#non binary vampire

[haredjarris]

I assume I need no introduction 💅

is there a word for gender dysphoria but it’s alleviated by dressing as a bisexual 18th century vampire slut

[jameslongforjimshortforgabriel]

honestly I love that we live in a timeline where beautiful queer media is available in so so many places and so easy to find and even mainstream like that's amazing and we overlook it most of the time

[oddballwriter]

Gender affirming procedure: getting vampirism

[thewingedwolf]

omg non-binary actor liv hewson has posted that they’re dying to play younger lestat and i would lovvvvve that so much

[rodrickheffeley]

this is the best representation I’ve gotten in media a vampire from Delhi with lethal face card who’s the biggest loser

[finalgrlpilled]

♱ take me alive. — ch i.: icarus ✶ vampyre!frerard ; (born, not made) — iwtv ; picture of dorian gray ; hannibal ; ethel cain inspired

"frank moan-snarls, pupils flaring to ochre-night, presses his mouth the back of gerard's offered thigh; splits beneath the weight of her foot slipping against the nape of his neck, bends and breaks and breathes; yours, in all things —" ☼

[reginleif-valkyrie]

I just wanted to tell everyone about this new novella I found! The main character is an aro, non-binary vampire that solves paranormal mysteries with a werewolf companion who is an oversized puppy. I was wiggling in my chair in glee the whole time I was reading it.

I must now go write fanfiction! 🧑‍💻📝

[apebellica]

Last night I finally watched I saw the TV glow and, in a very short amount of time, It has become one of those movies that makes me both want to rewatch It over and over again and simultaneously pill my skin off. This movie has quikly became one of my favorites, hands down. But! It's so intense and terrifying and dense that I think I need time to fully digest it.

Right now I can only say that I have never seen something like this (ok, maybe yes if we count We are all going to the world's fair, Jane Schoenbrun's first film), I never consumed a media SO damn dysphoric. You can feel it, clearly. It's in the cinematography, in the script, in the lighting, this sense of incongruity, this feeling of "there's something wrong, something doesn't add up, life shouldn't be this way". It's insane how a viewing like that satisfied a deep desire inside of me and incredibly shook me at the same time. Themes such as isolation, nostalgia, escapism, dissociation and the fear of not being able to distinguish what is truly real are brought to the screen with an imagery so extraordinarily beautiful in all its horror that I really don't know what to say other than ... wow. The more I think about it, the more I feel understood by this film. It's a strangely thrilling and exhilarating experience. This movie, among other things, like I said erlier in this post, is about dysphoria. The type of dysphoria we feel pre coming out (to ourself and to others), before realising this is why we feel this way, before accepting it and before deciding what we want to do in terms of transizioning.

I think the final scene, above all, while extremely disturbing, is a perfect representation of that realization: it pictures the panic, the fear associated with it. The protagonist sees something they cannot unsee and, at this point, you can never look back.

Don't mistake me, being trans, being non-binary is beautiful (I absolutely don't want to be cis) but sometimes it feels like that, like in that final scene, when you can't breathe and all you want is to scream. When you feel distant from other people, not understood and, all you want to do, is to open yourself up.

So yeah... This are my 2.00 AM toughts on I saw the TV glow.

The only thing I can say right now is that I need to rewatch this movie multiple times.

Aaaaand if you have toughts on this movie or you want to discuss It let me know!

PS: plz forgive me if the english is weird, It's not my first language O⁠_⁠o

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to get the creature to come to you. Like to give them a little gift of some sort.

[xaeyrnofnbe]

the secret to thoroughly enjoying the fanged four as a gaggle of evildoers is to understand that they're all actually lesbians, just for entirely different reasons and in different ways

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

New video! A topic I'm both passionate and correct about. Feel free to disagree with me in the comments if you like being wrong.

[cactus-pat]

Back at it again with the Y'allternative Cow-Goth look but this time with fangs

Also got myself a new fishnet crop top and waist belt-thing and I think I unlocked a new gender

[byhairmeow]

i hate math

[syncopein3d]

Left Alone 2: Discovery

Part 1: Abandoned

Tropes/content warnings: vampire whumpee, male whumpee, non-binary caretaker, morbidity or thoughts of death. There will be a lot of play with, and discussion of, the concept of consent in this series, as it applies to many topics. Mostly we're talking about consent to be bitten, but being bitten in this universe varies from "mild discomfort" through "multiple climaxes" and I don't know where the story will end up yet, so I think it's important to be clear.

