#its ESSENTIAL for my fake blood!!!

[cosmic-ships]

[Wakes up in a cold sweat] I FORGOT CORN SYRUP 😭

[wintersera]

Can you make a fic about vampire!karina? Her fangs in supernova mv got me dizzy😵‍💫

not so much of a fic but maybe a short little imagine/drabble thingy? cause yk yuh eslayyy

tw: blood 😰

anyways she looks like a little brat here it’s actually driving me a little insane CAUSE HOW DOES SHE LOOK SO CUTE WHEN SHES WREAKING HAVOC IN THE STREETS (and in the sheets ifykwim)😭

the typa vampire girlie to be so desperate to feed on reader bc shes so pretty and shes so so hungry ;;

lets say one day you woke up in the middle of the damn night, had a singular thought- the thought being explore the forest, at what? 2am. what a great idea 😭

so you prepared essentials in a backpack; some food, water bottle, a torch, lighter, batteries and thats about it.

you weren’t too big of a believer in the supernatural, you thought the concept of it was cool yk, warewolves and vampires- all that interesting stuff that you’d see in movies and books. obviously all that stuff was fake, so really, coming across a vampire wasn’t on your list of ‘what to do and encounter at a forest’. and now you’re aimlessly wondering around in the butt fuck of nowhere ignoring the obvious signs as to why your ass should NAWT be in the fucksss forest at this ungodly hour. you could’ve chosen any other time but naaurrr,,,

anyways, as you were strolling around without a care in the world, you heard the snap of a twig and something rustling around in the bushes. it could be a bear, or a man… the idea of that was worse by tenfold.

was the right option run back home and go back to sleep, yes! did you do it? NO, you know what you did? move towards the bushes… any reasoning? “what if its a cat? the cat distribution system could be in my favour today” :]

WRONG.

out from the bushes came a pretty tall girl. she bared her teeth at you, a clear warning so you could back up before anything bad happened. yet you stood there observing her instead. ngl you were pretty terrified none the less, pretty girl with sharp fangs that could rip through your skin. you were convinced she wasn’t real, maybe she was a hallucination??? idk bro maybe you were on shrooms or something.

“what are you doing here all alone in the woods pretty girl?”

tbh you were pretty shocked to the point of not being able to talk, so you stood there.

“aww too scared to speak? that’s okay, come with me” she grabbed your hand, grip pretty tight since she didn’t know how strong she really was. now all of a sudden you’re in an empty cabin log “dont be alarmed but… im hungry- can i get a bite? just a little. i promise i’ll only drink a little” you thought this was a big ass lie but let her bite you :( she’s so hungry.

her sharp fangs pierce into your neck, moaning at how good you taste. she couldn’t help but to embrace you as she was savouring your blood. the pain only lasted for a mere second before your body was engulfed in warmth, you thought that maybe you were gonna pass out but you were fine. i guess she figured out how nervous you were, your body tense and everything?!?2)2! she pulled back “i’m sorry did it hurt too much? it’s okay i can make it feel better” kissing your neck and whispering how happy you made her “i’ll return the favour” trailing bloody kisses from your neck down, to your collarbone and further down. ngl you thought it was pretty hot at how messy and how inexperienced she was at this. her hands would be all over you at first, on your tits mostly playing with them through you clothes “feel any good…? c-can i still taste you?” you nod hesitantly, but it did feel good though!

maybe because you were her first victim, she didn’t know what in the hells she was doing :,( obviously as a new vampire spawn she was trying her very best to make you feel good after she fed off of you. ripping your clothes off with ease, she wasted no time :] she made sure that every inch or your body felt good— leaving bloody stains wherver she kissed you, yes shes a messy eater 😭 the blood is all over her mouth leave her be-

after a long time of being kissed and having your boobs played with, she finally takes off your panties- soaked ofc! and blushes at you, looking up with her darkened puppy eyes,, awww how cute ;; you give her a slow nod and she just goes for it. so desperate and needy to make you feel good, she wouldn’t be lying if biting you made her so turned on. she fr eats you out like you were her last ever meal on earth 😊 like she gets so pussy drunk, lapping up all your juices, sucking and licking your clit so harshly earning a whimper from you.

she just thinks you taste so good,, your blood, your pussy? her heads spinning from your scent,, ouh girl she’s feeling dizzy, but that only drives her more insane. gripping onto your thighs, digging her nails into them. she wants more- moaning loudly as she continues to eat you out vigorously, her tongue circling around your clit so fast that it brings you to tears- are you sure she’s inexperienced bc this feels way too good “mmmhf is.. is this good? does your pussy feel good pretty girl?” that sentence alone brings you towards your climax- thighs squeezing together, essentially trapping her inbetween your legs 🫣🫣

so know if you’re ever feeling bored, you’d know where to go to find a certain specific desperate vampire waiting for you in the log cabins at 3am 🤩

IGNORE IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES PLEEKKKK 🙏🙏🙏🙏

[five-rivers]

wandering heart

For @phantomphangphucker for phic phight!

.

.

.

The needle was bronze.  

The copper alloy stood out better against ectoplasmic flesh than it would have against red blood.  It dipped in and out of Danny's skin with machine-like precision, drawing a slender purple string in its wake.  Appropriate.  Clockwork was at least partly mechanical.

“You're getting close to my liver,” said Danny.  “Careful.”

“You are aware that these facsimile organs are not at all essential to the function of your body.”

“Sure they are,” said Danny.  He leaned his head back on the cushion Clockwork had provided him.  “That's why you're sewing me up.”

Clockwork's tower wasn't Danny's usual post-battle stop, but the fight had been nasty and it had been close. His other choices had been flying an hour to reach the Far Frozen and leaving an ectoplasm trail through the mad science lab dedicated to dissecting ghosts.  The decision had been easy.  

Clockwork had complained, of course.  Ninety percent of the time spent stitching had doubled as time spent snarking.  It was fun.  

“You have more than fake human organs in here, and losing that much ectoplasm is unhealthy for a ghost regardless.  You are friends with the doctors of the Far Frozen.  Perhaps you should avail yourself of their knowledge more frequently.”

“I already have one health class I'm failing.  Don't need another.”

“You are not failing your health class.”

Danny peeled back an eyelid that had fallen shut at some point during the exchange.  “Are you using your time powers to spy on my grades?”

“Hardly.”  Clockwork picked up a pair of ornate scissors and snipped the string he'd been stitching Danny up with.  “But even so, I doubt you would notice if I removed one of your so-called organs.” 

“You could try,” said Danny.  He closed his eyes again and leaned to the side until he was slumped over on Clockwork, who made an offended noise.  “You’re trapped now.  Stuck.”

“I am a shapeshifter,” said Clockwork.  “You cannot ‘trap’ me simply by leaning on me.”

“Can too.”

Danny was tired.  Sometimes, he could shrug off both fights and injuries like they were nothing, but unicorns were vicious and Technus was mean.  Electricity always took a lot out of him.  

Clockwork sighed heavily.  Danny smiled.  

“You aren’t nearly as charming as you think,” said Clockwork.  

“And yet, you are neither kicking me out nor stealing my pancreas or lower intestine or anything like that.”

“I could.”

“But you haven’t.”  Danny tucked his feet underneath him and snuggled more heavily into Clockwork’s side.  

The ghost groaned, but obligingly made room for Danny.  Yes, yes, exactly according to plan.  The evil one, where he made friends with Clockwork.  He figured he was already halfway there, if Clockwork was willing to sew him up, but with this it was definitely closer to three quarters.  

Having thought this, Danny promptly fell asleep.  

.

The front doors of Clockwork’s tower were not made to slam open, but Danny, fingers of one hand clenched over his chest and still wearing a Far Frozen medical gown, managed anyway.  He was resourceful like that.  

“Clockwork?” he called.  “Clockwork!”  He flew from room to room, only sticking his head in long enough to assess them for Clockwork's presence.  

Finally, he found him.  

“Clockwork!” he shouted, re-energized by the sight.  “Did you steal my heart?  My heart?  My actual heart from my actual chest?”

Clockwork stared blankly at Danny for long enough that his panicked doubled and doubled again.  This was, quite literally, his only lead.

“No,” said Clockwork, finally.  “I stole the replica of your actual heart.  From your chest.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“Is it?” asked Clockwork, smugly.  “After all, you didn’t even notice this one was gone.”

“Oh my god, I cannot believe you did this.”  Friendship plan canceled.  Or something.

“I cannot imagine why,” said Clockwork.  “After all, I told you exactly what I was going to do.  You even gave me permission.”

“I thought you were joking.  Who’s going to think that you’re serious about stealing a friend’s organs?  That’s a joke.  A joke.  Banter, if you would.  Not an invitation to steal my literal heart.”

“Even so, it has been done.”

“Well, can you undo it?  Put it back in?  You didn’t, I don’t know, toss it out with last week’s eggshells or something?  Stick it in the back of the kitchen junk drawer.”

“No, I know exactly where I put it,” said Clockwork.  

“And you can undo it, right?  It’s not, like, expired?”

“It is difficult to get more expired than a ghost’s heart.”  

Danny stared at Clockwork expectantly.  

“Yes, I can undo it.  It will be the work of a moment to return it to its proper place.”  

“Great, so…  Lead on.”  Danny made a forward sweeping motion with both hands.  

Clockwork’s eyes slid back towards his time screen.  “Can it wait?”

“No!”

“You haven’t had it for weeks.  You won’t miss it for a few more minutes.”

“Uh, yes, I will!  You can time travel.  Whatever you’re doing, you can do it later.”

“I suppose,” said Clockwork.  “Very well.  Follow me.”

Clockwork led him back, through narrow halls, into a towering closet with spiral shelves.  It was full of what could only be collectively referred to as stuff.  

“Wow, I wasn’t serious about the junk drawer thing.”

“Oh, please,” said Clockwork.  “This is hardly junk.”

“You’re a hoarder.”

“I resent that appellation,” said Clockwork, flying up and rotating slightly.  Danny kept his feet on the ground, slightly intimidated.

“The only reason you aren’t drowning in all this is because your house doesn’t have to exist in Euclidean space.”

“And yet, I am not drowning in it.” Clockwork continued to float upwards, a faint frown on his face.  

“You do remember where you put it, right?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Clockwork, visibly rolling his eyes.  “I put it right– Ah.  Interesting.”

“Interesting?  What do you mean interesting?” demanded Danny.  He flew up to hover near Clockwork's shoulder.  “Did something happen to it?  Is it– It's not there?  You said you knew where it was!”

“I said I knew where I put it, which is rather a different thing altogether.”

“No, it isn't!  It's not like it has legs!  It couldn't have wandered off on its oooohhhhhhhh my God, it could have wandered off on its own.  That thing had more ectoplasm in it than a Christmas turkey.”

“It is, in fact,” said Clockwork, “entirely made out of ectoplasm.”

“If it’s moving around like that, can we put it back in?  Would it– Would it try to escape?  Like, escape my chest?  Is that a thing?”

“Unlikely.”

“As unlikely as it starting to move around in the first place?”

“Unlikely,” repeated Clockwork.  

