sure there would be enough shade on the street for him to stick to the sidewalks for the most part. To his surprise, though, Evan drove them to a public parking garage, taking the lane that would take them underground rather than the upper levels.

“We can get to an art gallery up top from this garage. It’s right next to Greenway’s building, and there’s a covered walkway between them,” Evan said, and Tommy looked up sharply.

“We?” he repeated. “So you’re—”

“I want to help,” Evan interrupted. He didn’t look over at Tommy, sitting up ramrod straight in his seat and clutching the steering wheel in both hands. “If—if LA is as close to coven war as it sounds like…I want to help.”

The relief that Tommy felt at Evan’s words was outsized. He knew that, and yet he couldn’t help feeling it. “Thank you,” he said, trying to push all of his relief and sincerity into the words.

Evan gave a short, sharp nod and climbed out of the Jeep, stepping into the shadowy, echoing garage. “So, so, so what are we looking for? What’s the plan?” he asked, pointing towards the building exit they needed to take and falling into step beside Tommy with only a slight hesitance.

“Right now, Grant just wants to know where the hell Greenway is. Assuming he’s still alive and just blocking Howie’s spell. If he’s here and trying to go on the run, I’ll stop him. But otherwise, we don’t need to engage. If it comes to a fight, you stay behind me. Cast whatever you need to cast, but I’d appreciate a heads up if you’re about to set anything on fire.”

He thought he saw Evan’s lips twitch at that, but couldn’t be sure. They made their way through the parking garage and up a flight of stairs, exiting into a brightly lit art gallery filled the kind of colorful, modern art and sculpture that Tommy had never really been able to get into. His only exposure to art of any kind had all been religious iconography for the longest time…he didn’t think he’d seen a painting or sculpture that didn’t feature Jesus, Mary, or some saint or angel until almost a century after he’d first met Sal. To his surprise, a couple of the gallery workers greeted Evan by name, their eyes flicking to Tommy curiously.

“Who’s your friend?” one of them, an older Hispanic woman with a thick braid of iron-gray hair hanging down her back, asked coyly. She looked Tommy up and down, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

Evan ducked his head, hiding his briefly panicked look, before shrugging one shoulder. “This is Kin—uh, T-Tommy. We’re just hanging out, Maria.”

Even stumbling over it, Tommy’s name sounded very nice in Evan’s mouth, he decided.

‘Maria’ looked Tommy up and down again and winked at Evan, who ducked again and hurried off with a quick wave, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. As Tommy followed the witch, he heard Maria lean over to her co-worker and whisper in Spanish, “Damn it, I didn’t even realize my grandson might have a chance!”

Tommy caught up to Evan easily, amusement sparking through him despite the possibly dire situation they were walking into. “You’ve got a fan club,” he remarked, and Evan made a strangled little noise in the back of his throat.

“She’s been trying to fix me up with her neighbor’s daughter for like three months,” Evan mumbled, heading for a pair of glass doors that did, indeed, open up onto a covered walkway lined with potted topiary. “The temp agency’s closed on Sundays, but they share a floor with a nonprofit that usually has people in on the weekends,” he continued. Tommy nodded and followed him out into the warm LA afternoon.

As he always did whenever he was outside in the daytime, he looked out through the spaces between the potted trees at the sunlit streets—frustratingly close, and yet forever out of his reach. If he were to step out into the sunlight, he would no longer immediately burst into flames (a fact he’d discovered in about sixty of the most terrifying seconds of either of his lives sometime in the late 1800’s when a feral vampire he and Sal had been hunting down as a favor to a local coven had somehow gotten the drop on him in the barn they’d chased it into). But sunlight was no longer the kiss of golden warmth he could only barely remember if he closed his eyes and concentrated very, very hard. It wasn’t instant death for him at his age, but even the briefest seconds of exposure were agonizing. Like his skin was being burned by pure acid.