If you want to be put on or taken off my taglist for this series, feel free to tell me!

The stranger recoiled from the horror in front of them. For a moment the weak beam of light from upstairs transfixed them both, and Tolly jerked back, anticipating the pain. No pain came. It wasn’t sunlight. He cursed himself for a fool. He knew the basement door opened into a windowless hallway. And besides, he would have been brought low by exhaustion if it had been daylight up above.

He backed away until his back hit the far wall, arms reaching out to splay against the stones. Black talons gouged at the wall of his prison as he stared, milk-white eyes unblinking, teeth bared and showing the sharpness of his canines. He knew what he looked like. He could see the stranger breathing harder as they tried to make sense of a world in which this monster could exist.

He took in everything about them with the same fanatical, memorizing glance he had once turned on... who knew? A father, an uncle? Some relation, certainly. There were features in common: the big, dark eyes, the sharp little nose, the exquisite shape of the lips. His discoverer was wearing gray sweat pants and a baggy tee shirt that might have been black at one point. There was something under it that might be a brassiere or an undershirt or both. The checkered pattern on the slip-on shoes was so faded it was barely visible, another fashion rising again that had had time to get worn while Tolly was in this room. In ’04 the pants would have had open ankles. Now they were gathered to an elastic.

Blue flecks of paint dotted every garment and one cheek. The head of thin black hair was tied back in a sloppy tail from which about half had escaped. Sweat plastered their hair to their cheeks and forehead. Their face showed a faint shadow of beard where the makeup was running, and their eyeliner was running, too. Their deodorant was aggressively neutral, but it wasn’t strong enough to cover the smell of recent exertion in a male body even to Tolly’s currently weak nose. Or – at least they had probably been told it was a male body when they were born. That was a delicate matter, and it barely registered on him compared to the much more overt scent of life, life, life -

“You're not wearing the ring,” he rasped. It hurt to speak, dust scraping the inside of his throat and palate where the saliva had dried up long since.

The descendant of Nicholas turned and ran, stumbling back up the basement steps. The sound of the slamming door heralded the dying of the light. Tolly stood there without moving for a while, cursing himself again as he lurked in the dark.

They hadn’t closed the secret door panel. He could see out. He slid around the room, one hand on the wall, until he got back to the opening. He could see all of the basement now, he registered anew. He hadn’t seen anything outside the room for ten years. He knew it was mad to be excited about that, the more so with the acute torment that was the scent of living blood still stinging in his nostrils, but he was excited all the same. He pulled the chair over from the table and turned it around so he could straddle it, arms resting on the back and his withered chin resting on his arms. No need to hurry. The little mortal wouldn’t be back, sealing the upstairs door and forgetting the monster in the basement as quickly as possible, so he would have a lot of time to take in the view. He had never had hope, he told himself. He should not behave as though something had been taken away.

He started all the way to the right and began to look at all of it, bit by bit, taking in every new cobweb, every splinter on the steps. He argued with himself for a while about the definition of the word “splinter” as he looked at the steps, so that he would have it down in his mind before he started counting them. He finally settled on partially separated bits of wood longer than a sixteenth of an inch. In that case, there were three splinters within his view that had not been there the last time Nicholas opened the door to his cell. That made sense. No one had come into the basement during that time, so the stairs hadn’t had much wear. His eyes lingered over every scuffed footprint in the dust that the descendant had left. There were eight steps, and eight prints coming down, right-left, right-left, and they still partly showed where the scuffed scrambling of the return trip hadn’t wiped them out. A thumbprint in blue paint marked the wooden handrail near the top.

It wasn’t a large room, but it felt a little larger.