“Where even is it?  Do you know?  Can you tell?  Obviously, your whole ‘I know everything’ shtick is a lie, but can you, like, rewind things so that it’s here?”

“No,” said Clockwork.  “We will just have to look for it.”

“In your hoarder cave?”

“It is not a cave.”

“Ah, but you don't dispute the hoarder part?”  He spun, head over heels, trying and failing to see the entirety of the not-really-a-closet.  “What if there are things in here?  Like, living things?  Could it have been eaten?  By, like… Clockroaches?  Do you have clockroaches here?”

“Media tends to grossly exaggerate both the aggression and size of temporal boggles–”

“They’re real?”

“Why would you ask about them if you didn’t think they were real?”

“I don’t know.  It turns out I don’t think through the things I say to you very well.”

“Clearly.” 

Danny arrested his motion.  “Where do we even start?  This place is huge!”

“That statement assumes that it is still in this particular room.”

“Oh my God.”

“Although, if we are to search this room, it would make the most sense to start from either end and work towards the middle.”

Danny flipped over.  “I can’t even see the other end.”  This was only barely an exaggeration.

“Then we had best get started soon.”

Danny rubbed his face.  “Am I even going to recognize it?  What will it look like?”

“Like the organ it was imitating, of course,” said Clockwork.  “Oh, and don’t touch anything.”

Danny groaned.

.

There was something quivering and green huddled behind a bank of jars.  Was that… it couldn’t be…  He formed a stick out of ice and went to poke it.  

“What are you doing to that poor frog?” asked Clockwork.  

“Holy– It’s a frog?”

“Yes.” 

Danny stared.  Clockwork was covered in splatters and streaks of ectoplasm from head to tail.  

“Why do you– I don’t even want to know.  Did you find it?”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, holding up a jar.  There was…  Well.  It was a heart.  “Are you sure you want it back?  Surely, the sentimental value cannot be that great.”

“Wh– It’s not about the sentimental value.  Open it up, put it back in!”

Clockwork’s sigh was incredibly put-upon.  “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He unscrewed the lid of the jar, and the heart, which had up until that point, laid quiescent on the bottom of the jar, flew out, smacking Danny in the face.  

“Augh!”

“Grab it!” 

Danny managed to get a hand around a ventricle, but ectoplasm and ectoplasmic muscle was slippery.  It escaped his grip.  It flopped-flew its way down to the bottom of the genuinely-not-a-closet and made for the door.  Danny dove at it, only to get a faceful of ectoplasm from an artery for his trouble.  

Danny wondered if this was what Skulker felt like.  He let ectoplasm dribble out of his mouth.  

“That, bleh, that tastes like my ectoplasm,” he said.

“That’s because it is,” said Clockwork, tiredly.  “I will refrain from asking you to elaborate on your ectoplasm-tasting experiences.”

“Look, when nature gives you a weapon, and afterlife gives you enemies, you use the weapon.”  He peered cautiously out of the door, wary of being sprayed with what was essentially his own blood once again.  “Where do you think it–”

He got another mouthful of ectoplasm.  

“Bleh,” he said.  

“I don’t suppose you saw it?” asked Clockwork.  “Which way it went, etcetera, etcetera?”

“No,” said Danny.  

“Then this will be a long night.”

“Can’t you just, like, stop time or something?  So it won’t move around while we look”

Clockwork gave him a look.  

“I’ll take that as a no.”

.

“I think,” said Danny, from where he was dangling from the ceiling, a tangle of clock chains wrapped around his ankle, “that we need help.”

“Unfortunately, I must concur,” said Clockwork, who was underneath a pair of couches even he’d been surprised at owning.

“Unless you want to use your totally awesome time powers to find it.”

“No.”

.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam.  “What did you lose?”

“My heart,” said Danny.  “And I didn’t lose it.  Clockwork stole it.”

“Is this some kind of Ice Queen situation here?” asked Sam.  “Are you going to lose all empathy and care for other people?”

“No,” said Danny.  “It’s just the, um, physical thing.  And only my ghost half’s physical thing.  Apparently.  Apparently, the ‘human organs’ I have in my ghost form aren’t functional, unless the functionality is, like, the functionality of being incredibly annoying and spraying ectoplasm everywhere.”

“So, what should we bring for this thing?” asked Tucker.  “Butterfly nets?  Bow and arrow?  Guns?  What’s the endgame?”

“You want to shoot my heart?”

“I don’t know what you want here, dude.  I’m still kind of reeling over the fact that the guy you were hanging out with literally stole your heart.  Do you need someone to give him a stern talking to, make sure he gets you home before curfew?”

“That’s disgusting.  He could probably be my great-great-great-great-great-great–”

In ghost form, Danny didn’t have to breathe all that much, so he was able to go on like that until Sam and Tucker joined forces to stuff socks in his mouth.  

.

“How in the world did things escalate to Clockwork stealing your literal heart?” asked Jazz.  

“Okay, yeah, I see how that’d seem bad, out of context, but you see, it isn’t actually my literal heart–”

.

Danny glared at Clockwork’s idea of ‘help.’ “I bring three completely reasonable and competent people, and you bring them?”

“From my point of view, I am the one with the reasonable and competent people,” said Clockwork, gesturing at the combined forces of Nocturne, Ghost Writer, and Skulker.  “You, meanwhile, have brought three teenagers.”

“Are you really calling Skulker competent?”

“If not, he at least has experience in being outsmarted by you.”

“Hey!”

.

“Alas,” said Tucker, “the heart wants what the heart wants, and what it wants is freedom.”

“Where,” said Sam, kicking at a puddle, “is all this ectoplasm even coming from?”

“Around,” said Danny.  

“Ooh,” said Jazz, “it’s condensing it from the atmosphere?”  She paused.  “What are you all looking at me like that for?  I can have scientific curiosity!”

“I think it’s more because of what’s happened to your hair,” said Ghost Writer.

“What’s happened to my hair?”

“You don’t want to know.”

.

“Danny, I think I hate you,” said Sam.  They were sitting on one of Clockwork’s couches.  Clockwork had a lot of couches.  A fact that Clockwork seemed both bemused and distressed by.  

“Oh, trust me, the feeling is mutual.  As in, I hate me too.”

Clockwork sat down on the couch next to Danny.  “Daniel, I must tell you that while hate is beneath me, I am seriously regretting my earlier decisions.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to time travel back to–”

“Absolutely not.”

Tucker ran past them with a butterfly net, chasing down a green blur.  

“That’s a blob ghost, isn’t it?” asked Sam.  

“I do believe so,” said Clockwork.

“Well,” said Danny.  “At least this all makes us friends, yeah?  Can’t go through something like this without being friends.”  At least he’d get something accomplished with all this insanity.  

“I wouldn’t call myself friends with Skulker.  Or Nocturne.  Acquaintances, more like.”

“I notice you didn’t say anything about Ghost Writer.”

Clockwork shrugged.  “He’s somewhat more tolerable.”

“And me?”

“I suppose.”

The heart fell straight down, into Danny’s lap.

“Are you serious–”

[gumbootillustrations]

day 20 - quote

"you are garroth, protector of the innocent, sworn to care and love for those in need"

my take on what should've happened at the end of s1. context and uncensored image below the cut (tw // mild gore (blood splatter))

so uh... yeah. at the end of season 1 of ashes, ashes, garroth kills zane in irene's cathedral.

the setup for this series of events goes wayyyy back, back to the first war of the magi. in ashes, ashes, xavier was a divine warrior, the justiciar - i've talked abt this in a few of my other posts (specifically in this one), but essentially he founds the jury and carves off nine pieces from his relic to form the juror relics, which give the jurors their uh, for lack of a better term, juror powers. however, during the first ru'auni-tu'lan war (about 400ish years before the main story of ashes, ashes takes place), the relics went missing - leaving the jurors as little more than figureheads for a good few centuries.

then, about 20-25 years before aph shows up on the outskirts of phoenix drop, the high priest of o'khasis at the time figures out a way to give the jurors their juror powers without the relics via a blood magick ritual. said ritual is successful, but it upsets the balance of the universe so badly that the primordial gods intervene and sick a plague on o'khasis, killing roughly a quarter of the population and almost including lord garte ro'meave in that statistic (yes, this is the "near-death experience" that is cited as turning him from a kind-of-asshole into a right cunt). during the plague, a toddler-age garroth gets really sick, and goes for a wander throughout the ro'meave residence and ends up in the attic, where he finds a strange, glowing rock that seems to be calling out to him... he remembers bugger all of this, and what he does remember he puts down to a fever dream.

later on down the line, after nicole fakes her death and disappears about three or so years before the start of ashes, ashes, zane begins to show signs of what garte believes to be dissatisfaction with his regime, and in an effort to bring zane back under his control, he forces xavier's relic into his only remaining son. if zane had the spiritual constitution to wield said relic, this would be all fine and well, but because he doesn't, he begins to suffer the effects of relic corruption, which slowly drives him insane until he's the mad, devoted-to-his-interpretation-of-irene-and-her-doctrine-above-all-else, lawful-evil, war-criminal priest that he's introduced to us as during the wedding arc of season one.

then, during the battle for phoenix drop, garroth hands himself and the amulet over to zane in an attempt to save phoenix drop from a battle that he knows they're doomed to lose. and zane turns him into a juror via the ritual - and because garroth has (unknowingly) been holding esmund's relic in him this whole time, everything turns to custard, and garroth is rendered effectively comatose for pretty much the entire confrontation between zane, lillian, and the phoenix drop gang (aph, aaron, laur, and katelyn) - until zane moves to attack and kill aphmau right after she's absorbed irene's relic.

so you know how in starlight we're told that the relics are sentient? and you know how in starlight we're told that the relics have the ability to control the bodies of their hosts?

well uh. esmund's relic reacts to the threat against its matron that it senses. and with garroth essentially catatonic and in no state to fight back against the possession, he stands up, corners zane in a barrier, and rips xavier's relic out of his brother's chest - killing him almost immediately - before collapsing again, leaving the others to drag him out of the cathedral when zoey shows up with the portal. the entire time, zane is screaming at him to snap out of it, to remember who he serves, to remember who his brother is, and all the while the others can only watch on in horror as garroth condemns the one man hes spent the entire season trying to save to death.

garroth doesn't find out that he's killed his only remaining sibling (to his knowledge) until he wakes up two days later.

so yeah. ro'bro angst.

let me know if u have any questions! :3

[heliza24]

So I think we should talk about the Holocaust imagery in the trial

Because it was really powerful, and part of what made the episode so impactful. It’s no accident that the writers set this part of the story in a city still scarred by WWII. The vampire trial is a twisted funhouse mirror of the actual atrocities of the war, and thinking of it that way helps illuminate its cruelty. It also helps name the specific undercurrents of that cruelty– the ableism, the racism, and the way in which the coven vampires view themselves as superior.