Tommy wasn’t even sure if his memories of the sunlight were true memories, or just constructs he’d made up from poems and stories he’d heard over the years. He just knew he missed it. Missed it like he missed his mother’s face and voice, missed it like he missed the satisfaction of a good meal after a hard day’s work, missed it like the touch of a lover. Missed it like hundreds and thousands of other things that he could no longer experience, but more intensely.

He tore his eyes away from the sun-drenched street and followed Evan into the building that housed the temp agency Jonah Greenway had apparently been volunteering at. The lobby was completely deserted, but if the nonprofit Evan had mentioned was the only business in the building currently open, that wasn’t entirely surprising. Temp agencies and nonprofits were not typically known to require (or be able to afford) 24/7 security and reception services.

He automatically shifted in front of Evan to take point, faintly surprised when Evan immediately allowed it, falling into step just behind him. He was even more surprised when he realized how comfortable he felt with the witch on his six (to use the modern terminology). It was no small thing—he had been particular about who he would trust at his back before he’d been turned, and the centuries had only heightened that tendency. There wasn’t even any good reason to trust Evan behind him. The witch said he wanted to help, that he would assist Tommy in preventing the coven war that was brewing over the city, but Tommy had no particular reason to believe him.

He did, though.

He believed Evan easily. Completely. The same way that letting Evan go off to fend for himself, letting him leave Tommy’s side and his sight felt wrong this…this felt right.

They avoided the elevators, taking the stairwell instead. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about the security cameras?” Tommy asked as they made their way up several flights. Josh would be willing to get into the building’s system and erase any footage of him and Evan, but he’d make Tommy pay for it. Somehow, some way, he’d make Tommy pay.

“The stairwell and the lobby are blind—none of the leases want to pay for building-wide security, so everyone’s just responsible for their own floor. I’ve heard a bunch of employees talk about how they go up and smoke on the roof during their lunch breaks. I can fry the cameras on the temp agency’s floor, but it’ll probably trigger an alarm.”

“So hasty exit. Check.”

As they closed in on the sixth floor, though, Evan suddenly halted on the stairs. “Wait—” he said, and when Tommy turned back to him, the witch was staring up towards the door one flight above them.

“What is it?” Tommy asked, sniffing the air curiously and straining to hear anything. Evan shook his head.

“Magic,” he said. “Someone’s been using magic here.”

Before Tommy could voice the question that sprang to his lips, he caught a familiar scent on the air and stiffened. “And I smell blood,” he said grimly. Evan sighed.

“What do you want to bet we found J—Greenway?” he asked rhetorically.

“I don’t take sucker’s bets,” Tommy said. “Remember, stay behind me.”

They hurried up the remaining stairs, the coppery smell of freshly spilled blood growing thicker by the second, and soon Tommy could feel the staticky charge of magic in the air as well. He listened intently at the door leading onto the temp agency’s floor, narrowing his eyes when he picked up on the watery, rasping breath of someone bleeding out on the floor. Fuck. If Greenway was alive, but injured, things had just gotten even more complicated.

He heard Evan mutter the same word he’d screamed in Gerrard’s mansion, and when he looked back over his shoulder, a ball of fire was dancing in Evan’s palm, He gave a slow nod of approval, and threw open the door.

Jonah Greenway was very, very dead.

The witch was lying on the tiled floor of the bland, featureless hallway that the stairwell let out on, surrounded by a small pool of swiftly cooling blood. His throat, wrists, even his thighs were torn and bloodied, flesh shredded like hamburger meat, barely clinging to the bone in some places. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, his face a rictus of pain and terror.

About ten feet down the hallway, near the bank of elevators, was the source of the ragged, gasping breaths.

Tommy knew that coyotes were not unheard of in the less populated areas of LA, out toward the hills and the desert. But he’d never expected to see one right in the middle of the city.

“Oh no,” Evan breathed out, his voice thin and shaky. There was a soft whump of air as the fireball in Evan’s hands dissipated, and—contrary to what Tommy had just fucking warned him about—the witch darted around Tommy and raced for the coyote, skidding to his knees on the floor beside it. “Hey, hey, what happened? What can I do?” he asked frantically.