He spent the rest of that night in his quiet memorization of the basement. The tools on the heavy wood workbenches had not changed at all in position in ten years, but they were dustier now, and the rag pile between them showed signs of having been a mouse nest at some point. That was hopeful. It meant there might be mice again there at some point, who might eventually be lured into his cell. Tolly licked his dry lips with a tongue that felt like a strip of leather in his mouth. Animal blood would not restore his strength, his powers, but it would restore his body a little. That would be something.

If he was patient, and not greedy, he might be able to keep going a lot longer on the occasional mouse. Maybe it would be two hundred years before he fell into the long sleep. He wasn’t sure how long after that a vampire would turn into dust. Accounts varied. He was certain at least one had come back from a handful of burnt ashes, because he had seen it – five mortal lives had been sacrificed to accomplish it - but whether one could be reconstituted from ancient dust was unknown to him. No one would do that for him, of course. No one had come looking for him thus far. It wasn’t that he had a great many enemies. His circle of friendly acquaintances had been large. But the few close enough to wonder where he’d gone were also immortals, and therefore it would be a long time before it occurred to anyone to look for him. He had been alone with Nicholas for a decade before Nicholas went away, and no one had come, then or in the decade after.

His mind was wandering. He reproved himself sternly and returned to concentrating on the important matter at hand. The lighting fixture overhead was relatively recent, placed in the era after the wires had been brought in and the plaster laid down over them – no, more recent than that. Perhaps thirty years. He’d seen Nicholas replace the four bulbs and put back the half-sphere of frosted glass over them, opening the door to tease Tolly with his proximity as he worked. Now he imagined that, even if the bulbs had still worked, there was probably so much dust and so many dead insects inside that it might catch fire if it were turned on.

Chances were better with the flatscreen television mounted to the wall at right-angles to the workbenches, barely visible if he leaned as far forward as he physically could. The casing was sealed enough that it would be harder for creatures to get in. Nicholas had watched movies and television while he was doing projects, sometimes. Whatever the genre, he liked material whose attraction was subtle acting, and lots of attention to faces. He’d watched Nightcrawler a lot of times in the months before he went away. It had been a seeming end to his apparent obsession with Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Tolly had an interesting couple of hours perusing the ceiling to see if there was anything alive up there. A fast-moving wolf spider was so fascinating that he watched the cupboard it had vanished behind for another hour, just in case it came out.

The big oval-shaped industrial rug was gray with accumulated dinge. He had not been here when Nicholas laid down the shiny dark red finish over the concrete floor. It had been much glossier the last time he’d seen it. His patience was again rewarded, however. Just as he was beginning to feel the heaviness in his limbs that mean dawn was breaking, a house centipede crept furtively from under one edge of the rug and ran for the workbenches, its many legs rippling around it with the urgency of its errand. Tolly struggled to stay awake as he followed its progress instead of moving to his rug. His head drooped over his arms. At last, his eyes grew too heavy to resist the pall of sleep, but not before the little beast had found cover.

His dreams were full of blood. He had thought time had freed him of that torment, resigned him to his fate, but Nicholas and his descendant died in his arms a hundred times before night fell. It was not entirely a relief when the giddy intensity of dreaming abruptly gave way to consciousness. Waking was not like waking had been when he was mortal. There was almost no space in between, and there was no confusion at all.

Tolly opened his eyes, looking around quickly. The door was still open. He could still see into the basement. He rose from the chair to go and scratch his day into the stone wall with his right thumb talon. How long until his nails would weaken? That thought sent him back to watch the old mouse nest with narrow-eyed intentness, but there was nothing living there now.

It was not a large room. Still, that night and the next passed more congenially. It would be a long time before the view of the basement lost its charms by comparison to the sealed chamber. Tolly could even read the labels on many of the spray bottles and tools and compare their fonts. He planned to save that for the winter, however, when the creatures would be less active. There was no need to be greedy.

Part 3: Bereft

@fleur-a-whump

[inarafright]

Yeah the blood makes feeding hot, but it's also pulling you close by your neck, feeling your heart race while pressed against my breasts, hearing your gasps and change in breath when I sink my teeth into your skin and change location ,it's you clinging to me tight and squirm( but not to get away), as I hold you.

it's the intimacy in those moments together physically and metaphorically💕... It's a nice sentimental meal 🦇💕����‍⬛