The whole idea of the trial as a play, where Claudia, Madeleine, and Louis are merely props, made me think of the plays that were put on at the Buchenwald concentration camp. The prisoners there were forced to produce theatre as a way to convince the outside world that the Nazis were treating people “humanely”. This farce of course gave the Nazis cover to continue committing horrible acts. The coven is forcing Claudia, Madeleine, and Louis to put on their play, and they’re doing it in a way that will allow the human audience to excuse the prisoners’ suffering as fake. And that gives the coven the freedom to enact as much cruelty on their prisoners as they would like. And of course being forced to perform, being embarrassed, is also a part of the punishment.

The way that Louis, Claudia and Madeleine were snatched out of what they believed to be a happy and peaceful life and transported straight into a nightmare also makes me think about Kristallnacht in some ways. I am half Jewish, and the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. My grandmother was arrested during Kristallnacht. So I have a lot of personal family history that colors the way that I view this part of the show.

I’m also disabled, and I’ve already written a bit about how this show approaches eugenics. I was actually really happy to see the eugenics undertones made explicit during the trial, as it left no room for doubt about the connection between the great vampire laws and Nazi eugenics rhetoric. “The Dark gifts must never be given to the crippled, the maimed, or to children” was displayed prominently as part of the projections. Claudia has always been coded as disabled because her body is “wrong” and “weak” (written about so well in this meta by @once-delight) but her status as a disabled person was stated plainly as part of the text in this episode, both when Lestat says he “told Louis. Fourteen forever. She’ll be a cripple” and when Santiago says that “Claudia’s defect caught up with her” when she started committing her killing spree in New Orleans. It cannot be understated how much Claudia’s status as disabled person influences the coven’s desire to murder her. The fact that she is happy, strong, and loved despite being turned so young is a direct violation of the coven’s world view, and is therefore a challenge that needs to be put down. Around 250,000 disabled people were killed during the Holocaust, and that’s not to mention the forced sterilization done to disabled people and the cruel experiments that were done in concentration camps to prisoners without their consent. Crucially, the idea of eliminating disabled people and perfecting a humanity without “defects” was an essential part of the Nazi philosophy. And I think you can see that echoing through the vampire trial as well.

Obviously another way that the Nazis were trying to create a perfect humanity was through the elimination of anyone who was not the correct race. We don’t have any canon Jewish characters in IwtV, so we don’t have a one to one comparison to history in that way. But race absolutely plays a huge role in the trial. It does not feel accidental that two of the three prisoners are Black, and that the “star witness” (however coerced Lestat may be, the adoration that the coven shows him is real) is blond and blue eyed. The way Santiago describes Lestat, as having “ancient blood in his veins” and a “godlike strength” calls to mind the Nazi belief in perfecting bloodlines and creating an Übermensch- the perfect Aryan man. And although Madeleine is still executed, she is treated more gently by the coven, kept in a fog of hypnosis and given the opportunity to escape death. I can’t help but think that she was given those privileges at least in part because she is white. This also puts Armand in an interesting position, and maybe helps explain at least some of his motivation in collaborating with the coven. He’s not Black, but he is a person of color, and that may add some legitimacy to his fears that the coven may turn on him. (There’s also the interesting fact that earlier on in the show, Nicki calls him a slur used against Romani people. Armand is not Romani, he left India long after the Romani people migrated to Europe. But it’s interesting that in seeking to place his brownness, native Europeans default to describing him as Romani, since the Romani were also one of the main targets of the Nazis). Obviously there is a lot of hidden calculus going into Armand’s decisions here. But I do think it’s interesting to add race to that equation. I do hope fans of color will write more about the racial dynamics of the trial, since I am white and would love to learn more about this aspect of the story from them.

I’m still mulling over what I think about the part of the episode where Lestat embarrasses the homophobic heckler in the crowd, but it did serve to remind us of how marginalized all of the main relationships would have been at the time (queer people: another target of the Nazis) and how fresh the horrors of WWII are on everyone’s minds.

The absolute highlight of the episode for me was Madeleine’s decision to choose dying with Claudia over living without her. This is such an incredible conclusion for a character who began her arc as something of a Nazi collaborator. I know some fans were troubled by this aspect of Madeleine’s character, but it never bothered me, even with my own personal connection to the Holocaust. Madeleine’s will to survive, her outcast status, and her willingness to cling on to love, even if it isn’t morally pure, made her the perfect match for Claudia. And this episode showed us the payoff of that setup. Here she is given the chance to collaborate again, to move towards the acceptance and love of horrible people that will allow her to survive. But now that she’s tasted real love with Claudia, she can’t go back to that way of living. She can’t throw her lot in with the Nazis again. So she puts Claudia first, the first and only person to ever do that. Everytime I think about it I start crying again.

Ultimately it was the last image of the episode that really hammered home the Holocaust parallels for me. Claudia, reduced to ash. Claudia, reduced to her yellow dress. Just like the incinerated victims of the Holocaust. Just like the piles of shoes and other personal effects at the Holocaust museum. We don’t get Claudia’s final words to Madeleine, or the final words of thousands of real life victims. We just get the dress, we just get the shoes. We have Anne Frank’s diaries, just like we have Claudia’s. Two girls that will forever be trapped in teenagerhood. But those diaries end before the camps, just like Claudia’s end before the trial. 

I’m not sure if either of the writers of this episode are Jewish, but from the behind the scenes clips I know that Hannah Moskovitch was on set as they were filming this episode in a producer role. She talks a lot about giving Claudia a chance to be defiant and angry, and as @bluedalahorse pointed out to me, that’s a very Jewish way to respond to oppression and tragedy (Hannah is half Jewish just like me). Claudia does not go gently into that good night, and I’m really grateful for that. As we go forward I’m going to try to remember her fight, and not the final image of the ash and the dress, as I think about her.

[des8pudels8kern]

If I were to write a Star Wars fic (which I won’t, as working full-time does not leave me with enough mental energy to be properly actively fannish), it’d be an epic AU where Obi-Wan also falls down the shaft at the climax of his fight with Maul, is presumed dead, and then pops up during the Clone Wars as a mysterious agent of chaos whose initial goal is just to rattle and provoke the Jedi into shedding at least a bit of their apathy disguised as serenity and their superiority complex (so, Obi-Wan choosing to help an entire planet of children caught in a horrific war was bad and aggressive, deserving of first repudiation and then probation, but when Knights and Masters order enslaved sentients into battle it’s duty and necessary to uphold the values of the Republic and thus Order?). He’s bitter, he’s angry, and he wants to destroy the Order. Well, the Order as it is. All talk, so little regard for actual decency, and no infrastructure in place to protect the children under their care.

There’d be a semi-humorous scene where Cody (who is... compromised, okay, he knows it, but this evil fallen force user is just different from the other evil fallen force users, okay) comes across Obi-Wan, bleeding from a fresh gash on his head (”What happened to you? - Oh, nothing, dear one; I just tripped.”) one eye clenched shut where the blood is dribbling down, yada yada, they do their usual song and dance about no, you question your allegiance and join my side, and then.

What’s that?

Cody bends down and picks up the thing that’s caught his attention. It’s round, and not quite flat, and ye--- yellow. He narrows his eyes at the infuriating pain in the ass in front of him.

“Tripped, huh? Deliberately, I assume?”

The man’s gaze flits down to the coloured lens balancing on Cody’s finger now, the exact same shade as his one open eye.

“When you arrived, the light of your presence overwhelmed me and caused me to falter. It can be quite challenging when one has delved as far into the dark as I have,” the fucker tries to lie to Cody’s face, voice as serene as the calmest of Jedi Generals fresh out of meditation, and maybe Cody needs to reconsider how trustworthy anything spoken in that tone really is.

Cody throws the lens at him, and the offending item manages to land on his chest, where blood has soaked into the shirt, and sticks to the fabric, staring at him accusingly.

“What kind of nerf-brained idiot fakes being a Sith? The entire Order is after you!”

The nerf-brain winces, then sighs and droops. He rubs a hand through his suddenly tired-looking face. The blood from his apparently actually self-inflicted head-wound that was meant to disguise the missing lens is smeared all over his cheek now, which looks ridiculous and is somewhat worrisome because Cody is used to bloodshed and knows that it’s usually not a good sign when people forget that they are bleeding. It does match the bone-deep exhaustion etched in the other man’s features, though, now that his mask of flirtatious nonchalance has dropped.

“In my defence, I honestly did not expect it to go this far.” He spreads his hands and pulls a somewhat forced-looking version of his usual boyish grin. “I assumed I would get in two, maybe three strikes before the Order went on alert and I got caught. When they didn’t, I decided to... provide further motivation.”

His right eye is grey-blue, as fathomlessly deep as the waters of Kamino, and Cody wonders what can drive a man to pretend to be evil incarnate to catch the attention of an organisation of essentially super-powered sentients in the middle of a war.

Another trickle of blood from the absolutely needless head wound snakes its way down the side of the man’s face, making it clear that, whatever his motivation might be it’s not a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Maybe Cody can get him to take out the other lens, too, so he can check his eyes for signs of a concussion.

And get a closer look at the colour.

...At least now he’s not compromised by a Sith anymore?

[lasandra]

Super Massive End Game Veilguard Spoilers Under the Cut!

Seriously. If you haven't finished playing Veilguard, DO. NOT. READ. So I finished DA:tV and I have been really trying to sort out my thoughts... And well...

Sdlkajshdfklajhsdfklajhsdflkjahsdklfjhaskldfjhaskldfhj I CAN'T!!! My dudes I am SO conflicted!!! Solas is the only character I have ever come across that I both love to pieces and want the best for him but I also want to beat him until he is a puddle of bruised yolk and cracked shells. This dude KILLED VARRIC FOR REALSIES! I am not okay with that. My Hawke's GOING to hunt him down when she finds out. If the Tevinter Magisters can get into the Black City then dammit so can she. And when she does, I am not sure even Lavellan can save him. Amelia (My Hawke) has lost so many of her friends/family/loved ones she can't handle this anymore. He also killed God's gift to elves Felassan. It's been over a decade since I read The Masked Empire but I don't remember there being a great reason other than him being upset that Felassan failed. Dude has GOT to stop killing his friends lol. Especially the hot ones. Like. Come on. As if that wasn't enough, he manipulated Rook. I love my first Rook (Carwyn de Riva) so much that I am STRUGGLING to play another playthrough with any of the other Rooks I had planned. To see that he manipulated her with blood magic... Stopped her from being able to mourn Varric with the others properly.... AND tricked her into that prison??? He didn't think she'd be able to get out. Luckily she had plot armor because if she hadn't gotten out I would find a way into Thedas to rip him apart myself. *Aggressive breathing noises* I feel very normal about this, obviously. Seriously though, guys, I came THIIIIIIIS close to tricking him with the fake dagger even knowing that Lanaya (my Lavellan) wouldn't have gotten her happy ending. JUST so I could see the LOOK on his face when he realized ROOK outplayed him at his own game! At the SAME time however... The idea of sending him into the Black City alone... hurts me lol! I don't want him to suffer. Dude has suffered a lot and honestly, I'm not entirely sure his being a friend-murdering ass is *entirely his fault... The longer I sit with everything, the more certain I am that Solas didn't really have a choice. Seems very much like he was sort of bound to the will of Mythal. Maybe I've missed something, I'm not as lore-savvy as I once was. But in the end when Mythal tells Solas that she releases him from her service and only THEN (NOT when Lavellan BEGS him to stop) is he willing to do the right thing? I don't know. It just reminded me SO much of his personal quest in Inquisition where his Wisdom Spirit friend had been bound and twisted against its purpose. If it works anything like what we saw in Inquisition with whoever drank from the Well of Sorrows, who's to say when something was him vs the will of Mythal? It could be a bit of a stretch but, there's certainly room for that interpretation, I think. And if that's the case, then he doesn't deserve the hell that awaits him. It's also the only interpretation I can really accept Lanaya still wanting to be with him. Varric was her friend too. While forgiveness is something I give freely, I cannot imagine reconciling with a man who did what Solas did without him having been essentially forced into doing it. *Sighs deeply* I saw the different versions of his endgame images... Shit man. The only way this man gets a happy ending is with Lavellan. Dude looks so miserable and gloomy in all the other endings. Moire (Trevelyan) was Solas' friend. She wouldn't want to send him off to be alone in such a terrible place. That would seriously eat at her. (Rook wouldn't care. Her give a damn was busted after he betrayed her for the twenty-billionth time.) It can never be anything but a complete and utter rollercoaster with this man! I do think that the ending I got with him was as good as it possibly could have been though, given everything. Sorry for this really poorly written rant. I needed to get this out of my system and it's almost 3am lol.