Greenway’s familiar, Tommy realized with a start as he raced forward, coming to a halt just at Evan’s shoulder. Of course, this had to be Greenway’s familiar. The creature was dying; Tommy could see that at a glance. Its belly had been ripped clean open, blood and viscera spilling out across the floor as it panted and twitched. Its muzzle and paws were stained scarlet, defensive wounds all over its body—the thing had put up a hell of a fight.

W—witch? I…I know…your…scent…

The animal didn’t speak. Tommy wasn’t entirely sure he heard the voice with his ears. And yet, it echoed around them, wheezy and full of pain.

“I’m Evan. I—I knew Jonah,” Evan said, gently laying his hand on the creature’s head. “I don’t…I’m not good at healing spells, but I can—”

Too late….too…late. N-nothing…nothing left…anyway. My witch…my witch betrayed…b-betrayed…I didn’t…didn’t real…realize. I thought…I thought…

“It’s okay,” Evan said, his voice soft and kind. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

Sh—should have…stupid…sh-should have k-known…too…late…

“Listen, Athena Grant sent us. You can still help make this right. What was Jonah doing here?” Evan asked urgently.

Athe…na? She…she knows… The coyote blinked hazily up at Evan. You—the w-witch my Jonah…sent…you lived… For a brief moment, the strange voice was filled with grateful relief. Jonah…he came for…h-hid the ev-evidence…here…get…Athena, get it…

“Whatever it is, I’ll make sure your coven leader gets it,” Evan promised. “What am I looking for?”

Hid it…th-they came for…I hid…the pl-planter…be-between… The coyote shuddered, a cluster of frothy, bloody bubbles spilling from its mouth. Evan pressed his lips together, gently stroking the creature’s head. Be…tween… the familiar’s voice whispered again.

Then it went still.

Tommy looked wildly around them, his eyes zeroing in on a set of decorative plastic ferns sitting in bronze-plated planters between each bank of elevators. “Is that what it was talking about? What are we looking for?” he demanded, standing up and stalking over to the nearest planter. He plunged his hand into the decorative gravel that lined the pot, sifting rapidly through it, only to find nothing. “Which one? Between what?”

“Not between something,” Evan said slowly, getting to his feet after gently closing the familiar’s eyes. “In the between.”

Tommy stared at him blankly. “What?”

Instead of answering, Evan walked over to the planters and stood in front of each one, peering straight forward before walking to the next one. After a moment, he paused by the next to last planter, and when Tommy followed the witch’s line of sight, he realized the planter was angled slightly so that its reflection appeared in the polished, stainless-steel doors of the elevator across the hallway from it. To his utter confusion, Evan started walking straight towards the elevators, keeping his body at the right angle so that his wavery, blurred reflection appeared in the elevator doors as well. As soon as he did, he paused, adjusting his position and holding out his hand so that it looked like it was hovering just over the planter in the reflection. Then he muttered a short phrase in the musical, lilting language of all his spells and closed his fist over empty air.

When he turned to face Tommy again, he held out his hand and opened his fingers to reveal a flash drive cupped in his palm.

Tommy couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “Well. Never heard of that before. That’s handy.”

“Wonder what’s on it?” Evan said quietly. He handed it over to Tommy without protest, and Tommy tucked it safely into his front pocket.

“Something worth dying over, apparently,” Tommy said, and Evan flinched a little, turning to look sadly at Greenway’s body. “Come on, I don’t hear anyone else on this floor, but we should get out of here. Can you do your thing with the cam—what?”

Evan had frozen, his eyes going wide. “Jonah kept a silencing spell on his office. All the time,” he blurted out.