[corvuschronicles]

finally gonna make a post better explaining my real fake psychic shawn spencer au so this might be a long one bc in the past it was mostly rambles as i came up with ideas and trying to make them fit together

i am in the process of actually writing a fic for this and it’s looking like it may be the first part of a 3 part series, below the cut are a lot more details to give context to my au

okay! couple of important things for the overarching universe:

the supernatural exists! though the population is not as prominent as it once was, so the supernatural world learned to adapt and stay hidden, basically for every 20 claims of something supernatural only one is real, and obviously some cities have higher populations compared to others

because of the dwindling population of the supernatural and the growing population of the mundane, it is expected that both would intermingle, so it is actually a lot more common than you’d expect for people to have supernatural bloodlines, though it is often insignificant enough that it doesn’t matter. sometimes that is not the case. sometimes people are born into still active bloodlines so they grow up in that world and sometimes people never know that they even had supernatural blood, let alone that the supernatural exists. sometimes, even though someone’s bloodline may be dormant (and they are or are not aware of the supernatural) unforeseen circumstances can sort of jumpstart said bloodline

with or without knowing it, people with supernatural abilities or bloodlines tend to gravitate to each other

there are few rules that the supernatural community follows, the most important being to not expose themselves to the mundane

within the supernatural community there are different categories; creatures/those with creature blood (vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters), those with abilities (psychics, druids, witches), sentries (those tasked with keeping the supernatural hidden, and hunters (mundanes who became aware and choose to fight it)

explaining the name, real fake psychic:

when he first started working for the SBPD shawn faked being a psychic to avoid arrest

after season 4, shawn has an encounter with the supernatural that essentially gives him real psychic abilities

he keeps up his fake psychic charade because he can’t really say ‘hey guys i was faking it before but guess what? it’s real now!’

now i will go a little into some of the changes/headcanon/general facts of some characters in my au, starting with the main man

shawn:

he’s mexican! this is not central to the story really but it’s my headcanon so i will work it in because i can

somewhere down the line there is maybe some kind of long forgotten supernatural family member, meaning shawn has supernatural blood

the combination of his childhood and eidetic memory and genius is all him but it definitely gets a small push from his possible bloodline, especially in how he visualizes

after The Incident™️ shawn gets real psychic abilities, at first it’s vague and he doesn’t know what’s happening, but then things get too weird and even he can’t ignore it

true psychics are rare, a lot of people only have some aspects (like divination, clairaudience, etc) but of course, shawn ends up with more than the usual

his abilities, especially at the beginning and when they develop more, are rather painful because he is receiving so much more input now, leading to headaches at least

shawn getting real powers is the catalyst to those around him awakening as well, and now that he and the others are aware of the supernatural, it seems to be more present than they realized

gus:

he’s an amplifier

his ability is kind of a paradox, on its own it doesn’t do much because it is mostly dormant outside giving him the supersniffer, but once shawn awakens it causes a ripple effect, they are now in the supernatural world and as a result gus in turn awakens as well

he can amplify his and other’s abilities; this helps shawn because gus can help him focus on certain visions or to make sense of some things he sees, this makes shawn claim that his is now literally magic head

it is a paradox because without shawn’s powers gus’ wouldn’t have come through and gotten stronger, but he also helps shawn’s get stronger, it’s a loop

gus gets the dormant bloodline from both his parents

shawn is not the only one gus helps

juliet:

she is an empath

she is naturally an empathetic person but once she awakens it gives her more of an understanding that she never had before

juliet gets her bloodline from her mother’s side

once they all figure it out, juliet can also help shawn in a different way, as she can now feel the emotions coming through his visions

gus is able to help juliet develop her abilities more, and she develops a type of danger sense, which comes in handy in their job

her bloodline is weaker so she’s not the strongest empath, and her prolonged exposure to a shield made it harder for her abilities to develop as well

carlton

he is a nullifier

lassie’s ability is that he is essentially immune to the supernatural to a point, things like curses, jinxes, telepathy, etc do not work at all or barely affect him, most physical attacks would still work because he is still human (like poisons or tactile telepathy)

however, this also affects positive things such as blessings or good luck charms

his ability is like an aura around him, meaning that those close around him may be affected as well, such as o’hara who, as his partner, is often exposed and it put a hamper on her own abilities

shawn is also affected, but in a good way; the constant bombarding of psychic readings stop when he touches lassiter, and even just being around him can ease the headaches

this is eventual shassie

unlike the others, lassie is an anomaly, he has no actual supernatural bloodline, he is the first in his (recent) line

henry

he is a non-believing, non-aware, mundane person

he notices shawn acting stranger than usual, he also avoids coming to the house more than usual

he has his own Incident™️ in which he witnesses something that shows shawn is now telling the truth when he says he’s psychic

madeleine

is a whitexican; not exactly relevant other than the fact if goes with my mexican shawn headcanon

it is her side that had the supernatural bloodline

just like her son, if she were to awaken she would probably develop some minor abilities, most likely clairaudience

SBPD

for the most part, unaware of the supernatural

anyone born into or active in the supernatural community stays away from the police as they tend to live outside mundane laws and prefer to police their own

few key players in charge of or above the police may be aware or are a part of the community

the fact that a psychic and friends with abilities work for the police becomes controversial

chief vick is unaware but someone close to her is not

if anyone wants to add anything or simply ask questions or talk about feel free to do so! i love talking about real psychic shawn <3

[zabala0z]

Oh my god. Okay hi. Welcome back to “New TMA listens to season 2” and guys holy shit I’m freaking out. I just listened to The New Door. So much is happening in 3 episodes and I gotta write it down oh my god. Guys. Guys.

MAG 44: tightrope

Gertrude Robinson!!!! She sounds so nice. Didn’t even realize there was a mention of this circus before until Jon said it. Gotta up my game. The guy who played the steam organ, Nikolai Deniken, was featured in Strange Music. Or his granddaughter was. I looked over the transcripts again; Gertrude mentioned that Deniken leaving in the 70’s made the circus tamer. Makes me wonder if the steam organ is essential for the circus . Also the circus of the other is such a metal name for a circus like okay damn.

I’m thinking the circus is gonna pop up again. New main villain??? Maybe??? Or maybe that cult that hadn’t appeared for a bit.

MAG 45: blood bag

Ewewew. It’s literally summer, the definition of mosquito season, why did I go through with this episode, I’m literally gagging. Anyways. Not many notes but the antiques dealer who bought that Victorian syringe off of Thompson is also from Lost and Found (MAG 38) and Piecemeal (MAG 14). Like all bro did was buy it and shit went off the rails. Wonder if he’s like cursed or something. Also small note for piecemeal: the guy who made the statement said after Mikaela Salesa left, Noriega was missing teeth, an eye and fingers. He may have had them before Salesa came but who knows. Salesa seems suspicious.

Also the description of the mosquitoes. Like. Eugh.

MAG 46: literary heights

Yooo Michael crew! He appeared in Pageturner as the childhood best friend who got his shit rocked by the lightning. He also apparently appeared in a boneturners tale when he returned a book. He seems like a book nerd now after his near death experience. That lightning figure that was chasing him at the end sounded like it was from the book but another thing: Michael was chanting that shit before y’know jumping out the window but he mentioned “The Vast”. I already vaguely know that name, along with a couple others. Like the fear entities or whatever?? I knew them before going in because Im into Hatchetfield and the lords in black got compared to them a couple times so I guess i didn’t go into this fully blind. More like 94% blind. I’m guessing The Vast is important though. We’ll see.

Finally the one I’m still freaking out over: MAG 47

Holy shit. If anyone saw my abrupt post, congrats. Anyone who didn’t: OH MY GOD MICHAEL APPEARANCE. The voice was so creepy, genuinely I’m freaked out. The whole premise of the episode was scary to me just because one of my fears generally is just being alone and having no one and just being lost so obviously, yeah. But also..god. Starting to doubt my assumption on how morally correct Michael.

Also SASHA. FAKE SASHA. She sounds completely different, thought it was fun they changed voice actors for this. I think fake Sasha has been rifling through Jons stuff. He’s been mentioning that someone has been going down in the tunnels and I think it’s fake Sasha.

Not many notes, I’m just freaking out. Couple things though: Michael said to Jon “do you even know they’re lying to you?”

Now they could either refer to fake Sasha as some gender neutral term since whatever replaced her is definitely not human and maybe doesn’t have a gender but I think more likely it’s referring to multiple people. Thing is, it could be anyone. I’m still suspicious about Elias, like he seems to know something no one does, jon had his rant about Tim and how Tim was here for practically no reason which is true and Martin is chill, I trust Martin. If Martin ends up like killing someone, I will die.

Just god. Michael is so creepy. It makes me wonder about its “domain”. It said it came to collect what is “mine.” The one who entered its domain. Is it like some underworld shit where you go in, you can’t come out? “The wanderer had a brief respite but it’s over now” like that’s just cruel.

Like I screamed when Michael said “did you notice which door she left through?” Like I full on got chills. Also “I am not a who, I’m a what, yada, yada” Okay pop off but you just stabbed a man wtf.

I have seen that infamous Michael line before in like fanart but god nothing compares to hearing the words actually coming from my phone while lying in bed when it’s pitch black outside. Props to the voice actor. Also that buzzing noise that happens in the background of fake Sasha and Michael disappearing when they leave? God it’s beautiful.

Anyways. Uh. Sorry for the long post but you guys gotta understand, I am literally going insane, I love this podcast so much. I got I think like 17 pages of notes/details from episodes to keep in mind like genuinely I am so invested. It like invigorates me. Fully.

Anyways, my only takeaway is bring back Sasha and Michael is terrifying

[midnightmoonkiss]

Stab My Heart

Wednesday Addams X AFAB! Vampire! Reader // minors dni! 18+!

WARNINGS!: dom! aged up Wednesday, intense knife kink, intense blood kink, strap-on, sadist x masochist?, lots of blood and kinda gorey, mentions of stabbing and slicing for pleasure

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: This is a crazy smut fic so viewer discretion is HEAVILY advised. I got a fucked up idea when I was feeling down so I wrote my feelings LOL. Also I’m not responsible for any discomfort reading this may cause - y’all have been warned so tread carefully mhm. This isn’t for the faint of heart, but it’s not like your guts are exposed yknow

Just To Clarify:

Reader is half vampire, a ‘hybrid’

Reader doesn’t feel pain like a normal person

Based on the song “I’m in love with a killer”

Characters are around ages 21+ and in college

Fake vampire lore lol

💀heh

Dating Wednesday Addams was like dating a ticking time bomb, any second she could go off without so much as a warning.

However, the adrenaline you feel, the excitement, you were far too addicted to settle for anything less.

Her soft yet strong hands, covered in your own sticky blood.. nothing aroused you more. Maybe you were as twisted as her.

Essentially, you were perfect for eachother in every single way. A sadist who enjoys torture and knives, and a masochist who quite literally feels more pleasure than pain when getting stabbed.

You sure hoped no one ever attempted to mug you with a knife, they’d end up more scarred than you.

. .

In vampire society, hybrids weren’t too uncommon. They could lean more towards the human side, or more towards the vampire side. Only few were blessed with eternal life, human genes far too weak to overcome the venomous vampiric DNA. A key way for a full fledged vampire parent to tell just where their child lies on the line is brutally known as the stabbing test.

Yes, stabbing.

Its piercing through the skin that sets a vampire apart from a human.

Full fledged vampires could be stabbed and feel almost nothing at all, fully healing soon after. Its the lack of blood that was the telltale sign, the only small amount left inside their bodies being a black color.

This was the reason why full fledged ones felt cold to the touch.

A hybrid leaning more towards the human side would feel a somewhat regular amount of pain, but it’s dull in comparison. Fresh blood would spew from the wound, creating a large mess. Hybrids like this were rare.

You were on the line closer to vampires. You’d feel the piercing sting, the rush of warmth gushing from your wound, but barely flinching. It just didn’t bother you.

This barbaric test was admistered by your mother senior year at Nevermore during parents weekend - right across from Wednesday Addams, a girl you didn’t even know but sat near on this day only because your mother and her mother were friends from their academy days.

She stabbed you right in the neck, already fully confident that you would be completely fine. She just had to test this theory. She didn’t mean to catch you off guard, she fully expected you to dodge or something.

But you didn’t.

Your blood spurted onto your mother, who wore a knowing yet disappointed grin, still maintaining her conversation with Morticia. Unfortunately, you choked on the blood bubbling in your throat and coughed a significant amount onto the gothic girl.

Red mixed with black, a beautiful sight just like the one you saw at the Rave’N some time agox

You wouldve apologized immediately if your mother hadn’t temporarily rendered you inable to speak.

Surprisingly, though, it was Wednesday who reached across the table, pulling the knife from your neck before you had the chance, her eyes glued to the unusually dark blood spewing from the wound. Even if you were more vampire than human, you still bled quite a bit.

It was a gruesome and a horrific sight to most people, but you supposed the Addams family wasn’t like most people.

In fact, you were pretty sure Wednesday in particular liked the sight of blood.

Of course, the sudden significant amount of blood loss made you faint, but it wasn’t really that painful.

By the time you woke up, the wound was completely healed.. but you were in dire need of a new uniform. You looked like you were just murdered.

After that day, Wednesday was infatuated by you. Or perhaps you had just imagined it, because for the rest of senior year she was constantly trying to catch you off-guard and stab you.

A deadly dance. It was a bit annoying when you were carrying something like a cup of coffee or juice and you accidentally spill it to avoid the blade.

You learned from a text from your mother a month after you fainting that this was because she had asked Wednesday to keep you on your toes, not at all happy that you couldn’t react fast enough to stop her from stabbing you - claiming that you embarrassed her.

It was easy to conclude that vampire society was beyond fucked up from this text, but it was hard to complain. A pretty girl constantly stalking you, trying to catch you off guard to deliver a bloody blow was like a romantic gesture in your eyes.

You admit, you senses were shit, and she was helping you listen to them more by doing this. You supposed it was necessary, on the account of the real world, the world outside of Nevermore, absolutely hating vampires. No doubt in your mind, someone else would probably stab you too - and it would ruin your clothes. Regardless, a blow to the heart was still fatal, you had to be careful.

It was like cat and mouse, but the mouse wouldnt die from the cat piercing its tiny body with its razor sharp claws.

And you definitely knew the chase excited her as much as it did you - you did become friends from this after all.

And after Nevermore, you became lovers.

She was no longer as persistent in her persuit to catch you off guard and drive a dragger in your gut, especially after you finally learned how to dodge, far too busy with university.

Writing was still her passion, but so was gore and detective work. Yes, she was working towards becoming a forensic investigator, planning to use real life experiences to aid in her writing creativity - just like she did while at Nevermore.

There was no doubt in your mind, she would be the best.

She always was the best at most things she did, and bringing you pleasure was something she believed only she could do.

Yes, a sickeningly twisted match made in hell.

Luckily, you found a cheap house to live in after you graduated from the academy. Multiple people mysteriously died in it and now it was dirt cheap. Perfect for the creepy duo.

She wanted it to stay a creepy, an abandoned looking mess, but you eventually compromised and got a contractor to renovate the place with leftover funds. It quite literally looked like it could fall apart at any second.

Once done, it was still creepy but now it was beautiful, like a black dahlia.

Though it’s definitely haunted, the only one with permission to end your life was Wednesday herself.

Every time she tied you to your shared bed and lightly dragged a knife down your stomach she’d remind you. She could easily sink it into your heart at any moment, twisting it in your flesh.

You swore this.. kink.. only developed after getting involved with this girl. Not that you minded. You adored being the only one who could fulfill her twisted desires.

Wet squelches filled the air, your thighs trembling as they sat wrapped tightly around her small waist, her black strap on pounding into you with trained exact precision that made your insides feel like goo and set your mind on ablaze.

“Mine..” She’d rasp, leaning over you to gaze into your hazy (e/c) eyes, bloodied, custom carved knife sitting right against the base of your neck, “You’re mine.”

Wednesday was a pretty possessive person over what was hers.

She carved a W into the skin just below your collar bone, above your heart that skipped a beat. Wednesday watched in sick satisfaction as your back arched, your slick lips parting to moan like a slut with each slice as your own warm blood trickled down your body, staining the white sheets that was already covered in blood.

It looked like a crime scene. The bed groaned as you tugged at the restraints, white hot pleasure blinding you. The burn felt so good, pleasure blossoming like flowers in the spring.

Your abused pussy clenched down so hard on her strap-on that you momentarily made it hard for her to move deep inside of you, eliciting a slight chuckle from her.

“Sweet thing, my dear poisioned apple..” She drawled as you whimpered, staring with doe eyes up at her, knife digging into your skin as she dragged it up your throat to just under your chin. Blood painted your skin in a beautiful black cherry color as you shakily inhaled.

The silvery light of the moon poured in from the hastily shut black curtains, illuminating her breathtaking form. She looked like more of a corpse than you, beauty ethereal.

It was moments like these that you swore you were under some sort of spell, frozen in time.

“You amaze me.”

The bloodied knife was discarded beside you, having already served its purpose - evidence being the multiple healed stab wounds from earlier in the night.

Her cold hands smeared with crimson moved one of your legs up onto her shoulder so she could fuck you deeper into the creaking mattress, spiders crawling around in her stomach at the beautiful cries you let out. She then grabbed the red vibrator sitting on the bed, turning it on medium before holding it to your cute, twitching clit.

“A-aAh!”

The sudden buzzing sensation against your sensitive bundle of already abused nerves made you yelp, damn near pushing her away from you as your hips jerked, body subconsciously squirming to get away from the sudden intense pleasure.

“W-Wednesday!! Wednesday-! Aa-aahn!! S’to much!! It’s ugNN!”

The smirking ravenette eagerly drank up your besutiful cries, even going as far as to lick away the stray tears leaking from your eyes.

You couldn’t escape her intense love even if you tried. Not that you would want to.

There was a safe word, you’d use it if you needed to.

Roughly grasping your face with her other hand, she pulled you in for a searing hot kiss that was undeniably lewd, your fangs accidentally cutting her lip as she kissed you deeply.

Her lips felt like molten hot lava against your own.

Your brain was absolutely fried, the delicious taste of her own blood seeping into your mouth sending you over the edge as her tongue fought a one sided battle with your own.

You could barely think, she once again fucked you dumb.

Pleasure so intense you felt as though your nerves were on fire shot down your spine as she drank your moans and pathetic whines with lips painted in her own blood. The familiar, embarrassing feeling filled your system as your squirted all over your lovers lower body, creaming on the strap-on that was fucking you through your intense orgasm.

Your nails dug into your palms, feeling so helpless from the mind-shattering pleasure overtaking you.

The juices from your cunt left a large puddle below your ass, mixing with the arousal that dripped down her own creamy thighs.

Her hips continuing to snap into yours did nothing to ground you, neither did her tender touch on your cheek. Your whole body was shaking as fresh tears poured from your eyes from how overwhelming and overstimulating the pleasure she graciously gifted you with was.

“There, there, (Y/N),” She cooed, voice sweet like sugar, “It’s alright. I’m here.”

Her voice, usually monotonous but now sprinkled with adoration, faded away as black dots overtook your vision - you passed out from exhaustion.

That was the fifth intense orgasm of the night, after all.

Wednesday had a lot of pent of frustration that night from work and school, and you were all too willing to indulge her.

Stilling her hips, she kissed sweetly at your neck that was absolutely covered in her love bites before licking a long stripe up your throat, tasting your own metallic blood on her tongue. She quite enjoyed the taste that was uniquely yours.

Pulling away, she observed your bloodied form with unblinking eyes whilst sitting back on her haunches, huffing out a breath from the workout.

You were just what she needed.

All your wounds were already healed, the blood from older ones from earlier in the night having already crusted while the newer blood remained wet.

Sighing, Wednesday pulled out of your sweet pussy, watching for a moment as you clenched around nothing.

Intense after care was always a must after love-making sessions like these, and she prided herself in being an expert at it. A warm wash cloth was already on your chest as she began gently wiping away the blood, occasionally kissing at the freshly cleaned skin.

Any ghosts in this house were definitely traumatized, and no doubt afraid of her at this point. Wednesday’s lips twitched with a slight smile at the thought.

She had already turned the bath faucet on, your favorite essential oils already in the tub, as well as a few lit candles around the room to add to the ambience. She loves you, and she knew little things like this showed it.

You’d wake up soon, and she’d be damned if you werent relaxing in that tub when you did. She knew your body would be sore, the warm water should have already relaxed your arching muscles by the time you awake.

While your sex life may be fucked up and twisted in a way normies couldn’t understand, hell - you were pretty sure only some vampires saw the appeal, it was fun and full of unwavering love, devotion, and loyalty. Even if it looked like medieval torture and you both had to constantly buy new sheets.