As if to emphasize the implications of that, Tommy became aware of footsteps. They seemed to appear mid-step, as if the person simply appeared out of thin air. Or stepped out of an office with magic fucking soundproofing. Several footsteps, all of them different in cadence and tone…several people. And Tommy wasn’t dumb enough to think they didn’t belong to a witch or a vampire. Without preamble, he grabbed Evan’s elbow and hustled him over to the nearest elevator, jabbing at the call button and hoping against hope that one of the cars was already on this floor.

No such luck. Because of fucking course.

The office door swung open, and an unfamiliar vampire stepped out of the temp agency’s lobby. Followed closely by at least two others. Even across the room, Tommy could feel the power rolling off them, the strength that only came from drinking witch blood. It appeared they had found Greenway’s killers.

The lead vampire, a tall white man with hair so pale his buzzcut almost made him look bald and the air of someone who had been used to violence long before he was turned, froze at the sight of them for a bare instant. Then his gaze sharpened, zeroing in on Evan. A nasty smirk twisted his lips.

“Well, well, well. Looks like this job just got even easier, boys. Someone brought our last loose end right to us, special delivery.”

[enquiringangel]

The Lost Boys and the Major Arcana

Since a couple of people have asked, here are my thoughts re: The Lost Boys characters/scenery as the cards of the tarot’s major arcana. I am trying to interpret based on the movie rather than diving into pure headcanon land, so some characters who are less developed in the movie don’t get so much attention as the main players. Sorry!

My knowledge of tarot is a hodge-podge and I don’t claim my understanding of card meanings to be absolute. Far from it. The deck I refer to when discussing imagery of the cards is the Coleman-Smith tarot (more commonly known as the Rider-Waite-Smith, but fuck that, Pamela Coleman-Smith carried that project)

Here goes:

0 - The Fool - Michael. The Fool of the tarot is at the beginning of a journey. As with all journeys, there are both opportunities and perils. The common depiction is of a young man carrying a bindle and walking towards the edge of a cliff, looking upwards instead of at the path in front of him. One meaning of this card is a warning to look before you leap, something which Michael could have done with hearing.

As far as imagery goes, this would work with both Hudson’s Bluff or the train tracks, Michael depicted as about to step off the firm ground of past experience and to plunge into what’s unknown.

1 - The Magician - David - If our Fool is our neophyte, The Magician is our adept. The Magician is depicted as a robed man surrounded by the symbols of the 4 suits of the minor arcana. An infinity symbol above his head, he points up with one hand and down with the other, reflecting the occult maxim: ‘as above, so below.’ This is a card about (among other things) competency and mastery.

As leader of the boys and Michael’s initiator into vampirism, David fits this role.

2 - The High Priestess - Star - The High Priestess is the gateway into the mysteries, and she knows more than she will reveal. The answers are there, but she won’t just give them to you. (Sound familiar?)

3 - The Empress - Lucy - A card about nurturing, generative and creative forces, this is only fitting as it’s Lucy’s role as a good mother figure that ultimately spurs the entire plot of the movie.

4 - The Emperor - Max. The Emperor is about authority. Not necessarily a person, but having authority in a certain domain. And authority - in the paternal, patriarchal sense - can be oppressive.

5 - The Hierophant - Max - This card is about traditional values and conformity. While being a vampire is transgressive, Max manages to be a boring middle-class white man who literally has a suburban house with a white fence.

6 - The Lovers - Star, Michael, David-. As far as readings go this doesn’t always refer to a sexual relationship. It is about relationships in general, kindred spirits, and about choices. Joel Schumacher considered these three the main characters, and it is ultimately the links between them that drove Michael to go down into the cave in the first place.

7 - The Chariot - Grandpa’s Ford - It’s about movement, both in the literal sense but also about taking action. The car has a rather key role at a critical juncture. The motorcycles could also work.

8 - Strength - Sam - We’re talking strength of the inner kind. There are a few contenders for this one, but I gave it to Sam because it’s only because of his refusal to give up on Michael that the human characters and half-vampires were able to be saved. Thorn can be the lion.