Yes, you were hers as she was yours - the W above your chest may have fully healed, leaving no trace of it’s existence, but Wednesday had already stabbed her dagger into your heart years ago.

please be kind im fragile lolol

.

[xclowniex]

I saw you posted about the song Harbu Darbu. Why is Dua Lipa Bella hadid and Mia Khalifa mentioned in it? Like it seems wild to have beef with am ex porn star?

So I'm going to go into what each celeb did to be antisemitic, what the lyrics about them mean in English and why its not about them being Palestinian, arab or pro Palestine.

On the surface it does seem weird to have beef with an ex porn star however it's less so beef and moreso calling out problematic celebrities.

All of the celebs mentioned have either participated in antisemitism or supported Hamas/oct 7th. It's not just because they're Palestinian (Bella Hadid) or arab (Mia Khalifa) or dated a Palestinian (Dua Lipa).

Bella Hadid has spread blood libel. Her and Gigi have been called out many times over the years for their antisemitism. You can only accidentally be antisemitic so many times before it goes from "whoopsie didnt realize this was antisemitic" to "I'm hiding my antisemitism as an accident and not knowing better even though I do know better and hate jews"

Dua Lipa has claimed that what Israel is doing is ethnic cleansing which is false and rooted in blood libel. She has also shared a post on her Instagram in the past which states that Israeli jews are fake jews.

Mia Khalifa has tweeted "Can someone please tell the freedom fighters in Palestine  to flip their phones and film horizontal." And she also posted a photo of hamasniks in a ute on their way to attack jews with the caption "Renaissance painting".

She posted a photo of herself drinking wine that was made in Reims in France when Nazis controlled Reims and had the caption "my wine is older than your apartheid 'state'". So you know, she was boasting about drinking wine made during the time when jews were being taken from France to nazi camps to be killed.

There is just so much she has done too.

All of this is super easy to find on Google to fact check it yourself.

Now going into the lyrics of the song, in English it goes

Bella Hadid, Dua Lipa, Mia Khalifa, every dog gets what's coming to them.

Please keep in mind that not every language directly translates into English with perfect accuracy. However the line essentially just means "Karma is gonna get you"

It's not calling for those celebs to be killed. It just saying that Karma will get them.

[irasamu]

. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 MY HEART IS ALREADY YOUR'S, JUST CLAIM IT ; an atsushi nakajima drabble. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . athelete atsushi fluff? hell yeah!! give atsushi love you guys. (aka give me attention).

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw; angst, fluff, hurt to comfort idk, fem!reader, footballer!atsushi, actress!reader, anxious atsushi, atsushi has low self esteem, atsushi and reader are just cute fools in love and that's it ig,

sometimes losing is essential for the development of a person but not now. atsushi is ready to loose anything but this moment, his perfect and only opportunity to open his heart and serve it on a platter. oh whatever entity is above , he prays to you tonight to let things go his way for once. atsushi doesn't deem himself worthy of many things and it's the same now as he runs, bumping into people and profusely apologizing to them, anxious eyes glancing back to make sure his bouquet of flowers he carefully picked doesn't get damaged in the slightest.

atsushi is a man of sorrow, of disappointments and of unfortune but he had always gambled his way, betting his entire life for the temporary and fabricated worth to breath, to inhale without feeling as if he owns something and everything to everyone. the burning in his knees aren't from fatigue, he is a good runner or he wouldn't be in the national team but from fear.

he knows he doesn't have much time but please, oh please, let him have a few minutes at most. that's all he needs and deserves. feeling himself near the port where it all started years ago when atsushi was still a freshman in university, atsushi feels the same he felt that day.

anxious, scared yet excitement coated with nervousness.

and as the adults in his life turned a blind eye to his misfortunes, he too, turns a deaf ear to the thumping in his heart.

he speeds up, his eyes sparkles and he stops in his tracks entirely. the transition of his panick to cold anxiety is impressive but not more impressive then you who waited for him even if he is half an hour late from the original meet up time that he had set and shame not only backhugs him but makes its authority, its dominance over him clear in the form of the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"i . . . am late, sor-"

"-- yeah, you are late."

you two spoke at the same time and even the way you two widened your eyes happened at the same time.

atsushi had never been a man of fake hope but come on, this moment can't be a coincidence right?

raising his hand to place it on his nape which he then rubbed to form some friction strong enough to take his attention away from his furiously beating heart, atsushi glances down, biting his lip for his words are lost in the labyrinth which is his brain.

you bite your thumb, anxious eyes staying on him before falling on the bouquet of flowers by his side but you don't speak rather, you can't. you have never been one to speak first after all.

a few minutes of agonizing silence passed by before the small yet prominent part of atsushi which is a rebel compared to the rest of his personality, shouted, begged even for him to speak out now or hold this same cruel silence forever.

and who is atsushi but not a man and who is a man but not him who doesn't take the opportunity presented infront of him, taking the risk all for that success which isn't even guaranteed to be his?

taking a deep breath, his stomach is churning in anxiety, he exhales and couldn't, no matter how much he tried to, ignore the sweat forming on his nape.

atsushi raised his head, feeling his fingers turn cold and the coldness spreading to the rest of his hand.

atsushi took a step forward and grabbed your forearm, pulling you near him.

"i . . . please come to support me tomorrow, it's the semi finals."

oh.

no, no -- wait no.

oh god, no.

this wasn't what he wanted to say, he wanted to confess today yet no matter how much atsushi matures, how much he heals, he will remain the same coward he was ever since a kid.

atsushi could feel tears pooling in his eyes at utter disappointment at his own self, lips parted yet closed because will a confession even matter now? he ruined his chances.

calling you out despite knowing your movie premiere is in a few hours, finding time to squeeze out of his own hectic training to run all the way here and all for a measly invitation?

your heart squeezed in pain upon seeing tears in the eyes of the angel who stood with you many time despite your habit of always fucking over everything.

you knew you would either be proud or regret this moment but when has any of that ever mattered when it comes to atsushi so you step forwards, hesitantly raising your arms before you engulfed the man in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer.

atsushi broke down.

mayhaps it's the pressure of representing the country in the semi finals of the world cup, the expectations of his teammates, the fear of failing infront of the entire world, failing infront of you or maybe it's because he is disappointed in itself, lost his faith in himself and because he doesn't think he is worthy of hugging you

"if you win tomorrow," you pause, sadly looking down at his trembling form as he silently cries, ashamed and embarrassed, disappointed and sorrowful, ". . .take me out on a date and kiss me by the end of the night."

you complete your sentence as you didn't mind his arms being by his sides and not encircling your waist. you take the bouquet from his hand while you continue to rub his back in a comforting way with the other.

atsushi nods, face hiding in the crook of your neck and you close your eyes, relishing in the short moment of peace your heart acquired before your big show tonight, nothing but well wishes and hopes leaving your heart for the white haired man who is in your arms.

and you sigh, in disappointment or sadness, you aren't sure but one thing for certain is that atsushi nakajima won't confess today even if his feelings are awfully obvious.

and you? you will wait, for tomorrow, for you were tired of waiting and gave him the shove he needed.

and you could only hope that the status of your relationship changes tomorrow and who is atsushi if not a man?

and who is a man who doesn't grasp the opportunity presented to him?

and atsushi is a man, a human of the rawest form or else is there any better explanation to explain why only a day later, as atsushi scored the last goal, his first instinct wasn't to run towards his teammates and celebrate, wasn't to admire the fireworks fired to congratulate the winning team ; the team he is a part of.

but to look at the bleachers where thousands of fans sat and between them, were you, his eyes immediately found you because he had been looking at you many times once his teammate pointed you out to him.

your heart thumped in your chest, a grin couldn't be stopped by your self control from taking over your face as you continued to look at atsushi who pointed at himself, ran a hand through his hair, showed you two fingers -- his index and middle finger to indicate 'two' -- before he pointed at his wrist and then finally looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

in response, you tilted your head as you pouted subtly before closing your eyes as you shrugged and nodded, giggling upon seeing atsushi being swarmed by his teammates running and jumping onto him.

"two hours . . . i have spend an entire year while waiting for you to confess so two more hours isn't a big deal for me." you mumbled to yourself, not even thinking of the scandals and articles the media will publish centred on you and atsushi.

your eyes soften at the sight below of the happy and excited team members who ruffled atsushi's hair or congratulated him for his goal did end up being the one to make them enter the finals after all.

the grin on atsushi's face, sweat dribbling down his temples and the way sweet laughs left his lips were the sight you wanted to see forever.

when you leaned your chin on your palm and leaned forwards, you could almost picture atsushi being this joyful with your kids -- having a family with atsushi? the thought had you biting down on your bottom lip shyly.

atsushi ran towards his coach who patted his back, congratulating him and throwing a few praises which had the younger boy blushing in embarrassment when his eyes, once again, found you and atsushi tuned out from the world, his eyes were focused on only you and the adrenaline from winning which was still in his veins converted into courage and the small prominent part of him, the rebel, possessed him when atsushi raised his hand to point at you before blowing a flying kiss in your direction, winking after and the way he smirked when he saw your eyes widen in surprise before you smiled had nearly the entire stadium squealing at the sight of the man.

atsushi chuckled, turning to face his teammate as he talked to him for a few minutes before he looked at you again, winking again, taking advantage of this newfound courage in him and something about the sight of a sweat drenched atsushi with his hair messed up winking has you clenching your thighs and smiling like a lovesick fool.

you cover your bottom half of your face with your palm to conceal your smile from the many eyes and atsushi laughed, covering and rubbing his face with his hands -- the camera flashed capturing both of you in the moment and it will surely make a good cover picture on tomorrow's articles.

atsushi's coach playfully slapped his back, leading him out of the stadium and your smile didn't dare leave your face as you see him laugh, hiding the upper half of his face with his hand as he didn't try to fight the countless teasings of his teammates, he liked it, liked when they spoke of your name and his in the same sentence.

[markerofthemidnight]

So, I was bored and looking around the ‘net for something to draw, when I found this awesome “draw six characters like this” template on a random Reddit post.

Anyways, even though I had to look up what almost all of these prompts were, I really liked essentially all the potential designs that could come out of them based off of my quick Google searches, so I went ahead and did it!

This whole thing took me a total of NINE HOURS, making it the longest time it’s ever taken me to finish any singular artwork. As you can see, I also finally figured out how to upload images onto canvases on ibisPaint X! THE POWER I NOW WIELD!

(basic rundown of designs under cut)

B-Side Wiggly - Most B-Side designs are basically just “the character but with a different colour scheme and a few new accessories”, at least from what I’ve seen. I don’t know why I chose Tinky’s colour scheme specifically, but I like the mix between blue and gold.

Naturally, as this is a B-Side design, I gave him a microphone for the whole… rapping thing. I also replaced his coral crown with a dollar store paper one, turned the frown on his fur pattern upside-down, and you can’t really see it because of the pose, but he also has Wiley’s dog tag necklace.

Dark World Adam - This was the only form I didn’t look up, but mainly because I knew even if I did, I wouldn’t get much out of it. We haven’t seen enough Dark World designs to be able to see much consistency from them.

The stripes on his horns kinda looking like an Imp’s (and being pieced with jewels because if his horns were real he’d totally do that) and his wings being more demon-y was intentional, but him kinda dressing like Toriel wasn’t. I just thought his robe being dark purple with flames on the sleeves and the Delta Rune on his chest would be fitting- a complete coincidence, but a fairly fitting one nonetheless!

Tainted Tozu - This one’s kind of a bastardisation of Tainted forms, because all I did was look it up once and go, “Ah, yes. I have to make one of my favourite characters look like a character from a bad creepypasta with some shoehorned-in religious symbolism.”

Naturally, Tozu was the only fitting option for that. I gave his mask a black half to call back to his OG design, turned his fake horns into real horns, and turned the X on his cape into a real X made of blood. I also went ABSOLUTELY HARD on making his eye look as creepy as possible without overdoing it- I think I did well!

Shimmering Pomni - Now, I didn’t technically need to look this one up, but I haven’t touched Terraria in a while so I needed a recap on what exactly Shimmer forms looked like. I was surprised to see that a fair bunch of them are actually references to various other games- with that, I was left with only one option.

Gave her cape a star design on its interior… mainly because it looked good, but also because the Star Cloak exists, and no matter how subtle it was, I needed to throw some Terraria stuff in there SOMEHOW. Hence the presence of the little magical girl stars around her: no matter how much of a Deltarune reference it seems, it’s still a Shimmer design at heart.

Moonbound Mind - Looked up what exactly a Moonbound design was only to quickly see that they are ABSOLUTELY AWESOME holy fuck I love this aesthetic???

Naturally, there was noone more fitting for a Moonbound Design than… the Sun. What, did you think I’d say Heart? Gave him a nice little royal design (he’s the ruler of everything in the end~) …and I don’t know why I made that moss so sparkly, but. It looks good. I like sparkly things, alright?!

Mirror Dimension Myke - That’ll only make sense to people who have been following me for the past few months, but that’s right! Myke’s a Visitant in the Mirror Dimension! A fairly sadistic and hostile Visitant, but… hey, it’s Myke, what were you expecting?

I chose the Mirror Dimension specifically for this free space… pretty much because I wanted another excuse to talk about it. The thought process behind his design was basically just “make him look like a really cool superhero”, fitting for a defender of the truth such as himself.

The visor was inspired by Peridot from Steven Universe, what with the similar colour schemes they have, and… hey- hey Myke, THE TEMPLATE! STAY INSIDE THE TEMPLATE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

[nullbutler]

just had the most mind blowingly awesome weekend with @porcelain-rob0t my cousin. even if things are hard good stuff will come out of it, from it, or is waiting at the very end of it.

also if you have online friends... try to meet them asap. the online world is fake, yknow? its discourses and call out posts and assumptions and stupid shit that doesnt actually matter in a real way, but we're starved on an environment and told it Actually does. no it doesn't. look around. look at your hands. look at your friends.

try to meet in person. flesh and blood. know that sure that might be a voice in your head but in a much more real sense that is a person. sometimes it isnt possible, but by god is it essential to let that fact sink in. THIS is a PERSON. a real human living breathing bloody person who cares about you, who wants to share a meal with you, who wants to watch episodes of a sitcom until both your brains turn into sludge. thats a buddy, not just a ghost on a screen

and i swear with new determination, i will make a life for myself where we arent thousands of miles apart, because we are not meant to be that far away from the people we love

[2baddiesfanfics]

Let Destiny Decide (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Kafka x Himeko

Tags: Angst, Exes, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering

Summary:

In this prequel chapter, we take a step back to the past, peering into how Kafka and Himeko became so much more than coworkers.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2: Just Stay

Never in a million years did Kafka imagine this was where she’d end up. She’d spent a good chunk of her life running from, well, everything. Who would have thought a stranger – one she had plowed into, no less – would be the first to see a glimmer of potential in her and give her a chance?

It had all seemed a little too perfect. Kafka had always written off the concept of fate or destiny as utter bullshit. The stuff of fairy tales and daydreams. A way to cope with how fucked up the present was.

Until she met Himeko. Even as she listened to her chastise her reckless actions, she couldn’t focus on the words coming out of her mouth. She was dumbstruck by her beauty. The way her golden eyes shown with genuine concern disguised as irritation. Brought back to reality by the fiery-haired woman’s extended hand, she suddenly had the feeling that if she took it, the trajectory of her life would change in unimaginable ways.

For once in her life, she was right.

As the two hopped from planet to planet, Kafka went from being excited to take on missions with her to being legitimately frightened. She was tough. She was used to manipulating and faking her way through every possible scenario that could be thrown at her. What she didn’t know how to handle were these very real feelings starting to emerge. Himeko was essentially her boss and the reason she was no longer scrounging around for a place to rest her head at night.

And she had fallen in love with her. God, she hated that word. There had been a time when she might have believed in the concept. But she had been burned far too many times. Now the term carried a connotation that made bile start to rise in her throat.

As if someone like her would ever feel that way about someone like me. I’m lucky she even bothered to take a gamble and bring me on. As long as I can call the Express my home, I’ll live with being nothing more than a coworker.

Or so she thought.

They’d recently picked up a gig on a planet famous for its high-end clientele and luxurious nightclubs. It was a messy job with more than a few close calls. In the end, they had made it through unscathed – mostly. At first, Himeko had railed at her.

Goddammit, Kafka! We had him right there and you almost let him get away!

Listen here, princess. If we had done it your way, he WOULD have gotten away. Look, I know my ways may be a bit…unorthodox, but we got the job done. No harm, no foul. You should be thanking me, really.

Himeko scoffed and practically ran to her room. Kafka figured this was yet another one of her melodramatic acts to prompt her to apologize for her behavior. And as always, she’d refuse to give in. She knew things would soon blow over and they’d be back to business as usual. An hour went by, and sure enough, she heard the cabin door open. The sight that greeted her threatened to break her emotionless façade.

She emerged from her room in an extremely tight scarlet dress that barely made it mid-thigh. Kafka had seen her dressed up before for client meetings, but this was certainly not what she normally wore for those situations. She chose her next words carefully.

“Job’s over. What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion? We’re on a planet renowned for its party scene. I think I’ve earned a drink or two. I’ll be back later. Or tomorrow. I suppose it’ll depend on how the night goes. Say goodnight to Pom Pom for me.”

Kafka felt the blood drain from her face. Calm the fuck down. She’s doing this shit on purpose. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

“I see. Have fun.”

“Oh, I plan on it. Bye now. And Kafka? Don’t wait up for me.”

————————-

The beat of the music thrummed through Kafka’s entire body as she sauntered past the bouncer and straight to the bar. Flashing lights ricocheted off the sequins of her midnight black dress. Heads turned, but she couldn’t care less.

“What can I get you, miss?” The bartender shouted over the heavy bass.

“Whisky. The hardest you’ve got,” she commanded.

He nodded, poured, and traded the glass for her credits. She took a sip, the amber liquor scorching the back of her throat. Scanning the crowd, her eyes shifted from one end of the packed dancefloor to the other. Himeko was here. She knew she was. For work purposes, they tracked their respective locations on their phones in case one got into a pinch and needed to be located quickly and quietly.

Finally, her gaze locked on to that which it sought. How could she miss that hair, red as the glass of merlot she had in her hand, the other wrapped around the waist of some unknown woman as they writhed together to the pulse of the song. If she gripped her now-empty tumbler any harder, it would shatter in her hand. Her vision had blurred slightly and she had to focus her steps as she trod to the spot in front of the DJ.

Grabbing her shoulder, Himeko turned and her eyes widened in sudden recognition. The woman she had been dancing with took one look at Kafka and could tell it would be in her best interest to find another partner.

“What are you doing here? I don’t believe I gave you an invitation,” she yelled into her ear.

“You know what I’m doing here. Don’t play dumb and quit fucking with me,” Kafka shouted back.

“I just came here to blow off some steam. Fuck off,” Himeko sneered.

“I can see that. Was she the one who bought you that drink?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t see why it matters to you.”

Snatching the glass from her hand, Kafka knocked back the liquid that remained. Grabbing Himeko’s hips, she pulled her against her violently. Her breath hot in her ear, she said, “Let me tell you why it matters. I know you like pushing my buttons, but I’m not a monster. I have feelings, just like you. You came here deliberately to make me jealous. I don’t think that’s playing fair.” Her lips were so close Himeko could feel them against her skin.

The woman leaned into Kafka’s embrace as they swayed to the rhythm. “And since when have you ever played fair, Kafka? Why do you think I get so upset when you pull stupid shit like you did today, hmmm? You’re a smart woman. You can figure it out.”

Spinning her around so Himeko’s back was flush against her chest, she made sure she could hear her reply. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

The woman turned her head, pressing her scarlet-stained lips hard against Kafka’s. Was it seconds? Minutes? Neither could tell. Kafka only regained her ability to think when she felt herself hit a wall. Twirling their bodies, she pinned Himeko against it. The people around them were far too occupied with their own good time to interrupt theirs.

Finally, Himeko pulled away, ducking under the other woman’s arms. “Now. I’m going to go get that drink I was sipping on until someone decided it was theirs. It tastes much better out of a clean glass than off your filthy lips,” she spat out before heading back to the bar.

Kafka stood dumbstruck, bracing herself with her hands against the wall. What the hell just happened? Spinning around to try and catch a glimpse of her, she watched as yet another woman approached Himeko at the bar. The room spun and fire shot through her veins as she witnessed her place her hand gently on the lady’s arm. Although she couldn’t hear it over the cacophony of sound, she could tell Himeko was laughing daintily at whatever stupid fucking thing this bitch must have told her.

Kafka’s fingers hovered involuntarily against her lips, the sensation of Himeko’s on hers still weighing heavy. The object of her desire glanced back toward her as she watched her process all that had transpired in a matter of minutes. Collecting herself, Kafka tread over and inserted herself between Himeko and this stranger.

“So, you just decide to make out with me and then walk away? Is that really how you want to remember our first kiss?” Kafka asked with her signature sarcasm.

Himeko rolled her eyes. “Are you really that dense, or can you not see I’m in the middle of something here?” She knew she was getting to her. The leader of the Astral Express could scheme with the best of them. The two hadn’t traveled together for very long, but it was long enough for her to know exactly how to get into her head.

Kafka sneered at the unknown encroacher standing next to her, a deep-seated rage blazing in her gaze. “Leave,” she commanded. The interloper didn’t need to be asked twice as she scurried off as fast as her high-heels could carry her.

Chugging down what remained in her glass, she gave her a stern look. “What do you want, Kafka? You want me to tell you that kiss meant something? Or would you rather hear about how I think about you when I’m alone in my room?”

Kafka knew they were both buzzed at a minimum, but despite this could tell what she had just admitted was not a mere slip of the tongue. A low growl hitched in her throat at her words.

“Or that it irritates me when you break the very explicit rules I set on our missions, but won’t allow yourself to break the rules between us?”