9 - The Hermit - Grandpa - The Hermit is a wise figure who knows more than you do. As the name implies this figure is often alone or keeping a distance from people or events, sometimes for the better. Sometimes not.

10 - Wheel of Fortune - The Carousel - Round and round we go, and sometimes we win the games that come with the ride, sometimes we lose.

11 - Justice - The Frog Brothers - The thing about justice is that it is very subjective. But if you think of some other ways this can be interpreted, such as getting consequences, and finding the truth, then maybe you can see why I chose Edgar and Alan here.

12 - The Hanged Man - Marko/Paul/Dwayne. This card is about staying the same, stagnation, being held in a transitional state. So like, being a vampire who can never grow up. I’m sure you see where I’m going with this. Plus, their little upside-down selves would go perfectly on this card.

13 - Death - Welcome to Santa Carla (Murder Capital of the World) - This card is rarely about actual death/dying. It’s transformation - the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Santa Carla is a nexus of change and beginnings/endings for all the characters as a result of the events of the movie.

14 - Temperance - Star - It’s about balance; too much of anything being bad for you, etc. Star manages to avoid killing and has done for some time, while Michael was a vampire for like half a day and nearly ate his own brother. Lol.

15 - The Devil - The Wine Bottle - It’s a card about worldly desires, sexuality, addiction, hedonism… All things inherent to vampirism.

(I was originally going to do David here, and he would’ve worked. The traditional image is of a Baphomet-style figure surrounded by a man and woman in chains…but the chains look like they would come off easily, if only they stoppes to remove them. Picture David in his wheelchair, smirking, with Star and Michael to either side.)

16 - The Tower - Edgar (climbing the ladder to the sleeping vampires) - major upheaval. Catastrophe. Shit is about to hit the fan.

17 - The Star - Star - Her name is actually not the reason she was chosen haha. This card is about hope, overcoming adversity and finding contentment. Star never gave up on becoming human again, and she was certainly content at the end of the movie.

18 - The Moon - Marko/Paul/Dwayne/David - Illusion. Deception. But on a more positive note, deals with intuition.

19 - The Sun - Laddie - This is a card with feel good vibes. Happy families, achievements, abundance… But on the flip side can indicate naivety and blind positivity. This card typically depicts a young child, so yeah.

20 - Judgement - Michael - Judgement differs from Justice in that it’s more like taking stock of your own circumstances. Michael is ultimately the one who has to make the choice about which half of his half-vampire nature to embrace.

Also consider he shares his name with the archangel…

21 - The World - ??? - The end of a cycle. But where there are ends there are always beginnings. Opportunity knocks, and another Fool gets ready to set off an a journey…

I couldn’t think of a character or scene that worked to express this, except maybe Max’s fiery death/the aftermath of, so I left it blank.

Edit: it’s Sexy Saxophone Man. He’s The World.

[simpfordemetri]

Why do u hate the cullens? No judge just genuinely curious!

Hii babe

They are WEIRD,want to fit into being humans so bad instead of just embracing what being a vampires means.

The Volturi have SIMPLE RULES and somehow they manage to be stupid and break them all and then HAVE THE AUDACITY to say the Volturi are the villains

Babe if you all dont break the rules maybe they dont have to act against your coven xx

Anyways,i can understand the whole vegetarian diet okay,but why trying so hard into continue the human life?Graduating over and over again?Being a doctor?Bro wtf daddy chill

Not to say Jasper is racist,no i dont take opinions here you all can go look it up.And Edward dont make me talk about him because oh my god

And why do they hate the wolfs???Mmmm i smell racist again because otherwise they dont have other option.All their kids are adopted and somehow all of them are white

They are just the “I AM THE VICTIM RIGHT?” kind of people,fuck up over and over again but THEY ARE THE VICTIM AND THE VOLTURI SUCKS BLABLA

Okay go create your own vampire government maybe you do it better mm?

Hating on vampires because they feed on humans?Bro what do you fucking expect to have Tea and cookies parties?Mental health is important guys because they are delulu