Before she could retaliate, Himeko grabbed her by the hand and led her to the dance floor once more. “Since you’ve scared away my partners tonight, you’re taking their place.”

She pressed her body against Kafka’s, grinding against her as the music drowned out their thoughts. Unsure how to respond, she let Himeko lead, grabbing her by the waist to keep herself steady. There was no way she’d be able to form a coherent thought having her ass rub against her crotch like this anyway. Might as well enjoy it.

As soon as the DJ ended his set, Himeko grabbed Kafka’s wrist and practically sprinted to the exit. Their ears rang from intense volume and adrenaline, preventing them from discussing the matter further.

Himeko had already planned to not return to the Astral Express that night and reserved a hotel room - not to fuck a stranger, but to have a discreet place to sleep off the inevitable hangover. Once behind closed doors, she could no longer control herself. She lunged toward Kafka, her tongue seeking the warm wetness of her mouth.

Trying to catch her breath, Kafka pulled back. “Princess…are you sure about this?” She wanted this more than anything but didn’t want to take advantage of the situation.

“Did I not just tell you how it upsets me that you won’t break the rules between us? Of course I’m sure. Now shut up and fuck me,” Himeko demanded as she stripped out of her dress. Kafka quickly followed suit.

Pushing her down onto the bed, Himeko moved to straddle her. “Gods how I’ve dreamed of this,” Himeko whispered as she peppered kisses across Kafka’s chest.

“Why didn’t you just say so? You’re such a go-getter, I figured you more for the ‘take what I want’ type,” Kafka groaned in response.

Himeko peered up at her with lust-filled eyes. Kissing up to her neck she stopped to lick and suck at the tender flesh before biting down.

“Fuck! I suppose I deserved that.”

“Well…you did just tell me to take what I want,” she responded cheekily.

“Ah, I see you’re a bratty princess,” Kafka teased.

Himeko massaged Kafka’s breasts, causing her to moan into her mouth. Her other hand snaked between her lover’s thighs, her index finger easily gliding between her soaking wet folds.

She smirked as she brought her finger back up to her line of sight to inspect it. “For someone who talks a big game, it sure doesn’t take much to get you ready, hmm?”

“What was it you said to me before? Oh yes. Shut up and fuck me,” Kafka ground out.

Himeko continued to collect her arousal before inserting a single digit into her. Slowly thrusting in and out, she allowed her to adjust to the welcome intrusion.

“Ah…princess…you have no idea…how long I’ve wanted this,” Kafka heaved.

Moving her fingers faster, Himeko replied, “You’ll have to show me how bad you want me after I make you come.”

Kafka’s hips bucked in time, her senses going haywire at the feeling of the other woman’s lips on her neck and her fingers pinching and pulling her nipple. Himeko felt her walls contracting around her, and, knowing she was close, used her thumb to stroke her clit.

“Ohhhhhhh, Himeko!!” She shouted in ecstasy as she hit her peak, her hands gripping the sheets beneath them. The leader of the Astral Express kissed her bare shoulder tenderly, trying to convey through actions what her words could not yet communicate.

“Mmmm…I was right to be jealous. Anyone who gets that treatment besides me is now on my hit list.”

Himeko glared at her, and she held up her hands in surrender, smirking.

“Kidding! Kidding. But I do hope I can make you feel the same way.” Her eyes shown with a look that felt dangerous - and Himeko was ready to find out why.

“Let’s see if you can make me not regret taking you home instead of that gorgeous blonde I was dancing with earlier.”

Kafka snarled and pounced on her, her hand grabbing her by the sides of her neck. “My, my. I know you love to rile me up, but I’ll make you regret toying with me like that.” She dove forward, their mouths crashing against each other.

Himeko felt Kafka’s canines sink into her bottom lip and she could no longer put up a strong resistance. Her hand slid around the back of her head pulling her in deeper, harder. Kafka smiled as the other woman moaned into her mouth. This would be easier than she thought.

Her lips traveled across her neck as she moved down her body. Resting between the curve of her breasts, she alternated between gentle kisses and rough nibbles, relishing the noisy reactions she received. Himeko’s fingers were threaded through her hair, pulling and tugging in a wordless plea for more.

Kafka had always admired her physique. She was lovely, with a body that reminded her of those statues of ancient Greek goddesses. Having now experienced the way her naked skin felt under her lips, tongue, and fingers, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to live without it.

Without even having to ask, Himeko voluntarily spread her legs as if beckoning her to taste. Kafka positioned herself at her entrance, teasing her ever so softly with the tip of her tongue.

“Gods…Kafka…fuck…” she whined, too proud to beg for more. She could feel the woman chuckle against her, the vibration shooting directly to her clit. Not wanting to taunt her even more, she started with long, languid licks as she luxuriated in this taste she had longed to experience. For someone who drank coffee like it was her job, her flavor was unusually sweet. I could get used to this, Kafka thought.

She stroked the sensitive bud with her tongue, listening to Himeko’s groans hit a crescendo.

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” she ordered as she inserted a pair of fingers, pumping in time with the strokes of her tongue.

“Ahhhhhh Kafkaaaaaa! I-I’m…” the last word was lost as she let out a primal cry of pleasure, her thighs squeezing Kafka’s head to keep her in place.

Removing her fingers from her, she licked them clean as Himeko watched hungrily. She could swear her already flushed cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Fucking delicious,” Kafka muttered before plopping down beside her. Worn out from the emotional rollercoaster they had both ridden that night, they shared a yawn as they fought to keep their eyes open.

“Himeko…about tonight…where-“

The woman interrupted her with another kiss. Resting her forehead on hers, her tired eyes pleaded for silence.

“Kafka, please. Not tonight. Let’s not complicate it. We’ll have all the time in the world to discuss it tomorrow. For now, just…stay.”

[auspex]

VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt : The Empress

Hello! Here is my fourth fic for Fangfest 2024 :)

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

my first fic is here

my second fic is here

my third fic is here

This fic is about a Nosferatu from the game I am the storyteller for, Blood and Silicon, which has its own blog run by the player @chiss-ticism here: @sanguineasylum. This one was a bit rushed so perhaps less well proof-read as the others D:

Van lazily threw a paper plane towards the garbage. “Now Vic,” she flicked one of her hoop earrings as she spoke; “I understand what he’s askin’ me to do. What I’m not sure about is if this one is worth the risk, and the time. We’re busy these nights, you know that.”  

Rubbing his face profusely, though expertly avoiding the open boils that covered his skin, Vic spoke through his hands. “Ugh. Look. Don’t kill me Van.” 

“The hell does that mean.” 

“Ok so,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest protectively. “We get the usual payment, a promising contact in LA, and we fuck over the Ventrue. And I uhm, kind of accidentally already said we’d do it.” 

Van’s voice was gravel. Even more so than usual. “Hand me the fucking file. Then get out.” 

“Thanksyou’rethebest bye!” 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. 

Flipping through it, the request seemed routine. The only trouble was who it was for. But hey, no one said this shit would be easy. Van wouldn’t let Vic know it, but she would have agreed anyways. 

So many kindred wanted to travel to LA these nights, ever since the anarch foothold there solidified. Smuggling those who were being hunted by the Camarilla to LA and getting them properly embedded was just one of the many services the Nosferatu of San Jose provided, and Van was the essential head of operations. Once they made it to her, only the last leg of the journey was left. 

It was straight down the freeway to LA. Any would-be Camarilla pursuers knew it, and if their quarry got this far, they tended to become desperate. 

Now, getting there was only half the battle, but Van handled everything - the trip, and getting settled. An all inclusive package, to those who would pay the cash, and be a source of intel for the Nosferatu for the next 2 decades of their unlives. After doing it for a decade, Van knew practically as much going on in LA as she did in San Jose. 

She drummed her long fingernails on her desk as she read through the profile. “Richard, Hoàng’s sire, huh.” Surprising. Richard had embraced Hoàng in San Jose and clearly was positioning him to work closely with promising up-and-comers. Such a long term strategy would imply Richard wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

But it seems his past was catching up with him. Richard’s sire, Anthony, had recently awoken for torpor, and was not pleased with Richard’s defection. Those Cammie Ventrue had a reputation to uphold and all that. San Jose was far from New Orleans, his native city, but LA was even further from the Camarilla’s reach.  

Oh, fuck you Vic. And here was the kicker. 

Richard didn’t just want an introduction and safe passage to LA. He wanted his death faked, and assurance that the Nosferatu would corroborate his final death to any-would be investigators. 

Still, a deal could always be sweetened. Van smiled. Perhaps this actually presented an opportunity.

~

“Richard. Thanks for coming by.” 

“Of course. Thanks for having me. You have a lovely office. I like, erm, your posters.”

Van turned her head to look. Her tiger posters were striking, she had to admit. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Preciate’ it or whateva. Didn’t have you come by to show you my decor though.” 

The well-dressed Ventrue nodded and clasped his hands in front of them, laying them on the desk. He spoke in a slight Yat accent. “But of course. We can get down to business. How were you considering handling my proposal?” 

“Oh well, yanno.” She tilted her head deeply to the left, casually leaning and resting her head on her hand. “It’s not the most ridiculous thing I’ve considered. Pretty close to acceptable, actually.” 

Richard raised his eyebrows, but kept a congenial smile. “I thought it was found to be acceptable already?” 

“Look Richie. I dunno, I guess you twisted Vic’s arm about it, god knows it isn’t hard to, but if you want a job done right, it betta be worth my while. I’ll do it, but if you want a real convincin’ death? Let’s bring Hoàng into it.” 

His smile dropped. “You might need to do some explaining.” 

“It’s simple. Despite what you’ve done for him, proppin’ him up or whateva’, and despite keepin’ him bonded, anyone with a brain can see he resents you for forcing him to cut ties with his kid early. He’s barely a neonate.” 

“I can see where you’re going with this. Perhaps.” 

“No, ya don’t, I’m not done. I reach out to him, I cut a deal with him - say I’ll get ya killed, and keep his hands clean. Now we got a paper trail of the death. If your old man comes around, we accidentally leak the info.” Van accentuated the word ‘accidentally’ with air quotes quite dramatically with her unnaturally long nails. “Plus, Hoàng now owes the Nos for doin’ nothing we wouldn’t have done anyways, so we all benefit. I can arrange it. You don’t gotta worry bout’ a thing Richie. I just need ya to confirm some things about him… and provide somethin’ to prove-” again, accentuated by air quotes- “we got your ass.” 

“This could work. And please, call me Richard.” 

~

“Oh, Vic, it is good t’have a reputation. A lesser kindred could have never pulled that deal off. Now, when ya meet with Hoàng, be real nice, okay?” 

“I always am, Van.” 

“Ya, I know, that was sarcasm. Fuckit man, get meaner. Make sure he really feels like he owes us - Richie here positioned him well, let’s get that intel. Now get out.”  

Van turned before Victor could reply and returned to her spreadsheet on the computer screen. She didn’t much care for technology, but with the amount of cash she had… well, it definitely was easier to use than a physical calculator. 

Cobbling together fake IDs took lots of money. Bribing anarchs to accept Ventrue in LA cost extra. Vic really should have charged this asshole more.